New Mercies Every Morning, Part 3

“Why can’t I get it right? Why can’t I just fix myself?” I’d read book after book on how to be a godly wife and mother, and all I seemed to reap from them was guilt, rules, and 7-step programs. Why was I the only one who struggled so much?

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I look up. Someone is walking towards our SUV, and I don’t want them to see me crying. As the blur clears, I recognize the visitor: my husband. On the random day that I fasten the kiddos into the car and drive to escape the basement, I end up parking at Lowe’s to have a good cry. And my husband is there in the parking lot.

Simultaneously relieved and embarrassed, I open the driver’s door and greet him. Bless him: he has no idea what to say to his pitiful wife. But his embrace and his presence brought relief to me, even for just a moment’s time.

God sees.

The basement days didn’t last forever, thank you Jesus. Though tremendously grateful for their hospitality, we were happy to have found a place for our family: an unfinished home that a builder (who had “gone under” in the economy) had abandoned. A few weeks of Charlie’s professional talents and one short-sale later, we moved into a modest home with a level backyard. Finally. Things could get back to normal.

Two blue lines changed those plans. Yep, Baby Number 4 was coming, ready or not! We took a deep breath at this surprise, and thanked God that he had that much faith in us. We prepared to welcome another little one into our crazy world.

Until 3:00 AM on June 5th, 2010. I woke up to a pool of blood and knew, approximately 4.5 months into our pregnancy, that the baby was being lost. Tiny kicks and punches were her last “goodbye” to me, as my abdomen went into full labor contractions. Charlie was heroic. Tenderly, he helped me to the car and drove us to the hospital. He lovingly cleaned up the puddles in the car after I was admitted, without saying a word.

A few minutes later, our baby was born sleeping. They called it a “miscarriage,” a term I fully despise. We went into full labor and delivered a perfect little baby, just too soon. I remember how my hubby held my hand the entire time. His tenderness during such a painful loss is something I think of often. He was there for me.

Far from over, our ordeal continued into the morning, as I lost pint after pint of blood and eventually fainted. Considering a blood transfusion, they finally decided to do a D&C to bring the blood loss to an end. Swollen and weak, we returned home the next afternoon.

Though I knew that God’s Spirit was the only way we survived those 18 months, I also learned that I handled stress poorly. In fact, I found myself “stuck” in survival mode for months after that. Grieving, exhausted, lonely, I just wanted to make it through the day. Looking back, I see now that I was afraid to appear vulnerable to anyone, so I didn’t ask for help. I suffered in silence, and my family suffered for it. Not wanting to be “needy” I thought I could just do it on my own, waiting for life to improve.

Thank you, Father, for new mercies every morning. Thank you for dozens of prayers from our church and loved ones. Thank you for those who “intruded” into my life, to make sure I was OK.

So that’s what this blog is all about. It’s a real look at motherhood from the perspective of a fire fighter’s wife, a mother of four, a mother who has an adopted child (you can read about that here: http://www.crazyadoptiondreamer.wordpress.com), a mother who has dealt with special needs, and a mother who has a multi-cultural family. Truth is, every mother struggles. By relying on God’s new mercies every day and understanding that I walk by His grace, I am learning that He is my joy and that I (we) need community. Join me on this motherhood journey and we will walk together, knowing His mercies are new every morning.

I guess my dad was right. I’m finally realizing who I am in Christ in my thirties. Let’s walk together!

Fourteen years of marriage to this dashing fire fighter! (Photo taken by our eldest.)