A Letter to My Son

My most precious Matthew,

Today is November 29.  A day that so quickly went from being one I was eagerly anticipating to one I was sorrowfully dreading.  Today is the day you were due to arrive in this world.  Today was supposed to be so very different from what it is.  I pictured myself either extremely pregnant, counting down the hours or days until your arrival or holding you already in case you decided to come early like your brother and sister.  I never ever pictured this day with nothing in my womb and no baby in my arms.  This is not how today was supposed to be.  And yet, it is.  Today's events (or lack there of) may be a surprise to me but they were never a surprise to God.  He knew your time with us would be short and He knew that you would be with Him on this day.  And I am trying so hard to accept that.  It's hard for me to let you go.  I want you here.  With me.  With us.  I want to hold you.  I want to know you.  I want to see you grow up.  I want to watch you play with your brother and sister.  I want all the hopes and dreams we had for you to come true.

Ever since we lost you, I told myself that if I could just be pregnant by your due date then I could have some sense about it all and some relief.  But I am not pregnant, Matthew.  I don't know what God's plan for our family is but I'm trying to be content.  It doesn't help when people tell us "Oh, you'll have more kids!" or "At least you already have two."  I even had one person tell me I had "better be" pregnant soon.  Don't they understand that even if we had ten more kids none of them would ever take your place?  And don't they understand that Luke and Addison cannot take your place either?  The longing in my heart is for you-the son I have lost.  I pray that God blesses us with more children but I am learning that I have to be content with where I am now.  And that is a mother of three beautiful, amazing kids.  Two that are with me here and one that is waiting for me in heaven.  That is my life.  That is my reality.  And I need to be content with it.

I don't know why this was God's plan for your life.  I don't know why He took you home so soon.  But I am going to spend the rest of my life searching for answers.  Searching for how He can use this to make me a better person.  To help others.  To further His kingdom.  I will not let your life be for nothing.  I will not be silent about who you were and what God has and is still doing in our lives because of you.

You have taught me much, Matthew.  God has already used you to stretch your mommy is ways she never thought she could handle.  He is teaching me and molding me daily.  I have learned the power of kindness and compassion.  So many people have showered us with love and prayed for us.  I want to show that same compassion to others who are hurting.  But I am also learning to forgive.  For all the people who remember you and talk about you there are those who never mention your name, never acknowledge your life, and that has at times made me a very bitter and angry person.  I think it's that mama bear coming out in me.  If someone does something to my babies I'm gonna get angry because no one messes with my kids!  In the same way, when people don't acknowledge that your life mattered or that we have even experienced a loss, it's hard for me not to get defensive.  I want to show them your picture and scream, "See how beautiful he is!!  He was alive.  He is our son!  And his life mattered just as much as anyone else's!!"  But most of the time I don't even think people know how much their words (or lack of) have hurt me.  How deep they cut.  And so I must forgive.  I must not give in to the bitterness and anger that at times threatens to consume me.

God is teaching me to rely on Him fully.  He is all I need.  And sometimes it feels like He is all I have.  I know that I have so many who love me and are praying for me but sometimes I feel so incredibly alone, like no one understands.  And it's in those moments when God whispers, "I am here.  I love you.  I know your pain.  I know what it is like to lose a son.  I see your tears.  I am all you need."  Losing you has made my faith real, Matthew.  I have been forced to decide what I want to do with this faith I have had since I was a child.  Am I going to run away and let it make me angry or am I going to cling to it and let it make me stronger?

I am reading "Jesus Calling" and today's devotional was so perfect.  It's what I want for my life.  "In this age of independence, people find it hard to acknowledge their neediness.  However, I have taken you along a path that has highlighted your need for Me:  placing you in situations where your strengths were irrelevant and your weaknesses were glaringly evident.  Through the aridity of those desert marches, I have drawn you closer and closer to Myself.  You have discovered flowers of Peace blossoming in the most desolate places. You have learned to thank Me for hard times and difficult journeys, trusting that through them I accomplish My best work.  You have realized that needing Me is the key to knowing Me intimately, which is the gift above all gifts."  If that isn't a message just for me, I don't know what is.  I am so thankful that you already know Him, Matthew.  That He is all you've known.  Sometimes the only thing that gives me peace is knowing that you are with Jesus.  Knowing that I don't have to worry about you.  You have never known the pain and suffering of this world.  You have always only known Him.

I can't wait for our family to be reunited again.  I know you will love your brother and sister.  They love you so much, Matthew.  They love to go out to the cemetery and see your stone and talk to you and tell you how much they miss you.  Addie tells me that when she gets to heaven she is going to hold you and rock you and take you to Disneyworld!  And your big brother is so sweet.  He will just stop what he is doing and out of nowhere say, "Mom, I miss Matthew."  We all miss you, buddy.  I hope you know that.

Matthew, not a day goes by that I do not think of you.  I have a feeling that will never change.  Your daddy and I love you more than words could ever express.  You are always close to my heart, never far from my mind.  I love you my son, my Matthew James, my precious gift from God...

All my love and tears,
~Mommy

Another Summer Gone...

I say this every Memorial weekend.  Every May when Jonathan and I are enjoying our anniversary (which always comes around Memorial weekend) I tell him that before we know it, it will be Labor Day weekend and the entire summer will have flown by in a blur.  And this summer wasn't any different.

It's hard to believe that we started the summer with my brother's wedding.  It was a beautiful weekend filled with great memories.  And life seemed perfect that weekend.  Being with all my family.  Seeing my sister with her husband and watching my brother commit his life to an amazing woman that I love like a sister.

If only I would have known that I only had precious few weeks left with my son.  If only I could have cherished a little more the coming three weeks of my pregnancy.  None of us had any idea that our lives were about to be turned upside down.  But then, when does anyone really get a warning about these kinds of things?

This is the only "belly" picture I have of my son.  I remember telling my sister that I needed a belly shot as I was already past my first trimester and usually try to get a shot for at least three, six, and nine months.  I'm so thankful I have this picture.

I remember shortly after Matthew died thinking that life would drag on.  Wondering what I had to look forward to.  Some days my kids were the absolute only reason I got myself out of bed.  I remember thinking that the summer would take so long to get through.  Every minute of the day seemed to move in slow-motion.  But life has a way of moving on.  And time has a way of flying by...whether you're having fun or not.  But we did have fun this summer.  We were able to do so many things.  I was able to spend so much time with my family--time that we wouldn't normally have.  But my parents and sister took days (weeks even!) out of their schedule to be with me when I needed it most.  Staying busy helped the time pass.  Our summer was filled with trips to the beach and the zoo, lots of birthday celebrations, and mini-vacations.  We created so many wonderful memories.

