Weathering The Weather

  Snow is back.  No big surprise here- at least it shouldn't be.  However, with 70 degree balmy air last week, this week's dip below freezing would be able to catch any Erie non-native off guard.  Having lived here a majority of my 45 years I've come to expect the unexpected in local weather trends.  In the Spring, it's a given that all bets are off.  Yes, trees will be budding and flowers do brave the unknown to push up through the frosty thawed earth to see what's going on.  Even they know better than to be shocked at the arctic welcome their trembling new greenery receives. 

  I believe our weather here in Erie, PA has shaped our community into a people that are able to weather the storms of life as well as the changing skies and air currents.  We tend to be a hearty group that faces what life has to offer and continues to push up through the hardened soil of tough times in the hope that springs eternal or the eternal hope of Spring.  If you've lived here your whole life or even made it through the fluctuating cycle of one season in our beloved town- you would understand why so many choose to stay.  It is not for this time of year- though our winters are particularly breathtaking in their stark, ice-covered wonderland appeal.  However, it is precisely this blast of daunting ice that sifts the weak from our lake's shores.  For those who batten down the hatches and keep their focus fixed on what is to come- the allure lies just under the frost in the beauty that waits to unfurl it's grandeur.  Yes, for these robust souls who've loyally bundled up and tethered themselves to our blustery hitching post- the reward lies in the unparalleled beauty of spring, summer, and fall in our fair northeastern town. 

  A word of encouragement to all you strong of heart and frosty of fingertip- Hold tight (in warm mittens) against these raging bitter gusts that tug at your resolve to endure.  Know in the depths of your heart that the finest greenery has been reserved for you.  The fragrant soil awaits the proper beckon of perfect timing when, called forth, it's scent shall fill your senses with gladness and reward your steadfast determination.  Our waters that appear frozen with ill intent shall thaw and come lapping at our shores with repentant calm to bring you solace and sounds of peace.  There will be the victory dance of sun risen colors that light the rooftop of every Erie citizen that has weathered this winter with courageous willpower.  Yes, dear community that I have come to bond with in the sopping entryways of shopping centers, ice-rink worthy parking lots, and warm mecca of movie theaters visited to break the monotony of cabin fevered chaos,  I salute you with a steam-breathed  "Almost there!," uttered through frozen lips and squinted, watery eyes.  I wish you warmth in the final affront of winter as we all set our face toward those days that make these wintry skirmishes worthwhile.

TRIumph is launched and NOW AVAILABLE!

  An amazing...and surreal evening- one week ago tonight.  My family was introduced and the mic was turned over ... with expectant eyes falling upon me while they awaited "the story". 

  It had been four years and some months since my husband and I discovered the seventh child we were expecting was diagnosed with Trisomy 18 while in the womb.  Briefly- and it's ok if you don't know what this genetic condition is because we surely didn't until we faced it- Trisomy18 is a chromosomal defect which deemed our son "incompatible with life."  When we asked how long would we have with our son we were told, "Most children with this condition, who survive birth, will not live to see their first birthday."

  We lived through the exasperating unknowns and were blessed to give birth to John Michael and hold our son for 48 hours before he was to go home- to heaven. 

  Seems so strange to be able to write that so simply...never without emotion...always with a full heart. 

  I have written the full story of this experience and am excited to share that the book launch was a wonderful, dreamy success and the book is now available and offered with the HOPE that the insights, LOVE, and understanding we gained along the way might give solace to all as they face their own dark period of difficulty.  The book is called TRIumph: A Story of Finding Hope In A Love That Knows No Bounds.  You can learn more, and if desired, purchase TRIumph at www.triumph-story.com

  Thank you so much for your support, love, and prayers over the years.

  **My son, I know you came to this earth- and our family for a short time and with a specific purpose. Already I have witnessed the large impact you made on our family and community- what an honor that has been. As your story begins to take flight...it shall be with fond remembrance of your heart beating under my own...that I thrill to the reality that others will have the chance to "meet you" and learn of Love that comes with the Peace of a surrendered will . ** ~Mommy to son   

TRIUMPH (The book formerly known as Great Is Thy Faithfulness)

  Wanted to address the name change of my book.  The title: formerly, Great Is Thy Faithfulness, is now Triumph (play on the Tri from Trisomy 18). 

