The Woman I am Called to be

I'm in a small group, it meets online. It's with other women who have lost their babies. It's something I think I needed, and with a group of women who "get it". One of the topics for discussion was what kind of woman do you want to be.

Some days I really don't want to stay married. if i'm being honest. some days I really don't give a rats behind if I have joy or not, if I keep my friends or not, if I am alone or not. some days I just want to be down right miserable and not feel guilty that i'm being a "bad Christian" because of it. My hope is there, when I look deep down. my joy is there, I still believe my Lord did what He did for me and I am still ever so thankful for that. But I want to be pitiful sometimes. 

On my good days, I do desire to be the wife that my husband needs. to support him in all things, be the encourager he needs to be the man of God that he needs and desires to be. I want to be the kind of mother where my children are always so excited to spend time with me, they know they have my undivided attention all the time. I want them to trust me, look up to me, be able to follow me and call me blessed. I want them to see a relationship with Christ that is so amazing that they aspire to have that kind of connection. I do strive for those things. Most of the time. I want my friends to all believe and see me strong, faithful, trustworthy. I want to be an example to the younger generations of what it means to live a life fully devoted to Jesus, interwoven with His word, that when they see me, they see the me that is only there because of grace and mercy and love.

There are days though that I don't know which end is up. I'm so angry that my husband hasn't mentioned my children in days and complains that the baby isn't sleeping through the night, or my daughter isn't napping anymore. I am thankful that these moments aren't moments I have to long for. It could be worse. They could not be on this earth with me either. I will get up a hundred times, and believe me you, I do. I would take a cranky, exhausted, stubborn 3 yr old, as frustrating as it is, because the thought of me longing for those moments with my triplets is too much for my heart to bear. There are times I don't care if I'm married, I don't care if he goes away and leaves me alone because the complaining makes my heart ache even more. There are days that I'm so short tempered with my children that they see the ugly come out of me. I don't know how to pay attention to the demanding 3 yr old, the teething 7 month old, and still feel like I'm taking time out to love and grieve my 3 beautiful children that don't get to be on this earth with me. How do you stretch yourself in all those directions? I don't want people to see me as the "one who came unraveled", but some days, lately more often than not, my rope is too short. I'm left trying to keep my head above the water when all I really want to do is strive to be the person that God created me to be, the example of hope and faithfulness to those who would look at me. But I'm failing.

The work it takes to be the woman I know I should be, the one I know I was made to be, and can be, it's hard. And while some days I feel I've been successful, more often than not, I want to bury myself under every blanket and pillow in my house, scream out in anger and failure and be left alone. It's a lonely place. Go figure. Wanting to be left alone is a lonely place. Feeling like no one gets it. That's the loneliest place. Feeling like I have to pretend every day, that is more exhausting than letting God do His work in me. Yet, I find myself fighting it more than letting go. I'm my worst enemy when it comes to being the woman God has called me to be.

Weary

Isaiah 40:29-31

29 He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. 30 Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; 31 but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

This is my mantra as of late. I'm having a terrible time of feeling weary. I'm tired of expectations. I'm tired of fakeness (I made that a word ok? ok.). I draw strength from the Lord, and place my hope in Him daily. Ok, more realistically, hourly. I remind myself that I can't do this on my own, put my cross down, lay at His feet, and surrender my everything to the One who created me. He holds me in His hands, He catches every single tear that falls (and let me say, that's been quite a few lately).

I have no one in my "real life" that has ever been through the type of loss we've been through. I know no one who's had to be wheeled down the labor and delivery hall to leave the hospital with boxes of their children's belongings instead of a car seats with cute, pink newborns in them, pick up their child, in an urn, from a funeral home (that drive still haunts my dreams, day and night). People lose eye contact, get fidgety, change topics, run (ok, maybe not run, but I bet they think about it) when I start to talk about my children. I need to talk about my children. I need to reminisce about their smells, their looks, their personalities, just like I talk about my living children. You can consider me obsessed, but no more obsessed than I am with my children that are living, and no more obsessed than others are about their children.

I started going to a group that is local. This group is full of women who have walked a similar path that I've walked. I have been trying to connect for quite some time, but whether through fear, or scheduling, it hasn't worked out. I bit the bullet and went this past week. How refreshing. To talk about my children in a setting that doesn't judge, squirm, shut down, ignore. A group who can relate, who I don't feel crazy with, or like I need to walk on eggshells around.

