Today is March 24th – your due date. Your birthday.

We miss you. Lots. Fitzy misses you. When he’s falling asleep at night he points at the ceiling and says – BOY. I asked him if the boy is his baby brother – he says YES! I have no doubt that he does see you. He talks about babies constantly.

I have no doubt he sees you and his baby sister and your big brother.

I imagine what today would be like. The anticipation. The pain. The relief. The joy. The love. Holding you in our arms and introducing you to all the people that already love you so. Watching Fitzy put his little hand at his mouth and say BA-BY! He would shower you in kisses – we all would. Would you look like Fitzy? I wouldn’t believe that you could be so tiny.

It’s not fair that the three of you are there and not here. But then again – from your point of view – you are in heaven. Literally. You have a big brother and sister to keep you company. You get to hang out with Jesus and angels all day – how much better could it be?

I just needed to jot you a little note and tell you we love you.

We miss you.

And happy birthday sweet son.

I bought this cute little outfit for Fitzy when he was just a month old!

It’s a 3T set – and I can’t believe that he fits in it already – well – almost! I plan on using it for his 2 year pictures at the end of April! But I had to get some cute snow pictures!

Oh Fitzy – you hold my heart!

Fitzy – we love you SO MUCH!

Four years. Four years ago today we lost our first baby – little Enoch. The darkest times of my life followed. I lost hope. I was angry with God. I questioned Him. I prayed. I cried. I asked. I hurt. He listened and healed. The process was slow – on my end.

He gave. He showered me with love and grace. He held me. Hurting and crying. Lost and desperate. I felt alone and forgotten. And He gave. It’s crazy.

I’m so thankful for that time. I’m thankful that I can be a shoulder for other women going through loss and struggling to have a baby. I wish I didn’t have a list. I wish I didn’t have 74 people listed – people who wanted. People who waited. People who are still wanting. And waiting. But the reality is – I do. They are there. And so I name them. I bold them and italicize them and write BABY after their names when their little ones come. I pray every day for them. And while I wish that they didn’t have to be on that list – I pray.

I wouldn’t change what happened. You’d think I would. But I wouldn’t even be aware of those 74 names is we hadn’t lost Enoch. I wouldn’t be aware of hurting hearts – praying for a baby to hold. To love. I’m blessed to pray for them. I’m blessed to be involved in their lives. I’m blessed to hold babies. Babies whose names have been always known to God. Prayers that have been whispered and cried and shouted and screamed and begged. Prayers that are now warm little babies. Beautiful babies. And because of this – I am blessed.

We wouldn’t have Fitzgerald if we had been given Enoch. We might have had another baby at the same exact time – but it wouldn’t be exactly Fitzgerald. And he is amazing. I cannot imagine my life without him in it. He has touched us in so many ways. And while I wouldn’t have known any different – I like to think I might have. I might know that he was out there. Meant to be ours but not with us. And I would miss him. Terribly.

On February 13th – it had been a year since our little Joy Christina left us for heaven. I didn’t write a blog. I remembered her and thanked God for the tiny time she was here. I was hurting then – a month ago. Badly – and while writing is therapeutic for me – I couldn’t sit down and talk about my goodbyes to her. It hurt too much. I wanted another baby so badly and to remember that she was taken too early – was too much to bear. So I didn’t. And I felt bad. Like she would be upset that I didn’t acknowledge her. But that’s silly. I know that she knows I love her.

And in a month – God has given me peace.

A week from today was our due date with our 4th baby – Lewis Samuel. And I sit here typing this – there are no tears streaming down my face. Not that crying would have been bad. But I’ve cried so much. I’ve missed so much. I’ve mourned so much.

And it’s time.

It’s time for joy. And for peace. And for rejoicing. And for that – I am glad.

Enoch – you are the baby that started it all. You were our first. And while I never saw you – not even on an ultrasound screen – I know your face. I love you dear boy.

Joy – you were a surprise. A joyous surprise. One that we never met. You would be 6 months old today. I imagine you with curls. And green eyes. I love you dear girl.

Lewis – I was convinced that you were a baby meant for my arms. We saw you on an ultrasound. Heard your tiny heartbeat. And still you left. In a week from today I would have been holding you in my arms – realizing that I’ve known your face my whole life. If we hadn’t lost Joy – we wouldn’t have you. And for that – I am thankful. I love you dear boy.

We miss you so much down here.

But I love that you are there.

At the end of January – Fitzy turned 21 months old – TWENTY ONE! (which is when I wrote this)

How on earth is this happening?

He can point out the colors – blue – black – brown – orange – pink – green. Sometimes purple and yellow! He can do puzzles almost by himself – we still have to help him fit the piece in – but he knows where they go! He can tell you YES and NO about what he wants or doesn’t. He LOVES his bottle. He LOVES Toy Story and Fraggle Rock. He goes around the house saying – I – E – O – T – U – A – P – he LOVES to read everything that has words. He loves to cook and help do dishes. He makes eggs with me in the morning and does laundry. He loves spending time with his grandparents. He does NOT love sleep.

