​Last Friday marked 8 weeks in my pregnancy-I can not tell you what a huge relief it is to get past this point. On Wednesday of last week I had my first prenatal appointment and ultrasound. I'm so glad I scheduled it early because I was so anxious! I dropped the kids off at Maria's and chatted for a bit and then went to the clinic. I could hardly stand it and to top it off our midwife Sherrie was at the hospital for a c-section. I was assured I would be her first patient and she would be back soon.

​In the days and weeks that followed losing our unborn child, Judah, I immersed myself in gardening like a mad woman. I had good reason too! Staying in the house seemed so confining and confusing. Stacks of bills, piles of dishes and mountains of laundry offered no encouragement, only a cruel reminder of everything undone, unfinished and depressing. Being outside was better fresh air was healthy and the kids loved being outside as well so they were less difficult to deal with. My garden needed all the help it could get anyway and I wanted to feel like I could fix something. I worked furiously taking out my frustrations on the weeds. I benefited from being with the kids outside in hearing them play with each other and laugh together. I felt a sense of accomplishment in planting-at least I could still grow tomatoes-it gave me a sense of control when everything else felt like it was out of whack. I decided to put in some roses alongside the fence in the back yard. I just happened to buy five-one for each of us Caleb remarked. 

​This is one of my favorite photos of our two oldest boys. When Caleb used to work closer he would come home for lunch, driving his big utility truck. I love how the boys wait excitedly for Caleb to return home everyday. To them Caleb is their hero, he's tall and strong, he builds things, uses power tools, and drives trucks and other machinery-he is everything they want to be and they idolize him. Just the other day Joseph was even singing the words to a country song "I've been watching you, Dad ain't that cool, I'm your buckaroo I want to be like you, eat all my food and grow as strong as you are..."

​The days that followed the loss of our baby were a blur. I was so confused, and did not know what to think. I felt like my body had betrayed me in letting go of our child before it was ready. I had been so terrified of delivering again but now I would go through any amount of pain to be able to hold our baby. I felt like no one understood, even other women who had been through the same thing. It was just something that happened and is typical in 20% of pregnancies, something you just let happen and move on. But to me it wasn’t. I felt I had entered some secret sorrow that lonely women everywhere were a part of and didn’t know how to process. I began to research and found that there are next to zero books on how to cope with having lost an unborn child, not many places to turn save one or two websites.

​I had always thought that families with two children were not really considered a large family. Three children were the definition of a big family to me. While not horribly large, the children outnumbered the parents as well as how many jobs the parents could reasonably hold in order to provide for their children if needed. As many have put it, when you have three children, you go from man-on-man to zone defense. Yet,  here we were 7 weeks into expecting our fourth child and getting excited. We had already talked about names and picked the ones we liked. It was a done deal and we had a peace about it. I told Caleb that although this child had been a surprise, it was no an accident that God had decided to bless us with another child.

​This blog writing venture has been a long time coming-welcome! I'm glad you're here to join me in this adventure. 

The following begins a a story of our journey through loss, heartache, and growth. I'm certainly not a fan of dredging up old, unpleasant memories, but the challenges in our life as a family have proven to be of far more value as time has marched forward. Time certainly softens the harshness of the initial pain we once felt. I choose to remember also, because when I remember the difficult times I am struck by the grace and strength of God in our lives as He has carried us through it all. That is a great encouragement, to be daily reminded that He is God in the storm and the strength in His voice can and will calm the waves. It is my sincerest hope that the struggles I write about and share are an encouragement to others.