And now the summer has ended and our oldest son has started kindergarten.  How is that even possible??  He is growing up so fast.

I'm glad that even though this summer was not at all how we thought it would be, even though we dealt with the greatest tragedy our family has ever faced, we were able to still live.  We made it through the summer and our kids still had fun.  So yeah, another summer has come and gone.  And time isn't slowing down for anything.  And I have learned to live every day, enjoy every moment, soak in every blessing, because we are never guaranteed tomorrow...

Built On The Rock

I read a familiar passage of Scripture the other day.  One that I have read many times before and even sung about with my children.  It's the parable Jesus told of the wise and foolish men.  The foolish man built his house on the sand and when the rain and storms came, his house crashed.  It couldn't stand because it had no foundation.  The wise man, however, built his house on the rock and when the rain and storms came, his house stood firm.  It was with new eyes that I read this the other day.  I am continually amazed at how verses that I have read a hundred times suddenly have new meaning.

Anyway, I realized for the first time what this story is really about.  Ever since I can remember, my parents have taught me to put my trust in Jesus.  To believe in Him.  To follow Him.  And really, that was pretty easy to do growing up.  I had a good childhood.  Of course no one's life is perfect and without difficulty but mine was overall a pretty easy life.  Parents who loved me.  A roof over my head.  Food in my belly.  Clothes on my back.  Friends, family, an education, and eventually an amazing husband and two kids.  Life was good.  I couldn't complain.

But all that changed on June 16.  My "perfect world" came crashing down around me.  For the first time in my adult life I was faced with a heartache I wasn't sure I could get through.  But through all of this turmoil and sorrow one thing remains.  My faith.  Because of the foundation I have, because of the Rock I have chosen to build my life on, I know that I WILL get through this.  When the wind and the rain and the storms of life assail me, I will not be shaken.  And it's because of the Rock.  Without Him I would have crumbled by now.  I would not be standing.  I would have absolutely no hope and 100% complete despair.

I am reading Philip Yancy's book "Where is God When It Hurts?" and it is phenomenal.  I am learning so many new things and being reminded of so many others.  I was reminded that "faith in God offers no insurance against tragedy".  Bad things happen to good people.  That is the fallen world we live in.  I may never know why our son died and I have to accept that.  I cannot focus on the whys.  Instead I have to focus on my reaction to this.  What am I going to do with this situation?  Am I going to let it get me down and ruin me?  Or am I going to let it develop me and glorify God?  Romans 5:3-5 talks about rejoicing in suffering.  That doesn't mean being happy that Matthew died.  It means mourning him but also rejoicing in the fact that I can grow from this.  "Suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." (verses 3-4)  Yancy says that "a quality like perseverance will only develop in the midst of trying circumstances."

The book talks a lot about our free will and how because God gave us free will, we live in a world that is, quite frankly, crappy a lot of times.  Another quote from the book I love says, "God wants us to choose to love Him freely, even when that choice involves pain, because we are committed to Him, not to our own good feelings and rewards.  He wants us to cleave to Him, as Job did, even when we have every reason to deny Him".  Do I think my situation is fair?  Absolutely not.  I get angry thinking about it.  How is it even fair that after trying to conceive for nearly a year we finally got pregnant, only to lose our baby 16 weeks later?  How is it fair that I not only miscarried but had to deliver and bury our child?  What is fair about losing your child before you even get the chance to feel them move inside you?  Please, tell me, how is any of this fair????  The short answer is, it's not.  Not even close.  But life isn't fair and it does me no good to shake my fists at God and be angry with Him.  Did God know that we would lose Matthew?  Yes.  Did He want us to lose Matthew?  No.  I cannot claim to understand God or His plan or how He runs the universe.  I just know He is sovereign and He knows more than I do.  I can accept this and let it develop me into a better person or I can refuse or deny it and let myself be angry and bitter the rest of my life.  I have to rely on my faith right now.  Faith that is built on the Rock.  Yancy quotes Rabbi Abraham Heschel as saying, "Faith like Job's cannot be shaken because it is the result of having been shaken."

So I guess I write all of this more as a pep talk/reminder to myself than anything.  As easy as it would be to wallow in self-pity and to remind myself how unfair this all is, I cannot let myself do that.  I must remember what Yancy says:  "Where is God when it hurts?  He is in us--not in the things that hurt--helping to transform bad into good.  We can safely say that God can bring good out of evil; we cannot say that God brings about the evil in hopes of producing good."  Keep remembering that, Amanda...

Random Thoughts Going Through My Head

So I gave the blog a little facelift.  Updated pictures and added a memorial tracker for Matthew.  I wanted to have his picture here, too.  I want people to know that he was a person.  A beautiful, perfect baby boy.  I chose the family picture at the top because one, we're all actually looking at the camera and two, because I was still pregnant when it was taken.  Family pictures are bittersweet to me now.  Because from now on, one of our kids will forever be missing from them.

July has been busy.  My sister came to stay with us for two weeks and we had the rest of my family up for a huge birthday party.  It's nice staying busy.  It keeps my mind off things.  Luke, Addison, and I all celebrated birthdays this month.  I can't believe my babies are five and three now!

I had my follow-up appointment with Dr. Mathis a couple weeks ago.  Everything looks good and my iron is back up so I can stop taking the iron pills.  So now I just have to keep healing emotionally.  So many thoughts go through my head these days.  So many emotions that I struggle with.  Jealousy is a big one.  You never realize how many pregnant women there are everywhere you go until you are no longer one of them.  The beach, mall, grocery store, hair salon, you name it, I see them at every turn it seems.  I can't help but wonder why they get to keep their baby but I didn't get to keep mine.  Crazy and ridiculous thoughts, I know.  So many people I know are announcing pregnancies too.  Sometimes it feels like life has a sick sense of humor.

We finished one side of the duplex completely and our first renters moved in today.  Jonathan hopes to have the other side done in another week.  It will be nice to have my husband back to only working one job instead of two.  We have missed him a lot.

VBS was last week.  I taught Addie's class.  It was a really stressful week.  With Jonathan at the duplex every night after work, I was basically a single mom, trying to get dinner ready by 4:45 so we could be to church by 5:30.  Then by the time VBS got done and the kids got home and in bed, it was usually going on 10.  I'm glad that week is behind us.

The kids and I are heading to Indiana soon for a visit.  I am very much looking forward to it.

Sometimes I feel like people expect me to be "over" this loss by now.  Like life should be all roses and I should be back to "normal".  It's not and I'm not.

Bitterness threatens to overtake me some days.  But then I remember to count my blessings and to be thankful for all God has given me.

The kids had their annual check-ups today.  They are growing and healthy, which is great.  Although, Luke is in the 40th percentile for his age and Addie is in the 70th, which means there is only a 7 pound difference between them. :)

Keep praying for us.  Pray that our story can help others.  Pray that the Lord gives us strength to get through each day.  Pray that this makes us stronger and brings us closer.  Pray that God will be glorified even in the valley...

Reflections on My Birthday

So my birthday this year was supposed to be a milestone.  A great day not to just celebrate my birthday and enjoy well wishes from so many friends and family, but also a day that would mark the half way point in my pregnancy.  20 weeks.  I remember when I first got pregnant thinking how looooong 40 weeks can feel and telling myself that if I could just make it to my birthday then I would be halfway there and I would be feeling the baby kick by then.  What better present could I ask for??  We would be having an ultrasound around this time and, if we wanted to, could probably find out the sex of our baby.  So many exciting things to celebrate for my birthday.

Except that I'm not celebrating those things.  Instead I am watering flowers at a cemetery.  Looking longingly at pictures.  Cuddling with a tiny stuffed animal.  Hearing about how my other friends who are pregnant are finding out the sexes of their babies and feeling their babies move and kick.  And it sucks if I'm being quite honest.

I don't want this post to sound like a pity party (though, I'll admit, it is easy to remind myself how unfair this all seems to me).  I just want to make sure I capture all of the range of emotions I am feeling during this--my grieving the loss of our son.  My dad keeps telling me I need to write a book.  Um, yeah, we'll see about that.  I never pictured myself an author.  But whether that ever happens down the line or not, I just don't want to forget anything.  Someone told me to cherish these hard times and these feelings of sadness because then I will appreciate the good times that much more.  And it's true.  I find that the times when I am having a good day and laughing and feeling "normal" again are wonderful.  When I can smile at something my kids say or share an inside joke with my husband.  Those times are even sweeter now.  Because in those times I am not consumed with sorrow.  In those times I am not feeling like I have been punched in the gut.  I don't feel my heart literally breaking.  And I need to enjoy those moments because the tears do not come on a set schedule.  They tend to appear out of nowhere when I least expect it.  One minute I am fine and then out of nowhere I am suddenly reminded of all I have lost and I cannot stop the tears from flowing.  It's those moments that catch me by surprise.  It's when I see Luke interacting with a baby and am reminded again how great he would have been with his baby brother.  It's when I am shopping for new clothes and am suddenly hit with the realization that I should not be shopping in the misses section.  I shouldn't even fit into these clothes I am trying on.  It's when the new mom sits in front of me at church with her baby.  Surprisingly, it wasn't even the baby that set me off so much as the simple spit rag draped across her shoulder.

God is teaching me so much through this, though.  We were able to take a little getaway up to northern Michigan for the fourth of July and we spent one day swimming in big, beautiful Burt Lake.  When it was time to head back to the house, Addison was adamant that she did not want grandpa to make the boat go fast.  She did not want to endure the bumpy, sometimes rough, ride across the lake to get back to the calm, quiet river.  But if we wanted to get home at a decent time and in the safest way, we needed to go fast.  Going slow across a busy, huge lake would not be in our best interest.  So when we took off, I held her close to me.  Held her so that anytime we went across a rough patch of waves, I absorbed most of the impact.  Held her so that by about five minutes into our trip, she was sound asleep in my arms, oblivious to the things around her--the very things she had feared moments before.  And in that ride, with my daughter in my arms, it dawned on me that God is doing the exact same thing for me.  All I see ahead of me are rough waters.  Waves, bumps, and hardships I do not want to face.  But in order for me to get to the peace and the healing, I have no choice but to sit in the boat and go.  Thankfully, I don't have to ride alone any more than Addie did.  Through this whole thing, I know God has had His loving arms around me--helping to absorb the blows and the pain so that I can rest easy.  And before I know it, I wake up, look behind me at all I have come through and wonder, "How did I do that?  How did I get through that storm?"  It wasn't by my own strength, that's for sure.


So maybe I haven't been spending my 31st birthday how I had planned to a few months ago.  But I am still celebrating.  Celebrating my amazing family and wonderful friends.  Celebrating the person He is creating me to be.  Celebrating life.  And always always celebrating that one day I will see my sweet Matthew again.

Thank you, Stephen and Michelle, for this beautiful necklace.  It arrived in the mail yesterday, just in time for my birthday.  We are beyond blessed to have friends and family who shower us with so much love.

How We Are Doing

Lots of people have been asking how we are doing.  Wondering how we are handling the aftermath of losing Matthew.  I can't believe it's been just over two weeks since our lives forever changed.  I have been on facebook a lot less recently.  It's just too painful most days.  My news feed is saturated with pregnancy announcements, belly shots, baby photos, and, well, life.  Not that everyone else shouldn't go on with their lives, I am not saying that.  It's just hard for me to read about it, that's all.  And that's okay.  I finally took my husband's advice and quit getting on facebook so much.  So for those who want to know how the funeral went and what has been happening in our lives the past week or so since my last post, feel free to read.

The funeral was on Thursday, June 21st.  The funeral director and a woman from the cemetery were there, along with our pastor.  And that was it.  Jonathan and I wanted a private service, a time to reflect and remember Matthew and deal with the grief in some privacy.  The service was beautiful.  Pastor Dave shared some amazing scripture and spoke a lot about how much Jesus loves children.  Verse after verse after verse reaffirming what we already knew but now needed to hear--Jesus loves children, and that includes our sweet Matthew who is with Him right now.  One thing that really stood out to me that Pastor Dave said was that God knows what it is like to lose a son.  During the service, the tears were streaming and my heart was aching and I was trying so hard to listen to every single word that he said so that I would remember it.  But when he said that, it was like everything came to halt.  I know that Christ died.  I know that He is God's Son.  But right there it dawned on me that God did really know exactly what we were going through.  He knew exactly what we were feeling.  That statement by far is what has stuck with me most from the service.  The day was beautiful and sunny--but not as hot as the days before or since have been.  There was a breeze that was blowing almost the entire time and every once in a while, a huge gust of wind would come through.  To me, I felt as if that gust was the prayers of so many of you; a reminder that while we were physically alone there without our families and loved ones, we were not truly alone.  God was there with us and your prayers were felt.  Matthew's tiny casket was resting on a metal pedestal and whenever the wind would come, it would rock him gently back and forth.  Almost as if God was giving us a picture of what He was doing in that very moment--gently rocking our son in His arms.  After the short service, Jonathan and I knelt down and said our final good-byes to our son.  I hugged his casket and told him again how very much I loved him.  And then it was time to go.  We weren't really sure what to do with the rest of our day.  We'd never done this before.  What are you supposed to do after your bury your child?

We decided to go pick out a flower to plant at our house to serve as a memory of Matthew.  Something visible that the kids could see to always be reminded of their baby brother.  So we headed to Meijer to look at their garden center.  The worker asked us when we got there if we were looking for "anything special".  Jonathan and I just shared a look that said, "If only you knew."  I wanted something that would bloom every year and that was easy to take care of because, lets face it, I am known to have a black thumb.  Jonathan suggested a rose bush but I already have two of those and I wanted something unique that would be the only one in our yard.  After a short search, I came across a type of lily.  It was an asiatic lily, specifically called a "tiny dino".  I loved everything about it.  I loved that it had the word tiny in it.  I loved that it had two large flowers, two smaller flowers, and one bud that was just about ready to bloom.  I loved that it was a beautiful orange color--a color that wasn't too girly for our little guy.  When we asked the worker about it, she informed us that it was very easy to care for and that, while the flowers would not stay around all summer, they would bloom every year about this time.  Perfect.  The next day we were able to take the kids outside, find the perfect spot, and plant it together as a family.  We call it our Matthew flower.

The days have been like a roller coaster.  Some days are good, some are bad.  Even the hours of my days change.  One minute I am fine and the next I am broken down in tears.  The day after the burial, I saw a grief counselor.  She is actually a nurse for Dr. Mathis who experienced a miscarriage over 30 years ago and decided to use her loss to help others dealing with the same thing.  Meeting with Kathy was a blessing.  She let me cry and reassured me that all my feelings were perfectly normal.  She sent me home with lots of resources to help me along my path of grieving.  After I met with her, I went out to the cemetery to see Matthew's grave.  Being there was hard but also healing.  I love where he is buried.  It is out in the country in a small cemetery that is so peaceful and quiet.  As I knelt there next to his grave, I read a poem that Kathy had sent with me that gave me so much peace:
I know your heart is broken,
from the pain of losing me...
but Mommy, I'm so happy,
if only you could see.
There are angels all around me,
with flowers in their hair...
this place is filled with beauty,
God's love is everywhere.
He spared me from the sorrow,
that your earth has come to know...
so please don't worry, Mommy,
'cause Jesus loves me so.
Heaven's light shines brightly,
on my little angel face...
if only you could see me,
your pain would be erased.
Such happiness is waiting,
and one day you will see...
we'll finally meet in Heaven,
forever you and me.

On Monday life returned to "normal".  Jonathan had to go back to work and I had to figure out how to resume life as a mom and homemaker.  Luke had been dealing with a fever on Sunday off and on and when he woke up Monday he complained of his ear hurting.  I took him to the doctor and discovered he had an ear infection.  We got him some antibiotics and he began to feel better almost right away.  I am not glad that Luke was sick but I do see it as a blessing in disguise from the Lord.  My first day back was filled with taking care of him.  Later in the afternoon, he felt much better so my mother-in-law went with the kids and I to a nearby greenhouse to pick out a hanging basket to put out by Matthew's grave.  That was the first time the kids went to the cemetery and Luke did not even want to get out of the car.  I felt so bad for him.  I tried to explain to him what we were doing there, but how do you make a young child understand something like that when they have never even heard of the words "cemetery", "grave", or "buried" before?  The flowers we picked out are beautiful and really helped make his grave seem....loved.

Around dinner time on Monday evening, I received a phone call from Dr. Mathis.  She had the results of the autopsy in and wanted to share them with me.  What she said shook me to my core and began a downward spiral into a dark and scary place.  She informed that they could find nothing wrong with Matthew.  He was perfectly healthy in every way and they could provide no explanation for his death.  My blood work had already shown that I did not have any underlying conditions to cause his death either.  The only thing she said was that my placenta was detached from my uterus.  However, they have no timeline for this.  They cannot say whether it happened while Matthew was still alive (which would cause him to die) or whether it happened after he died or during delivery.  I wasn't sure if the news of Matthew's autopsy was supposed to make me feel better or not, but it certainly did not.  When I got off the phone with Dr. Mathis I immediately went into my room and began crying uncontrollably and raging to God, "Why??!!?!  Why did You take him?  He was perfect!!  What did I do wrong?  Why did You let this happen, God?  Why??!?!"  I screamed into my pillow, crying tears of anger and deep, excruciating sorrow.  With no physical reason to explain his death, the only thing I was left with was that either I caused Matthew's death by something I had done physically (maybe I shouldn't have eaten that hot dog or climbed that sand dune or drank that caffeine) or by something spiritual.  Apparently I had angered God and He was teaching me a lesson or punishing me for it.  I experienced a feeling of guilt like nothing I have ever felt before.  It was real.  It was painful.  And it was ugly.  As Jonathan later told me, I went more than just back to square one in my grieving.  I went into the negatives. 


Tuesday morning I could hardly function.  My kids were fed and dressed and that was about all I could do.  I sat and stared into space, the guilt overwhelming me.  I tried to contact the grief counselor, who had told me to call her anytime I needed someone to talk to, but she was out of the office that day.  I tried to text my mom but she was at work.  I emailed Jonathan and told him that I could not take the guilt anymore.  He was able to get away from work for a few minutes to call me, but really, he's a man and what could he do from 45 minutes away?  Finally my mom was able to text me back and I think her mother's intuition let her in on how bad I was doing.  About noon, a car pulled into my driveway.  There was a knock at the door.  It was my mother-in-law.  Feeling a little embarrassed since it was noon and I hadn't even showered yet and was still in my nightgown, not to mention an emotional wreck, I sheepishly let her in.  She immediately marched the kids downstairs to watch a video and told them she was here to talk to mommy.  She planted me down in a chair, told me that I was going to tell her what was going on and that then she was going to talk.  All my guilt, anger, rage, jealousy, sorrow, and heartache poured out.  After I had cried every tear I felt I had in me, she then took her turn to speak.  And she spoke truth.  She told me what I needed to hear, what I wouldn't allow myself to believe.  This was not my fault.  I did nothing to cause Matthew's death.  God is not punishing me.  He is not a vengeful God who is seeking to cause me pain.  He knew the number of Matthew's days before he was even conceived.  And He is not surprised by any of this.  He is a big God.  He can handle my anger.  He can handle my questions.  And He can even handle my doubts.  The thoughts of this somehow being my fault, that God is punishing me and that I don't deserve any happiness anymore are lies straight from Satan.  Looking back at those hours between when I got the phone call from Dr. Mathis and when my mother-in-law came to see me I realize that I was in the midst of a spiritual battle.  Satan loves to go after the weak and vulnerable and that was me.  I was the perfect prey.  Too weak to call on the truths that I have grown up learning, I was susceptible to any and every lie he threw my way.


My mother-in-law talked with me for about an hour, then told me I needed to take some time for myself.  So I grabbed my journal and a blanket and drove out to the cemetery.  I sat by Matthew's grave and for the first time since everything happened, I wrote in my journal to God and actually met with Him.  I had been reading my Bible and praying every day but it was almost like going through the motions.  There comes a point sometimes when you just can't pray for yourself anymore.  That's where the prayers of so many of you came into play.  I wrote out all of my frustrations, anger, confusion, and questions to God.  I told Him that I didn't understand why this happened but that I will let it be part of my testimony.  I will let God stretch me through this.  After 45 minutes of writing, I finally came to a peace.  The pain and sadness of losing Matthew did not just vanish and disappear.  But a peace from God covered me and I began to accept that I may never know why this happened.  I may never get my answers this side of heaven.  And that is okay.


I feel like I have turned a corner since Tuesday.  Every day is still hard and every day I cry over my lost baby.  Every day I still think about how far along I would be in my pregnancy and whether this would have been the day I finally felt him kick me for the first time.  It still stings to see pregnant women and I'm sure it will for a while.  Some days the pain seems to be subsiding and then something triggers it and it all comes rushing back.  But I am finding myself smiling again.  Laughing.  Finding joy in my husband and children.  I finally let myself play my piano again.  When I was pregnant with Matthew, I would often times play for him.  I would smile to myself when I played, wondering if he could hear me and dreaming about whether he would love music like his mommy.  So playing again for the first time was really hard.  But I can still play for him.  He's just hearing it from a different place now.

We went to church for the first time yesterday.  It was a lot harder than I thought it would be.  Little things that you don't think about until you have to face them are really painful reminders of what we have gone through.  Like the fact that our name no longer appears in the church bulletin under "prayers for a safe and healthy pregnancy".  That was hard to see.  I am truly amazed at how many people have shown their love for us during this time.  Emails, visits, hugs, cards, meals--it really is amazing.  My attitude and approach toward those who are experiencing loss has really changed.  I used to think, "Oh, I don't need to send them a card.  I don't even know them that well" or "I can't go up to them.  I wouldn't know what to say or do."  But let me tell you that every single card, every single hug, every single act of acknowledging our son's life has meant the world to us.  No more will I worry about what words to say to someone.  I know now that sometimes you don't need words.  Just recognizing someone's grief and loss goes a long way.

There's so much more I could say about this.  So many different things that have happened during these last two and a half weeks.  I'm still learning so much and I'm sure I will have lots more to share.  But know that we are going to be okay.  Jonathan has not been out to Matthew's grave since the burial.  He is not ready yet. And that is fine.  I go out there nearly every day to water his plant and visit.  I find such comfort in it.  It gives me joy to be able to at least take care of his flowers and make sure they are watered and beautiful.  The kids often times go with me and they have found normalcy in it now and enjoy helping with the watering.  I can tell they are still processing everything.  Addison has been so clingy, sometimes not letting me out of her sight.  She still says that she wants another baby brother in my tummy.  Luke's questions come randomly.  He asked me one night if Matthew would come back into my tummy when he was done in heaven.  Try explaining eternity to an almost five year old!  He is asking lots of questions about heaven now, too.  I just finished reading "Heaven is For Real" and found great comfort in it.  Our library has the kids version of the book, which I plan on getting and reading to the kids.  Hopefully that will answer a lot of their questions and better help them understand where their baby brother is now.

I know the days and months ahead will be hard.  Especially these next five months until Matthew's due date.  But I am trusting that the bad days will get fewer and further between.  I know we will never "get over" Matthew.  We will never forget him or move on from this.  It is a part of us now and I am willing to accept that.  My biggest prayer is that God will use Matthew's life to further His kingdom.  That somehow our pain can help someone else.  My dear friend Ali, who herself has buried four sweet babies, shared with me something someone told her once:  I can let this make me bitter or I can let it make me better.  And I am choosing better...

Matthew James Athearn

So I'm not sure if I'm ready to write this all out or not but I am getting tired of seeing the post announcing our pregnancy every time I go to our blog.  At least this way something different will be at the top.  I will warn you that this will be an extremely long post with lots of details that many may find too graphic, etc.  But this is for me.  I need to write this all out.  I need to process my feelings this way.  So please don't feel that you have to read.

The last few days have been like a nightmare that I just want to wake up from but can't.  My parents came up for a visit Thursday night and I noticed that night that I was having some very mild cramping.  I chalked it up to Braxton Hicks, too much activity, stretching, something very minor.  The next morning, Jonathan headed to work and my dad headed out to paint.  Jonathan and I had just finalized the purchase of a duplex on Wednesday that we are fixing up and going to rent out.  That was the reason for my parents' visit--so my dad could help Jonathan with the painting, etc.  Mom and the kids and I were planning a day of shopping at the mall.  My cramps were still there but not any worse.  I was scheduled to see my doctor for my regular prenatal visit next Tuesday.  I decided to call the doctor's office anyway just to see what they thought.  The nurse I spoke to assured me it was probably nothing but wanted to get me in anyway just to be sure.  My doctor was out of the office so she scheduled me with another doctor for 1pm.

We headed to the mall for a short bit and grabbed a bite of lunch before going to the doctor's office.  My mom waited in the waiting room with the kids while I headed back.  The doctor asked me how long I had been cramping, checked me over quickly (lungs, heart, etc.) then headed out to get the dopplar to listen for the baby's heartbeat.  He took probably about five minutes searching for it and the longer he took, the more frantic I became.  I tried not to panic but told myself it was still okay.  He said it was unusual that he couldn't find the heartbeat with the dopplar but that the baby could just be in a position that his heartbeat was right under mine.  He sent me across the hall to get an ultrasound immediately.  Before I left he told me about how miscarriages are common, I shouldn't blame myself, blah blah blah.  I felt like he was already telling me my baby was gone!  I went across the hall and was quickly called back for an ultrasound.  The technician was so sweet and kind and she had me lie down while she took some measurements.  She didn't say anything for a very long time.  I tried to peek over at the screen to see if I could see the heartbeat flutter but couldn't see anything and just dreaded what was coming next.  Finally, she softly said to me, "I'm sorry Amanda" and the tears and sobbing began.  She asked if I was alone and I told her my mom was out in the waiting room but I didn't want the kids to see me like this.  I had tried to get ahold of Jonathan at work earlier but was unsuccessful.  She left the room and let me try to reach him again and I was finally able to.  I told him our baby was gone and I know he was just stunned.  He left immediately and promised to be there as soon as he could (about 45 minutes).  The technician came back in and just hugged me while I cried.  Then I had to go back across the hall to see the doctor again.  He finally came into the room to see me and very calmly told me he was sorry and that he would refer me to an OB/GYN downtown for a D&C on Monday.  He asked if I had any questions and when I didn't answer in the next 3 seconds, he sent me on my way.  I felt so shocked and alone and confused.  Why did this happen????  What did I do wrong??  Why did God make us wait nearly a year for this baby, only to take it away from us 16 weeks into the pregnancy??  Was I just supposed to go home and wait around for Monday like nothing had happened???  What was a D&C?  What if I didn't want that?  I felt like he didn't care and had other patients he needed to see and he just wanted to move on.