OH MY WORD! I just love that little face!

We spent the night with my in-laws after I hit the gas hookup to our house. Yes. You read that right. Thankfully we weren’t blown up – but the fire department and the gas company came and our house wasn’t cleared until the next day.

Fitzy didn’t mind the time with gramma and grandpa – he could stay there forever.

OH THAT FACE!

I just adore him!

Thirty is my goal. But I’ve lost twenty so far. Pounds that is.

It all started when I said something to my sister about wanting to fit in my size 12’s. At that time she had lost 125 lbs in 10 months – so she wasn’t going to give in to my whining – not that I expected her to. She said – how much would you have to lose? I said – prolly 30 lbs. She said – so lose it. I couldn’t whine to her about the impossibility. I couldn’t complain about how hard it would be. Not to her. She’s turned her life around and has lost the equivalent to a Justin Bieber.

So we sat down and figured out a goal. Thirty pounds – by my birthday – May 26th. 20 weeks. 30 lbs. Totally and completely reachable. By week 9 I was down 18 lbs. I started at 190 on January 1st. My highest while I was pregnant with Fitzy was 238. I think I was at 215 when I left the hospital and then got down to 210ish by January of 2012 and 190 by January of 2013. Before I got pregnant I was about 185 to 190 depending. I don’t really know because I am not one of those people that weigh myself daily – weekly – or even monthly.

I’ve been in size 10 or 12 since I can remember. Like I’ve said – it’s not about a number. It’s about how I feel. I feel good around 160. I might hit 160 and try for 5 more pounds. Cus I really love my size 10’s.

Basically what I’ve done is not eat like a piggy pig – like I was doing. I’ll give you a typical day before and after Samm and I set the goals for me.

BEFORE –

breakfast – an overflowing bowl of cereal with just as much milk OR 3 eggs and 2 pieces of toast with jelly and a big glass of milk.

snacking in the morning – goldfish here and there OR peanut butter chips and almonds or walnuts OR whatever else I would nibble on while getting Fitzy a snack.

lunch – the rest of leftovers from dinner OR a giant helping of pasta from the box OR a big sandwich and fruit.

snacking in the afternoon – the same as the morning.

dinner – big helpings of whatever we were having – cus it’s GOOD!

snacking at night – LOTS of popcorn OR ice cream OR cookies and milk.

AFTER –

breakfast – I split three eggs and an orange with Fitzy OR have a serving size of cereal with fruit.

snacking in the morning – yogurt OR a fruit OR a 100ish calorie something AND vegetables.

lunch – some of the left overs from dinner OR a sandwich with fruit OR some of the pasta Fitzy is sharing AND vegetables.

snacking in the afternoon – the same as the morning.

dinner – reasonable helpings of whatever we are having AND vegetables.

snacking at night – a calorie appropriate ice cream OR fruit OR a portioned amount of popcorn.

SERIOUSLY – mostly what I’ve done is just cut back on what I was eating. I’m aware of what I put in my mouth. I don’t deprive myself of things I would like – I just eat MUCH less of it! When we go out to eat – I order things on the low calorie end and eat only half of it. It makes a GREAT lunch the next day! I don’t eat tons of bread and appetizers before the meal. A piece of bread and usually no appetizer. And water and milk ONLY. I haven’t had soda. 

Samm had worked up a spreadsheet with the info she learned from Nutrisystem and shared it with me. I have it as a chart on my fridge – and I reference it often – but I don’t completely adhere to it. I just think about what I’m eating. At this point – I don’t have to put much thought into it anymore – it’s become natural.

When I reach my goal – I’ll bump up my calories enough to maintain. But I can’t go back to BEFORE. You have to understand that this is a LIFESTYLE change. You will have to change the way you think about food. The way you view food. Understand that it doesn’t have to control you. Samm has helped me to change those views. I would LOVE to talk about what those are – but she will cover that tomorrow!

I have to go back a little – you have to understand. I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to have an eating disorder – whether it’s not eating enough or eating too much. My weight gain over time is due to laziness – physically and in my eating choices. While I was a little too fluffy – I’ve never had to struggle with my weight. I don’t LOVE food. Cooking and eating are a chore for me. I would LOVE if I could eat a pill for my meals and get the nutrients I need. That would be fabulous. I can’t eat chocolate and as a woman I think that helps keep sweets under control – but I could be wrong. Please – don’t think – well Danielle – aren’t you lucky then. No. I’m not. While I don’t struggle with food – I struggle with anxiety and OCD tendencies. We all have something. And I write this to encourage you. YOU CAN and WILL do it!

Over the years Samm or Jared would say something about their weight and I would snap back with a – then do something about it! (I’m insanely sympathetic if you remember. Riiiight.) I didn’t understand what was SO hard about losing some weight. Just do it. So it was time to listen to myself since it was SOOOOO easy.

VERY VERY pregnant with Fitzy – by Aszur Photography

RIGHT after having Fitzy – by Bridget Reed Photography

Fitzy’s dedication – a month after his birth!

