I spent yesterday touring the campus of Central Michigan University with my son to help him decide on a college. We spe t our day meeting professors, seeing classes happening, and talking with students. I walked away feeling good about the idea of sending him off to college.
In the car, we talked about his favorite school though, Michigan State University. He knows that’s definitely a school he wants to go to. It’s his number one, always has been.
He has loved MSU his whole life. Probably because we have too. We have so many friends and family who have attended there. We know quite a few kids who go there now (they’re all safe).
We love MSU. We bleed green and white here (and maroon and gold, CMU is just as special!). Saturdays in the fall, you will find us cheering for our Spartans, sometimes from within the comfortable confines of Spartan Stadium.
We love Sparty. We love Zeke the Wonder dog. We love the Dairy Store, small animals day, and believe in the power of Izzo in March.
We have always felt safe at MSU. We felt embraced by the collective buzz of learning, doing, and comradery of good people working for a better future.
This shooting feels so much more personal. It feels violating. Enfuriating. Disgusting. And we weren’t even there – I cannot fathom what those directly impacted are going through.
More disgusting? The fact that this keeps happening. When is it enough? When do we finally push back and demand more from our leaders? Don’t we owe it to each other to start using our voices and votes to demand our leaders crawl out of the NRA’s pocket? It’s time to start doing what is right, instead of what pays best. Lives are literally on the line.
All I need to learn from Jesus, I learned from brown cafeteria trays.
They take me back to my grandma’s very crowded house, filled with our very large family, on Christmas Eve. The dining room and table were far from large enough for the crowd, but it was never a problem. When the table filled up, you grabbed a tray. No one was left out or forced to wait for room to enjoy the food and fellowship. Grab a tray, find a spot somewhere, and settle in for good food with a side of familiar conversation.
It was always so crowded, so loud, and so hot, but I didn’t care. My family was all together on Christmas Eve. We were having fun, getting presents, and taking a break from the world to bask in love. Short of a small, dirty, crowded manger many years before, I can’t think of a better place for a Christmas story to be lived.
Me enjoying Christmas, with Grandma taking care of business in the back.
My heart was taken back to those Christmas Eve meals the first time I walked into my son’s Sunday school class to see many tiny people scattered about the floor in a haphazard circle-oval-octagon sort of shape coloring pictures of the good shepherd. There was no table to be seen, just brown plastic cafeteria trays filled with crayons and colorfully marked papers.
“We backed up to make room for us all,” my son shared later, “It’s nice we don’t have a table to get in the way. We can make lots of room if more friends come.”
From His birth to His work as our shepherd, the reminder of His love and promise to care for all of us is so very clear. It doesn’t matter if you are in a crowded place, without table, young, or old – with Jesus there is always room for everyone. Grab a tray and find a spot for His love to shine in on you.
Luke 2:7 says “…they placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available.
Jesus’ story started with no room. No place for him. No one made a space for Him in their homes or the inn, but Jesus’ still found a spot. They squeezed in where they could fit, filled the space with love, and the news spread from this humble small spot. The Greatest story ever told began to unfold in the least likely of places. We hear a similar story when Jesus speaks about us in the story of the Good Shepherd later in his life.
John 10:16 “…I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also.”
No room in the sheep pen? No problem! Get another. When that one is full? Get another. No one is turned away or forgotten with Jesus. He remembers all of us, scattered around the world. Like a crowded family celebration or preschool Sunday school room, there is always room for more. Grab a brown cafeteria tray, make a little room, and let everyone in. Jesus is for everyone. Jesus’ love is for us all.
This is part 2 of the October Pregnant and Infant Loss Series – please read Part 1 HERE if you haven’t already.
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All I wanted to do when I got home was sleep. I blamed it on the leftover anesthesia still flowing through my body but truthfully, I was just trying to escape the reality of the day. I stayed in bed for nearly 24 hours until the following afternoon when I decided it was time to “get over it”.
“Everyone will think I am crazy,” I kept telling myself, “They weren’t real babies, right? I didn’t hold them, I didn’t name them, I didn’t even ask any questions about them so obviously I just need to move on from this mess.”
I was living on pain meds and still feeling a terrible ache as I fumbled through the day. I got my basic Saturday routine of cleaning and shopping done before falling back into my bed that evening. I thought once my body was only mine once again, things would go back to normal but I was wrong. Instead of feeling like my normal self in a bit of pain, the hollow aching left me feeling more empty than I’d ever been before.
I was sure people were going to think I was crazy for not getting over this faster.
Martin Hudáček’s sculpture entitled “Memorial for Unborn Children
The next evening, we had floor seats for a concert we’d been looking forward to for almost a year. We talked about skipping it, but I was determined to show the world (and myself) that I was not crazy. I was fine because “these things happen” and I couldn’t mope forever. I had planned to go to the concert with my babies in my belly, so I certainly wasn’t skipping it just because they were gone.
It was the worst concert of my life. I’m not sure if it is because of who I was with (we divorced 2 years later), the fact that the band’s new album sucked (it really did), or that I spent half the concert running to the restroom to change another soaked pad all night. I just remember sitting in my seat and looking around at the arena packed with thousands of people wondering to myself if they could tell the pain I was in. I wondered if anyone else in that arena was feeling the same way. Had anyone else there ever felt that way? The feeling didn’t subside until I crawled into bed and drifted to sleep that night.
When I went to work Monday morning there were flowers and a card on my desk. The moment I walked in and saw them, I turned on my heel and walked back out the door. I had said it was not to be talked about. Not acknowledged or implied or anything. I told them I’d be back Tuesday and I expected my desk cleaned and everyone else over this by then.
How could I move on if the people around me were insisting on dragging me back into it.
That’s the part no one tells you in the cheap pamphlet the doctor hands you when you lose a baby. For every person who tells you “these things happen” or “God works in mysterious ways” there are just as many people who want you to grieve and go through the emotions of losing someone you love.
Both sides surround you and you’re never sure which way to go. You will alternate between both camps as you sort out the mess of emotions and hormones that come with losing a baby. You will hate your body for failing you while gingerly caring for it as it slowly heals from the physical trauma. You will feel like you’re losing your mind and not doing it “right” when really, there is no single right way to deal with this pain. You only need to do what is right for you. Lean into the feelings when they overcome and keep living your normal life when they go. How you react does not change how deep your loss was.
My babies should be turning 16 in the next few weeks. Their due date was November 11, 2005. For anyone who thinks things like this go away over time, I think about them every year on that date, even though I know as twins they likely would have come sooner.
I think about how badly I wanted to hold them and hug them on November 11. How I had planned to cover them with kisses, breathe in their essence, and tell them they were loved as they took their first breaths. I hope they felt loved every second of their short lives with me. More than anything, I’m so grateful they had each other. Whether they knew what was happening, felt any discomfort, or worried for even a second about what was happening they were not alone.
They had each other then and they have each other now in heaven. Someday, I know I will hold them and I will remind them they were loved for every second of their lives – and mine. They were loved like only a mother can love.
“They should shun evil and do good; seek peace and chase after it.” — 1 Peter 3:11
I have discovered that there are two kinds of passengers in the world: the ones who find joy in the ride and the ones who cannot wait to be there. When he was little, my son fell into the latter category. He could ride like a champ but got bored easily, which led to thousands of hours of “I Spy” between the front and back seats of my car.
Until one hot sticky afternoon when we were leaving a parade. I was exhausted from searching for a parking spot, lugging all our spectator gear to the route, and packing it all back after hours under the blazing summer sun to drag it back to the car with a three year old in tow. Out of snacks and trapped in miles of traffic moving at a snail’s pace I did not have a round of “I Spy” in me when the request came in from the backseat.
