Just a little peek inside of my head...

I've grown insecure at times when I think about this ministry. I tease myself with doubting questions... "Is it really a ministry?" "Does it even matter?" "Shouldn't I be doing more?"

On occasion I find myself weary with it all. Counting beads, placing orders, trying to figure out where I put that address, counting beads, realizing I've STILL not ordered enough, counting beads, running to the post office, sitting in the middle of the floor opening impossible packages of bracelets late at night, counting beads, worrying about ways to get the money I need, logging receipts and bracelets distributed, and counting more beads...

It's usually in the middle of the day-to-day chore list that I ask myself if I'm just doing this for me; or is it for the mommies that open up the package in the mail or walk away from the hospital with a little green bag in their hand and a big hole in their heart.

When I take a step back from it all I can see the big picture much more clearly. This is for me, it is for Hudson, and it is for you - the one whose whole world just came crashing down.

It's not about a piece of pretty jewelry. No, it's not about the bracelet. That's just the part that people can see. The bracelet is just the tangible piece. Hudson's Bands of Hope isn't just a little thing that gives bracelets away. What warms my heart the most is knowing that all of this has inadvertently created a safe community for  moms. It tells them that they're not alone.

Every time a group of women gather together to assemble bracelets I'm amazed at how God brings at least one whose pain is fresh. I've seen women string beads as they talk about their experience and encourage the one whose heart is heaviest. I've seen friendships grow over stamping envelopes and tying bags. Often times the hands that make the bracelets are wiping away tears at the very same time.
 
Bracelets have been handed to women who have never spoke of their loss until that moment because then they felt like it was safe.

When a bracelet is worn a platform is created. A door is opened for that mother to speak of her child.

My story has encouraged other women to run with their own passion to help.

Hudson's Bands of Hope has done more than I could've ever dreamed.

Ultimately I'm reminded that Misty has nothing to do with this. God has everything to do with it. I'm not just being humble. It's really, really not me. I'm more confident of that than anything else. This was God's vision and one of his purposes for my Hudson. It's such a sweet feeling knowing I didn't sit down with lists, diagrams, pencils and erasers trying to come up with a good idea. God wrote it on my heart. He designed it all.

The questions and weariness never linger for long when I remind myself that it's not me. It's not just a bracelet or a chore list.

It's an expression from the heart of God to the broken hearts of moms everywhere.

Embrace your Grief

There is no shame in sadness and nothing wrong with tears. Don’t believe the lie that strength is found in steady emotion.

There is a handful, maybe a group, of women (and men too) that believe they must happily accept the death of their baby. They hold in the grief, the questions, the deep pain, and they cling to hollow lies and claims of, “I’m ok, really.”

God expects our grief. He allows us to mourn. If we pretend all is well we serve no purpose in helping the next person to walk our same path. Your testimony will mean more when others watch you crawl through the trenches and climb out victorious. They can see your faith in action.

The Book of Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time to weep and a time to mourn. Couldn’t this be your time?

I’ve been one to want to meet others’ expectations and I feel inadequate if I don’t. So when I felt that someone thought I should be “over it” I worked hard to at least fake it. But after realizing I’m a terrible actress and an even worse liar I gave up. Hudson deserves my tears anyways.

So, for the one who’s walls are about to bust with built up emotion, please let it overflow. Don’t be afraid. Don’t feel shame.

Allow yourself to shed the mask, release the tears, ask hard questions and know that Ecclesiastes also tells us there is a time to laugh and a time to dance. That is coming. Until then, embrace your grief – for that will grow your strength.

Little things, big blessings

My life seeps with abundance.  I don’t even know the words to use to adequately thank God for all He’s given me but my heart feels the weight of the thankfulness.

I’m sure my one bath home is the only one on the street without a flat screen TV inside. The car sitting in the garage is the same one my parents gave me for my high school graduation many moons ago. Pedicures rarely happen. The only diamonds I own are in my wedding ring and the pair of studs my ears carry around. I don’t have an i-anything and actually find little use in the only smart phone I’ve ever owned that was purchased just 4 months ago.

But, I’ve been richly blessed.

As I consider all that God has given me (and allowed to be taken) I stand in amazement. I’m in awe of what He has allowed me, ME of all people, to have. There are the days though, where shallow thinking corrupts this heart and I find myself discontent with life and that which surrounds me.

I must be careful. Those are the times that I’m telling God – not with words – that what He has chosen for me isn’t enough. If I focus on what I don’t have I’ll never be able to appreciate what I do have. I’ll never find true joy in the priceless gifts that make my heart complete.

As I go through the list of "thanks" and try to tell how grateful I am for my husband and two kids here with me I always, always thank Him for Hudson. I consider myself blessed to have Hudson. God chose me to be his mommy. I of course would’ve made a few different choices about how long I could have him on the Earth, but I’m thankful I have him even if we’re apart.

The more hindsight I have the easier it is to rejoice in life’s blessings… and rejoice in life’s trials. Today I am thankful for both. I am thankful to God for letting this girl live life with such abundance.

 “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above…”  

             -James 1:17

“…giving thanks always for all things to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

             -Ephesians 5:20

“That I may proclaim with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of your wondrous works.”

             -Pslam 26:7

Heaven's Hands

Brady and I have had the privilege of  helping to create a new ministry that reaches out to families suffering through pregnancy loss. I am proud to say that God used Hudson's life to lay it on the heart of our previous pastor to create a ministry to support these families. Heaven's Hands was created and is ran by individuals and couples who have experienced the death of their child or grandchild.

Through mentoring, support groups, professional counseling and a memory garden, Heaven's Hands wants you to have the help you need.

To highlight a couple of these areas, the support group is for anyone who would like the support and connection from others that understand your pain. This is a co-ed group that meets on Monday evenings in Kokomo, Indiana. The memory garden is also located in Kokomo and after a break for weather will be finished and opening up in the next few months. The garden offers a walkway with engraved memorial bricks for you to honor your baby's life.

Click on the link below to visit the Heaven's Hands website and to learn more about what this ministry does!

Heaven's Hands

Grieve and Give Grace: A Family Member's Perspective

I am feeling a tad out of place writing a post to you. Reason number one is because I am not a blogger. Most importantly, reason number two is because I have, thankfully, never suffered the pain of losing a baby. I just can’t relate to you in that way. But I can sympathize. And cry… boy, could I cry with you! I have had a lot of experience just crying because tears seemed more appropriate than words when I grieved the loss of my nephew.

You have probably figured out by now that Hudson’s Bands of Hope creator, Misty, isn’t the author of this post, and for a good reason!  She welcomed her beautiful rainbow baby, Ruby Madison, into the world this past Friday morning. January 17^th that is. Don’t forget that date. It is an important one and if you keep reading I will explain why.

My name is Christy. Yes, our names rhyme because we are identical twin sisters. Being twins, as adults, has been wonderful. As kids and even teenagers we would have told you that we couldn’t stand one another. Honestly we were too much alike to get along. But now we know how very similar we are to each other and we embrace it. Maybe even a little too much. Having a twin is like having a built-in best friend. You don’t have to search, she is just right there. It is great.

When we realized back in August of 2012 that we were going to be pregnant at the same time, with Misty being only 9 weeks ahead of me, we were ecstatic! Being twins had just got even greater!  It was her second, my third, but the first pregnancy to be shared at the same time. We laughed as we considered the attention we would receive from strangers as we would both be waddling around with big round bellies soon enough, especially since we looked so much alike anyway.

Laughter came to a screeching halt though, the day we learned that Misty’s pregnancy was over. Just like that. No warnings, no explanations, just done. And then this whole twin, sister, best friend thing changed. Suddenly we couldn’t talk like we used to. My pregnancy that was going strong became more of a secret guilt than an exciting adventure. Misty was devastated and I was devastated for her! Grief and guilt consumed me. Even when she assured me I should still celebrate my baby I just couldn’t figure out how. I wanted to help take Misty’s pain away so badly. I wanted to ease the ache more than anything, but it was out of my control. The only thing I could control was myself, so that is exactly what I did.

I hope you don’t think am I trying to paint some pitiful, sad story for myself. I say these things because Misty has asked me to write something in her place and because after praying for direction these are the words my fingers found themselves typing. I believe that every unborn baby has family members here on earth who love them and love their mommies the same. But they don’t all know how to cope, what to say and what not to say. It’s awkward. It’s painful! To you, mom: know they care. Know that they want to fix your pain. Some may not seem to care in the least and others may try too hard to fix the “problem” and in the end, step on your toes. Extend your loved ones some grace. We care and we hurt with you but we can’t know all the right things to say and all the things not to say.

To the grieving family members: you can’t fix this! You can’t control the situation, control yourself instead. Extend grace to that hurting momma you care so much about. There isn’t a right or a wrong way to grieve. Just let her grieve. In fact, follow her lead and grieve right along with her. If she wants some alone time, give it to her. If she wants someone to talk to, just listen. If she doesn’t want to cry alone, cry with her.  Try not to push your form of grief on her. Understand that you can’t understand her suffering, don’t even try to.  And maybe the most significant thing is: don’t forget! Remember that sweet little baby with her.

I wish I could tell you that I have done and said all the right things but I haven’t. There were and still are plenty of times where I lodge my foot straight into my mouth and pray Misty didn’t hear my thoughtless remark. I am human and Misty knows that. She has extended me grace in those situations that she could have taken serious offense. Likewise, I have extended her grace in times I could have chosen to be offended.

Here’s the thing, the grief of a mother is powerful. I only know this by watching my sister endure it. I see now the importance of Misty being allowed to grieve Hudson in the way that felt right to her. What if her husband and family hindered her grief instead of allowed it? What if she was never able to reach the stage in grieving that caused her to want to help others who suffered from the same pain she had? Perhaps Hudson’s Bands of Hope never would have existed.

So, why did I want you to remember that Ruby was born on January 17^th? Because it was the same day that Hudson’s Bands of Hope was born, just one year prior. Happy Birthday Hudson’s Bands of Hope and Happy Birthday baby Ruby!

Your grief can give birth to beautiful things mom, so grieve and give grace!

Merry Christmas... Right?

I know, for many reading this blog, Christmas this year just isn't the same. Thoughts of the baby that should be kicking in your belly or sleeping in your arms are at the forefront of your minds.

Last year, making a list of supposed things I "wanted" was a joke. I really wanted to scream at the vain idea of collecting more "things". How could I want more stuff that I didn't need? How could I make a wish list when the ONLY thing I wanted was for Hudson to be safely in my womb and my family to be living the dream I had hoped and prayed for.

If I couldn't have that, then what was I supposed to "want"?

I do remember it all so well.

Brady and I spent Christmas Eve night writing letters and weeping before bed. Reality had sunk in that our little boy in Heaven would never spend a Christmas morning on our living room floor. We would never hear his feet running down the hall in anticipation of new toys.

This reality coupled with the fact that Christmas has everything to do with the birth of a baby, well, leaves you in a whirlwind of emotion, doesn't it? This was the part of it all that I never anticipated to be so difficult.

Hearing the songs about Mary on that first Christmas night as she delivered the Savior of the World was a little different for me.

What did Christmas look like to Mary? I know it wasn't full of lights, presents, food and shopping. Maybe it wasn't as picture perfect for her as we try to make it for us. Can you imagine how she must have felt, looking in the face of Jesus for the first time? Surely she glorified God with excitement, and yet, surely her heart ached maybe just a little knowing this baby wasn't hers. She was chosen to carry Him, but she was also chosen to be the mother that would give her son away. That baby she loved was not meant for her to keep, but to give for a greater purpose than she could have fulfilled.

The purpose and the hope of this story is evident. There is a purpose and hope to yours too, dear momma. It's up to you to find it.