August of 2011 – oh my – that tiny boy!

January of 2012 – at the BRIDAL EXPO!

March of 2012 – a year ago.

April of 2012 – Fitzy’s birthday!

August of 2012 – by Megan Hampton Photography

January of 2013 – at the BRIDAL EXPO!

February of 2013!

March of 2013!

March of 2013 – 172 lbs.

These pictures are taken a year apart!

So was it easy? At first – not really. I wasn’t hungry but I did notice how many times I ate because I was bored or lazy. The hardest part was calorie counting – let me change that – being AWARE of calories. I would call Samm and say – DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY CALORIES ARE IN THIS? IN THAT? OH MY WORD! I had honestly NEVER noticed. I realized just how BIG my portions were. I noticed results really quickly – which made it easier to stick with. But I noticed I just felt better. I’m really surprised at how easy this has become once I made my mind up to do it! I could write SO much more – but like I said – Samm will be sharing her story tomorrow! I cannot wait for you to read it! I seriously couldn’t have done what I’m doing without her support and encouragement. SHE IS AMAZING!

70 names. 19 with babies. 15 pregnant. 39 wanting. pray.

If you are friends with me on FACEBOOK – you’ve seen something like this as my status. Over and over. It might be obnoxious. But I can’t stop. Seriously. CANNOT STOP.

70 names. 19 with babies. 15 pregnant. 39 wanting. pray. that was March 6th. 

67 names. 18 with babies. 8 pregnant. 41 wanting.pray. that was March 5th.

In one day – ONE DAY – pregnant almost doubled. DOUBLED.

Today – I’m not sad. I haven’t been sad about not having another baby for about a week now. That’s a HUGE step for me. I am finally letting the peace that God has given me about our decision take over – instead of fighting it. Fighting it because we should have 3 more. I’m feeling peace instead of being angry and hurt. Instead of wondering why me and why NOT me at the same time. It’s awesome. And I finally don’t feel guilty saying that.

God has placed SUCH a heavy burden on my heart for these 70 women that have asked for prayer (or have been put on my list by someone that loves them). There is not ONE SINGLE DAY that goes by that I don’t pray for them. I am in awe. I am overwhelmed at the emails and messages. The tears and the hopes. The amazing blessings that are pouring out on “my” wanting mommas. I am usually one of the FIRST people to know about their little babies. It gives me goosebumps. I cry and pray and thank Jesus for their gifts.

But I also don’t forget the heartaches. While that number has almost doubled – a few days before that – it was at 10. Then at 8. Two of those wanting mommas lost their miracles. It’s not fair. It hurts. And I italicize their name – cus I know that I wanted my lost ones recognized. And I pray again. For renewed strength and hope. And then again for more hope. Because I lost mine. So I pray again for even more hope.

Speaking of hope – I asked a woman I admire to share her journey with me. With you. With us. To encourage. To give hope. Here is her story.

I hope that my story will be a source of encouragement and support for those many couples who are praying for children with their prayers not yet answered.

I was 21 when I was diagnosed with Endometriosis.  It was very painful and debilitating.  After many unsuccessful treatments I ended up having an emergency hysterectomy when I was 23.  I had never been pregnant, so I knew I was never going to be able to give birth to my own children.  This was something that I needed to grieve and accept.  I needed to accept that I was never going to experience the joy of hearing, “You are pregnant”.  I was never going to be able to tell my husband that he was going to be a daddy.  I was never going to experience the “pregnancy glow” that I saw so many woman have. I was never going to experience a child growing inside of me, feeling a little flutter and then later a huge kick. I am sure some of you reading this can relate on many levels to what I am saying.

There was a part of me that felt that I was being punished by God for some reason.  Part of me felt that maybe God felt that I was not going to be a good mommy.  I was not sure.  All I knew was that I had a huge void in my life and nothing was going to fill it except a baby.

When I met my husband, I had the scary task of telling him that I was unable to have children.  I was terrified that he would reject me.  I felt like I was “damaged goods”.  When I finally worked up the courage to tell him, he looked me in the eyes and said, “So, we will adopt”.  The relief I felt was indescribable.

About a year after we were married we began our adoption process.  We had no idea what we were doing.  We began looking online for foreign adoptions, but knew there was no way we could afford them.  We also felt there we so many children in the US that needed good homes.  We prayed that God would lead us to the children He wanted us to parent.
We filled out applications and looked at different lawyers and agencies.  We were so disheartened that it felt that kids were being sold.  We got tired of the price tags on children’s heads.  When we did get interviews from one particular agency we felt like we were  being treated like deviants because we could not have biological children.  The questions we were asked were invasive and judgmental.  At least from our perspective of two adults who really wanted children.

After 2 years of searching, crying, praying and being told by people that we should, “Go into foster care and be happy with what we have if we are so hard up to be parents”.  Yes, we were told that.  We went through depression phases, anger phases, resignation phases, everything.