  What an amazing journey this writing and publishing process has been.  I feel I've metamorphosed from a woman viewing the world from my broken hearted perch...waaay up in the trees somewhere to a woman fully engaged in getting the story right while interacting with humanity again.  I am not only desiring the transition from my place of brokenness to the healed heart offering learned insights,  I am actively involved---holding a blazing torch these days.  My goal is to ignite an understanding that HOPE can be found in the seemingly darkest moments if there is a will to seek a greater meaning...and there is much to be gained from the pain that was formerly paralyzing.

 The update on this whole process:  I've met, fell in love with, and accepted the cover design!!  So excited for the big reveal (stay tuned)!  The guts of the book are in the very capable hands of the page-layout designer.  She had been waiting very patiently while amazing folk were at work editing and re-editing, and re-editing, and then re-editi..on and on---the good news is the FINAL edit has been received and accepted.  This is PROGRESS, people!  Totally rejoicing over here..invite you to do the same.  I will let you know the status of TRIUMPH as further progress is made!

Thanks for all the prayers---Please keep 'em coming! 

Eyes Opened...

A man and his children were riding the public bus home one evening. The man appeared oblivious to his children's "over the top" misbehavior. A nearby passenger began clearing her throat to bring attention to his children as they ran wildly through the aisles. Her indignant sniffs became louder as they hollered and jumped over the seats. She was shocked and displeased with his lack of applied discipline to this unruly crew. Still, the man stared into nothing seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Finally,her patience worn thin she demanded, "won't you please get your children under control?" The man seemed to snap back to the reality of his surroundings. He quickly apologized for his children disturbing this woman. "You see," he tried explaining, "they are probably trying to get a little energy out. We've been at the hospital all day where their mother has just died. I will have them quiet down."

** I had heard this story (I believe true) years ago and have repeated it several times. The shock value comes in at the end when the justified irritation and self righteous anger at an apparent lack of parenting suddenly transforms into a horrible lack of compassion and passing judgement.

Just this past Friday my own children were exhibiting a lack of control as they fought among themselves. My eldest, a teenager, was working himself into a fury as he physically threatened his younger brother, told his sisters to "shut up," and even hurled insults my way. My response was just as shameful as I vented my utter frustration at him in the form of name calling and grounded him for a week...or maybe it was a month...(I was pretty upset). I was beside myself as I ordered everyone in and buckled. I slammed van doors while loudly reprimanding the lot of them especially my teen son. Once I was in the drivers seat , and backing up, I braked and demanded to know who's door was open... the lights were still on. A few seconds later I uttered, "oh." and sheepishly walked around to shut the rear doors I forgot I had opened while venting. I chose to ignore my children's giggling commentary filtering around me "then mom yelled who left the doors open... and then she was like, oh."

I drove in silence until I realized my eldest, in the passenger seat beside me, was still was not buckled. We were no longer yelling...or talking. "Please put your seat belt on." A minute later I repeated, "please put your seat belt on." I touched his arm and asked "what is going on with you?" Silence with a glare. I looked over at him and fearing the worst I asked, "why are your eyes all red and glossy?!?," allowing the accusation to seep into my voice. "Because I was crying Mom." What?!? That was unexpected. "Why?" "Because my friend just died an hour and a half ago!" Tears began to stream down his cheeks. I was in shock. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen my big boy cry. Slowly he filled me in on his classmate who had been life flighted after being overcome by Carbon Monoxide. I gasped when I recognized this as the boy I had been following on the news. A true tragedy.

I began to think back to the hug my son had tried to give me as I was hustling everyone out the door and barking orders. I reached over and squeezed his arm and told him, "I am so very sorry." It became clear to me that I was the self righteous woman on the bus...judging my son harshly (easy to do with a teen temper). Wrapped up in his horrible show of anger I became oblivious as to WHY he was so angry.

Compassion is a lesson that comes in a difficult tutorial... It takes giving up a sense of comfort to discover the source of what appears unappealing. Applying the balm of compassion may be as simple as cutting someone a little slack or even just listening. Either way, this is probably a lesson that will be repeated throughout life. I'm certain I have BEEN the occasional TEST for lifes' unsuspecting traveler as well...