In a moment of desperation, I had a genius mom moment that still lives in infamy in our family. On that hot day I invented what would become “The Yellow Car Game”. I knew there were plenty of cars for him to look at in the traffic, he would be focused on searching them all, but I didn’t see a yellow car anywhere. It was the perfect challenge to keep him busy and rest my mind for a few minutes. He only found one yellow car that day and it took him 30 minutes – because they aren’t that prevalent.
Stop for a minute and think, When was the last time you saw a yellow car?
This immediately replaced “I Spy” as out go-to car game. It was hard at first, until we really started looking closely at the world around us. We had to survey parking lots we passed, drive-thru lines, and car lots to find them. We couldn’t just wait for one to pass us on the highway like so many other colors. We had to seek these out.
Eventually, a ten minute trip across town could uncover two or three yellow cars. We could find upwards of ten to fifteen in the span of a day of errands (never the same car twice is the rule). Either everyone suddenly started to buy yellow cars or they had been there all along but we just hadn’t seen them because we weren’t looking for them. I’m going with the second option.
If you seek it, you will find it.
Peter would have been good at the yellow car game. Peter knew the importance of seeking things and shared that in his letter to God’s people scattered throughout the world. Times are hard, people are struggling, many are suffering, but Peter reminds them they can still find peace if they seek and chase it.
Obviously, all of their sufferings won’t be cleared away in a matter of days just for looking for peace but it is a clear reminder that even within hard times goodness is present. It may require difficult searching, like moving stuff in the front of the fridge to see what’s in the back, but it is not impossible. It needs to be actively sought or created but the choice to be a good person, search for peace, and strive for it is always available.
For those receiving Peter’s words years ago, it likely referred to living good lives in whatever land they found themselves in. They should find ways to live harmoniously wherever they were and actively live as good citizens. Avoiding evil deeds, seeking peaceful living, and making it their goal is what God wanted from them (it applies to us too…).
For us, these words have far more power and application than we likely realize.
Shunning evil in life is obvious, but there are many mini-evils we face every day that do not always strike us as such in the moment. How many times are we faced with opportunities to spread gossip, judge others’ actions, tarnish a reputation, speak harshly, flip the bird in traffic, or many other things in a day?
When we slip up and do these things, and we will slip up – we are only human, we diminish the peace around us. We create hurt feelings, anger, conflict, and spread discontent around us.
If we change our mindset to look for the good in people and situations, we will find it. When we are faced with frustration and respond with healthy conversation, we will uncover more peace. Small steps in our every day can lead us to more happiness and peace by just adjusting our focus.
Gossip stops with you.
Accept others as they are, not as you want them to be.
Meet anger with conversation.
Smile and wave instead of rant and rave.
Be patient, life isn’t a timed contest.
Find peace everyday.
The harder you look, the more you will find.
And keep an eye out for yellow cars. You’ll see them far more often than you expect. Remember those finds when goodness and peace seem out of reach, they’re out there too.
People used to ask me how I could stand for my child calling another woman mom. Actually, some still do.
When we got a divorce, I knew this meant I would be away from my child. There would be days he would wake up and go to sleep without seeing my face and that fact shattered my heart. That was not the idea of motherhood I signed up for nor was it the kind of childhood I had imagined for him from before I even knew of his existence.
When he first started calling someone else mom, it stung. It stung deep. I was worried I would be replaced or he would end up confused. I hated the idea that someone else could possibly be equal to me in his eyes; I just wanted to be the greatest human he’d ever met (let’s be real, I still do).
It wasn’t until he was 4 and we could have an actual conversation about titles, right around when he wanted to call his step-dad “dad”, that it all made sense.
He hadn’t been calling her mom because he had no faith in me, he had been calling her mom because it felt normal. When he was there and the other kids said it, he could too. He could blend in and not feel weird; he just wanted to have a “normal” life. He also found comfort in her. He knew she wasn’t me, I was his favorite, but having a mom when he was away from me made it better for him.