On April 7, 1998, we received a phone call from a woman from Catholic Charities.  She asked us if we are still looking to adopt a child.  We said, “YES! Of course!” She then, almost apologetically, said, ” Well, this baby is black”.  I replied, “So? I don’t care about color”.  She told us that many black couples had refused her because she was born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and addicted to crack.

We wanted her.  We had 3 very long days to get ready and wait. We had a 4 hour drive ahead of us before we could meet our daughter and bring her home.  The night before we left, I checked the nursery over. We had bought everything. Everything except crib sheets!  How could we forget those?  We ran out to Wal*Mart and bought crib sheets, washed them and put them on the crib.  We couldn’t sleep. We left at 3 AM.

We got there at 7 in the morning and decided to walk on the Lake Michigan shore.  BIG MISTAKE.  I had an asthma attack and didn’t have my inhaler.  My husband wanted to take me to the ER, but I wouldn’t let him. Instead we drove to a store for some Primatine Mist. Thank the Good Lord, it worked!  There was NO WAY I was going to miss out on meeting my daughter.  Then we realized we did not have the car seat attached properly.  Laughing at ourselves, 2 highly educated people couldn’t figure this out! We worked on it for quite a while in a McDonalds parking lot.
Finally. 11 AM.  Time to meet our daughter.  We drove to the agency.  Excited.  Nervous.  Eager.  Happy.  Euphoric.  We met her.  All 3 pounds 15 ounces of her.  She was perfect.  Sweet.  Crying like crazy.  It was surreal.

I remember 3 days later, holding her in my hands wondering who this was.  In that exact moment I fell in love with her and finally knew what love really was.  Even though it wasn’t long before we were in and out of doctor’s offices, hospitals and specialists for the next 15 years.  We knew without a doubt that she was meant to be ours.

By July of that same year, we decided we wanted a sister for our little girl!  Since it took 2 years of “labor pains” for our first daughter, we wanted to get started right away with the process.  A friend of mine worked with an adoption agency and called us asking if we were interested in a 15 month old girl, born with similar circumstances as our first.  We said, “YES!”  We began the process of getting ready for her. She had been in foster care all of her life except 3 days and they wanted to place her ASAP.

We went through the interview process.  We met her.  We were in love with her!  She was delightful!  Precious!  They were interviewing another couple, but felt that we were the ones they wanted to her to be placed with so it was just a formality.  Nothing to worry about.  We would get a phone call by the end of next week.  Next week came and went.  We didn’t get a phone call.  I called the Social Worker to find out what was going on.  She said that she couldn’t bring herself to call us because they decided to place the girl with the other couple.  The husband played for the Colts and the wife was a professional.  They could raise her to be a “productive member of society”.  I sobbed.  I was angry.  I told her that wasn’t my definition of success.  My husband and I cried and grieved.  We felt in our heart of hearts that this wasn’t right.

Two weeks later I can home from school to find my husband in the nursery moving things around.  I asked him what he was doing.  He replied that we was getting ready to bring our daughter’s sister home.  I thought he had lost it.  He told me to check the answering machine.  The Social Worker had called.  The couple had given the baby back.  They found out that she was pregnant and they did not want to raise their child with a “crack baby” for fear that the adopted baby would hurt their real baby.  So, once again we began to process of bringing our second daughter home.  We began with many visits.  This felt right.  By November of that same year, we brought our second daughter home to live with us!

About a year later we began the adoption process again.  We wanted more children, a house full.  Over the next couple of years we had many “adoption miscarriages”.  That is the only way I can think of to describe them.  So painful!  Then we found a birth mother who was 6 months pregnant.  We updated out autobiography and met with the adoption agency.  The birth mother chose us to be the family she wanted to raise her son.  We named him.  We fell in love with him.  We told our daughters about their baby brother.  We were supposed to pick him up at the hospital the weekend he was born.  We had a diaper bag packed and ready to go.  The weekend came and went.  We called the Social Worker.  The birth mother changed her mind and took the baby home with her.  I fell apart.  I told my husband, “No more”.  I cannot go through the emotional ups and downs of this.  We grieved “our son” for a while.  To this day we bring him up from time to time.

We then moved back “home”.  After a few years we decided to once again pursue adoption.  I felt that I wasn’t finished having children.  So we went through the loops, took the necessary classes and looked on the SWAN website for sibling groups.  We wanted to focus on siblings since they were harder to place.  There was no success.  A lot more pain.

We realized that we were going to be a family of 4 and we were okay with that.  We felt totally blessed with our daughters.  Yet, there was still a nagging feeling inside of me.  I wanted 1 more baby.  Allan did not feel the same way.  So it was put on the back burner.

Two years ago, my husband and I brought up adoption again.  This time we were both ready to think about it.  But we decided that if we were going to do this then God had to lead us because I did not have it in me to face further rejection.

In June of 2011 we were at a car dealership literally signing papers for a used van when my sister called asking if we wanted to adopt a baby.  She told me the situation.  The birth mother was 14 and looking for someone to adopt her baby.  She was due in one month.  We said, “YES!”  Right away we got a lawyer and called the agency we used when we took the classes years before.  They both thought this was never going to happen since we had only spoken with the grandmother of the baby, not the mother.  I assured them it was happening.  We got ready for the baby.

