The weather outside is frightful

"Cooped up" doesn't adequately convey how we feel these days.

To say we're tired of being indoors would be putting it nicely. Very, very nicely. If you prefer honesty to nicety, read on.

Winter has dragged on far too long, and I can feel myself--and my kids--sinking into a severe state of seasonal depression. I was doing okay until that blasted groundhog saw his shadow and ran back underground. We've had snow in our yard since December. Random snow storms that pop up out of nowhere in the middle of the day and drop flakes everywhere no longer phase me. I've gotten used to this miserable winter, and that worries me.

Far more troublesome is the impact this seclusion from the out-of-doors is having on my children. While my friends down South revel at their freak snow storms and rush outside in rainboots with plastic baggies on their hands for mittens, our snowy days have left us trapped inside to face the reality that when the snow drifts are taller than your children, it's unsafe to go play in them. In desperation, we bundled the kids up and took them to a still-snow covered park to run off some energy. But alas, Abby's efforts at running around proved in vain as her feet sunk 4-6 inches into the crunchy snow with every step. Poor Caleb was so happy to be outside he didn't even complain about the wind whipping against his chapped rosy cheeks. Our snowy park fun lasted about 20 minutes before Justin and I made an executive decision to warm the kids up before their noses froze and fell off.

We've done our best to enjoy our frightful winter wonderland. The snow slide in the backyard and the 10-foot-tall ramp off the back deck were fun for a while. But I still can't get Caleb's thumbs in place in his mittens, and the snow is so crunchy and dirty now that Abby can no longer eat it. Necessity, being the mother of invention, moved me to clean out our unfinished basement and open up a ton of floor space where the kids can ride bikes, trikes and singing airplanes just like they would outside. We even hung a swing down there, in hopes of fooling them into thinking our basement is the park. The kids love it down there, but the lack of sunlight gives it away. It's just not the same as running around with grass to cushion your fall and the warm sun washing over you. Our winter fun is over. We're ready for spring.

As I was packing the kids up to head to the grocery store the other day, Abby ignored my instruction to climb into the van and instead made a beeline for the driveway. She stopped just outside the garage, looked up at the blue sky and yelled gleefully at the top of her lungs, "I'm outside!"

We need some warm weather. And soon.

I am smiling

We don't know why he does it.

Somewhere along the way, Caleb decided that this is what we meant when we said "Smile!" So now, anytime he sees a camera, or someone asks him to smile, this is what we get. I think he deserves the Cheese Face of the Year award for this one.

When he's not hamming it up for the camera, our not-so-little guy is causing all sorts of mayhem. The destructive play phase is in full swing, and he's happiest when he's banging plastic hammers on my hardwood floors (so loud!) or throwing all the balls out of the ball pit (so messy!). Eating still remains at the top of his to-do list, and we're trying desperately to teach him some Baby Signs to circumvent the screeching that occurs when he spots food. He knows the sounds of the microwave beeping, the refrigerator opening and pots and pans banging around, and he speeds into the kitchen and clings to my legs anytime he thinks food preparation is going on.

While we've failed in getting him to say "more milk, please," he has added balloon ("ba-oon") and ball ("ba-ba") to his growing vocabulary. He'll make a "zoom" noise whenever he sees an airplane, and duck sightings elicit a considerable amount of very loud quacking.

He loves giving kisses, and starts giving a round of smooches as soon as our bedtime prayers end each night. Each sloppy kiss on the cheek is accompanied by an enthusiastic "muah!" which he repeats over and over again until you give him a kiss in return.

He adores his big sister, and she's usually the first recipient of a goodnight smooch. He loves to race her upstairs for bath time (if there were a competitive speed crawling competition, he'd bring home first prize), and although he has yet to beat her to the landing, his giggles indicate that he loves their nightly races.

And if his handling of a fork or a crayon are any indication, it looks like Spike's going to be a lefty. Special scissors, here we come!

Card-carrying member

Today might be the best day of her life.

We stopped into our local library for storytime today, and I told Abby on the way there that she could pick out a new book to bring home. I may as well have told her she could eat cookies at every meal for the rest of her life. The girl loves books, and the offer of a new book, and one she could pick out all by herself is almost more excitement than she can handle.

