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"While all women experience physical changes in their bodies after a pregnancy ends affecting her mood, a woman who has lost a baby through miscarriage faces another risk factor for serious postpartum depression. Not only must a woman endure the physical and psychological stresses that occur due to hormone changes, but they do so without any of the rewards that come with bringing their baby home. She is trying to cope with not only her postpartum changes, but with the loss of their baby as well."

~~~

The last two nights, I've gone to bed as soon as Babydaddy has gotten home. Then, tonight I thought I could do better but completely broke down during supper. With all three kids looking on, unquenchable sobs billowed out. I had to leave the room. They were already alarmed, and I couldn't make it stop. I didn't want them to see me cry that way...for that long.

My husband had just gotten home from work, so I let it all out. Tonight letting it out was a bit more than irritability or fatigue. Everything built up to the point that I thought I would burst. I realized I wanted to burst, because I was dealing with postpartum depression. The following thought came to my mind before I could stop it: this isn't so hard with a baby to hold. And that's when I fell apart.

It's been hard from the start to allow myself to be sad. I don't know why. It sounds ridiculous. And it was hard to let myself begin writing about it. But I opened the gates....at the same time my body began reeling from a hormone earthquake.

~~~

I've always felt sympathetic toward friends who have lost their babies early in pregnancy. So, why would I expect to feel 100%-back-to-normal hardly one month after my own miscarriage?

Well....why would I have also expected I would be able to bounce back, having no lag immediately after having each of our three kids?

Why do I stake myself to such impossible standards?

Why am I so afraid of falling short of.....perfect?

~~~

Two days later I have not managed to pull myself up by my bootstraps. I've tried so hard, which made the fall all the more disappointing. But fall I did. And fall I will. (Yoda I am not.) Realizing that this cloud would not dissipate at my demand, I was talking over the game plan with my husband. Our game plans tend to boil down to the question at the root of it all. Obviously, this question and its answer will not and, medically, cannot cure me or anyone of depression. But asking the question usually lends a very helpful piece of self-reflective information.

This is what we came to: I expect myself to have it all together, because it seems that everyone else has it all together. And that's the nature of the beast. We don't broadcast our emotional breakdowns; we don't "facebook" financial failure; rarely do we converse about the deep, dark struggles of life.

~~~

So. I'm here. I'm sharing my struggle. I'll talk about the darkness and the sadness as well as the yummy meals and happy days. And I won't cower with fear. Love casts out all fear, and I am loved. I am loved by fickle humans who I fickly love with all my heart. But most importantly, I'm loved by my Father. And no matter how disconnected I feel in my loss, He sees my tears. He hears my weeping, and knows the silent ache of my heart. I believe He does. Even if I don't feel it.

good things

I still see good things all around. Some are actual things that help us settle in and make our home run; some are souls making my heart go tick-tock. My dear Debi (from Arkansas) knew the challenges ahead as we pondered the purchase of a home built in 1832. Before we left she gave me this gorgeous, glass bead. With an eye for craftsmanship and beauty, she had bought it from the artist years ago. She said, that even though we'd have to turn on our bedroom light with a pull string, at least it'd be beautiful. And that kind of sums her up. She sees the beauty--or searches for it when it is hidden or lost--and basks in it! So I pull this string ten times a day, and I remember to look through Debi's eyes and laugh at the quirks of this old home. I mean, my husband is old, but am I going to toss him out? *wink*

We found this secretary's desk on our search for a dresser. Throwing it in with the dresser allowed us to get a good deal--which we are ALL about! So I have a wonderful, functional piece with history to replace the IKEA desk we've used for years. I've loved that IKEA desk, but our little interior needs all the support it can get--especially from the furnishings. Notice the wood paneling? Thankfully they only covered two rooms with that trash. It will get painted until we can rip it down and absorb whatever cost lies behind. *gulp*

The inside is even cooler than the outside! Not sure what "homeschool" supplies will fit in those slots yet. But the kids love the secret door in the center.

And this is the dresser! I don't think I've had a dresser since I was a child, basically. I've always made my closets work--with the help of plastic bins. But, get this, our closet sucks. :) So my clothes have been in a suitcase and boxes since we got here. Not very pleasing aesthetically...or functionally. After many weeks of searching, we found the perfect dresser. And I kind of love it. It's a merry Christmas to me.

