From Riches to Rags, and the Glory I Found There

I’ve been avoiding this blog for weeks…Why? Because I’m sitting in a heap at the bottom of a mountain with nothing to show for days, weeks, years, of waiting. This month was not a month of beautiful waiting and peace in that time.  It was a month in which I was brought down time and time again by thoughts, fears, and hurts that still struggle to overwhelm a heart that breaths through the broken cracks of my life. I had a panic attack for the first time ever. I couldn’t breath, my husband had to hold me and show me how to breath in, and breath out.  When we found out we weren’t pregnant again, I did not accept it peacefully and lovingly.  Anger railed against me, I fought to maintain a semblance of control over the hurt and failure and distrust that filled me.  I’m so frustrated and hurt because I have a heart that I have to piece back together each month as I attempt to climb back up this mountain, only to discover myself back at the bottom again, in a blink of the

In a world of pregnancy announcements, gender reveals, and nursery themes, we are surrounded by fertility drugs, endless pregnancy tests, basal thermometers, and ovulation tests. This month we are excitedly started another 6 month cycle of fertility meds. We spent a lot of time in prayer and got some amazing advice from my aunt ( shout out Tante! We love you! ) and decided on our new approach to my PCOS and infertility.  I was blessed to see my CNM ( most amazing lady! She delivered Kimber and has been a huge blessing ) and we quickly got on track with a plan that includes: - Progesterone (to induce periods that are often irregular due to PCOS) - Metformin (for insulin resistance caused by PCOS) - Clomid (to induce ovulation that is usually absent due to PCOS).  I’m also taking my basal temperature each morning to hopefully track ovulation (because relying on ovulation tests isn’t very accurate when you have PCOS).  ( Can you see the trend of how awful PCOS can

I have often wondered the validity of the thought “ should I stop praying for a child because God hasn’t given us one? Does that mean He’s answered ‘no’ and now I’m just obnoxiously asking over and over again? ” I’m sure so many of you have asked yourself that question. About a child, or a spouse, or someone’s salvation, or a career, or a move, or school? It’s interesting to me, as that thought had been a companion to my prayers lately. Am I living in disobedience by continually asking for something He has withheld from me up to this point?  I read an article by John Piper ( https://www.desiringgod.org/interviews/when-should-i-stop-praying-for-something ) In which he addresses my exact wonderings! The entire article is great, but this excerpt in particular: “Isn’t it significant (I think it is) that in the Bible we have the statement “You do not have, because you do not ask” (James 4:2), but we don’t have the statement “You pray too much or too long”? We don’t have a s

We’ve been through a season of changes in the last two years (see my previous blog for more details). But I haven’t said much about how the process of grief has been woven into that and what that looks like. My family home of 30 years is being sold. The home where I grew up; exploring the river, roaming the mountains, and running through open fields surrounding us. It’s the place where we announced our pregnancy to my family, where we celebrated our baby and his little cousin together, where we talked about his future and hopes and dreams we had for him.  It’s also the place we buried him.  Where I cried at the kitchen table with my mom and my sister and said “I don’t know how to plan his funeral...I don’t know how to bury him”.  Where I came to see my mom the day before his service and cried “I feel like a bad mom, and I don’t know how I can do this”.  It’s the place we all gathered together and had a memorial service for him and it’s the place we come every

We are in a season of changes!   Last year in January we left our home of 7 years and moved into a garage apartment at my parents house (complete with NO running water OR plumbing 🤣 ). Thankfully it was just across the driveway from access to both in my parent’s house...but still, what an adventure that was.  The house we were renting was being sold and my parents were planning on buying a farm elsewhere. We wanted to live close to them so owe decided that we would stick it out in the “Tiny Cabin”, as we dubbed it, for just a few months before they found their perfect house and then we could decide where to live. Well, a “few months” turned into 11 months 🙄 , but we survived! My parents found they’re dream home and we’ve been living in their old house while they’ve prepped it for sale and put it on the market.   Buying isn’t an option for us, because we took our chimney business full-time in November (which has been amazing!) and we don’t have enough full-time history to get

There is an absence that never ceases. You feel it at every gathering, every time the “whole family” is together.  There is a fierce desire to have your baby remembered. And to have your struggle acknowledged.  I’m going to preface this by saying that it is no ones responsibility to remember my child, nor acknowledge my struggles. But you must understand that regardless of that, things still hurt, even if it’s no one’s fault.  People have all sorts of different ways of remembering Kimber. Some people remember him the way I do. Some people remember him less. And some people don’t remember him at all.  Today, I’m in the stage of letting go of the strong desire to remind people to remember Kimber.   I was in a protective state for a long time.  I brought him up when people forgot him. I brought his picture when I thought there was going to be pictures of the whole family. I included him in the number of grandchildren in our family. I didn’t let people say that we di