We arrived at the library and she could barely wait for me to park the car as she rambled on about how we were going to "go listen to storytime with lots of kids, and get a book, and come home and read it to Abby and Caleb!" I turned the car off and proceeded to dig through my purse for my library card.

"I want to go inside, Mommy," said my impatient 2-year-old from the backseat. "It's storytime and I'm going to get a book."

"We'll go inside just as soon as Mommy finds her library card," I answered, referring to myself in the third person because that's what moms do. "If you want to get a book, I have to have a library card so that they'll let us check it out and bring it home."

Silence. This, apparently, was key information that I had withheld upon previous mentions of what we were going to do. I could almost feel the wheels spinning in her brain as she turned this new detail over in her head.

Then suddenly, she resolved the issue.

"I want my very own library card," she said, using the 'big-kid' voice that I'm having trouble getting used to. "I'll get my own book with my own card."

It sounded like a good plan to me, so I gave up my search and dragged the kids inside. Crouching down to her level, I showed Abby where the information desk was and pointed out the librarian behind the counter.

"See that man at the desk, Abby? He's in charge of giving everyone their very own library cards so that they can check out books," I told her. "Do you want to go ask him if you may have a library card, please?"

Apparently she did.

She ran up to the counter and waited until he noticed her.

"Can I help you?" the librarian asked, peering under his computer screen to see her little head sticking up over the counter. She looked up at me and I smiled, encouraging her to do it herself the way I knew she wanted to.

"May I have my very own library card, please?" she asked.

"If it's okay with your mom," said the kind old man. He slid a form across the desk to her, and she stood on her tiptoes to take it from him. "Just fill out this form and you can have your own library card."

We stepped aside and I put a pen in her hand and helped her fill out the form, then showed her where to sign at the bottom. I told her that by signing this piece of paper, she was promising to always return her books on time and to take very, very good care of them.

"Can you do that, Abby?" I asked in a very serious tone, to try to convey the great responsibility she was undertaking.

"Yeah,"she replied, and held the pen up for me to help her spell out her name.

We wandered the aisles and she finally choose a book, a collection of stories about a puppy she loves. We returned to the information desk and she handed her form and her book to the librarian.

A few moments passed as he prepared a card with her name on it, then he got us checked out and handed Abby her very own library card.

"Thanks," she told him, then turned and handed it to me. "Mommy, keep this for Abby so it won't get lost. I'll hold my book."

On the drive home, she made me call her dad and all four grandparents so she could yell "I got my very own library card" into the phone. To say she's pretty excited would be a major understatement.

I have a feeling we'll be spending a lot more time at the library now.

All by my very own self

Ever since the departure of her older, wiser, more independent friend Neely, our little girl has decided she'd like to be a big girl too. Changes we've noticed, in the past 24 hours since Neely left, include:

• She now wants to do a number things "all by my very own self." Putting on pants, putting cups and plates on the table, and getting in and out of the van now take about four times longer than they did when I was allowed to help her. When something proves too difficult, she simply states, "It's hard, Mommy" and waits for me to come assist (i.e., do it for her).
• She's developed a sense of privacy. Her little singing potty moved from the kitchen to the bathroom (finally!) and going potty is now a solo activity. Any hesitation on my part to leave the bathroom is met with a firm, "Mommy go out there and close the door." Frankly, I'm relieved. It's kind of cramped in our guest bathroom, and being stuck in there while she reads her magazine and does her business is not all that fun.
• She second-guesses me. If I suggest the bright pink bow, she prefers the light pink one. If I suggest a pair of leggings at naptime, she wants sweatpants. If I suggest she use the little potty, she'd rather use the big one. It didn't take me long to wise up to this one. I now know to suggest the opposite of what I'm preparing for breakfast in order to avoid the battle of wills that might otherwise ensue.

These new big girl tendencies came in handy when we visited the dentist for her six month check-up this morning. Without my prompting, she climbed up into the chair all by her very own self, requested a Clifford movie to watch, and showed incredible patience and endurance as the hygienist "tickled her teeth" and made them sparkle.

She walked away with a new toothbrush, a pink dinosaur, and a certificate of membership for the No Cavity Club. But not before she asked for one more ride "up and up and up" on the magic chair.

Keep the old

My apologies to my dear friend Megan. I failed to ask her permission to publish this long forgotten middle school photo of the two of us. But since it's just as mortifying to me to look back on those great big glasses and knee-length khakis, I figure she'll forgive me for showing off her ruffled denim shirt and puffy floral shorts. It was 1994, after all. And the last day of sixth grade is a big deal, so you can see why we wanted to look especially spiffy.


