Pondering Fulfillment

Life is a funny thing. I often wonder if anyone ever feels the way I do about it – that this isn’t at all what I expected it to be. Not all bad – just so different. Will it all come together at some point in an “AHA!” moment? Will I ever see the purpose behind this pain – enough of a purpose that I can use it to propel forward? Or will it just be a series of little moments that never really string together? I think of all the things I’d love to do…

I want to write a book. I’ve wanted to on and off for a while, but these past few months – well, probably since Kaden died – I’ve felt this urge to write one.

I know what it’ll be about.

I know the title.

I have the chapters in my head.

I’ve read about traditional publishing and self publishing and even contacted a company that helps self publish.

Then I sit down and become paralyzed by writing a whole book. (And yes, even breaking it into chapters is still overwhelming because it’s chapters of a whole book lol.) I over think it – where do I begin? Do I plan out the book in those idea bubbles? Research? Just start writing?

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#Blessed Weakness

#Blessed Weakness

I see the #blessed hashtag everywhere. If I’m really honest, it makes me incredibly angry most of the time. It’s used for (what I consider) trite, stupid things.

Is that my call to make? No. But that’s how it feels right now.

I’m using Cynthia Heald’s Becoming a Woman of Strengthย (afflink)ย with my ย mom in our one on one Bible study. This week we talked about strength in our weakness, specifically God’s strength.

Lately I feel very on edge about doing things the right way. We’ve had some really bad weeks, with more to come as a consequence of them, and my inner control freak kicks in at these moments to keep everything I can in line.

  • Clean the house.
  • Vacuum like there’s no tomorrow.
  • Organize.
  • Schedule.
  • Plan.
  • Then fall apart.

The other night I sat on the couch and sobbed to Sam about what a disaster our life is. Again. And really – it is. I wish I could be more specific (it’s preventing me from writing more on here because I have so many “can’t be told’s”) but we are waiting to see the outcome of some of this before I make it public.

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Impatient Outsider

I’m sitting here with a hot cup of coffee (cream only, hotter the better) thinking about how it’s been a week since I’ve written on here. I’m not sure why.

I feel left out of everything lately. Life in general. I’m the oddball out almost everywhere I go. I enrolled Bella in gymnastics last month, and two moms with babies sat and chatted about breastfeeding/formula/clothes/nights/etc the whole time. It was so hard to hear, then on top of it little baby whimpers that sent me straight back to Children’s with Kaden. I had to get up and leave the room a few times (Bella was in another room completely).

The last day of it, I chose to sit a little ways away from them and could hear them whisper softly about how I thought I was better than them or something. It hurt so much. I wanted to unload my story on them both, watch their faces as they struggled to find something to say to me then. But I didn’t. I ignored them and their living babies and took Bella home at the end.

We start Girl Scouts next week. I was talking with the lead mom yesterday about it by phone, and she said, “The parents all stick around during the meetings, they’ve become such good friends.”

Great, was all I could think. I wonder when I’ll have to explain why I can’t hold their baby without crying while they dash to the restroom or that Bella isn’t my only child.

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The Day Before

Today has been a really terrible day so far.

And it’s only noon here as I write this.

I expected tomorrow to be. The day Kaden died. Really though, I find myself dreading birthdays more than – death days? What on earth do we call these days? Anniversary seems to give it the air of something celebrated. Birthdays are hard – and as my wise friend Emily told me, “It’s because that’s a day when you’re supposed to be happy, but you can’t be.”

Tomorrow is a day I’m supposed to be sad.

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Count It All Joy {or Trying To}

Today I woke up with the thought, “It feels like God hates me.”

It really does lately. Either He forgot about me, or He’s just having a grand time ruining my life while letting everyone else have a semi normal one. I don’t get it.

So many of you have reached out to me this week – thank you. Like each time we face some trial over the past 4 years, you guys are always there. I’ve been MIA from social media (and still am) because I want to focus on our family right now, with some writing. I did want to let you know that this didn’t involve a baby of our own, we have no intention of getting pregnant again because of the ciHHV-6 virus that my pregnancies activate.

Part of the mess involves an adoption we’ve been working on for the past 2 1/2 months, and the mom (due in October) changed her mind this past week. Totally unrelated to anything else we’re dealing with, but a big hit. We understood it was her right and choice, and I am hopeful that things work out for her and this little one, but it still hurts. It wasn’t something we pursued but rather came to us unexpectedly, and we moved forward in faith, trusting that God had a plan in it. We were waitingย to announce anything until the homestudy was approved, and it is. Finalized on Kaden’s birthday through a wonderful agency we’ve worked with since June. It approves us for any age of child up to a year younger than Bella.

That is one of the brightest parts in this all.

The rest is still being worked through, and again, unrelated to the adoption.

Anyway, in the midst of these thoughts of, “Why me, why us, why again do we have to go through more pain?” was the sudden realization this afternoon of something I’d prayed time and again these past few months. That Christ would do whatever He wanted in my life for His will. Whatever it took, that He would use my talents, time, mistakes, and humanity to further His kingdom.

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