The wave of anger has passed

for now.


My baby is in Heaven praising the Lord. I am joining in here.

I want my baby back.

I know that I don't usually use semi-naughty words like "sucks," but sometimes those words just apply. This totally sucks. I miscarried my baby. I cannot even begin to tell you how I feel about this. Friday night- I was happily pregnant with number 4. Saturday morning- the doctors tell me the baby has been dead for weeks. Sunday night- I "pass" everything. (Side note: I hate the term "pass". You pass a kidney stone. Peyton Manning passes for a touchdown. You don't pass a dear sweet baby who never got a chance to breathe on his own.) How one weekend can pick up your life and put it on a different track! It's horrifying.

I want my baby back.

The only thing worse than the miscarriage are the stupid people. People who tell you in the ER while they are scraping the rest of your placenta out that this one couple has been to the ER 3 times with false labor, but now they are actually having the baby. . . Great for them. . . Now SHUT UP. Or the people who compare it to losing a pet. Or the people who seemed pleased that now your schedule has freed up so they can plan stuff for you to do. I want my baby back. I don't want to go to some stinkin' family reunion. I have to die to be reunited with all of MY family.
And then there are the friends and family that don't call at all.

Yes, I get that this isn't the same as losing one of my living children. If God would have come down from on High, and asked me which child I wanted to lose, I would have picked the same way He did. But it still sucks! What might have been is a hard world to live in.

I am thankful that I have faith in the Higher Power. Can't imagine what people say to themselves who don't have faith. At least I know Whom to yell at. What can I say, I'm honest. (I have seen first hand through all of this that God is Awesome, and Loving, and Merciful. I know He answers prayer. I'm still hurting. And I still want my baby back.) And I'm angry. And I'm sad.

I'm also afraid. Who is God taking next? All I want is my baby back.

This is a Test.

Let's see who actually reads my blog.


I'm pregnant,




but don't tell anyone ;)

Deep Thoughts from a Little Girl

Sometimes I forget Chloe is a child. Though she is my oldest, and just turned 6, she is truly a child. A child with a very old soul. Her sweet, compliant personality often hides the depth of her thoughts. Thoughts that, in this mamma's opinion, are too heavy for someone so small.

Friday night, I was out for the evening so Daddy was in charge. This is not so uncommon as to cause me concern, but uncommon enough that I called when I was on my way home to check that everything had gone smoothly.

Tony said, "I had an interesting conversation with Chloe." This can mean a lot of things. She often asks really bizarre things. She often asks really silly things. More frequently, she asks questions that blow our minds. Tonight was one of those nights. Since Tony is her preferred source Biblical information, I rarely get the questions that would bring me to a puddle of tears. This is good for everyone.
She first asked him if we were all going to die at the same time. (Reminder: This is the child who wanted to ask Jesus into her heart, but wasn't ready to die. It took us about 8 months to make her understand that asking Jesus into her heart wasn't a death sentence.) Daddy said that he did not know for sure, but that we would likely not all die at the same time. She then asked him who would die first.

Now, this is not a conversation that I would want to have with my 6 year old, but Tony's strength is answering her questions in a manner that will be honest, but not frightening. So he explains that likely Chloe will live longer than Mommy and Daddy.
Then she brings out the question that still brings tears to my eyes. She asks him, "Daddy, if we don't all die at the same time, how will I know how to find you when I get to Heaven?" Tony simply explained that she need not worry because when she got to Heaven we would be waiting for her, and God would work out all the details. The perfect answer from a great Dad.

Touching His Heart

Now that I am homeschooling Chloe, we spend lots more time together than we ever have before. (That is a little embarrassing to admit.) And because preschool has not started for the other two, we are all spend a lot more time interacting. We do not have a lot of extra time for videos, swimming, or playing. We are on a mission now.
One thing that I love to do with the kids is sing. I have always like to sing, and now that I have kids, I like to sing with them. Like me, the kids also enjoy to sing. And like me, the kids mess up song lyrics terribly. When singing the song Burdens are Lifted at Calvary, I used to sing "Jesus is rarely here" instead of "Jesus is very near." I believe that Jesus laughed in Heaven, knowing that He made me with this special gift of joyfully singing incorrect lyrics.
Well, He has blessed the children as well. Chloe was delightfully singing Final Destination which refers to Heaven. She was belting it out in the backseat. I turned down the radio, which I often do so I can enjoy their singing, and I realized something. The happy, praising words coming out of Chloe's mouth were "Final Desperation." Oops!
Camilla, nearly 2, has also gotten caught up in our singing. I smile as I hear her singing "Jesus Loves Me" knowing that our Saviour is pleased with her sweet sound. Then, Carson and I taught her Open the Eyes of My Heart. Taking after her mother and sister, Camilla sings "I want to see me" instead of I want to see You. The more we tried to correct her, the louder she sings me! Now we all sing along with her.
This song must have struck a chord in her little soul because she messes up another section in a way that I am sure pleases her mind and our Lord. Instead of singing "Holy. Holy. Holy." - a term that no doubt doesn't register in her brain- she sings "Hold Me, Hold Me, Hold Me." - an expression that brings her comfort. As I contimplate these mistaken lyrics, I wonder if Jesus doesn't have a huge smile on His face as this small child sing what He ultimately wants from each of us- the desire to be held securely in His safe arms.