Regardless of what we were thinking on this particular day, or any other day that we spent together between kindergarten and college graduation for that matter, I'm fairly certain it never crossed our minds that we'd have these one day:

We enjoyed a great visit with my dear old friend and her family this weekend. Abby found a kindred spirit in almost 4-year-old Neely, the gymnastics-loving, daredevil kid that I have to thank for teaching my clumsy daughter how to jump off of her bed and climb into the second story of her fort.

We've come a long way since our days of singing old Patsy Cline songs on the school bus together. Now we've got some toddlers to chime in with us while our husbands build ski jumps off the back deck (hers) and smoke pork for dinner (mine). With almost 23 years of friendship behind us, I'm thinking if Megan and I haven't gotten tired of each other by now, we're probably stuck with each other.

I'm okay with that.

Snowpocalypse 2010: Killjoy

Dear Blizzard of 2010,

We did what you wanted. We panicked, we stocked up on food, we stayed inside for days. Our cars are covered in salt and our backyard is so deep in snow that our kids can't even enjoy it. Our gutters are sagging under the weight of all the ice and snow on the roof. You ruined the tree in our front yard and you've killed all of our bushes. Your 25-mile-an-hour winds put a halt on the building of our snow fort, and filled it back up again so that we have to start over.

And it's still snowing. It ceases to be fun when you have to watch your husband climb an eight foot ladder and rake snow off the roof with a 17 foot roof rake.

We surrender, Blizzard of 2010. You win. You're welcome to stop any time now.

Sincerely,
The family of fish

Happy Birthday Justin!

We celebrated Justin's birthday/Valentine's Day with MeatFest XO: Seafood Edition. The ladies planned this second edition of MeatFest, so there was a little bit more variety and a lot more preparation involved. But I think the guys would agree it was well worth it. (Except for Blake, who refused to eat my salad on principle. Apparently MeatFest is supposed to be a veggie-free zone.)

We enjoyed broiled shrimp cocktail, fried calamari and grilled crab legs, along with a side of risotto, tossed salad and a dessert of chocolate covered strawberries and birthday cake. It wasn't exactly a romantic Valentine's Day dinner (romance and toddlers are mutually exclusive), but it was a fun way to spend the Hallmark holiday, and Justin later told me this was his best birthday every. Although that may have had something to do with the Stoker I gave him that allows him to control the Big Green Egg over our wireless network. But that's another story for another day...

For more pictures of MeatFest XO, click here.

Learning is fun: Letter P

Keeping my craft closet well stocked has its advantages. Having everything I needed on hand to make a letter P craft in the middle of a blizzard is one of them.

Since watercolors were such a huge hit with our letter O, I decided to pull them back out so that Abby could Paint a Pretty letter P. She's improving a lot on staying in the lines and following directions (like just using one color at a time so our watercolors don't all turn brown).

When her letter P was perfectly painted and plastered in place on a piece of paper, I cut rectangles out of some craft foam to make the keys for her piano. She's a pro with shapes now, and usually has very little difficulty figuring out what a particular shape is, but we haven't done much with rectangles, so making piano keys provided a good opportunity for that.

She also insists on confusing black and brown, so I cut out a few brown rectangles as well and we worked on matching colors and distinguishing between the two. I must have really driven the point home, because later when I pointed to something black and asked her what color it was, she replied, "That's not brown, it's black, mommy."

Once all the keys were glued in place, she had tons of fun playing her homemade piano and singing a few of her favorite songs for her dad, who is snowed in with us and got to experience craft time firsthand.

Snowpocalypse 2010: Big jumps

At the first opportunity (read: the moment the roads were cleared) we headed out to survey what the Snowpocalypse had done to the rest of the neighborhood, and to find a decent place to take the kids sledding. Turns out the neighborhood is a mess, but the sledding is at a premium.

An empty retention pond nearby made for the perfect sledding spot, and by the time we arrived the neighborhood kids had already spent a great deal of time and effort designating and designing some pretty intricate sledding and snowboarding runs, complete with turns, bumps, and, as Abby found out "big jumps!"

