day one hundred.fifty.one

"the fullness of your grace is here with me
the richness of your beauty’s all i see
the brightness of your glory has arrived
in your presence God, i’m completely satisfied..."
-from phil whickham's 'divine romance'

romance of the divine kind. sometimes i feel it. the intense passion of my savior. then there are days when i feel completely numb. alone. it is sinking in the realization my life has changed exponentially. i don't fully understand it and am afraid of what this entails. i didn't ask for this, but it was handed to me. on a rusty platter if any. i see myself as the woman who struggled her way through the throbbing crowd just to touch the hem of the robe of the savior. her desire to end the pain. but just to touch the hem? if anything she clung on so tightly, refusing to let go, wanting to be completely satisfied. for once. my fists are clenched. my clutch tight to the hem of the savior. waiting to feel the rush of that divine romance wash over.

day one hundred.fifty

perfect car wash attendant

day one hundred.forty.nine

a passing rain cloud while at the park forced us to take cover

day one hundred.forty.eight

not quite ready for his nap

day one hundred.forty.seven

hopefully i will not have to adorn these lovely bracelets for a long time. today i felt robbed of a piece of my life. about thirty minutes. i do not remember. it is strange and frightening waking up not knowing a single thing that happened to you. perhaps i don't want to know all the details. when i awoke a flood of emotion including despair and fear washed over me. it was as if my body was reliving what it did exactly twenty days ago. then there's god. my heavenly dad who, in his infinite mercy, placed two people there with me today: my husband and a friend from church. she just happens to work in day surgery and just happened to be on schedule today. i am constantly reminded that god is downright good. god is good on the days i forget to cry and on the days i give myself a migraine trying to hold it in. i'm realizing i will never get over this, just grow with it. the growing part is stubborn though.

"...please be my strength
please be my strength
'cause i don't have any more
i don't have any more..."- gungor

day one hundred.forty.six

blueish skies are here with the burning sun. it is a good day.

day one hundred.forty.five

another day spent reliving what i was forced to live three weeks ago. my postpartum visit. why they make me return to where it all began only to sit and wait. and wait. and wait is beyond me. i'm trying so hard not to tear up in the waiting room. as soon as the nurse brings me in to the exam room i burst into tears. then i wait. and wait. and wait for my doctor. last time i saw her she was handing me corban, my baby boy. again my eyes relieve themselves of the torrent of tears welling up. so many things set me off and i'm not just sad. i'm angry. mad. frustrated. excited. anxious. to the nth power. my hormones are off balance making me off balance. i left the doctor's office learning my uterus is not what it should be. after another ultrasound i find myself talking to the scheduler of surgeries. a D&C. sounds so catchier than what it stands for. dilation and curettage. i don't know how i deeply feel about the procedure. but i do know it will be friday. another visit to the hospital. can this just all be over please?

day one hundred.forty.four

i'll have the grande, please.

day one hundred.forty.three

it may look like snow is falling. we have two enormous trees that overshadow the front of our home. each spring they shed milllions of these tiny green leaves. so much so there is a blanket of green covering the grass. pretty, but a nuisance.

day one hundred.forty.two

dandelions

day one hundred forty.one

after a week of rain i think it's time to mow.

day one hundred forty

i stole this picture from the baby's grandmother's FB page. this is jayson. my bff's first baby. born thursday. i think i cried all morning when i heard the baby was born. i was reminded that i lost my own son two weeks ago but was ecstatic for my friend. frustrating is an understatement describing the process of her trying to conceive. it was truly a miracle, the hand of god, that allowed her to have this child. and now the child is here. safe. healthy. loved beyond measure.

day one hundred.thirty.nine

mr. funny face

day one hundred.thirty.eight

beautiful flowers adorn our table.

day one hundred.thirty.seven

waiting

day one hundred.thirty.six

nh lilac. something so familiar returning every year.

day one hundred.thirty.five

snuggly book time always makes one feel better.