I tried to keep it together while I waited for Jonathan to arrive at the office.  My mom hugged me and tried to comfort me but I was pretty much in a state of complete shock and denial at that point.  Once Jonathan got there, I met him in the parking lot and we just clung to each other and cried.  My mom was able to take the kids to meet up with my dad and Jonathan and I came home together.  We did a lot of crying and questioning.  Never have I felt such gut-wrenching pain that literally made it hard to breathe.  I made the mistake of looking up things online just because I had so many questions.  I kind of knew what a d&c was but reading about it made me sick.  I knew that I absolutely did NOT want them to cut up and suck out my baby like he was just waste.  I read about moms who delivered their babies at home and had to put them in the freezer because they didn't know what else to do with the bodies.  I knew that I had a completely formed, if very small, baby inside me and I wanted that baby whole.

I didn't leave my room much at all the rest of Friday.  I was terrified of what was going to happen and just wanted to wake up.  I kept thinking that it must be a nightmare, that I was going to wake up any minute and everything would be fine and I would be pregnant again with a healthy, living baby.  We begged God to help us through this and to make it as easy as possible.  I kept telling Jonathan that I could not do this.  I physically and emotionally could not go through this.  But, of course, I would have no choice.  I was going through this and there was no changing that.  Up to this point, I was still just having very mild cramping and had just started to spot very lightly.  I knew, though, that I would not be able to just sit around and wait another 72 hours until I saw the OB/GYN.

Saturday morning Jonathan and my dad left to go work on the duplex.  Looking back I know now why we have this.  We were supposed to close on this thing months ago and just kept hitting one snag after another and couldn't understand why it was taking so long.  I know now that God knew Jonathan would need this.  Jonathan needed to be busy, to have something to do.  It has helped him grieve by going out and doing something with his hands.  Mom watched the kids all morning and I stayed in bed til about noon.  I was just praying that God would make this go as easy as possible.  I knew that I did not want a D&C but I also knew that I did not want to have this baby at my home.  I wanted to be in a hospital with people who would be compassionate and understanding about everything.  I wanted people who could help us deal with the physical and emotional pain of it.  My mom convinced me to take a shower and I asked Jonathan to come home to be with me.  While in the shower, I passed my first clot and from then on the bleeding really picked up.  I was panicking because I didn't know how long I would have and I didn't want to be in this house when this happened.  Jonathan got home and my cramps got considerably worse.  I asked Jonathan to call the after hours number to ask them what I was supposed to do since I knew that I would not make it until Monday without having this baby.  They told us that we needed to get to the ER.

We got to the ER sometime Saturday afternoon around 2:30 or so.  My pain was getting worse, probably about a 6 or 7 on a scale of 1-10.  They told me my body was having contractions and it knew that something was wrong and was getting ready to deliver the baby.  The on-call doctor started talking about a d&c and I told her that I absolutely did not want that.  She wasn't sure how to take that and said she would talk to the on-call OB-GYN, Dr. Mathis, and see what she said.  She came back a short while later and informed us that Dr. Mathis was willing to do whatever we wanted and that since I was 16 weeks along, delivering the baby was an option.  It was so refreshing to hear that a doctor was willing to work with us and do what WE wanted to do.  Dr. Mathis came in a while later and examined me and talked to us about what our options were.  She got me some morphine for the pain but that didn't even touch it.  She said she had some medication she could give me to start me dilating but normally she gave it to her patients and had them go home to sleep then come back the next day to deliver.  We needed to decide whether we wanted to stay in the hospital and wait it out or go home and wait.  Dr. Mathis couldn't guarantee how long it would take but she was concerned that with my pain being already at a 7 that I didn't have much further to go.  She left the room and let us talk and we just prayed for wisdom.  God gave us our answer because while we were waiting for her to come back my pain sky-rocketed to an 8-9.  I was having to breathe through my contractions and the morphine couldn't touch the pain.  That made our decision for us and Dr. Mathis called up to the labor and delivery floor to see if there was a bed available.  **Side note/rant--I think hospitals should have a separate area for moms who have to deliver in these types of situation.  The thought of going to the ninth floor and having to see pregnant moms walking around, hearing newborns cry, etc. made me sick to my stomach.  I just feel like this is something that should be considered because doing this sucks in and of itself without the added heartache of doing it on the same floor where others are celebrating the life of their child while you are mourning the death of yours.**  End rant.

The Lord was with us even then, though, and I did not hear or see any moms or babies the entire time I was in that hospital.  So we finally got upstairs into a room sometime in the evening around 7 I would guess (my sense of time was so off, but I know we were in the ER for quite some time).  They were able to hook me up and monitor my contractions and got me some pain medicine where I could press the button to deliver more if I needed it.  Even that stuff did not kick in for a long time.  I was in the worst pain of my life, physically and emotionally.  Dr. Mathis kept checking me and I had dilated a good centimeter or so since down in the ER.  I was losing a bit of blood and they were monitoring that but Dr. Mathis didn't think I would deliver for a bit.  She stepped away for a moment and my nurse, Sarah, was next to my side.  Another blessing from God, Sarah was the most caring and compassionate nurse I have ever met.  She and Dr. Mathis made everything about us--our comfort, our wants, our needs.  I knew God had answered my prayers for wonderful, loving people to surround us.

I felt a huge gush of liquid come out and when I told Sarah, she checked and quietly said to us, "You just delivered your baby."  Again the tears came for Jonathan and I uncontrollably.  Sarah gently and lovingly held our baby while she waited for Dr. Mathis to come back.  Dr. Mathis took our baby and swaddled him gently and began explaining to us what she saw.  I had my eyes closed and covered because I wasn't ready to look yet.  But I heard her telling us that it was most probably a boy, which did not surprise me in the least.  I had felt in my heart that this baby was a boy from the very beginning.  She pointed out his ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes to Jonathan.  She told us some things she saw that may be part of a chromosomal abnormality but for the most part, he was perfect and oh so tiny.  She told us that his eyes were closed and he passed without any pain.  It took about five minutes before I could bring myself to look.  I wasn't prepared for what I would see.  I felt so scared that I might be repulsed by him.  What if I didn't want to hold him because of how he looked?  But all that faded when I finally opened my eyes.  All I saw was my child.  He was beautiful.  He was tiny.  He was perfect.  He was mine.

