See The Father

I'm going to tell you a funny story... and then after that I'm going to share some hard stuff. But let's start off with something funny, ok?

When I was 6 years old, my daddy took me to Home Depot. He needed something manly I'm sure. Screws, drills, planks of wood, things men need. Over all I was a pretty well behaved child, but on this day, something happened and I became possessed. ( Maybe I wasn't possessed, but I was for sure showing my depravity.) I began to pester my dad to buy me something absolutely ridiculous. It was drawer pulls for a cabinet or something so absurdly bizarre like that. To this day, I have no idea why I wanted them. He said no and finished his manly shopping spree. To the outsider, it appeared as if I was just being the obedient child, accepting his answer with maturity of AT LEAST a 7 year old, maybe 8. Oh no. What I was doing was biding my time. We made our way through the check out station and dad made small talk with the clerk. She commented on my adorable hair bow that was three times the size of my head. ( You know you wore them.) Dad fumbled around with the bags for a moment and we made our way to sliding glass doors. This is where it gets really awful. I mean it's bad. I did something so terrible to my dad I can't believe he didn't just leave me right there in the parking lot of Home Depot. Right after we stepped into the parking lot I looked up at him with my adorable brown eyes, wiped my snotty little nose and started shouting ( no lie) " Stranger, Stranger I don't know this man". Can. You. Believe. That??? What was wrong with me?? Didn't I realize they could have hauled my dad off to jail?? Didn't I realize people could have jumped him in the parking lot to detain him for the police?? Didn't I realize he drove a VAN??? A VAN people! The signature child snatching car in powder blue!! My dad looked at me, and I think in that moment he realized I was a sinner after all. I think until that moment he thought I was an exception to the rule. He started dragging me to the van saying " Lori-Beth stop it! Stop it right now!" Did I stop as this man was dragging me to his VAN?? No no. I shouted more. "Stranger, help me!" Fortunately, the parking lot was a ghost town and my dad did get me in the van. When I got in the van I realized the gravity of my mistake. My dad is a kind and gentle man. it takes a lot to make him mad. I don't know if he was hurt more by my betrayal or  by the reality that i could have sent him to jail for the night to be cell mates with a guy named Butch, but he.was.livid. I received the mother of all spankings that afternoon in our Dodge Caravan. My dad and I are on good terms again. I think he has forgiven me. I really wanted those drawer pulls, ok?

Good story, right? Now we move on to the hard stuff. God has asked me, well told me really, to share some tough things with you. He wants me to share about the day I miscarried, and also to share a letter I wrote to our baby. I think writing a letter to our baby was one of the best things I ever did to help begin healing. When you miscarry, there is no funeral. No memorial. You have to mourn a life not yet lived and it's really hard to figure out how to do that. This helped me and I'd recommend it to you even if it's been years since you lost your child(ren).

I use to really love my birthday. In my family, we get a birth week and it's AWESOME! I'm pretty spoiled like that. I woke up on September 30, and I felt pretty good. I was turning 26, which isn't that cool of a birthday ( you know you're an adult when birthdays mean insurance rates go down and after that all you have to look forward to is your smarty pants friends throwing you over the hill themed b day parties) but I was pregnant and so excited. I went to work. On my way home I got an incredibly sharp pain in my stomach and back. I knew right then, something wasn't right. I was bleeding. A lot. It wasn't spotting. I felt sick. I called Kindal and he said to take another pregnancy test and I did and it said positive. I scoured the Internet.. "Some people bleed" I thought desperately. I tried to relax, but the pain was getting so much worse. Every time I went to the bathroom, it was evident something was really wrong. I didn't go to the Dr. I'm sure I should have, but I didn't want to. I sat on my bathroom floor and I begged God to stop this. I knew he could and I cried out to him. It got worse. I knew I was literally feeling my baby leave my body. I went to bed that night and I couldn't sleep. It was the worst physical and mental pain I have ever felt. I woke up in the morning and I took another test. It was negative. I stared at it. I willed it to change. Come back two little pink lines. It didn't change. I crawled into bed with Kindal and I said " she's gone". We both wept.