Time at Home and then Back Home (man-his is really long!)

The kids and I spent two weeks in Illinois in June. In theory, it was a vacation. In actuality, it was an exhausting time of travel that I would do again in a heartbeat. Tony was unable to take much time off so he drove us to Illinois on a Friday, and then flew to Atlanta on Sunday. Then two weeks later, he flew to IL, and I picked him up at the airport.(and he got the easy end of the travelling madness)

The kids, my parents, my brother, his wife and I went to western Illinois, for a day. (This is Milla and Chloe at Culver's during a pit stop.) Then the kids and I went to central Illinois for the weekend. Then we came back home (my parents' home) for a week.

I must say that it is odd going home. Anyone else feel this way? I suppose it is like going off to college, and then coming home, but since I did not do that I cannot say. First off, I still call my parents' house home. I've been told by super holy people that I shouldn't say that. That home refers to where my husband and children live. My first thought- spare me. That is home, too. After we left home in Illinois, we drove to home in Georgia. They are both home. Has nothing to do with leaving and cleaving. Again- spare me!

It is odd though. What is even stranger is going back to the town you recently moved from. We went there for a few days. Wow- it was almost painful because it too, looks like home, but it no longer feels like home. The kids also seemed unnerved by this place that was home, but is now just a big city that has a Target and some (formerly?) dear friends we don't see very much anymore.

Equally strange is spending time with your in-laws without your husband. My in-laws are fine people, but in my brain they are ultimately my husband's parents. To my kids, however, they are Grandpa and Grandma, and they need to be visited when we are in town. So much so that Chloe had a running tally of the amount of time that we had spent with each set of grandparents. She later sat me down to explain that it really isn't right that we spent so much more time with Grandpa Bob and Grandma. She is going to be a great daughter-in-law some day. I tried explaining that those are Daddy's parents, and if she wants to spend more time with them, she should convince Daddy to take more time off. She looked at me like I needed to grow up and understand that Daddy cannot take time off whenever he feels like it. She is going to be a great wife someday. She is such a traitor.

The kids are also old enough that they want to be with cousins. This is a tough one for me to wrap my brain around. I'm not a play-date kind of mom. Well, I am not the call-the-friends'-parents-and-arrange-a-play-date kind of mom. I am certainly the sure-my-kids-can-come-over-and-you-bring-them-home-when-you-are-ready kind of mom. I found myself calling the sister-in-law and setting up time for the kids to get together. This led to cries of please can we spend the night. That is foreign ground to me.

In my brain, 5 and 4 is too little for a sleepover. And most of the kids' friends' parents agree with this. (I think that secretly none of us want to spend that much time with each other's kids, but it may just be me.) However, this is Aunt Tricia's house. That is a whole 'nother situation.

I still don't want them spending the night at people's houses. It is more work for people and I fear that the kids might not behave. I don't want them grouchy the next day. And then there is the Nervous Momma's Mantra- predators, burglars, and fires, oh my! So, I decided that, no, they could not spend the night. That really didn't go over to well. Not only were my kids crying like I had run over their puppy, the cousins weren't very happy, and I think Aunt Tricia took it personally. If nothing else, I confirmed my role as Uncool Aunt and Mom and Sister-in-law.

Finally, Tony returned to set the world back on its axis. Uh- not exactly. Camilla, my one true, faithfully clingy child, turned her cute little back on me. She refused to let me hold her. We went to the pool, and all she wanted was Daddy to hold her. I felt like Hell must have frozen over. This child, who clings to me to hold her closer, even at the grocery store, wanted, of all people, Daddy? No. No! This isn't' right. She is supposed to want Mommy. So I sat her down and explained to her that Mommy had spent all this time with her, being there for her, nursing her for almost 13 months of her 22 months of life. She looked at me like I needed to grow up. Daughters these days! (wonder if my mother is secretly laughing at me, believing that I got what I deserved for all those years of devoted service as Daddy's Girl.) I have to admit that it was kind of sweet watching her love on Daddy. I can say that now because she has come back to me!

So after two weeks of negotiating friends, family, and rain (did I mention all the storms we drove through- yikes!), we made it back home. - well Home in Georgia.

Things Are a Little Different Here . . .

Well- as some of you may have noticed- the blog has gone public. I'm not sure this is the best idea, but we are going to give it a try.