I also joined a bible study/small group with a bunch of women who also can relate. I'm very much looking forward to this. I need this. Like water in a drought, my soul needs to be refreshed, revived, poured into. I need to not feel like this alien anymore. I need to not feel like I am walking around as one person, but yet inside of me, someone else is screaming, clawing, begging to come out.

I want to be accepted. I need to be accepted. This means my children too. My children who are no longer alive.

I'm so weary. I have nothing left to give to others, and I hate that. I want to support others in their struggles, in their joys, but I just haven't been able to. At least not truly. I can fake it. Boy, can I fake it. On the inside though, I'm dried up. There's nothing to draw from. I need to renew my strength. Or better put, I need the Lord to renew my strength. I need to run and not grow weary, to walk and not be faint.

Happy Birthday (Part 2)

This year we decided we wanted to go to the zoo. Dominic loves to be outside, and when we asked Claire if she wanted to do the museum or the zoo, she chose the zoo. I was so glad she did. It was a hot day though, and it made for a cranky kid, and claire and dominic had their moments too (just kidding hunny!) I packed a picnic lunch, and we stayed up til nap time. We all had a lot of fun, and the animals were the most active I've ever seen them. Of course I forgot my camera though, and the only shots I had to time to take with my iPhone were few and far between. We came home, napped, and then made a nice dinner. After dinner we sang "Happy Birthday" and blew out the the candles on the cupcakes. We went outside to sit at the stone and eat our cupcakes. While we were gone Aunt Becca stopped over and brought the triplets favorite (what they demanded of me all day every day while doing time on the inside) Nutter Butter Bars, roses, and little notes. She gets me every time. Best friend and auntie to her kids a girl could ask for. 

My emotions were up and down. I was so thankful and excited that Dominic was here to celebrate with us this year. Last year, I was just starting my 2nd trimester with him. I was scared, and highly doubted I'd ever get to add him to our family. I was too distracted with both kids to have time to break down until the end of the day. When all went to bed, and I reflected on my day, I wept. Another year without them. Another year wondering. Claire understood way more this year. It broke my heart when we got the cupcakes out to sing "Happy Birthday" and Claire protested because we needed to wait for Nathan, Anthony and Malia to get to their party. I tried to explain that they were in heaven looking down on their party and having a great party in heaven. But it didn't fly. She was a little upset that they weren't coming, and we couldn't go to their party in heaven. So unfair. I agree baby, I agree.

 

Here are some pics from our day:

 

 

                                              

Happy Birthday! (Part 1)

August this year was a difficult one. Another reminder that yet again, my children aren't here. Yet again, pregnancy doesn't always end with rainbows and unicorns and cute, chubby, pink, breathing, healthy babies. Another reminder that this earth sucks and the anticipation for heaven to come is growing almost more than I can handle. This year, we did the gifts and cupcakes for the hospital again on the 27th. We went up there, this year with a new addition. He even "helped" stuff the gift bags this year. Don't worry, I definitely broke down in giving thanks more than once that Dominic is part of our family on this earth. Healthy, growing, full of joy and the most snuggliest little man ever.

 

 

The cupcakes for the nurses at the hospital (the gluten free ones I made are on the bottom, the ones from the bakery are on the top)

The gifts we packed up

 

 

 

They sure do love each other!

 

    

Helping mommy and daddy stuff the bags for the hospital. I am so proud of my children!

 

The tags for the gift bags.

 

 

Thank you to all the nurses! They are so wonderful, and so giving!

 

 

Claire says "tada!"

 

 

The birthday post will be next. It was a beautiful day.

 

 

 

Sloooooow Down!

Dominic is 6 months old. Time has went by way to fast for this momma's heart. I would like for everything to just slow down a little! Here's a few stats on my little lover:

Weight: 20lbs
Height: 28 3/4in
Shoe Size: 3
Diaper Size: 3
Clothes Size:  12 month mostly (some 9 month)