I still wasn't ready to hold him yet because he was so incredibly fragile.  Jonathan wasn't ready either so they simply wrapped him and placed him on the table next to us so we could look at him.  They gave us time to ourselves to talk to him, pray over him, and mourn for him.  Jonathan took it really hard--I know he wanted another son so much.  Over the next couple hours, we spent time with our son and Dr. Mathis and Sarah kept an eye on me and tried to get the placenta delivered.  I think once my body delivered Matthew, it was physically and emotionally so spent, it just quit.  Dr. Mathis gave me quite a few doses of a medication to make my body "wake up" and deliver the placenta but it wasn't working much.  Around 10:30 or so, I still hadn't delivered the placenta but Jonathan was ready to go home, see his kids, and sleep in his own bed.  I completely understood that and I knew he needed time to himself to grieve and just wanted out of that hospital.  My parents waited until Jonathan got home, then dad brought my mom up to the hospital to spend the night with me.  My parents were able to see the baby, which was nice.  Shortly after we delivered Matthew, Sarah and Dr. Mathis asked us if we wanted to see the hospital chaplain or if we had our own pastor we wanted notified.  We said we wanted our own and when we tried to find out the number ourselves, they said not to worry about it, that all we had to do was give them the name of our church and they would contact our pastor and let him know what was going on.  Wow.  I just was amazed at how much they cared and went way above and beyond what any other hospital has ever done.

My mom was with me and around 11:30 or so, Dr. Mathis was getting to the point that she was going to have to do a d&c to get the placenta out.  I did not want to be put under and have surgery but at this point I knew it may not be an option.  She notified the surgeon that we may be needing to have this done.  Right before taking me to surgery, she said she would check one more time.  By this time, she had had me pushing some to see if I could deliver it.  She had me push one more time, and we were finally successful.  What a relief that I didn't have to go to surgery or be under any more drugs.  During the time I was delivering the placenta, my pastor called to talk to me.  They put him on hold and when everything was over (about 20 minutes later) I asked if he was still on hold.  They told me he was actually on his way to the hospital to see me.  So I was able to talk and cry and pray with my pastor until around 1am.  I was blown away that someone who had to be at church the next morning early would take the time to come down that late at night and just be there.

The next morning Jonathan came back and we began discussing a name for our son.  I wanted something meaningful and a name that would constantly bring me back to my faith.  After a little research, we discovered that Matthew means "gift of God".  From the beginning of this pregnancy I have said that this child is a gift from God, so to find a name with that meaning was indescribable.  For the middle name Jonathan suggested James, which meant a lot to me.  James is the name of my grandfather who passed away, along with my grandmother, when I was in high school.  I love and miss my grandparents very much and to have our son share a name with my grandpa is an honor.  Once we chose the name, the nurse brought Matthew back into the room and we were able to spend some more time with him.  For the first time we were able to hold our son.  We told him his name, prayed over him, thanked God for his life, and told Matthew how very much we love him.  We told him about his older brother and sister and how much they loved him and wanted him.

I was able to go home Sunday early afternoon.  My body physically is recovering quite well.  Emotionally, well, that is another story.  The way that St. Mary's hospital handled everything was amazing.  Everything was about us and our son.  We chose to make arrangements on our own with a local funeral home.  Sunday afternoon we met with them and picked out his casket.  There wasn't much choice since the smallest one they make is 15 inches, which will still be way too big for him.  Matthew was 5 1/4 inches long and only 43 grams (about 1.5 ounces).  We will be having a private service at the cemetery with just Jonathan, myself, and our pastor.  The hospital sent us home with a scrapbook and a box full of things.  They took his footprints on so many different things, had two small knitted blankets, and took pictures of our son for us.  Not having to worry about all of those things was such a burden lifted from my shoulders.  I took one of the blankets to the funeral home to have put in the casket with Matthew.  The other one I am keeping for myself.  Both blankets touched him and it is so nice to have something that touched him.  The blanket I took to the funeral home has my tears on it, so it is nice to know Matthew will have some part of me with him, too.

We told our kids Monday evening and they were devastated and confused.  Luke just began sobbing and Addison kept saying, "I want the baby to be back in your tummy!"  The hardest part was seeing them so hurt and not being able to answer their questions of why this happened.  We don't know why this happened.  I don't know why God took our son from us so soon.  But I do know that He is sovereign.  And I do know that He is all-knowing.  And I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my son is with Him now and he is whole and complete and healthy.

I am slowly recovering and dealing with my grief.  There are times when I think I will be okay.  And then there are times when I don't think I can draw my next breath.  My arms ache.  My body aches.  I long for him to be inside my womb again.  I long to hold him in my arms just one more time.  This is forever a part of us now.  It is written in our life story.  Matthew James is and always will be our son.  We have three children, not two.  Luke and Addie will always have a younger brother named Matthew.  Looking back, I can see now how God was at work.  So many ways that He answered our prayers.  I honestly did not think I could go through delivering our son.  But God was with us every step of the way.  I knew I did not want a d&c and I knew that I could not do this alone at home.  I wanted to be surrounded by caring individuals in a hospital where we could get the best care.  And God answered that prayer to a tee.  I am amazed at how many women have told me that they, too, have lost children due to miscarriage.  It's almost like this silent death that nobody talks about.  People tend to think that miscarriage is no big deal, that it's not like it's a real baby.  Well I can tell you that it is real.  And that it is a real baby.  A real person.  A real life.  I saw my child.  He was not a blob of tissue.  He was a human being created in the image of God.  And he was beautiful.  I want my story out here so other mothers can read it and know they are not alone.  So if you have experienced a loss like this, please feel free to share your story.  I will listen.  I will cry with you.  I will mourn with you and acknowledge that you have lost a child.  A loss is a loss, whether it was at week 1 or week 40.

Matthew, I love you.  I miss you already.  I do not understand why God took you from us so soon but I know that His plan is perfect.  He must have really needed you up there.  You are so very special to us and you will always be part of this family.  You would have fit right in, let me tell you.  I wish I could hold you one more time.  I wish I could see your perfect face, your tiny hands, your sweet nose, one more time.  I wish I could rock you and sing to you.  But what a comfort to know that the God of the universe, the God who created all things, is the one who gets to do all those things now.  I love you my son.

And Baby Makes 5!

For Jonathan's 32nd birthday, he and the kids joined me for a sneak peek at this little cutie!  We are beyond thrilled and excited for the arrival of our third child in late November (the 29th to be exact).  I am going on ten weeks right now and feeling somewhat better than I have been the past five weeks or so.  My nausea is slowly improving but there are still days when it takes all I have to get out of bed and take care of the kids!  