Tiny Love

What an incredible time this has been. I have lost another baby to the sting of death…this time from within my womb. The pain was still very real. We are waiting on the D.N.A. results to learn if this child was a boy or girl and what the genetic defect was. Based on the 12 week sonogram, our midwife felt confident enough to tell Steve and I that our baby appeared to have a chromosomal defect. One that would make it incompatible with life. We were hearing this news for the second time and we were crushed. I immediately began to cry.

We were to come back within the week to repeat the sonogram and look for any changes. Those next few days seemed to drag until we were back in the doctor’s office hearing that not much had changed and actually the edema (swelling) of the baby was quite severe and perhaps even more pronounced around the head and abdomen. As the doctor conferred with the sonographer and set up an appt. in Pittsburgh we heard the whispers telling us our baby had severe edema throughout all of it’s tissue from head to rump.
We would have to wait until I was 16 weeks along to have the amniocentesis test in Pittsburgh which would confirm the actual condition our baby had.

Two weeks later I was concerned over a little bleeding and knew that I wanted to make sure our baby’s heart was beating before we made the two hour trip to Pittsburgh. Although I thought it, I wasn’t actually prepared to see my tiny one curled in my womb without a flutter in it’s chest. The sonographer gently let us know our baby was no longer living. I was surprised by the depth of emotion that sprang from somewhere deep in my heart. I was mourning this little child I had walked with for those last 16 weeks. Perhaps it was the combination of looking at the monitor screen and actually seeing such a tiny, well formed baby with it’s hands curled up by it’s head and it’s legs crossed while hearing that it no longer lived ~that cracked me somewhere deep in my core.

We were given three options. First, we could allow my body to spontaneously deliver the baby. This could take up to six weeks depending on how long ago our baby died. Second, we could go for and D and C in Pittsburgh because it was too large for our doctors here in Erie. However, it would be done in their abortion department. Thirdly, I could go into the local hospital and be given a medicine that would induce labor and I would deliver there.

I chose option three…and I wanted to do it that very afternoon. My midwife was calm as she let me know it is important to grieve the loss of this baby emotionally before letting go physically. She also let me know that once a mother knows her baby is no longer alive it can signal to her body it’s time to let the pregnancy go. I was scheduled to go to the hospital the next afternoon to be prepped for the delivery the following day. I then left to go home and grieve.

After the kids were tucked in for the night I curled up on the couch with a book. I couldn’t really get comfortable due to some mild cramping in my back. After a while I gave up and went to bed. I held my belly in the dark that night and knew this was my time to physically be with my child. I was literally wrapped around this baby. Yes, I knew I no longer communed with my child…but still it was present as I said goodbye.

I woke the next morning to the sound of my husband trying to get our eldest out the door in time for his bus and welcome our second to his day. All of a sudden there was a warm gush as I tried to move out of bed. I was so startled I hopped out and felt a second gush. I called Steve’s name several times and tried to keep my legs pressed tightly together to staunch what I believed to be a flow of blood. I thought I was hemorrhaging. The next few minutes were a whir. Steve came rushing in and closed the door. I was afraid and was crying as I told him I was bleeding. I gently tried to get changed to get to the hospital when there was another sudden gush and we both knew I had just delivered our baby. Steve called out “there’s the baby!” I just kept repeating, “Oh God, Oh God,” as he went to pick our little one off the towel on the floor. He was adamant about me not looking since we didn’t know how long our baby had been decomposing. I was crying and trying to get to him as my placenta was delivered and I heard him whisper, “it’s not gruesome at all.” There was genuine awe in his voice. I moved to look at the miniature baby he held cupped in his one palm with it’s umbilical chord still attached. We marveled at the sweet little fingers and the perfect heels on the other end of the ten tiny toes. I could see eyes and tiny ear buds…we were witnessing a beautiful revelation of one interrupted in the midst of it’s formation.

It was all so crazy and fast and the children (all seven were now awake) were huddled outside our bedroom door. Concern in their voice and impatience in their questions brought Steve out of our room while I tried to get ready to leave for the hospital without losing too much blood. The reality of this awkward unknown experience meant the baby was placed in a plastic container and wrapped in a special towel our son had sewn onto to memorialize his brother who had died two years earlier. Steve kept poking his head in the room to ask if he should show the baby to the kids. Stevie Jr. our second was adamant about wanting to see. I was torn between distraction of my physical condition and fear of scarring our children. Ultimately I figured if they want to see so badly, let them.

I was curious about their reaction…but a little afraid too. I had determined this latest child was beautiful no matter what. I also knew that children can be blunt and uncensored. I peeked around the corner of the door ready to dive back in the room to protect my vulnerable heart. I saw Steve in the midst of all but our eldest who was the only one who did not want to see this sibling. Gently he uncovered the baby and there was a collective gasp followed by a unanimous “aaaawwww.” The children began to blurt out their observances. “I can see a leg!” “Look! There are his fingers!” Our four year old peeked over Daddy’s hands and exclaimed, “he’s soooo cute!” They peppered Steve with “is it a boy or a girl?” And Steve was honest in telling them it was too early for us to know. He then said to the clustered group, “this is why we don’t believe abortion is right. This is a baby…not just a bunch of tissue in your Mommy.”

I can confidently say I think that’s a lesson they will never forget.

Though I chose not to hold the baby at that time I was given an opportunity to hold him or her later that afternoon in the quiet calm of my hospital room. The nurse had done her best to take photographs that would honor our child and there was even the tiniest bit of ink on the edge of an even tinier foot from attempted footprints at my request. We marveled at the intricacy of a 16 week formed human being cupped in the palm of my hand. Yes, we were saddened by the telltale sign of abnormality shown by the distended abdominal wall. And we trusted that this child’s Creator called him or her home when He knew it was the right time. But we also knew we were experiencing some part of wonderment that accompanies any great creation. We were viewing a miraculous sight that very few will ever have the privilege to see in the flesh.

Little one, how honored I am to have been chosen to house you as your fingers, toes, arms, and nose began to take shape. You are of my flesh and blood and that tie is no less real in death as it would be in life. I love you and long for the day when, perhaps unexpectedly, you rush up and lift me off my feet that were walking the golden streets of Heaven. The alarm of being grabbed by a stranger melts into pure delight as my heart is filled with the recognition of you. I imagine my tears will burst forth as you wrap your arms around me with the vigor of a ruddy youth. Tears of gratitude and inexpressible mirth slide down the curve of your cheek as we both begin to understand that your short life on earth has been rewarded with an eternity of joyful discovery within each others company. Lord, Your ways are far above our own!

Beloved...

[Years ago Christ reminded me of His UNCONDITIONAL LOVE as I sat in front of Him in Adoration...May these words that flowed from His grace to my pen be a comfort and reminder if you should ever find yourself tempted to think you've strayed too far to seek His face...]
You have brushed my hair and anointed me with Your oils. You have groomed me with Your most experienced talents. You have called me forth and called me beloved...

At one time fires raged around me and I was drowning in stupidity, blindness, and drudgery from Your enemy's hand. It only took a moment of "guard down" and he was upon me. Delighting in the destruction of Your precious, prized possessions, he mutilated them until they fear they are too ugly to return to You in such disarray.

Slowly, with great pain, I heard You still calling out for me. Urgency and longing in Your voice. Desperate for sign of life You searched the darkness with Your lantern in hand. Daily, You set out food and signs of welcome on the chance would be alive and return to You. Your messengers hunted and did Your Will. You NEVER stopped calling. Finding me... You waited until I was ready.

Bedraggled, I have come forth. Disgusting in appearance I have shamefacedly approached Your courts. Summoning a last ounce of abused strength I raise my hand to the door.

You sense that I am near...
Rushing the remaining span of distance You throw open the heavy doors that are separating us.

I am in Your arms and You are cherishing the beauty of my cracked and disheveled face. You are smoothing my knotted, filthy hair that used to shine gloriously and crown Your creation. You are crooning LOVE and I am HOME. I am ashamed to cause You hurt and You are happy I am back. Tears are brushed from Your eyes to wipe the filth surrounding mine.

Beloved...