On July 9, 2011, we welcomed our 3rd daughter into our family.  I was able to be in the delivery room and cut the umbilical cord!  Our family is complete.  For now.  We will never turn away a child if one is presented to us.

So, God answered my prayers.  I am a mom.  I love my daughters SO much!  They are my answers to prayer.  My gifts.  My miracles.  I learned a lot these past 15 years.  So many people tell me how blessed the girls are to have us as parents.  No.  I who am blessed to be their mom.  Through these 3 amazing girls, I have learned my strengths, weaknesses, abilities, fears and how to truly trust and lean on God.  They have made me a better person.

There was a lot of heartache for my husband and I.  It was not an easy process for us.  But I would do it over again in a heartbeat.

I leave you with this.  There was a time when our first daughter was really sick.  I was angry at God.  Why would He bring us a child only to take her from us?  As I was going up the stairs to check on her, it was as if I heard Him say, “You dedicated her to Me.  She is Mine.  I am allowing you to raise her on earth.”  It was at that moment I truly dedicated any and all of our children to God.  They are not mine.  They are His.  And their lives are in His hands.  Always.

Eve-Marie – thank you SO much for sharing your story with me. With us. If you are waiting on God for an answer. For a baby – I am praying for you. For hope.

“If my heart is overwhelmed
and I cannot hear Your voice
I’ll hold on to what is true though I cannot see
If the storms of life they come
and the road ahead gets steep
I will lift these hands in faith I will believe”

Brian Johnson – Love Came Down

Google the lyrics – the rest of the song. Listen. And then listen again.

God –

Right now I feel overwhelmed. I feel like I cannot hear Your voice. While I cannot hear Your voice – I feel Your love. Which is strange for me. I sit here with tears streaming down my face and yet I know that You are holding me. It’s strange because while I’ve always KNOWN that to be true – I can count on one hand the times I have been overwhelmed with Your peace and love. And while right now I am sad – I feel Your peace. It’s strange to even type that.

You know my heart. You know my wants. You know my needs. You know every single thing about me. And then some. You know that I’ve been through my fair share of storms – that the road ahead has only been steep – and getting steeper. You know that when I get remotely comfortable and the road starts to plateau – that I get lazy in needing You. I start to rely on myself. And that isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I need to rely on You. Every moment. Not just in the valleys. Not just when I’m climbing and panting and out of breath. Which seems to be much more often than not. Because that’s when I think I need You – ONLY when I think I need you. And that sucks.

I can’t see anything in front of me. Which makes it hard to NOT live in the past. We can’t see what’s coming – so we mull on what’s been. It’s all we have to really see. But I have to hold on to what is true – ESPECIALLY because I cannot see it. I have to lift my hands. My life. In faith. And believe. Believe. Why is that so hard? Believe that You work all things out for my good.

All things. Everything. That’s every single second and moment. The beautiful and the tragic. This is a really hard concept for me to get through my head. Every tear. Every hurt. Every pain. Every word. Every hug. Every struggle. Every kiss. Every breath. You work it out for my good. It’s crazy is what it is. Crazy beautiful.

Tonight I sit here – just having put Fitzy to bed – in absolute wonderment. I’ve stopped crying. The 5th person in about 2 weeks just told me they were pregnant. Again. That word flips a switch for me.

I have a confession – although You being who You are – already know it.

I’m happier for people that are expecting when they’ve had trouble conceiving. Seriously. I’m awful. Horrible. Or maybe I should say that the pain is a little less of a stab in my heart. But I’m still awful.

Because it’s MY heart that everyone should be taking into consideration when they announce their pregnancy. Don’t people understand how hurtful it is to see their happiness all over my FACEBOOK feed. Don’t they know they should be more sensitive.

And yet – in each and every instance – all 5 of them – they seriously DID take my feelings into consideration. They let me know ahead of time that they were expecting. Gave me a heads up – cus they know how hard it is for me.

Constantly. Seriously. Overwhelmed.

We’ve been praying. Asking You to show us peace. And a specific answer. What should we do. Should we see a fertility specialist? After our 3rd miscarriage – my doctor highly recommended seeing a specialist before trying to get pregnant again. Should we permanently call it quits? Should we prevent for a year and then re-evaluate? Should we just be and hope for the best?

It’s all so overwhelming. I’ve asked a few people to pray for us. That we would hear Your voice clearly. That our fears and emotions wouldn’t shove their way in. That we hear what You want – and not what we want.

The thought of not having another baby makes me a little panicky. The thought of having another baby makes Jared a little panicky. The thought of having yet another miscarriage makes us both very panicky.

I prayed for a child. We prayed. I cried and begged. I became obsessed. And I refuse to be that person again – I didn’t enjoy her – and I’ll bet not many other people did either. You answered my prayer with a yes. I have a beautiful baby boy. I prayed for one. A baby. He is sleeping in his crib at this very moment. He is miraculous.