I did not know the sex of my baby, but in my heart I believe she was a girl. I wasn't far enough along to find out. I can not begin to describe my mental state that day. I was in shock. I was angry. I was devastated and I was numb all at the same time. Kindal's sister was staying with us that weekend and he needed to take her to do something, I have no idea what.. didn't really matter. I told him to go. I needed to be alone. I gathered up the few gifts we had been given, the positive pregnancy tests, the cards from well wishers and I put them in a box. I needed to bury my baby. I folded the onsies neatly, I put all of the cards in their appropriate envelopes. I went to our home office and sat down at the desk. I don't know why, I'm certain now it was God directing me, but I began to write to my little girl. I needed to tell her some things. As my pen began to stroke the paper, I began to cry, Then I began to sob, then I began to scream out. My deepest love poured on to that paper as I realized that this was real. It was over. You can't have her. I laid my head on our desk and my paper became soaked with tears. One year of "trying", hoping, praying, believing and here I sat... barren...broken...alone. We had told some of our friends, most of our family. We had looked at baby websites and shopped around imagining what our beautiful child would like to have. This was not some mass of tissue that just passed through me. This was my answered prayer, my deepest desire, my legacy.

Here is what I wrote.

Sweet Baby,
You could never know how much I wanted you. When I saw those two little lines on that pregnancy test and realized it meant " positive" I was over joyed. The time I spent knowing you were with me was absolute heaven. I know that to some people, you were just a tiny speck. you hadn't had a chance to laugh or smile or even cry, but to me you were already my cuddly baby, a laughing toddler, a kindergarten student on the first day of school, a nervous sixth grader, a high school senior, a bride...you were my first child and you always will be. It's so odd to miss someone you never actually met. I would have given anything to know you. I won't ever forget you- I know that sounds silly to some people, but my heart is so so broken. When I knew I was losing you, I begged God to change it. I begged him to let me have you. I don't know why it had to be this way. I can't say I understand, because I don't. I am thankful for the time I had with you. I wish it could have been so much more... a lifetime. I wish I could have held you, kissed your face, played games with you, read books to you, taught you how to read, laughed with you, felt your touch. I wish so many things. At first, I thought maybe it would have been better not to have even known you were there. After thinking about it, the joy you brought your daddy and I was worth the heartache. It was worth knowing you baby. I love you. I won't be afraid and I believe God will let me hold a baby and call it mine but know that I will think about you all the time and I will miss you. I hope you would have had your daddy's heart and his smile. I don't know how these things work, if some how God let's us hold the ones we've lost, if I'll see you in heaven... I really hope so.
Love,
Mommy


I told you it was hard stuff. I have not read that since I wrote it, I hope it helped you. I hope you identified. If It didn't then that's ok. I was told to share it, so I did. The worst part for me came weeks later. I began to feel like maybe God wasn't good. Maybe he didn't love me. After all, drug addicts were getting pregnant every day and teenage girls were getting TV shows because of how fertile they were. They were keeping their babies. The weren't losing them. What kind of God lets me miscarry a baby that we've been trying to conceive for a year on my birthday? I became really angry with God. I became hard. I did not believe he loved me and I did not believe he was good. That was really stupid. I told you in my last post, that grief takes you to dark places. It certainly did for me. For several months I was totally disconnected from the Father. I did not pray, I did not read the Word. I "led worship" because I had to, but I was totally checked out during every song. God doesn't love me. he hates me. He is angry with me and this is his wrath. I'm being as honest as I can be with you because I really do love you. All of you reading this. I think many women feel this, but admitting it is so very hard because it's ugly and it's shameful and it's so personal.

It's also wrong. Equating God's goodness to your circumstances in life is like equating how your food tastes to the weather outside. They have nothing to do with each other. God is good, not because of how my life plays out, but simply because HE IS GOOD. He says so in his Word and his word is perfect and he doesn't lie. He. Is. Good. His love for me is not shown in me getting exactly what I want, when I want it and how I want it. it is not shown to me by living a life without hurt or pain. It was shown to me 2,000 years ago at Calvary. Period. God did not punish me with a miscarriage. He did not turn his back on me. What he did was save me from my own selfishness and he gave me grace when I deserved wrath. The only thing unfair about my life is that he loves me at all. It took me along time to stop blaming God, to stop believing he hated me.

I really love Kim Walker's voice. She sings with Jesus Culture and I think she rocks. She has a version of How He Loves that God used to reveal his love to me all over again. I came across it on You Tube somehow and I don't know why, but I clicked it. She has a powerful voice. She just starts belting out " He loves us oh how he loves us" and in that moment God broke down every wall I had allowed the enemy to build up. " I do love you. I will use this. You are mine little girl. I can restore you, I can heal you. I can use you... and I will" I don't know if you have every physically felt the love of God, but I have. It made me weep, tears of undeniable joy this time. Yesterday, as I was praying about what to write today I kept thinking about that song. At the end, Kim starts singing " See the Father, behold the Father" ( yes, Kim Walker and I are on a first name basis, what of it?) and that's what I so desperately, so passionately want you to do. I want you to see the Father. I want you to know that he does love you, that he can heal you that he will use this for good for those who are called according to his purpose. I don't know what road you're on. I don't know if you've lost babies, if you're barren, if you're a lost soul... but you have to realize that God is good and he loves his children.