We started her on the smooth easy run, and I took Caleb down a few times as well. Both kids loved it, although by the end they were far to cold and hungry to show their excitement for the camera.

Justin noticed some kids half his age getting airborne on a run that had three big ramps on it, and of course had to try it for himself. I mean, what self-respecting grown-up is going to let an eighth grader show him up? Our curly-headed daredevil saw the fun everyone was having and let us know she wanted a turn as well.

Abby: I want to do that one like daddy.
Daddy: That one's really bumpy, Abby. Can you hold on tight?
Abby: Yeah, I want to do that big one like daddy.
Daddy: Okay. If you fall you're going to get snow on your face, but you can just brush it off. Hold on tight to the handles.

(I'm convinced this is why my kids like him better than me.)

So she situated her tiny little bottom on the sled, and dad gave her a push. She sped down the hill at a rate of speed that was extremely inappropriate for a toddler, and promptly flew off into the snow when she hit the bottom. Her reaction?

Abby: Wheeeeeeee! That's a big jump! I want to do it again!

She's my crazy child. No doubt about it.

Snowpocalypse 2010: Proper attire

Moving a toddler from the balmy indoors to the frigid out-of-doors is not always a smooth transition. Abby has proven to be pretty patient with me, but the bottom line is that there is no shortcut to getting ready to go out into the snow. Dressing up to play in below freezing temperatures in piles of snow that tower well over Abby's head is an arduous and time-consuming process.

I try to have myself completely ready--boots and all--before I even start dressing her. Having to wait for me to get dressed after the drama of getting her ready might just push Abby over the edge. The trade-off, of course, is that wrangling a toddler means I'm a sweaty mess under all my warm layers by the time we're done. From birthday suit to snowsuit, the entire process of getting her into her snow gear takes an average of 20 minutes.

Phase One:

• Pull-ups: I've learned my lesson. Big girl panties are not a good idea for going out in the snow. Our window of opportunity for getting to the potty is pretty firmly shut once we commit to going out in this weather.
• Tall socks: The taller the better. These provide a cotton-y barrier under...
• Saran Wrap: I can package this child's feet as well as a butcher packages beef. A band of packaging tape around her ankles makes this the water-proof barrier that is essential when she loses a boot in 3 feet of snow.
• Leggings: A second layer of packaging tape around the ankles keeps these firmly in place inside her boots.
• Pajama top: We start with a thin layer on the top, but she'll be pretty puffy by the time we're done.

Phase Two:

• Grocery bag: Cut two holes in the bottom for her legs, slip the handles over her shoulders, and voilà! We've got ourselves an instant water-proof layer to prevent snow from sticking to her back.
• Gloves: That's right, gloves. Complete with fingers. I think they're practical. She thinks they're hilarious, and loves to watch her purple fingers wiggle around in their own individual spots.
• Saran Wrap: This time, on her hands. With instructions to Abby to "spread your fingers out wide," I carefully wrap and waterproof her gloved hands. Fingers stay much warmer when they're not wet. Since all she does is eat snow when she's outside, it's important to make sure her hands stay dry. A layer of tape secures the plastic to her long sleeves, then it's time for her...
  
• Fleece pullover: This goes over the plastic bag, zips up around her neck and will get tucked into her...
• Fleece pants: In case I haven't mentioned it before, we've got a lot of snow. And her legs are going to be almost completely buried the whole time she's out there. The importance of layering her legs cannot be understated. Cold legs=whiny Abby.
• Second socks: These keep the saran wrap on her feet in place and provide an added layer of warmth. They also buy me a few minutes while I look for the boot she's sure to lose in one of those piles of snow.
• Cute hat: Furry hats make for cute pictures. Ours is particularly furry, and Abby loves it.

Phase Three:

• Mittens: Because you can't put on a second pair of gloves with saran wrap all over your hands, we settle for mittens to keep the plastic in place. Maneuvering her tiny thumb into position eats up about a quarter of our total prep time. The mittens get taped to her sleeves to keep her from losing them as easily as she does her boots, and to keep the snow out.
• Snow pants: Once we get this far, we're committed. She's getting pretty puffy, and is starting to sweat, so our only choices are to turn back now and undo everything, or get outside and cool off.
• Snow boots: A great consignment sale find back in the fall, these $3 snow boots have served us well. Now if I could just figure out which foot is which...
• Snow jacket: I have to put my hand up through her sleeve in order to pull her gloved, wrapped, and mittened hands back through, but it's all worth it in the end. Zip her up, pull up her hood (more fur!) and we're off to eat some snow!