Don't completely lose heart during this season. Please though, feel free to have an imperfect Christmas. One where you cry, write letters, look at pictures and go through cards. Do what you need to remember your baby and honor their life. Don't feel obligated to pretend all is well just to keep your family and friends happy.

I pray that you'll find the purpose and the meaning and that it will provide a measure of peace during this time!

So here it goes...

I assure you, I've not forgotten about this blog. Time and life have swept me away to other tasks, but I think of those who may type this address into their search engine often.

I think of you all so much so that my heart races a bit in preparation to make this post...

Do you mind my honesty? I'm afraid because I don't want to cause any more pain to the mother who may be wiping away tears today.

I do have something that I want to share, something I rejoice over daily.

Yesterday marked the beginning of my 3rd trimester with the rainbow baby God has graciously allowed us to love.

I'm sure that many who read this already know that I am pregnant. (Thank you to those faithful followers! You help make me feel that my typing isn't just to a computer) Others of you don't know me from Adam and maybe didn't expect to read a post like this on a blog... like this.

Brady and I have been blessed to experience the miracle of life for the fourth time. We are due in January to have a baby girl!

All frills and bows aside, this pregnancy has been remarkably different for me. Not necessarily the physical aspect, but the emotional.

Back in May when I took the positive test I read the results and threw the stick aside as if it were a cruel joke. I went back to folding laundry as if that trip to the bathroom was just like any other. That afternoon my mind continually tried to drift back to the plus sign but I would stop it. Walls were built and only getting taller.

Brady came home from work and his reaction was the same as mine. I was relieved. I didn't want a big to-do over it. At least not yet. I refused to say the "p" word for days. My heart wouldn't let me claim a pregnancy that I knew could be ripped from me at any minute.

Over the course of weeks and months I slowly opened the door to let a little excitement in. Brick by brick the walls have been removed. I wanted to be excited but I couldn't get Hudson and my early miscarriage out of my mind.

Thank God all is normal and well. I am only high risk in my heart on the worrisome days.

Yes, I said worrisome days. Thankfully I've felt peace most days. The times that I haven't felt peace I could probably count on my hands.

I think that the peace has come so easily for me because I've realized (the hard way) that I can't control any outcome. It's just not up to me. I still feel like I'm sitting back, my feet up with a big bowl of popcorn staring at a screen. I'm ultimately not the author of the comings and goings of life. I just get the front row seat.

Pregnancy has opened up a new area of grief. It's made it more tangible. I've revisited thoughts and emotions that have been sacred to me. I've revisited times and locations that have been devastating.

Hudson has become more real to me. Gosh, even that darn "chemical" pregnancy has become more real.

His absence is felt in a whole new way as I fall head-over-heels in love with this little girl.

Many people incorrectly assume that another pregnancy is the medicine for a "lost" one. They couldn't be any more wrong. Another pregnancy peels back layers of emotion and feelings that are untouchable by an empty womb.

On the flip side it has opened my eyes to a whole new way to love and a whole new way to appreciate. I'm so thankful for this!

I definitely haven't forgotten what it was like to see pregnant bellies or hear the news of expectant parents. The knives are gone, but wow, that's a feeling you just don't forget.

It's not that I'm not ecstatic, it's just that I tip-toe around complete public celebration because I don't want to be the person holding the knife.

For those of you feeling the bitter side of this post instead of the sweet, I am truly, truly sorry. I can't claim to understand every single person's feelings or situation and I know full well that I'm ignorant to a lot. My prayers and thoughts continually go out for the mommies that are freshly grieving.

I'm not one to put on a show or pretend to be something I'm not. (Seriously, I don't highlight my hair because of this!) For that reason I've wanted to share openly and honestly about my heart even in this phase of life. Not only that, but my baby is worth sharing and I wouldn't ever want her or someone else to think that I'm ashamed of this precious gift of her life.

So, I'll leave you today in eager hopes that my words haven't caused unneeded pain. Hopefully they've shed a glimmer of light onto the realities of this whole mommy and pregnancy thing.