I am going to post a link to her version of How He Loves. Please click it. Please let it wash over you. Listen to the very end, all the way to my favorite part.

My prayer for you:
Jesus. You are so good. Even when I didn't believe it, you were still good and you still are. I lift up every reader tonight. I ask that you would heal them. I ask that you would bring them children however you so desire. I ask that you would overwhelm them with your love and your mercies that are new every morning. I ask that you would make your presence in their life known... that you would crush every wall, break every chain and in your own time, restore every dream. God, if there are those reading this that don't know you, reveal yourself to them. How can they be healed if they don't know the healer? How can they be restored if they don't know the one who brings restoration? How can they feel love until they know the one who loved us first? Show them that you are good.

See the Father, behold the Father

we press on,
LB

We Press On

I did not want to write this. I wrestled with God for quite some time. I flat out told him no. I kicked and stomped and threw an adorable little hissy fit.It was not pretty. I was not ready to put myself out there. I didn’t want people to see my scars or know my failures. The thing about grief is, it takes you to some dark places. It causes you to have moments you might not be proud of. It pushes you, pulls you, challenges you and in the end, it changes you. My story is not actually about the hurt though, it’s about the healing. It’s not about the damage done but rather about the restoration that follows. I want this Blog to be so many things. I want it to be a place where you can come and find a real perspective on infertility. A real woman’s journey through something she never thought she’d face. I want it to be a place where you can grieve your loss. Where you can relate to something when it seems like no one else gets it. Where you can find information so you can move forward and start your family, or add to it, or complete it.  I want it to be a breath of fresh air, a place where you can laugh until you cry… or just cry. I want it to be a place for a woman who’s lost a baby, for a husband who doesn’t know how to “fix” infertility, a place for a friend who wants to better understand some one else’s struggles, or for someone searching for God’s grace. I have to tell you, that when I posted on Facebook today that I was starting this Blog, I was sure no one would comment, “like it” or even bother to read it. I stared at that screen for what felt like hours before I clicked the “update status” button. I begrudgingly checked on it before I left for work, mostly to prove to God that this was all really pointless. Yes, I Lori-Beth was going to prove  God, creator of the universe wrong. It was really cute.  He very quickly and overwhelmingly put me in my place. Your response was fantastic. It was humbling. It was everything I was afraid it never would be. You commented, you messaged, and you even “liked” it. You confirmed that this is something that needs to be done. My prayer is that this is a ministry that I can pour my heart into and that you can walk with me during this journey. 

I want to share a little background info with you. Most of you know how Kindal and I met. It’s a precious story that I never get tired of telling. If you’re tired of hearing it, skip this part because I can’t resist an opportunity to make you swoon at the romance and just over all adorablness (real word?) that is “our love story”.  You might throw up. It’s that sweet. I met Kindal when I was 10 years old. His family moved to Owasso because his dad was the new music pastor at First Baptist Owasso. If you ask him, a light was shining down on me that morning on the stage at FBCO. It illuminated my awesome feaux leather jacket, plaid skirt and navy knee socks paired with my Spice Girl platform shoes. I also had some serious bangs and my lips were most likely freshly coated with roll on Lip Smackers strawberry gloss because it’s all my mom would let me wear until 6^th grade when I was allowed to wear CLEAR mascara. It made a HUGE difference, trust me. I looked at least 12 and ½ with that stuff on.  I digress. He saw me and introduced himself. He was 9 and told me right then that we were going to get married. After 10 years of chasing me and being friends and tears shed ( all his lol) and some other misadventures I did realize that he was pretty great and I told him I loved him too and we kissed and I lost my breath. We got married less than a year later. Kindal is my rock. He is kind when I can be unkind. He is patient when I am in a hurry. He loves when I can be unloving. He is selfless when I can be selfish. I have literally seen him give the shirt off of his back to a man who needed it. I have watched him hand over all of his Christmas money to a family who needed to pay for a hotel room. He loves it when it gets snowy because he can drive around pushing people out of ditches. He is generous even when he really doesn’t have anything to give. I love that about him. He will make a way to help you. If you’re stuck on top of a mountain, he will become a mountain climber.