He told me about games she played, parks they went to, and things they did. He smiled and giggled sharing funny stories that had made him happy. He said she was nice and she loved him. He said he loved her too – if that was ok with me.
In that moment, the clouds parted and I understood how lucky I was to have her in my son’s life. She wasn’t there to replace me, she was there to love him when I couldn’t. Though we had never really met, we were silent teammates in the loving of this boy. Two women, on opposite ends of the spectrum, loving and guiding a small boy. He was the one I gave birth to, the one she signed up for, and he loved us both.
I realized how lucky I was that he called her mom. He wanted to call her mom. That meant he felt her warmth and love wrapping him up when I could not. He knew she would make sure he had breakfast and make dinners he liked. She would play games, go to the park, and be silly with him during his time away from me. I may not have seen him every day, but he laid his head down every night knowing a woman who would keep him safe and loved him was just down the hallway. Always. No matter which house he was at.
So, no. I had no problem with my son calling another woman mom. Fourteen years after he first met her, she is no longer his step mom on paper, but she is still his mom. She loves him, she has seen his ups and downs, helped him when he was sick, and is still in his corner to this day. I have no doubt she will be there for him forever, either. I’m not hurt at all he calls her mom, in fact, I’m grateful he does. Kids need all the love they can get.
He found a soul that loved him purely and forever, which is what motherhood is really all about. It has nothing to do with a bloodline or what a piece of paper says. Motherhood is about love, dedication, tough love, and hopeless optimism for a child’s life. It comes from moms, but sometimes from other people our children are blessed to come across in life. It’s a gift to know your child is loved like you love them when you are not around.
I’ll never be replaced, neither will you, but knowing your child is loved brings a peace unlike any other.
Happy Mother’s Day to everyone. The moms, step moms, bonus mom, grandmas, aunts, cousins, best friends, teachers, neighbors, and anyone else who steps up to lovingly guide a child through the complexities of life. When they’re scared, lonely, and can’t be by their mom – you are a gift from God.
Thank you to everyone who is part of my kids’ mom tribes – especially Ben’s other mom.
Like most people, I am in a few Facebook groups for my town that offer up things for sale and recommendations for businesses for people in our area. In the last week I have seen people asking for recommendations for a lawyer, a mechanic, and a cake baker among other things. I have no need for any of these but because I’m nosy curious, I look at the comments to see what people have to say. I’d like to say it’s because I want to know if there is anything new in my town, but really it’s likely because I believe the places I use are the best, like most people do, and I like to see if everyone else is on board with me.
How do you rate?
Today, someone posted a very specific request of “Has anyone used ABC mechanic and what was your experience?”(obviously, I’ve changed the shop name to protect the innocent). The responses were crazy. No one was on the fence about this place, there was a clear line in the sand – people either love or hate this place. People either had been going there for decades with fabulous results, or went once and their lives were never the same from the headaches this place caused them.
I’d dealt with them and had mixed results so I panicked and couldn’t pick a side so I just read without chiming in. Sometimes I went in and it was fine, other times I left frustrated. Honestly though, I think that can be said about a lot of places. They have good moments and bad moments – no one is perfect all the time. The debate roared on so I never did comment, but watching it happen got my mind going.
What if life worked like this and we all decided who we would interact with and how we would treat them based on the reviews or recommendations of others. What if people handed out ratings of 1-5 stars about all of us? Then, before other people would interact with us, they could go online to search or ask others for recommendations.
How would I rate?
“Hey, thinking about joining a book group with Danielle – does anyone have any experience with her?”
“Anyone ever sat next to Danielle at the Memorial Day parade? Pros and cons?”
“Looking for opinions on Danielle as a neighbor. Is it worth saying hello?”
I promise you there would be comments and they would likely be from two camps, just like ABC mechanic’s were. I figure it would likely be either people saying “she is an amazing person” or people saying “she is literally the worst.” While others would likely shrug and reply “who?” or “she’s alright. Could do better, could do worse” with a shrugging emoji for good measure.