I recently went to Vermont with a gal pal. The door latch above was on the front door of our B&B. I took a picture because all the doors in our house have these latches--in need of TLC, but still, they're here. I wasn't really appreciating them at first--I hoped for original hardware, but I didn't know quite what to expect. I guess I expected a true antique that worked exactly the way I wanted. See, these latches don't have locks. Imagine our guests' anxiety at the thought of a rambunctious five year old barging in on their very private bathroom business. We'll figure that out in time.

Now onto the souls who make this home run...

Li'l Bit has been itching to cook lately. On this particular morning she had me make pancakes so she could make Pancake Bunnies for everyone. The kids loved it! She's been doing a lot of work in the kitchen since then, which I'm trying to allow and enjoy. Right now I have to watch her every move, and I could do it so much more efficiently by myself. But she loves cooking. And maybe one day....*dreamy music begins*.....I'll actually be able to say, Hey, Cav, will you cook dinner tonight? And then I can just sit on the couch and drink some wine. In, like, 5 years.

We've had a very mild Fall. It's been warm WAY more than it's been cold. But right after our October snow, the kids had a few cold mornings. One day, our boiler wasn't kicking on quite right, so the kids ate breakfast under blankets:

It might help if they would actually wear clothes around the house. ;)

we all have needs

I've been needing to write for so long. Not out of guilt--my mom is, like the only person who reads me here--but rather out of need. We all know that sometimes the needs facing us are louder than the needs seeking a way out. Those outside demands have quieted for now. So here I am.

The last part of August was spent in this frame of mind:

"Are we really going to move back to Boston? Of course we are! We LOVE it there!"

"Okay. How?"

The first part of September was spent like this:

"Are we really buying a house without seeing it? Without even driving by?"

"Of course we are. We can AFFORD it."

This was followed by a lot of praying and begging and pleading we weren't making a mistake.

The second part of September was spent saying goodbye to family, hoping our kids weren't going to cave in on themselves missing them, and rejoicing in a new life within.

Miracle of all miracles, we closed on the house on the 28th. We first saw it on the day we received the key of ownership. That very day we started ripping it apart. We have years of work ahead of us, which we knew going into it.

The first week here we were working as fast as we could knowing the symptoms of pregnancy would hit hard and fast. Week two the symptoms hit, and it seemed the focus of all five of our lives was to get me back in bed as early as possible every day.

Week 4 in our new home, my body knew what I would refuse to accept: this baby could not, would not, or should not make its way into our world. I will not hold my fourth child in my arms.

What has happened in my soul from then, until now, until eternity needs an eternity to happen. Because I cannot lose a child without the hope of seeing him alongside Jesus. I would die the most painful death without that hope, and I just cannot figure out how anyone survives without it. Living through the little that I have...I don't know how half the world can even remain breathing apart from Christ.*

At the same moment that universe of knowledge, possessing, touching and nursing and smelling-newborn stopped for me, the rest of our lives started back up again. What a bittersweet realization that....I had energy. I could eat. And I had to get to work. Partly to distract from loss...partly to be prepared should we be so audacious as to hope for a child again through pregnancy or adoption.

Then Li'l Bit got pneumonia....The Rascal (Ladybug) got Croup....Babydaddy got the flu. (Don't fight me, B. It was the flu. You were in bed for a week.) Providentially, I was able to pour my sorrow into compassion for three weeks. And, honestly, if I just won't let myself look into my own heart, I won't be so sad.

And now we are here. Our school room is organized, and we are actually having "school." My clothes are now in an adorable, antique dresser rather than the floor, and I look forward to getting dressed in the morning. I've scrubbed our bathroom enough that I actually feel clean when I take a shower. Our dear friends, the Baylors, have survived the rigors of Boston for so many months, and so I still get to be with them.

I have so many things I can check off of my do to's.....

.....but we get to this point.

We actually DO all we can....for once......but is it enough?

Crap. I don't know.

But I do know a few things. My life allows me to know a few things rather than just one. Though that one would more than suffice.

1. My Father loves me from eternity, forwards, and back again....despite who I am.

2. I still have a husband who could beat up your husbands any day of the week--on the same day as he gives me an hour long massage--and three kids who are kind of awesome.

3. There is a soul in heaven who was only "mine" for 8 weeks, and I can't wait to meet him or her.

4. We have plenty to keep us busy.

So that's where we are. We're loving our Father and trying to follow his Spirit. We're loving each other and trying to be nice about it. Grief doesn't really play out practically, so we're keeping busy. And there is plenty to work with.

*The depravity of man is astounding. We give ourselves enough reason to live through sheer selfishness. And that is what I fight everyday.