When we got pregnant with Fitzy – and we realized that he was indeed meant for our arms – not just our hearts – I knew that he might be our only. I never thought I would have trouble getting pregnant – but we did. We have trouble getting pregnant and staying pregnant. I savored every moment – knowing full well that it could very well be our only chance. I’ve already accepted this in my heart – well about 90% accepted it. There’s still a little part of me holding onto hope – as hard as that is for me.

So we’ve prayed. And asked people we love and trust to pray. Jared and I both felt strongly that we needed to relax for a year. At least. Last year was really REALLY hard on us. We lost two babies and almost our relationship. And almost our own sanity. It’s been hard. It’s been hard to hope. And the people we’ve asked to pray for us echoed the same – most of them.

I want to be happy. I want to enjoy this little family that You’ve given me. I want to focus on You. On my marriage. On this miracle that you’ve given us. The other day we were at lunch and someone said – how old will Fitzy be? I said – two. She said – well then – it’s about time you got started on another huh? I said – it’s not in our hands. When in reality I wanted to SCREAM – WE’VE TRIED. AND WE’VE LOST. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD THIS IS FOR US? What I wouldn’t give to just be able to think about getting pregnant and having it happen (and stay) – but alas. That was not Your plan for us.

God – we pray that this year we will be comforted. This year we will feel peace. This year – You will make it clear if there is another baby in store for us. You will calm our hearts and our minds. You will replace our fears with faith. You will help us hold on to what is true – though we cannot see.

Amen.

In 6th grade – we were asked to write down what we wanted to be when we grew up. Teacher is written under my name in the yearbook. By senior year – it probably changed to Architect/Interior Designer – I wouldn’t know exactly without looking. I imagined myself rich and beautiful. Toting around 4 ridiculously cute babies. Two girls and two boys – in that order. Bailey Russell was my girl name. Christopher William was my boy name. I’d have to come up with two others – but maybe my tall dark and ridiculously handsome husband could help.

But looking back – I didn’t really envision my life in the future very much.

When I got to Philadelphia University – homesickness struck. Really bad. I wanted to quit. I packed up three times and called my parents and begged them to come get me. They didn’t. They told me I had to stay. I asked if I could transfer to Mansfield in the spring. Sure – but you are staying for the semester. I stuck it out. By the time the semester ended – I was happier and could have stayed. But I didn’t.

I transferred to Mansfield – cut my hair off a la Felicity – and started anew. That first spring semester was hard. I went home every weekend. I kept to myself and my studies. I lived in the library and in my room. I lived in a suite – but I can’t even tell you the names of the  girls I shared it with. I NEVER talked to them. My roommate moved out mid-semester and then it was just me. Of course there were boys (there are always boys) that I was interested in – and I daydreamed about what would actually happen if they asked me to go out with them. What being a couple would mean – most likely happiness and love and babies and happy ever after. Obviously.

Life didn’t play out like I planned. I was in college but I didn’t love it. I had no idea what I wanted to be. Other than married and pregnant. I picked Accounting because I had NO time left to choose a major unless I wanted to be a professional college student. I had NO intention of being an accountant. Just a mom. I could always find a job as a secretary.

But the boys I loved didn’t love me – or at least – were not IN love with me.

Then I met Jared. He chased me. Pursued me. But he wasn’t tall. He wasn’t dark. While Jared is my love and I find him attractive – he wasn’t the picture of handsome I was imagining myself marrying. He loved me. He loved me before I loved him. He knew right away that I would be the one – and I took a little more convincing. It sounds awful – and I don’t mean it to be. But he just wasn’t what I pictured my life to look like. I didn’t want to be taller than my husband – I didn’t wear heels often – but what if I wanted to. I’m already pretty pale – our babies would be really really white. And aren’t all the pictures of happiness of men with Val Kilmer’s (young Val Kilmer) jaw line? Shallow? Heck. Yes. So. Very. Much. But I’m serious – it scared me a little. Would we travel? Jared was an only child who didn’t really crave babies in his life – and I wanted 4. Lots of me talk in that paragraph. LOTS.

sidenote – the first month we were married – my mom called and asked how things were. I told her that I was terrified of marrying an only child. I had no idea how to deal with his selfishness. She said – and? I said – mom. I’m the most selfish person I’ve ever known. Ew.

I didn’t expect Jared to propose when he did. I was a horrible – rotten – spoiled little child the night he proposed. In reality he should have taken the ring and threw into the dark cold bushes and left me in that field. Alone. But he didn’t. He loved me. He asked me to share his life with him. He trusted me with his heart. A few weeks before he proposed – I called my mom and said – Jared and I have been dating almost a year – I don’t have a reason to break up with him – other than he doesn’t LOOK like what I thought I would marry. Seriously Danielle. Get over yourself. Anyway – my mom chuckled. She said – look at all these guys you’ve pined after – have any of them loved you? Have any of them treated you the way you deserve – which really wasn’t much by the way I was acting. If you give up on what you have with Jared – you might be missing out on your whole life.

Thanks mom.