Maybe the mechanic couldn’t get parts because of a supplier or maybe they really did miss tightening a bolt once that led to a major issue for someone. Maybe they also fixed someone’s car at cost when they couldn’t afford it and sponsor Little League teams. Judging off opinions that are only one extreme or the other is dangerous.
What if someone saw me litter once or heard me get short with a stranger in a moment of frustration? If they never saw me volunteer at a school or help feed the people in my town they wouldn’t know the whole me. Just like those who see me do good, may struggle with my mistakes. And it’s not just me – it’s everyone. We’re all a wonderful mixture of good and bad, success and failures, and ups and downs. The balance makes us human and should be the reminder we all need to give people a chance, form our own opinions, and be objective in our opinions of people.
Make up your own mind
Instead of tying people’s worth to the opinions of others, we need to try to find a way to go off our own experiences. I’ve been focusing on that the last few months and I’m finding myself happier with myself than I have been in awhile. I know I will never be enough for some people. I also know it’s personal, some people are never satisfied with what other people do. Everyone gets a three star rating in their world no matter what.
I am too much for some, not enough for others and that is perfect because I am not here to live for others – I’m here to live my life as who I am. Sometimes the results will be fantastic, other times disappointing, but always fully authentic. That’s what matters most when we deal with people (or places) in life. No single moment, no matter how good or how bad, defines us.
We’re all gloriously, simultaneously one and five star people – and that’s the best review ever.
“Service is the rent we pay for being. It is the very purpose of life and not something you do in your spare time” ~ Marion Wright Edelman
Love the World, love yourself. I think that’s what Marion is alluding to above. There is no denying this year its been hard. This winter is dragging on, isn’t it? Last year we were all together and doing great things with our people; but now we’re all kind of on our own. It’s so funny to think how much can change in the span of a year – for good or for bad.
I don’t need to map out the bad for you right now; you already know exactly what that looks like. We’re all doing our best to get through that part of life right now. If yours is going anything like mine, the house is somehow messier than ever even though you are home more than ever and you regularly lose track of the last time you actually washed your hair (can I get an amen for dry shampoo, podcasts, and zoom calls!?).
Life looks different
We can’t do everything we did before, it’s just not safe and possible right now, but who says we can’t reinvent some parts of it? Who says we still can’t do good in the world? Seriously, I have no idea who says we can’t – but I know we can completely prove them wrong. I’ve been doing it. So can you.
Love Your World
If you’re crafty and want to spread some love to kids who are living with illnesses – check out what the folks at Cards for Hospitalized Kids and Cards for Seniors are doing. You can spread some cheer without leaving your home.
Want to bring it more local? Contact local nursing homes, schools, veterans groups, and hospitals for info on how to reach out to people in need of a smile. Local schools, churches, and community agencies all have people who need a lift in their spirits as much as they need help with other needs.
You can make cards, send donations, order pizzas for schools, or become pen pals with someone so quickly and easily. Your loneliness and theirs can create something beautiful from this mess!
We can still send love
Dream Big
Really looking to make a difference? Here is one simple action, go online and simply ask your people: Does anyone need help with anything right now?
The responses will amaze you. Someone you know is worried about food right now and someone else isn’t sure who to call for help with their car. Someone you know may need shoes in the size you were planning to drop at the Goodwill store. Maybe that extra bike in the garage is all it would take to make life good for a kid in your circle. You won’t know if you don’t ask.
We think good deeds need to be huge, grand gestures or donations – but they really do not. The small things, the ones that often mean the most to people’s hearts, are easily overlooked and go unmet. Small deeds matter. You are beyond capable of being the person who makes someone else smile without making a huge donation or contributing a lot of time.
How do I know? I’ve gratefully and humbly watched it unfold in front of me over the last 11 months in a Facebook group I started with a friend. We were sad for the world and community as we started seeing people suffer. We do not have deep pockets or loads to share ourselves – but we have big hearts and lots of passion. People share needs, we help connect them to help. It’s that simple.