That is, assuming she doesn't need to go potty.

Life is so much easier for Caleb.

His dilemma is a matter of simple math: 31 inches tall + 30 inches of snow = staying inside. So Caleb is spending our snowed-in days living in his pajamas. Occasionally his dad will throw some overalls over his PJ's in an effort at letting him look civilized. But on day two of being stuck indoors, "civilized" no longer describes my household. Thankfully, Caleb's got countless hours of watching dad shovel snow off the back deck to look forward to.

Snowpocalypse 2010: Stuck

We took Abby and Caleb to the back door this morning and let them look at all the snow that fell last night (and is still falling). Abby, ever the intuitive observer, rightly exclaimed, "That's too much snow."

Agreed.

So far we've measured an average of 28 inches of snow in the backyard with up to 36 inches in some places. We lost a significant portion of the beautiful tree in our front yard after the limbs cracked under the weight of the snowfall. Justin spent about 5 hours shoveling this morning to get our driveway cleared, then watched sadly as a snow plow cleared the road and pushed a mound of snow about 6 feet high and 4 feet deep across the entire bottom of the driveway.

Snow is a lot more fun if you're a kid. And, in our case, if you're at least 4 feet tall, which unfortunately our kids are not. Looks like we're officially snowed in. Time to hunker down with some play-doh and some books and wait for the sun to come out.

Snowpocalypse 2010: Feels like home

We already survived one pretty severe storm back in December, so you'd think another winter storm warning wouldn't send everyone into a state of hysteria.

You'd be wrong.

Thursday's weather advisories brought a touch of nostalgia with them for this Southern girl. In many ways, it was like being home again. From fighting for the last loaf of bread on the shelf to driving across town to buy four gallons of milk to standing in line with everyone else in the county to stock up on enough groceries to last us a month, everything screamed of panic and chaos. The difference of course is that the pandemonium up here was somewhat justified. It's hard to laugh at someone buying four gallons of milk when the weatherman is calling for 3 feet of snow and the federal government is threatening to shut down entirely. Next time my friends in Georgia clear the grocery store shelves at the threat of below freezing temperatures and the possibility of a light dusting of snow, I'll have trouble taking them seriously.

As promised, the first flakes began to fall this morning and by evening we had a good 6-8 inches on the ground already. This, on top of the snow that fell earlier this week, is making for some pretty ominous piles on the sides of the roads as the snow plows work to keep things clear. On top of buying a ton of groceries, our storm preparations included pulling out all the snow gear again, finding missing mittens, rationing saran wrap to wrap up the kids' hands and feet when we go out, and moving the slide back to the middle of the yard to recreate the awesome ice ramp we built in December.

I started work on an igloo this evening, but the snow is falling so hard and fast that it's guaranteed to be buried in the morning. Everything in the area shut down at noon today, so Justin was able to come home early and get a jump on shoveling the driveway. Abby and I spent a while outside playing before the sun went down. If the forecast is accurate, there's going to be way too much snow for her to play in tomorrow. Snow isn't fun at all if it's taller than you.

Snowpocalypse 2010: Fun at first

We've all heard the story about how you boil a frog. The idea is that if you place a frog in boiling water, he'll realize what you're up to and jump to safety. But by placing your frog in a pot of tepid water and then slowly bringing it to a boil, the frog won't realize what's happening and, ignorant of his perilous state, will be boiled alive.

Snowpocalypse 2010 is a little like that. This first storm dumped a manageable 8-10 inches on our neck of the woods. The roads were plowed early and often, getting around town was no problem, and except for having to bundle up a little bit more to go outside, life was business as usual. If we could see into the future, we'd all certainly be jumping to safety at the sight of the first flake.

But Phase One was, in fact, the perfect amount of snow for an adventurous 2-year-old to go sledding in. And sled she did. Were it not for the snow flakes sticking to the curls on the back of her neck and dripping cold water down her back, I'm certain she would have stayed out all day going up and down this snow-covered hill with her best buddy.

I'm glad we had as much fun as we did on this particular day. There are much bigger storms in the forecast for next week, and it sounds like things could get ugly.