I couldn’t ask for a better person to do life with. Over the last few years, God began prepping me for what I was going to face, and I didn’t even realize it. We can be so single minded sometimes. We only see what’s right in front of us. The Father sees everything. He begins to sharpen us for battles that are yet to come. We don’t like that. We don’t see the point. We question him. We challenge him. Then the battle comes, and we are ready. We thank him. We acknowledge that he is the Alpha and the Omega. The battle is already won because we had what we needed before the first blow fell. All of my life I struggled with feelings of insecurity. I was never good enough. I would never be pretty enough, smart enough or talented enough. I lived and breathed to put on an image of perfection. If anyone ever knew how imperfect I was, there was no way they could love me. I built up walls. I hid the truth. I could never measure up to what I believed people wanted me to be. I was under constant pressure (my own) to be flawless. I had very few real relationships because letting down my guard was simply not an option. It affected every aspect of my life, my marriage, my friendships, my role as a daughter and as a minister’s wife. I can tell you that after an encounter with Jesus, my life has never been the same. I was radically changed. I was set free from the need to be perfect. I was released from my obsession with pleasing others and with the need to make others see that I was good enough. I found my value in the Grace of God. It was the first of many restorations in my life. When you can’t conceive or you miscarry, you can’t help but feel like a failure. Why is it so easy for others? Why can’t I do this?  Why am I not good enough? Why can’t I give this to my husband? My parents want so desperately to hold a grand baby. Why can’t I do this for them? The brokenness I experienced a few years ago made way for restoration and that restoration made me strong. It has become my shield. I know that this is not an issue of “being good enough” and I praise God for walking me through the fire to refine me for the next one.

Kindal and I always we knew we would adopt. We didn't know that we wouldn't be able to have children biologically but we both felt called to adoption at some point in our marriage. I know that for many people, adoption is a last resort. It comes after rounds of fertility treatments and specialist visits. We decided long ago that if we couldn't conceive naturally, we would move on to adoption. I have never been diagnosed with a specific problem. As far as my Dr. can tell, I am a healthy woman with no known cause for infertility. I realize that for some people exhausting every option possible in order to carry a child is vitally important and I respect that. When I think about adoption, I can't help but think about my faith. The Gospel is, after all, all about adoption. The Father sought out his children. He went to great lengths to bring them in to the family. He pursued them. He sent messages through prophecies in the Old Testament letting them know He was on His way. In the New Testament, He made it clear that his Children were Co heirs with Christ, making them equals with his Son. Have you ever just sat and pondered that? You are a CO HEIR with Christ? You are entitled to the same rights and benefits as the son of God? You are a new creation, a son or daughter of the King. The beauty of adoption is that it doesn't matter where you came from. When you're adopted, you gain the full rights and benefits of the people who adopted you. You are treated just like their child because you ARE their child. This picture in the scriptures is one of the many reasons that Kindal and I decided to pursue adoption. 

My posts are going to cover such a broad spectrum. I'll post about what not to say to someone who has lost a baby, how to handle your friends becoming pregnant while you're still hurting, adoption agencies, financial assistance, how your husband can help you, writing letters to your children, and so many other things that helped me, hurt me, confused me and even a few things that made me laugh. In the last week or so, God asked me to start praying for the birth parents of my children, and for my children, where ever they are. I pray for their biological mother, I don't know if she even knows she is pregnant, but I pray for her health and safety. If she has any addictions, I boldly ask that God would break them. I ask that God would begin fostering the idea in her heart that she is not capable of caring for them and that he would heal any pain that that causes her. I can't imagine giving up a child, and I am forever grateful to her. I pray that the biological father would be supportive and loving. That he would never harm our children ( I don't know if they are unborn, babies, or older children) and that he would provide all that they need until we can get to them. I pray that they would both be at peace with giving them up and that God would restore any ache it might cause them. In a strange way, I'm connected to them already, and I don't even know their names. 

The last thing tonight, is just a message to our child, or children. I want you to know, where ever you are tonight little one... that we're coming. You might be in a womb, or crying out in the night, or sitting on the floor playing with toys. We're coming as fast as we can sweet baby. When I find you, I'm going to hold you for a hundred years and tell you I'm so sorry it took us so long. Hang on sweet little boy, gentle little girl. I'm your mom. You just don't know me yet.

We Press on...

LB