Love the world, love yourself
Yes, I miss my church family. I miss my friends from yoga class and work also. I miss the moms from the softball team. I miss my women’s retreat friends, my travel friends, and my conference friends I haven’t been able to see. The void in my life almost physically hurts.
Tell people you miss them. Tell people you want to help. Share your thoughts, expertise, suggestions, and that extra box of macaroni you know you do not need with them! The empty places will be filled differently, but they will be filled. You will see that no amount of social distancing or quarantining can ever stop love. The human spirit is simply too strong for that, even though some days it does feel insurmountable.
You may not think your impact is large, but you are exactly the right person to make a difference to someone today.
The Greatest is Love
“Faith, hope and love are some good things he gave us – but the greatest is love.”
– Alan Jackson and 1 Corinthians 13.
We focus on so many things in life: normal day-to-day chores, holidays, work, and adapting to our new normal that it’s easy to forget the greatest and most basic thing we have in life: love. 2020 made that all clearer than ever, but in 2021 we know what we’re up against and we’re ready for the challenge.
Please note: this was written as a three part series and supposed to post beforethe eventsin Washington D.C. on Wednesday January 6, 2021. The sentiment is still the same, but 2021 has already proven to be surprising.
Be realistic in your expectations for the New Year
My world is filled with people excited to be over with 2020. I agree 2020 will likely go down as one of the most difficult years in most of our lives. However, 2021 is not a magical cure for all of our problems.
Celebrating the new year and making big promises for the new year is nothing new. Over 4000 years ago, the Babylonians made promises to their gods at their new year celebration to improve themselves so they could win the gods’ favor on their crops. If they were successful in their resolutions, they would have good crops and if they were not the crops would fail. My family would be very hungry if our ability to eat rested in my ability to stick to a resolution for a year.
The Romans did the same around 46 B.C. They made promises to the gods of how to improve themselves and believed those actions were directly tied to their quality of life. Keeping of the resolutions would make an easy year for them and breaking them would lead them to a falling out with the gods. Again, I’d be in big trouble if life rested on whether I could actually stop drinking Coca Cola for a year (spoiler: I’ve tried many times, I crack by March).
Of course, if it’s good enough for the Romans – our Christian church wasn’t going to be left in the dark either. “Covenant Renewal Services” popped up for people to repent their sins from the previous year and to also make new promises with God as a renewal of His Covenant with us. It’s great to examine yourself and reflect on how you’re carrying yourself in the world, but I’m also really glad God doesn’t attach strings to His love for me. Resolutions for any reason are hard.
At this point, they’re mostly a secular thing and most people don’t even do them. Only 40% of Americans say they make them with roughly 8% reporting they keep theirs (I have no proof but I’d bet a few of those people are fudging too). I don’t make them any year, but this year in particular I think it’s best to skip them and limit my 2021 expectations for many reasons
I have been disappointed enough over the last 12 months. Some decisions were my own and many were not. I did NOT see a global pandemic of this magnitude happening in 2020. Maybe some people did, I’m not exactly always up in the news as much as I should be, but last year went off the rails more than I think most of could have predicted. We all want it fixed, but problems this deep didn’t start overnight nor will they disappear overnight.
The dropping of a sparkly ball at the strike ball at midnight does not mean the pandemic is over.
We don’t have a fairy godmother waving her wand to put things back to normal at midnight. We can celebrate hope for 2021 but still need to be realistic in our expectations. The vaccines are coming but it will still take months to get them out enough to make a dent in the virus. People are still struggling to stay afloat while we wait to safely reopen places. We have new leaders coming in to try and heal years of problems. No single person can change years and decades of problems immediately either.
We need to approach 2021 with hope and determination, not the expectation it will be better simply because it’s not called 2020. We have real work to keep doing as we continue having hard conversations, taking precautions to keep us all safe, and helping people around us. We need to just keep going and adding any more to our heavy burden entering 2021 just seems self-destructive at this point.