She was right. So right. I loved this man – as short and pale and really truly handsome as he was. I was terrified of that. Or maybe I was terrified that he really did love me. That he wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t using me. He was after my heart. And I was a jerk.

Thankfully – he didn’t leave me. Thankfully – I got over myself – AM getting over myself.

I look back on who I am now – who I’ve become. And I’m happy. Like I wrote in my THANK YOU AUNT LORI blog – I still have LOTS to improve on – I am very thankful for where I am. I have a successful business that I built. I have a beautiful baby. We live in a house that I am learning to love – very VERY slowly. We have amazing parents. And Jared still keeps me in check. He pushes me to be better. To dream better. To expect better. To act better. He has encouraged my walk with God.

When I was making a list of all the things my husband needed to be – a Christian was in the top 3. But that is where it ended. I didn’t need him to talk to God. To trust God. Just have asked Jesus into his heart. And live it out every once in a while. I’m ashamedly serious.

Instead – I got a man who loves Jesus. A man who strives to live in that love. A man who prays with me and for me. A man who questions and answers. A man who strives to be better with me.

We are not rich – in the terms that you would think. But we are rich in forgiveness. In family. In friends. In love. In blessings. In God’s favor.

While I don’t know where I thought I would be at this moment in my life – I’m POSITIVE that where I am is much better than anywhere I could have ever dreamed.

The first night we were in the hospital with Fitzy – the nurse asked if we wanted him with us or in the nursery. I said – if I say nursery – am I a bad mom? She giggled and reassured me that I was not. I said – then nursery it is! They brought him in when he was hungry and then took him back when he was done. I look back on this and I think – I can’t believe I didn’t want to just hold him and eat him up. I can’t believe I let him just lie in that cold cart all by himself. Oh right – I was exhausted – and the nurses took great care of him.

When we brought him home – I had every intention of putting him in a bassinet next to our bed. Which I did – but he cried. As soon as I picked him up – he went to sleep. As soon as I laid him down – he woke up and cried. While I tend to be a non-sympathetic person in general – when it comes to babies – I melt. I couldn’t let my new baby cry. What if he thought I didn’t love him. What if he thought I left him. What if he got scared. Yes – I actually thought these things.

It didn’t really matter. Schrute did not adjust well to Fitzy. I asked my dog-loving friends – they said – wait it out – give him a chance. Every time Fitzy made a move or a noise – Schrute was there in the blink of an eye – and not always gentle. He was jealous and confused. He was anxious and irritable. I didn’t trust him – I was uneasy.

I was exhausted. I would nurse Fitzy in bed and fall back asleep – sitting up – holding him. By the grace of God – nothing horrible happened. Jared was uneasy with it and so was I. We took to sleeping in the recliners in the living room with Fitzy on my chest – I would wake up and nurse him – and fall back asleep with him cradled in my arms – thankfully again – God kept him safe. It wasn’t ideal – but until Schrute found a new home – it would have to do.

side note – finding a new home for our first baby was one of the HARDEST things we’ve ever had to do. EVER . lots of people made me feel bad about it. some people understood. but for the most part – we were horrible for just getting rid of our dog. while he is doing fantastic in his new home – he has also bit two people. because they pet him unexpectedly. isn’t that exactly what babies and toddlers do. that could have been Fitzy – and it could have been fatal. and then I would most definitely be institutionalized.

We found a new home for Schrute. Time to have Fitzy sleep on his own – in the bassinet in our room. Our house is a little patched together. Our first floor is the kitchen and living room. Our second-ish floor is the bathroom and bedroom and laundry room and little cubby rooms. Our third-ish floor has two bedrooms. Our attic is big enough for two BIG rooms and a bathroom and then there is a loft in the attic. Our bedroom is on the second-ish floor. Fitzy’s is on the third-ish floor. WHICH FREAKS ME OUT. (I’m a control freak – remember) and while I try my best to keep it at bay – having my child on a different floor than me is NOT okay. I don’t know if it would ever be – especially such a teeny baby.

We moved his crib downstairs – tried here and there – he wanted to sleep right next to momma – which I didn’t mind. Oddly enough. I NEVER intended to be a co-sleeping mom. Co-sleeping moms are kinda crazy – so they say. That was NOT going to be me. I’ve heard stories about babies that sleep in their parents bed till Kindergarten. Nope. Not me. Not us. Won’t happen. But here we were.

Fitzy didn’t even really sleep through the night until about 14 months. Seriously. Having Fitzy sleep right next to me and get up multiple times in the night – way easier than me getting up and completely waking up. Every night.

Then Jared was not okay with it. He didn’t really let me know at first – it just exploded into this issue (followed by several other issues) and there was NOT going to be a baby in our bed anymore. His crib was moved upstairs (ugh). And since our friends said that they let their babies cry it out – that is what we were going to do. I was NOT happy – to say the least. But I would try it. Fitzy cried for 3 hours. 3 HOURS STRAIGHT. I refused to go get him. We tried the 5 minutes – 15 minutes – 30 minutes – blah blah blah. Only made it worse. But this was something that he was bound and determined would work. Finally – he caved. Ya know – after 3 hours of non-stop screaming.