Not a lot of people know this but this baby has been very much waited for!  If it was up to us, we would already have a third child by now!  But we know that God is the one who directs our plans.  The past year has been a long one full of hope and disappointments month after month.  With our other two kids, we never had any trouble getting pregnant so this was all new to us.  We began to look into adoption, wondering if perhaps another biological child wasn't in His plans.  It was a year of learning patience.  A year of learning contentment.  Could I be okay if God only gave us two children?  Yes, I would eventually be okay but it would be difficult.  I finally started sharing this pain with a small group of amazing ladies from my church.  They began praying fervently on our behalf for God's blessing of another child, whether that meant naturally or through adoption.  In March, about a week or two before we would find out whether we were pregnant, I felt such peace.  For the first time in a year, I felt such complete peace.  If I was not pregnant, we were ready to pursue adoption.  I had already contacted some agencies and spoken with a friend of mine who has been through the adoption process a few times.  I was ready to face this.  Yes, I would still be disappointed but I would not let it crush me as it had the previous months.  And then....those two little lines appeared. :)

To say that we are in awe of God's faithfulness is an understatement.  I am trying to cherish every single moment of this pregnancy.  Even the times when I am overcome with nausea and can't find anything to eat that doesn't send me dry heaving. lol This pregnancy is a gift that I don't want to take for granted.  We are trusting God to bless this precious child's life and we can't wait to tell him or her someday about what a little miracle they are!

Easter

Spring Break

Nobody in our family technically has spring break, but my dad did and we spent that week traveling down south with my parents to visit my sis and bro-in-law in Nashville as well as some cousins in Atlanta. It was a great time and the kids did a good job being in the car for so long! Here are some highlights from our trip. :)

Enjoying time at the Nashville zoo.

We saw some other fun things in and around Nashville, like the Hermitage (Andrew Jackson's home) and the Parthenon.

We stopped to check out Lookout Mountain and explored Covenant College, which is at the top of the mountain. While in Atlanta, we went to the Coca-Cola Museum. The kids could not believe they had an entire museum dedicated to pop! They certainly loved trying all the different Coca-Cola products from around the world!! :)

Nerd Alert

So I changed the background of my blog because, yes I will admit it, I am a huge Hunger Games fan. At first I felt a little embarrassed to be SO extremely caught up in a book series targeted for young adults. But in my defense, my sister-in-law introduced me to them and she is a few years older than me! :) I read the first two books in such a short amount of time, I'm surprised anything else got done. And really, I would have finished them sooner but these two kids that call me mom kept asking me to feed them and stuff. So, yeah, sometimes I had to put the books down. It took me a little longer to read the third book because we left on vacation before I was done with it and it was hard to find time to read since we were so busy. I wish I could read in the car without puking but, alas, I cannot.

I got to see the movie a couple weekends ago with my husband, sister, brother-in-law, brother, and future sister-in-law. My future sil is also an avid Games fan and she had just seen the movie the night before. In case you haven't seen the movie or read the books, I won't give any juicy details away. I thought the movie was fairly well done. I thought they did a pretty good job with taking an intense nearly 400 page book and transforming it into a 2 1/2 hour film. I did feel slightly disappointed, I'll admit, because as always, the book is waaaaay better than the movie. Those who saw the movie with me but hadn't read the book said they didn't feel emotionally connected to a lot of the characters and I totally get that. I wish more time had been spent on certain character's developments (i.e. Rue).

I say all this to tell you that if you have not read these books yet, you must! They are phenomenal and I seriously don't remember ever being so drawn in to a story. I must admit, though, that as I read that last sentence in the final book, I felt such a sadness. Not necessarily because of how it ended but simply because it ended. I invested so much of my time, energy, and emotions into these characters and now their story is done. But at least I can look forward to the next movie! And I am seriously worried that I may not make it. ;)

A Tale of Three Turds

My mother is always telling me to write down those funny comments and hilarious stories about my kids because one day, as hard as it is to imagine, I will forget them. So, without further ado, I give you A Tale of Three Turds:

It was a regular laundry day. Nothing exciting. I had a load of clothes to wash that was mainly the kids' with some of my husband's shirts mixed in along with a few of my things. As I was loading them into the washer, I couldn't help but notice how utterly awful they smelled. I mean, really awful. More so than usual. Shrugging it off to the fact that I have two kids and, really, what kid doesn't stink every now and then, I assumed a good washing would fix everything.

However, when the clothes were done and I began putting them into the dryer I still was getting a whiff of something nasty. I thought to myself, "Surely it is just my oversensitive nose. There is no way that they can still stink that bad. It must be the other pile of dirty clothes I am smelling." After the clothes were done in the dryer, I began taking them out and putting them into the laundry basket and I still smelled it! Okay, this is getting ridiculous. What in the world is that wretched stench?? My question was answered all too quickly when, after removing all the clothes from the dryer, I was greeted by a small brown extremely hard object. Without even thinking first, I picked up the object only to realize that it was poop! The rest of my family was upstairs and I'm sure they were wondering if I had finally lost it as all they heard was, "Are you kidding me??? How did this happen?? I don't understand! Why is this here????" I promptly wrapped the turd in some toilet paper and brought it upstairs. I showed it to my husband and children and begged for an explanation. No one knew where the mysterious turd had come from. I reminded everyone that from on, not only did they need to check their pockets for loose change and candy wrappers, but also for any stray turds that may be hanging out there.

After flushing the turd, I came back downstairs to throw all the clothes back in the washer for round two. Surely this is the end of the story, right? Ah, but no. You see after washing the clothes a second time, the smell was, you guessed it, still there!! At this point, I realized the dreaded truth--there was more poop somewhere and it was up to me to find it. So, one by one, I began taking clothes out of the washer and examining them for lose turds. It didn't take long before I found the culprit. Addie's sleeper had a suspicious hard lump in the foot of it. Not a small lump, but a golf ball sized turd. And not just that. I discovered that the other foot was also housing a smaller, yet equally disgusting, ball of poop. I couldn't resist. I brought the offending jammies upstairs and told Jonathan to feel the footie. Without even hesitating, he grabbed the footie with the golf ball sized turd, only to yank his arm back, crying, "Is that poop?!?!" Yes, my dear husband, yes it is. I have now washed twice and dried once three turds. They were the hardest, yet probably cleanest turds I'd ever seen.

I still cannot fathom for the life of me how this happened. I have no explanation for it, other than somehow Addie pooped in her jammies and without us knowing, stripped them off, causing the poop to fall into the footies of her pj's. It doesn't even make sense, I know! But let that be a lesson to all of you. If you ever think your laundry smells extra rank, save yourself some time and make sure there aren't any turds lurking around in there.

What Have We Been Busy With???

Two words: potty training.