Schedule:     7/7:30am: wake up. Gets 4oz bottle with his Miralax, and cereal with pears.
                      9am:  nap
                     10/10:30am: wake up
                      11am: 4oz bottle
                     12/12:30pm: down for nap
                      1/2pm: wake up
                      2pm: 4oz bottle
                       4pm: nap
                      5pm: wake up, 4oz bottle and cereal and veggie for dinner
                      6:30: bath and prayers
                       7pm: down for the night
                       He wakes anywhere from 1 - 5 times before 10pm. It's madness. He can't stay asleep  
                       but if we try to keep him up he's so miserable and fussy. He just can't stay asleep.
                       10pm 5oz bottle (usually this is a dream feed)
                       3/4am: wake up and 5oz bottle and mostly goes back to sleep. If can't get back to sleep
                       we move to mommy's bed or the couch (depends on if daddy is in bed snoring away or 
                        at work).
                        6am: wake up if he went back to sleep at the 3/4am mark. I usually scoop him up and
                        either sleep in my bed or the couch with him here until 7/7:30am. As long as his head
                         is on my chest, he stays asleep. He's been like this since day one. He loves to smell
                        and be with his momma. Daddy tries many many times, and Dominic just screams. I
                        come in and take over and his eyes are shut and he's practically snoring within
                        seconds. It's a little silly. He's got his preferences. I'm ok with it.

**some nights he's up a lot more, and once in a blue moon he's slept right through to 5 or 6 am. He refuses to eat more so that he can go longer, and he just is not a good napper/sleeper at night. He always wakes about 30 - 45 minutes after he falls asleep and has to be rocked back to sleep. He's a very restless little boy most of the time during his sleep.

**Dominic is now unswaddled. It was crazy. Sunday the 18th Dominic decided to start rolling over like it was his job, so we needed to unswaddle. And by "we" I mean me. Anthony was working nights, and overtime the next day. He was up ALL.NIGHT.LONG.  It was awful. But now, I'm happy to report, that on Tuesday, the 20th, he is going down easy, and back to his up once or twice a night. PHEW!

**Dominic started Mum Mum's tonight. I was so excited when the dr said even though they aren't dairy free they wanted him to try and see how he reacted! He loved them! DEVOURED them!

He's a lazy little boy. Well, little is not a good word to describe him since he's HUGE! He can roll over, has done it numerous times, BUT doesn't care to. He will roll to his side and scream out if a toy is out of reach. He scoots all over the floor on his back. I don't even know how he does it! One second he's on his blanket or mat playing, and the next he's feet away! Claire will come running to where I am and say "Mommy, Dominic did this (and show me how he scooted on his back), and now he's way over there!" That boy is not going to get away with anything while his sister is around. That is for sure. He adores her. He could be in the worst of moods and bring Claire to him, he melts and turns to all smiles. He love to be outside. If I have to stretch out nap time or bed time, I take him outside. He's the calmest, quietest, most peaceful boy outside. I always joke that I will set up the pack-n-play outside for him to sleep since he LOVES it out there. It's to the point where if I bring him inside for anything for any amount of time, he fusses, screams, makes it known that he's unhappy. Step outside, it's instant calmness. Crazy. He is sitting up on his own a bit more and more. He still topples over when reaching too far. I had to get him out of his infant tub because he was too big and practically falling out of it every time, so he is in the ring that sits up. I can't even believe it. You will NEVER, EVER see this boy without a smile on his face. He is the happiest, most joyful little boy I've ever known. He sure brings hope and healing to this momma's heart. He knows just when to flash that smile too. He loves to be tickled and loves to laugh. It's the sweetest laugh! He loves to play kissy face too. He will grab my face with both his hands and pull his face in and start sucking on my lips, my chin, anything he can get in his mouth and rub his face back and forth quickly. It's the best. THE.BEST.

He has 2 teeth, both bottom ones. His toothy grin is just the most adorable thing ever.

He still has so many issues with reflux and digestion and allergies. I lay hands on him and pray over him every night. I command healing from the God of all healing. Right now though, he still has these issues. His skin is a hot mess. Just all red, blotchy, rashy looking. The meds don't seem to work. He's on neocate and will be for at least another 6 months. He is down to maybe 3/4 capful miralax a day, and I rarely have to give him suppositories anymore. That is HUGE! He is a walking pharmacy though! He takes Rantitidine, Omniprozole, Gaviscon, Miralax, sometimes Mylicon drops, some ointment for his skin (can't think of the name), and his formula is from the pharmacy as well (they don't sell in stores). Can't wait for the day that my counter is not full of his daily regimen of "getting through the day" meds.  We've tried numerous different meds, tried taking him off some of the meds, and unfortunately, for now, this is what works.