day one hundred.thirty.four

corban michael jasus was born on may 7 @ 6:35 am. he never had a chance to look at me or his father or brother but i will never forget the way he looked in the palm of my hand. last weekend was the most heart wrenching, yet god was there holding on the whole time. he never let go of me even when i felt so alone and helpless and broken.
corban is used in the bible as a word that means a blessing given by god only to be offered and dedicated back to god. we feel our son is just that. our offering. our worship. our giving up of something we so desperately want to hold on to. god allowed me to get pregnant and wanted us to give our son back to him. while i wish it never had to happen i find joy in knowing our son, corban, is resting in the same arms that comforted me a week ago. and still do.

day one hundred.thirty.three

taking time to enjoy the ride

day one hundred.thirty.two

i cried a little less. it's more like i am numb to emotion. everything is in bloom about to Burst forth with life and i am just ... here. somehow the motions of the day carry me on.

day one hundred.thirty.one

this sucks.this sucks.this sucks.this sucks.this sucks.this sucks.

day one hundred.thirty

i woke up early to meet you this morning. caught a glimpse of your glory. i woke up so numb. sitting in our backyard at 5:30 am the cold wind didn't even bother me. i thought for a minute things were...ok.

"as long as the rivers flow, as long as the wind blows,
my heart belongs to You
as long as the seasons change, as long as the farmer needs the rain,
my heart belongs to You
Lord, i know i don't deserve the grace You give
so i will give my heart to You that i might live
You are my God, early in the morning will i rise to meet You, rise to meet You"
-matt stanfield

day one hundred.twenty.nine

must i get out of bed. it is so comforting. my laptop. my music. my memories. everything makes me cry. a facebook message. a card stuck in the door. my fridge stocked with food i will probably never touch. the sweater i wore all night in the hospital. i don't even want to wash away the tape residue from the iv...a weird comforting reminder of my son. a thought to cling hard to. how many tears are too much?

day one hundred.twenty.eight

my raw callous feet. as soon as they touch the cold wood floor when i force myself out of bed in the morning i ... remember. i am so thankful for a full nights rest. a chance to breathe. in and out. to refresh and renew. chipping away a bit of the rawness piercing my heart. do i have to move on? how do i? how can i make my feet shuffle through this new day. we go outside to bask in the glorious sunlight and warm grass. it helps, a little. then. i. remember. people have been sending me tender messages. loved ones stop by and bring food, cards. what i really want is to stop reliving yesterday. i want my son. i want it to be thursday when everything was fine. i want my boy to be breathing. i want to move on. we try. we fill ourselves with distractions. spending extra time with our four year old who has seemed to move on. it is so raw. like a wound exposed to the harsh wind. it hurts so much.

day one hundred.twenty.seven

demise. that's the word they used to describe my son. who was in my womb. not breathing. my son was only sixteen weeks and four days old on thursday, may 5, when we learned of his...demise. no one, even me, wanted to use the word dead. that is too cruel and harsh and full of pain. how. why. god, dear god. what was it? what did i do? what didn't i do? i can never answer that. our heavenly father just took him home......without my consent. early this morning i was forced to go into labor and deliver my son. my beautiful tiny son. all ten toes. all ten fingers. all two ears. my baby boy. demise does not come close to describing that horrendous moment when i felt my son expel from my body. such pain and broken-ness, heartache but peace that it was...over. somehow i need to move on. somehow i need to wipe clean this tear soaked keyboard and continue to be the mother to our four year old. a wife. a daughter. a sister. a friend. the pain of moving on is tremendous. more so than a thousand labor pains.

"...when all of a sudden, i am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory, i
and i realize just how beautiful you are, and how great your affections are for me.
and oh, how he loves us so, oh how He loves us, how He loves us all..." - john mark mcmillan

i love you son.

day one hundred.twenty.six

nothing like playing in the backyard wearing pajamas.

day one hundred.twenty.five

national day of prayer on government property

day one hundred.twenty.four

finally blooming

day one hundred.twenty.three

vroom

day one hundred.twenty.two

date night. husband is gone for the night and i have my two best friends to keep me company.

day one hundred.twenty.one

ready for adventure