I’m welcoming 2021 into my life calmly. It’s a breath of fresh air, we are closer to moving past a virus and stepping back into life more freely. But we aren’t there yet. Not with the dropping of the ball, flipping of the calendar, or changing of the year. We still have work to do.
Let’s go into 2021 hoping things get no worse and enjoy the process of rising together. Last year disappointed most of us, but this year could surprise us.
This post is part one of an October pregnancy loss series.
“We can’t find the heartbeats, but that’s not uncommon. We’ll do an ultrasound and get them that way. Plus the first look at your babies.”
I was just excited as the doctor when she offered me a first look at the two sweet babies growing in my womb. They’d seen two sacs early on and my blood work numbers were off the chart; they told me there were two babies weeks before. I was equal parts scared and excited.
Turning the corner into the second trimester had felt like a giant weight was lifted off me. I’d seen friends lose babies before and knew getting to the second trimester was a major milestone. One not to be taken for granted and one I thanked God for every night. I did it. I was in the clear. My first major responsibility as a mom and I had nailed it.
I went to my check up that day alone, an ultrasound before 18-20 weeks hadn’t crossed my mind! The books I was absorbing every night didn’t say anything about ultrasounds earlier and I was over the moon to think I could see my little babies sooner than I ever imagined. I knew they’d look like little dough ball people, but they’d be my little dough balls and that was all I cared about.
The next 30 minutes are still a blur in my mind, more than 15 years later. The dim room, the crinkly table, my paper gown, and the cool gooey gel started me on my happy adventure. The stark silence, the slight squint of the eyes, moving the screen from my view, then the tech leaving to get my doctor ushered me into a journey of loss unlike any I had been on before.
I heard words like empty, nothing, lost, and gone mixed in with medical words. They asked if I could call someone for a ride. If I needed to go to work. If there was anything they could to help me then. I think I shook my head. I know I cried and slowly pulled on the maternity pants I had already needed once I was alone in the cozy ultrasound room. I walked into the room pregnant and loving my babies, I would be walking out broken and alone. Finding the courage to open that door and leave my hopes for them behind was hard.
I went to my car, I called my husband to tell him what happened then I called work. I did not have an ounce of tact or decorum left when I spoke to my boss.
“My babies are dead. I am not coming back to work today, I am not coming in tomorrow. I do not want to talk about it ever. Please tell everyone so I do not have to talk about it. I will be back Monday. I do not want to talk about it.”
I hung up, I drove home, I crawled into bed, and I cried until every inch of my body ached just as badly as my empty womb and heart did.
When the doctor “catches” a miscarriage before your body does, you’re left with a terrible choice. You can walk around and wait for your body to start the painful process of expelling your sweet baby or you can go to the doctor for a D&C procedure to remove everything and start healing your body. Make no mistake, it is the same painful awful procedure as an abortion but they call is something kinder when you’re at lowest. I’m not sure why they change the name.
I chose the D&C. Early the next morning, without eating anything, I crawled out of bed and called the doctor’s office right at 8am like I’d been told to do. They gave me a long list of things to do and don’t do before my assigned time to report to the hospital for the procedure. I walked through the house in a zombie-like state gathering comfy clothes, maxi pads, and doing a few chores I likely wouldn’t have energy for later in the day. Then we headed to the hospital.
I recall nothing of arriving or going into the room. I do recall waking up next to my doctor in the recovery room. Visitors were not allowed back there, but doctors were. She sat by side so I wouldn’t wake up alone and empty in a strange place. Her kind blue eyes and the warm laugh lines on her face were the first thing I saw.
Immediately, I broke into the biggest, ugliest, most incoherent tears of my life. She leaned in and held me and let me cry. Everything hurt. My body was sore and I could feel it bleeding. I was woozy and dizzy coming out of the anesthesia and feeling ready to puke from the meds in my system. Nothing felt good or pleasant in that moment. From the very bottom of my soul to every corner of my body I hurt.