Despite it all, he's such a lover. He is so happy, and I'm over the moon for this boy.

Hope

Linking up with Hope Mommies, and sharing the story of my beautiful children that are no longer on this earth.

Anthony Thomas Jr

Nathan Richard

Malia Elizabeth

On April 11, 2011, my husband's birthday, we had a successful IUI. We didn't know it yet. It was a long 2 weeks of waiting, and on Easter of that year, we found out, we were indeed pregnant again! We were so excited. It took 5 months of unsuccessful IUI's, but we were finally pregnant. On May 16th we found out in our first ultrasound, at 7 weeks pregnant we were pregnant with sextuplets! One of them didn't have a heartbeat anymore though, and so we were told to expect quintuplets. We were told 2 of them looked big and strong, and 3 of them looked weak. I was in shock. Complete shock. I had no words, just sobbing. Tears of joy, tears of fear, tears of unknown. Tears mourning that one baby we never even knew we had. We went back for our 8 week ultrasound and found that we had lost another of our babies, and we were only pregnant with quads. Our dr said that most likely we were going to end up with just twins. We prayed against that. Every heartbeat was our child. Every heartbeat was a bond we had instantly. We returned at our 9 week and found we were only pregnant with triplets, but all 3 were strong, healthy, big. We had lost another one, yet were excited we still were pregnant with 3 healthy babies. I was beginning to feel like every time we would go we would hear bad news. Week 10 we returned and were still pregnant with healthy, strong triplets. We "graduated" and went on to our high risk OB. We had our ultrasound with him at 12 weeks and were so scared we would end up having lost one or more of our babies, and to our surprise, and joy, we were pregnant with triplets still. They all looked great, were given labels of "A", "B", and "C" in order that they would be delivered naturally. We started plans for the nursery, buying items, figuring our what room they would be in as our daughter had the biggest bedroom in the house, but we didn't want to upset her life too much as things would be so different as it was with triplet siblings. We decided we would make the smaller room work for the triplets. Week 14 came. I was home alone with my daughter and my husband was working nights. I went up to her room after she had woke up crying. I went to lift her out of bed and I felt a rush of wetness go down my leg and all over the rug. I thought I had peed myself, though I didn't have the urge to pee. I called the dr the next morning after I started getting scared, and went in. They did the litmus test and it was negative. They told me 3 babies on my bladder will make me pee without actually having the urge to. It was common in multiple pregnancies, especially with 3 or more. I left smiling, relieved. I had my regular appointment later in that week and was excited to see the babies again on ultrasound. I wish I had asked for an ultrasound that day. Little did I know. When I returned later that week, the ultrasound showed that baby A had very little fluid around him/her. So while the litmus test was negative (probably because it was 15 hrs after the fact), my water had indeed broke for baby A's sac. We were told we could wait and see what happened, most likely I would get an infection within a week and lose all 3 babies, or I could terminate baby A and have a healthy pregnancy with baby B and C, or my sac could refill and things would look better. I had to go on limited bed rest. I could still work, but little walking, absolutely no lifting (gut wretching as my daughter was only 13 months old, not walking yet, and completely a mommy monster!). My mother moved in with us when my husband worked nights. My husband picked up so many responsibilities. I worked, but way less hours as I was trying my hardest to be "normal" but keep my babies safe. Each week went on and though baby A's sac never refilled, I was tested and there were never any signs of infection. He/She grew each week which was a miracle in itself as with no water, there was no room for growth. The sac was squishing him/her, but he/she was a fighter. We were told most likely, if baby A made it to the end, he/she wouldn't be able to live because there would be no lung development. We prayed for a miracle. We bought 3 of everything. We firmly believed that we would be coming home with 3 babies. We knew the possibility was not that great, but we were believing that miracle was already ours. That healing was going to manifest itself on this earth for our baby. We had found out at week 15 that baby B was a girl, and baby C was a boy. We couldn't tell baby A because with no fluid, we couldn't get clear pics of him/her. We were so excited. We were going to get the best of all worlds. We were having a girl, a boy and a surprise! Week 20 came and we were more than halfway there! We were going to be inducing or scheduling a C-section for week 36/37 depending how things were going. We figured if we could get to 20 weeks, 16 more would be cake.
It was a Saturday morning. My husband was detailing a car. My mother was leaving to go watch my nephew's football game. My husband just put my daughter down for her nap, and was going to go meet a guy to pick something up a generator that was being sold from a guy on craigslist. My mom forgot her phone on our table. I was getting in the shower and after I got undressed and went to the bathroom I stood up and I felt something cold and wet on my inner thigh, I looked down and there was an umbilical cord hanging between my legs. I screamed for my husband! I wobbled to the top of the stairs, thankfully he heard me as he wasn't quite in the garage yet. He looked like he was going to pass out, and then pulled himself together, called 911, my mother, my brother in law, and tried to keep my calm. I was hyperventilating, I was screaming, I was panicking. I texted my closest friends to start storming the gates of heaven as things were starting to look bad for baby A.

I got to the hospital and found out baby A's heart had stopped. Most likely, it was the pressure on the cord as I was 1cm dilated and without the sac being there, it just slipped out. I had a very high fever. Baby A had an infection, and without having an immune system because he/she was no longer alive, that infection wasn't going anywhere. With the cord prolapsed, it was a walkway for bacteria to go right into my uterus. Where my other 2 children were innocently growing. We had to make quick decisions. We tried waiting and by that evening my temp was so high, I was more than likely going septic, the dr advised we induce. He said there  is a slim possibility that my cervix will close after giving birth to baby A. We prayed that would be the case.

The rest, well it's kinda hard to retell. I will copy from a blog post a week after it happened.

 

My regular Ob was on call, what a relief it was to see her. I knew it was bad news, but I never thought of how bad until about a 1/2 hr later. Baby A was no longer alive. The pressure on the cord had cut off the blood flow. Hideous noises came out of me and my husband as we cried, screamed, and I kept repeating "oh God, please no!". My blood pressure was pretty low, and my fever was coming and going, each time getting a little higher. The only way to rid my body of the infection is to give birth to Baby A.  At just under 22 weeks pregnant, the dr said there wasn't a chance for Malia and Anthony to make it. There was too much that hadn't had time to develop yet. We took a little while to talk it over and we prayed and the decision was clear to us. We didn't have much time to wait, we needed to get this infection out of my body, and hope my cervix would just close up after giving birth to Baby A. Anthony ran home to get our stuff, take a shower, and see Claire before we started to induction and the longest day of our lives. He returned around 7pm and the dr. inserted the Cervital. My contractions were inconsistent and not very strong, we tried to get some sleep, but that was not happening. I took some pain medicine orally, and it worked enough for me to sleep about an hour. After that, they put a pain killer into my IV to see if that would ease any of the contractions, but it didn't work. I didn't want to get an epidural. I wanted to feel as much as I could without being so overwhelmed with the pain. Hours and hours went by. It was dawn, and the contractions were about every 30 seconds and pretty intense. I tried to wait a while longer. Around 7:15 Sunday August 28th, the nurse came in to give me a different drug through my IV, but before she did, the dr. checked and said I was ready to push. This was really real. I was really about to give birth to my first triplet, Baby A, who was already dead. After screaming out and crying, I reluctantly pushed. Baby A came right out. "It's a boy" the dr said. I cried even harder. Nathan Richard was born, my baby boy, my dream, came at 7:26am. Weighing in at 11 oz, measuring only 9.5 in long. They put him on the end of my bed, and not more than seconds later, Malia's, Baby B's, sac burst. I knew my cervix wouldn't close and I had to deliver her. Only took a few pushes and Malia was born at 7:32am. Weighing in at 14.25 oz, and measuring only 10 in long. Then I could feel Anthony Jr coming. I thought, "oh no, we are going to lose all 3 babies!". After many pushes, and excruciating pain, Anthony Jr's, Baby C's sac wouldn't rupture. I was ready to pass out, the pain was shooting down my legs, and I couldn't catch my breath. Finally, my dr. decided to rupture the sac and it was so tense it burst with such force. A few more pushes and Anthony Jr was born at 7:46am. Weighing in at 1 lb 2 oz, and measuring at 10.5 in. Both Malia and Anthony Jr were born alive. They brought them to me and Anthony Sr and I held them so close. We sobbed. Malia and Anthony Jr. took a few random "breaths". Their hearts still beating, but very weak. We held them and cried for what seemed like only minutes, but was actually over an hour. The nurse came in to weigh the babies, dress them, wrap them up, and at that time, they were pronounced dead. It was like an out of body experience. I couldn't focus. I couldn't let them go. I couldn't believe this was all happening to us. We didn't understand. We knew they were healed and whole. New, working, beautiful bodies. We knew we would be able to be with them again someday, but that didn't ease my heart at that moment. It does now, but at that moment, I couldn't stop sobbing. The staff was incredible. They were so kind, gentle, loving. They cried with us. They respected us. Things were getting serious again though because my placenta's wouldn't detach, and after many, many tried, the cords came apart from the placenta's, still inside of me. The infection, therefore, was still inside of me. They tried everything to do from the room so I didn't have to leave the babies. I had been given 12mg of morphine, apparently, that is over a single dose, and as high as they could go. They tried to remove the placenta's. It was too painful. They said they didn't have any other option but surgery. They took me right away. Anthony Sr went as far as they let him. They put me under and removed the placenta's. Apparently, the infection made them harden and they struggled even surgically to remove them. I lost a lot of blood. I woke and was so nauseous and dizzy. After a short time I was brought to my room and back with my husband and the triplets. I couldn't put them down. I couldn't bring myself to let them go. We said what we thought were our final goodbyes, and Anthony Sr went home to pick up my daughter Claire. I hadn't seen her in over 24 hrs. It's the longest I have ever gone without seeing her. It was terrible feeling. When he returned my daughter brought tears to my eyes. She hugged and kissed me, played around the room and just brought hope, life, joy, to our lives for those moments. Everything changed for us that day. Priorities, dreams, our future. Nothing would ever be the same again.

 

 

I know this is long, but in my eyes, it's still not long enough. They should have more of a story than this. Their lives shouldn't have ended so quickly. It did though. And just like that, my life story changed. Forever. My purpose changed forever. There is a lot more to our story now. A.LOT.MORE. But this is the story of my 3 beautiful children that were only here for such a short time. 

August

A month I dread all year, and look forward to all year.

My heart is raw, my mind is preoccupied. I just want this month to be over with. There is so much I want to do for the triplets birthday. I still need to shop for the gifts we bring to the hospital. I still need to pay the baker for the cupcakes. I need to plan our day out for that Wednesday.

I'm pretty sure we are going to the zoo this year. I pray the weather holds up. I really would love for a cool, breezy day. I would really love for my children to have slept the night before so we can enjoy the day, and I would really, really love for the zoo to be semi empty as I'm pretty sure my emotions are unpredictable and I will find myself crying at the most random things.

I feel like God is about to do something in my heart. Not sure what that is, but He's sure been working on things inside for a while now. I've been so incredibly sad lately. Almost depressed. Who has time to be depressed!? I sure don't. I try to hide from it, run from it, keep myself extra busy, but I'm burning out fast. I will have moments, like driving alone, or sitting in my backyard while my children are playing, that I have this overwhelming peace. Like I can sit back and enjoy this part of life. It's quickly fleeting though. Whether guilt is chasing it away, grief is scaring it away, or satan is stealing it away, or a combination of all three.....it's quickly fleeting. I do recognize those moments though.

That's why I believe the Lord is doing a work in me. He's mending my heart, but I'm quite sure that my heart is fighting back. With a little help from the creator of lies. I am in a different place than I was last year, and the year before, and definitely the year before that. As each August approaches, I feel like I'm suffocating. I feel like the world is closing in on me, but at the same time I feel hope. I feel like I have an opportunity to share what a great God He is. I find it hard to share sometimes because I slack off diving into the Word. I let anger and bitterness take root, and then the suffocating begins.

My first response is to retreat. To run. To hide. But I can't. I have children who need me, I have a job, a husband, responsibilities.  I cling to the moments of peace I feel. I try to find them, search for them. It's like I'm in a dark room and lights come on quickly, and I can get a glimpse of the doorway out, but then the lights quickly go out again. I feel around the walls, I take small, cautious steps toward where I think I remember the door being. Panic sets in as I can't find that door. Reality slips away and I feel trapped, then the lights flash on again quickly. Hope is restored. Even if for a moment. I'm reminded I'm not here to find my way alone. I'm not without guidance and Light. Those moments of light will become longer, I pray. The times of panic will lessen, and I'll find my way out. This room is called Grief. And it's a large room, with tall walls, a narrow doorway, little light, and not enough oxygen. There's room for growth, but only when you grasp it. There's ways out, but only if you work hard at finding them.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze." Isaiah 43:1-2