I was willing to work on it – little by little. But I am not a cry it out mom. Kudos to those of you that are. We moved his crib back downstairs and would put him in it for naps and then to start the night. Naps would last maybe 45 minutes in his crib. Compared to the 2 hours on the couch. So he usually naps on the couch (unless it’s the weekend – then it’s on Jared) while I blog or edit or organize.

He would start out the night in his crib and usually stand up and say MOMMA at about 1. I would pick him up and lay him in bed and fall back asleep. And he would sleep the rest of the night.

We need to renovate our house – like – majorly. New windows. in. every. blasted. room. New siding. on our giant house. New laundry and nook rooms. New electric. New bedrooms. New attic. New attic bathroom. New doorways. Basically you name it – it needs to be done. So the goal is to work on a back bedroom for us that shares a wall with a little bedroom for Fitzy – and by that time – to have a baby that can sleep on his own. All night. In his own bed.

I rock Fitzy to sleep. Have since the moment he came home. I love it. He is an almost 3 foot – 33 pound – almost 22 month old. Kind of hard to get comfortable in a rocking chair with me. He lets me rock him to sleep for nap time. But the past month – I’ve had to lay him down in bed next to me and bop him to sleep. Sing Silent Night – hold him close.

We took the front off his crib and moved it flush with our bed. When he is finally asleep – I move him to his bed. There has been ONE night he slept there in that bed from 9 to 7. ONE. So far he sleeps till about 3 and then crawls over to me and cuddles up and falls back asleep till about 8. (Once when he was little bitty and sleeping in his car seat – yes we tried that trick – he slept all night – those are the two times)

Progress. Slow and steady. I make sure that this issue isn’t an issue in our marriage anymore – that I make time for Jared. That just because we have friends that don’t live this way – doesn’t mean that it’s horrible that we do. And I’ve completely changed my mind about co-sleeping parents. I understand now that some parents choose this option and that it works for them. While I don’t want Fitzy sleeping with us forever – it’s what worked for us then. For now.

And while I am frustrated and exhausted and basically running on prayers and little Fitzy kisses – I still love singing Silent Night. Every. Night.

I wrote this blog a month ago – so to update – He’s been getting worse the past week – he does have a cold – so it might be that. But it takes anywhere from 30 minutes to 90 minutes to get him to sleep and then he gets up at 130 and then again at 330 and stirs till 430 and then again at 630 and stays up usually. I cry for the 30 to 90 minutes it takes to get him to sleep. I cry when he wakes up at 630 – ready to go. I’ve been going to sleep when he does – leaving almost no time with just Jared – and this will not be an issue again. I have an appointment today for his little feet (he walks on the insides of his little ankles – really bad – maybe he’s in pain. hopefully there is something we can do for him. i have an appointment next week to see if we need to go gluten free – maybe it’s his little tummy. i can’t wait till warmer weather where he can run around and play outside and fall asleep on the floor playing – he has NEVER done that)

A huge surprise happened last night! It took 30 minutes to get him to sleep – usually he just wants to play and talk. He fell asleep at 9 and at 5 am woke up – IN HIS CRIB. He crawled over to me and we got up at 8. SERIOUS ANSWER TO PRAYER. And while my old self would say – it’s just a fluke – my new self is thankful for this! SO THANK YOU!

Recently I had to purge my life of FACEBOOK for a month. There are SO many reasons – FACEBOOK being a giant time waster – ignoring my child – ignoring my house – ignoring Jared – caring too much what people thought (which is something I’ve never dealt with) – and jealousy.

Jealousy was a BIG one. I really really really want to be happy in the house we live in. It’s slowly coming along. But I was getting VERY jealous of our friends that have the houses they loved – finding houses the loved. Cus in my mind the grass is ALWAYS greener – and usually on FACEBOOK you only see the grass is greener parts of life. It was bringing me down – not at the fault of any of our friends – totally mine.

Oh – and babies. While I truly love and feel called to pray for my mommas in wanting and being connected to them through FACEBOOK – I was getting really jealous of friends that were having blessings (and angry with the ones that complained about it) – so I needed to remove myself.

I’ve since rejoined the world of FACEBOOK – but I use the “remove from news feed” button. A lot. I understand that it’s not the BEST way to get over my issues – but it’s a start. A start to focus on the blessings that are in my life. Right. Now.

2012 SUCKED – basically like every other year it seems. But it really sucked. Such is my life – is what I tell Jared. He hates it. But sadly – it’s the truth. People have asked me why I stand by my faith in God when everything just seems to be craptastic. Why do I keep giving when it seems that all I get is more crap.

If this is the fate I have following God and giving – I’d hate to see what lies ahead without.

This year my goal is to count my blessings – not my sorrows – cus there will always be sorrows – but I really want to focus on the blessings. If that means that I have to take a FACEBOOK break – so be it. If that means that I have to write our blessings down – one by one – and put them in a jar – it will happen.