My doctor remembering I was a grieving mother in a lot of pain meant the world to me. Her kindness and love got me through the few hours of recovery before I headed home for a miserable weekend of recovery.
I thought I left the hard part of the trauma at the hospital but I was wrong.
Some people tell me because I believe in Science along with God, I’m not a real Christian. I believe in the Science that masks, washing hands, washing surfaces, and limiting close contact with people will keep us healthy. I believe that even a 2% death rate is too much. I believe the world can reopen if everyone would follow that plan but since so many people are too selfish to follow the rules, we have no choice but to be closed. I believe if masks were not healthy, surgeons, fencers, and dentists would have been dying in droves long before this started.
I believe the people in our world are too selfish to look beyond themselves to do anything slightly inconvenient. That’s the real plague hitting our world. I also believe until people start doing things to help people, this will be here until we start coming back loving each other how God wanted in the same way the Plagues in Exodus just kept coming until the Pharaoh finally did the right thing.
Some say I’m not a real Christian because I am pro-choice. Even though John 6-8 from The Message reminds us: “The sinless one among you, go first: Throw the stone”. For my body, I am pro-life. I wish everyone would be pro-life, but I also understand some people are in terrible situations where that just may not be possible. For those people, I love them and support them making the most difficult choice ever.
I am not without sin, I will not judge them for theirs. Instead, I will love them and fight to protect them from the unfair stones coming their way. I also do not understand how the people from the previous paragraph can be ok with 2% of sick people of dying but still yell all lives matter and pro-life is in the only way. Sounds more “Pro-birth” than Pro-life to me. Especially when we treat the poor, oppressed, foreign-born people so horribly.
Some say I am wrong for believing immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers deserve to be welcomed. With a hot meal, a warm bed, and a chance to live a life away from the dangerous parts they came from just as the book of Matthew instructs. These are families who have taken their babies through war zones to protect them and give them a good life. They are not a threat to our lives. They are brothers and sisters seeking a better life.
Many of them are the same people so many vacation mission trips swear they love and want to help so badly. If you can love them when you get to work in the Dominican, Puerto Rico, Cuba, and Mexico when you get to visit and work in paradise – why can’t you love them the same when they come here? Is it really about the mission then? Or boosting your ego on social media while getting a tan and visiting paradise? I believe we should love people and help them everywhere. Especially when they are on our own doorsteps. It’s literally what Revelation 3:14-20 was written for.
Some say I’m not a real Christian believe I believe love is love. Love is for everyone. Honestly, I think we got Leviticus 18:22 all wrong. The flawed human who interpreted those words then wrote it down clearly misunderstood something. I do not believe our God, so full of love, would ever say true love is wrong. He would not promote hate. He would certainly not teach us to judge, shun, and treat people unjustly over their love. I believe God Himself felt so seriously about it, He sent his son down to clear it all up for us with actual words from His own mouth in John 13:34-35: “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” This isn’t rocket science. Its a new commandment, one that covers the whole Bible and the whole world forever. Love everyone as Jesus loves you.
You sin, I sin, we all sin yet God and Jesus love us. That’s how He tells us to conduct ourselves and the only way people will know we are His disciples. By loving people how we are loved. Full of grace and forgiveness. During hard times, happy times, scary times, sad times – all of the times! I searched those verses in multiple Bibles looking for the * pointing out it applied to everyone except gay people, and guess what? It wasn’t there. Not in NIV, KJV, The Message, NLT, ESV, NKJV, or anywhere. They all say it clear as day.
Love everyone as Jesus loves you. THAT is how the world knows you’re a Chrisitian. That is what I’m trying to do.
I don’t worry about anyone who thinks giving love and demanding justice for all the people of the world makes me less of a Christian. Their judgement doesn’t matter to me nor should it matter to you. It’s hard some days when you feel like you’re in the minority and surrounded by hate, but you’re doing exactly what we were all asked to before Jesus left.