Fun for the whole family

Need a gift idea for, oh, anybody? You might want to consider a little Play-Doh.

Abby received a big bag of play-doh and accessories for Christmas and has spent about one-third of her waking hours molding, rolling and shaping the stuff ever since. Justin, I've learned, can make anything from houses to 3-dimensional ducks out of the stuff, while I'm better at rolling and pressing flat shapes like stars and squares. Grandparents have come and gone from our house, and none has escaped being coaxed into one of these little chairs to play alongside their adorable granddaughter. Papa may have set the record for time spent on this activity, spending a full 15 minutes cutting out little green sharks by himself after Abby moved on to something else. (To his credit, his tower of sharks was pretty impressive to kids and adults alike.)

Caleb has tried desperately to play as well, but only seemed interested in eating the stuff. So while big sister played, I spent my time taking play-doh out of his hands and mouth and teaching him to take the lid on and off the container instead. This held his interest for about a month, until one day, something clicked.

Now, he plays happily across from his sister at this little table that my mom saved from my days of kiddie crafts. Only occasionally do I catch him popping tiny scraps of play-doh into his mouth when he thinks no one's looking. Abby helps by reporting back to me, loudly, whenever Caleb breaks the all-important we-don't-put-things-that-aren't-food-in-our-mouths rule: "Caleb's not supposed to be eating that blue play-doh, mommy. Caleb's need a time out."

What would I do without her?

Learning is fun: Letter O

I'm not sure when her love affair with the olive began, but I am certain it was her dad's fault. Today, she eats olives like a pro, carefully sucking the pimentos out of the pitted ones or chewing around the pits of the giant Kalamatas. She loves all kinds, from the Spanish olives in a jar to the black olives on a pizza. So our letter O craft was kind of a no-brainer.

I introduced her to water colors this week, and can't believe it's taken me this long to do so. She loved every part of painting her big green O and her tiny red pimento. (When I asked her later what we made, she said "big O, and piment-O." I quizzed her later, and it seems most other letters in the alphabet still come in uppercase and lowercase forms. But O's are officially either big, or "piment.") I'm continuing to stress the importance of holding eating and crafting utensils properly, and Abby seemed pleased with how much more control she had over her paintbrush when she held it the right way. Although slopping paint on with a big toddler fist was fun, too.

Water color painting was so much fun, in fact, that my little artist refused to acknowledge that craft time was over. She watched patiently as I cleaned up our mess and then helped me put our supplies away. I left to go get her brother up from his nap, and when I returned, I found she had retrieved her paintbrush from where I had left it to dry on the counter and was using it to "teach this duck how to paint a letter O."

Back to joy

Two weeks ago, we found out I was pregnant.

A week later, we lost the baby.

Grief and suffering do not even begin to describe what I have felt in the week since. I have gone from joy and excitement and anticipation to grief and pain and feeling as if my heart has been torn in two. But the God of compassion--who loves me infinitely more than I can fathom--has brought me back to joy again. And now I'm ready to talk about it. Because through this suffering, He has shown his love, his mercy and his grace to me in ways I might not have otherwise realized.

When we first suspected that I was having a miscarriage, I wept and pleaded for a miracle, and the Lord brought a song into my head that we've sung once before in church. Through the words of this old hymn, God comforted me and gave words to my pain.

Out of the depths I raise to thee the voice of Lamentation
Lord turn a gracious ear to me and hear my supplication
If thou shouldst count our every sin
Each evil deed or thought within
O who could stand before thee?

To wash away the crimson stain grace, grace alone prevaileth
Our works, alas, are all in vain, in much the best life faileth
For none can glory in Thy sight
All must alone confess Thy might
And live alone by mercy.

Therefore my trust is in the Lord and not in my own merit
On God my soul shall rest; God's word upholds my fainting spirit.
God's promised mercy is my fort
My comfort, and my strong support
I wait for it with patience.

What though I wait the live-long night, and till the dawn appeareth
My heart still trusteth in God's might, it doubteth not nor feareth
So let the Israelites in heart
Born of the Spirit do their part
And wait till God appeareth.

What I found, as I prayed for God to uphold my fainting spirit, was that He did. As I searched his Word for comfort and for answers, I was reminded over and over that He loved me and He understood my suffering. Finding comfort in His word did not take away the pain I felt, nor did it lesson my suffering. Instead, it made it bearable, and it showed me I still had hope.

"Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer." - Psalm 19:14

From the moment I knew about the new little life being formed inside of me, I prayed as I have for all my children, that his or her life would be one that would glorify the Lord. God heard those prayers, and though this baby's life will not play out the way I had hoped, I have begun to realize that those prayers can still be answered.

In the way I grieve, in the way I share my suffering with others, in the way I live my life after this loss, God can be glorified through this child's brief life. In the few short days I knew about this child, I had begun imagining, anticipating the life we would have together. I thought about the logistics of sleeping arrangements and car rides, of cuddling and nursing this little one while Abby and Caleb played together. I miss this child. I mourn for this child that I never saw, never held and will never know. But I cannot live a life of mourning.

"Jesus fell on his face and prayed, saying, 'My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.'" - Matthew 26:39

How desperately I prayed that this cup of sorrow would not be mine to drink! But God is working something out for good in all of this (Romans 8:28), and every detail of this child's life, and death, is part of God's sovereign plan. I have found so much comfort in knowing that God has a purpose for this, even if I can't see it yet, and even if I never will.

"For your formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made! Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them." - Psalm 139:13-16

God has told us in his word that He is the Author and Giver of life. I rejoice for the life of this child I'll never know, because my baby was fearfully and wonderfully made. This child's life was not an accident, nor was the loss of that life. God numbers all of our days, and that number just happened to be much smaller for my little one than I had expected. I know nothing happens outside of His perfect plan, and therefore I know that, be it ever so painful, this is His perfect plan for me.

I do not mean to minimize my grief, or the grief of anyone who has lost a child for any reason. There is no word but absolute sorrow to describe the pain I feel that I will never meet, never hold this little one.

"Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am in distress; my eye is wasted from grief, my soul and body also." - Psalm 31:9

God has been, and will continue to be gracious to me. He has loved me so, so tenderly through this pain. Drawing near to Him, and knowing He is drawing near to me, has brought me exactly the comfort I've needed to get through this; it doesn't remove my sorrow, but knowing that my Father in Heaven loves me and cares for me has helped me deal with it, and has helped me get stronger every day as I try to recover from my loss.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." - Psalm 34:18"

God has truly spoken directly to my heart through His word this week, in a way that I don't think I've realized before. His scriptures have become real and personal and applicable in ways that they might not otherwise be. And for that I am so, so grateful!

"'Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who have not been in labor!...For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed,' says the Lord, who has compassion on you." - Isaiah 54:1, 10

I've wondered, and even felt guilty at times this week, about simply moving on. How can I joke with friends about trivial things, or celebrate my son's birthday when just days ago I couldn't stop sobbing for the loss of this little one inside of me? But God has reminded me over and over again that my source of strength, of hope, and of joy cannot be found, or lost, in any of His blessings--even the blessing of a child.

No, my strength, my hope and my joy are in the Lord, and His steadfast love will not depart from me! My suffering is great, and my sorrow is real, but His love and compassion are greater still, and it is because of the hope that is within me that I can walk through this season of suffering "pressed but not crushed...struck down but not destroyed."

"Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. And he said, 'Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!' In all this, Job did not sin or charge God with wrong." - Job 1:20-22

I still have sorrow over this little one, and I still struggle with how to mourn someone I never knew. I still wonder when I'll stop crying, and I know that I will probably always miss this child, though the pain is already starting to fade a little. But through this trial, through all the uncertainties and unanswered questions, one thing has remained constant. Christ's love for me has not changed. I serve a great and awesome God, a God who ordered these steps for me in His perfect and infinite wisdom; a God who knows my pain, and who is carrying me through it.

In Christ alone my hope is found. He is my light, my strength, my song.
This Cornerstone, this solid ground, Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace; When fears are stilled, when strivings cease;
My Comforter, my All in All, Here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone, who took on flesh, Fullness of God in helpless babe.
This gift of love and righteousness, Scorned by the ones He came to save.
‘Til on that cross as Jesus died, The wrath of God was satisfied.
For every sin on Him was laid, Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground His body lay. Light of the world by darkness slain.
Then bursting forth in glorious Day, Up from the grave He rose again.
And as He stands in victory, Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me.
For I am His and He is mine, Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death, This is the power of Christ in me.
From life’s first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man, Can ever pluck me from His hand.
‘Til He returns or calls me home, Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand.