Faith to Grow When You've Been Planted

I've been participating in the #novembergratitudechallenge this month, taking time daily to share something I'm grateful for. In the beginning of the month I shared a quote that I had found that inspired a daily gratitude post, 

Sometimes when you're in a dark place you think you've been buried, but you've actually been planted. -- Christine Caine

I have been "buried" many times throughout my life by so many different trials. When I found this quote I really thought about all those times. It occurred to me that whether we are buried or planted is up to us. Sometimes I am buried. I let the problems shovel darkness over me, and I am consumed by it. I stay there in that darkness, unchanging. Other times, I let it nourish me, teach me, and help me grow. Whatever happened, whatever the trail; it was up to me what came of it.

Infertility, miscarriage, infant loss, depression, postpartum depression, anxiety, whatever my problem, or your problem may be, it can bury you or you can choose to let it cultivate you. 

Every month that passed. Every negative ovulation test and every negative pregnancy test. Every pregnancy announcement I cynically wished I could "dislike" on Facebook. Every year that passed that made our dreams seem further than closer. Each one felt like a heaping, shovel-full of dirt dumped over our heads, burying us alive. Barely alive. The pit was filling up around us. The dirt rising steadily to our heads. 

You know that's what it feels like; slowly being buried alive in adversity. 

So, many times I sat still in that pit of despair and heartache. I let myself be buried in my misery. I let the darkness take me. I refused comfort. I refused growth. Oh, how I wish I could go back to those times and tell myself to fight. 

But other times I did try. I sought nourishment for my soil and I would begin, in small ways, to grow. 

On November 17, 2015, I peaked out from my pit and grew into the warmth of the sun. Max was born, and no matter the trials we endured through his short life, I felt peace. I felt joy.

But from the last breath he took until late this summer, it felt like a slow motion fall back to the deepest, darkest part of my hole in the earth. And when we lost our 3rd pregnancy in July, it felt like a bulldozer just moved a mountain of mud over me, and that was it. Pure, complete darkness. No light. No way out. I was buried.

I felt hopeless, and I stayed hopeless. I refused to water my soil or till my dirt, and I refused to let anyone help. And I was consumed there. I was buried so deep. My heart, my very soul, had been broken seemingly beyond repair. I was already buried, so why not just die? It seemed like the only answer then. It seemed to be the only way to get out, to get free. 

Being buried in our own negativity, is a choice. Despite grief, mental illness, heartache and failure, we can still choose to grow, even if sometimes that doesn't feel true. Sometimes it feels like we don't have a choice, but we do. And when we fail to be the gardener in our own lives. When we fail to cultivate ourselves, there is One who will always be there to do what we cannot. We only have to reach for Him.

The Savior is our gardener. And while He does not bury us, he will come to water us and give us sun and til our soil. If we just turn to Him in faith we can grow after we've been buried. 

I was planted. I was buried. And I grew.

Eventually, slowly, the light returned. I became firmly planted, instead of buried. I could have joy. I can have joy! I am made new. I have grown through being buried, and I am grateful for it.

Friends, do not get lost in the deep darkness. Do not lose hope when life buries you. Have faith to grow. Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world, is the gardener we can rely on when life's trials bury us deeper than we can grow from on our own.

XO

There Should NEVER be Shame with Infant Loss: My Opinion on "Late-Term Abortion"

This may very well be the hardest, but one of the more important posts I write. 

I feel the need to share my feelings surrounding the "late-term abortion" (a term I hate) controversy. 

Let me start first with stating that I do not believe in abortion as a means of birth control. If you consciously choose to have sex, you should know that pregnancy is always a possible outcome (hello, did you have a high school Health class? Sex=babies) and you should be prepared to deal with that consequence. That being said, I also believe that it isn't necessarily my place to tell other people how to live their life.  However, as someone considering adoption as a way to have a family, if you did choose to have sex and an unwanted pregnancy resulted I would hope that you would find a family to give your child to. Now, in cases of rape, where sex was not a young woman's choice, and she becomes pregnant, I firmly believe she should not have to extend the pain of her experience by continuing a pregnancy.  Now, that covers my beliefs on abortion. Moving on to the actual subject at hand.

Over a year ago, our 20 week target ultrasound revealed our son Max had several birth defects and that his central nervous system was poorly developed due to hydrocephalus and a meningocele at the base of his cerebellum. We were asked to research, meet with doctors, and have extensive tests to determine the likelihood of his compatibility with life. Through counseling with each other, physicians, and the Lord we felt confident that Max could survive to delivery and, with intensive care and surgeries, possibly live for a time after birth. We were lucky enough, that he was able to survive 5 incredible weeks. We were lucky enough to decide when and how his life ended. We were blessed. Not all parents have that opportunity.

I was not offended when our doctor explained to us that we could discontinue the pregnancy if we needed to. I understood what that meant. If we were told that Max was not compatible with life, if we knew he could not survive until delivery, then we deserved to be able to make the choice ourselves on when and how we got to meet our son. I'm grateful every day that we did not have to make that decision during pregnancy. I cannot imagine the heartbreaking pain that parents who endure that must feel. It hurts me more to think of the shame they are forced to face and endure from people who do not understand what it is like to lose a child. 

These parents who endure "late-term abortion" are not having it done because they waited until they were nearing the 3rd trimester to decide they actually didn't want a baby. These parents are doing the best they can to get through the pain of losing their son or daughter. Either the baby's life or the mother's, or both, are at risk and a decision has to be made. That decision is not made lightly or easily, and it shouldn't involve anyone but them, their physicians, and their God.

I am grateful every day that my sweet son did survive to delivery, was successfully resuscitated after the umbilical cord was cut, and miraculously lived for the following 5 weeks. Our greatest fear was that he would die before he was born, or that after birth he would die in some traumatizing way or in our absence. I would call the NICU throughout the night, always holding my breath before the nurse could tell me how he was doing. In all of our conferences on his care, our number one priority was, that when it came to Max's death, we wanted it to be peaceful and on our terms. I wish SO much that all parents of struggling infants were allowed that mercy. 

When Max's shunt failed and a central nervous system infection became apparent, the doctors gave us some options for trying to still extend his life. Those options did not offer us a guarantee that he would survive, or that we could control how he died. We could not continue taking these life-saving measures. We could not let his suffering continue any longer. So, we chose to let him die in the best way we could manage for him and for us. 

That was the hardest decision we have ever made- to decide to let our son die.

We were given comfort, support and time to gather our families. We were allowed to decide when to turn off the machines that kept him alive. We were allowed to hold him and love him, and let him die peacefully in our arms. We were blessed to make that decision for ourselves, and no one condemned us for it. Yet, there are parents who have to make that difficult decision to end the life of their suffering child before birth and then they are villainized. And I can't sit back and not say anything about it anymore, because it hurts me so much. 

No one has the right to make grieving parents feel bad for letting their sick and suffering child die peacefully. To call it a "late-term abortion" is degrading and makes it sound so horrible. These babies are delivered, not "ripped out" like some would describe. It is unfair and wrong for anyone to make these parents feel guilty while they grieve the loss of their child. 

I would hope and pray that they could be offered the same love and support as parents who lose their infants after delivery. There should NEVER be shame involved with infant loss.

Plans

For once I fell asleep before midnight. Usually, I'm still trying to fall asleep by the early morning hours, but today I am rested and up before the sun. It feels so good! I'm sitting here in the quiet, pondering. I had a rough start to my week, but the Lord granted me some tender mercies to pull me back up. It is just so easy to get caught up in fears and worries, so easy to forget faith and trust, so easy to slip and loose ground. This was just one of those weeks where I was depressingly caught up in wanting God to reveal His plans to me. Like, "I'm so special that you should just tell me my future, so I can chill out. I know you've never done that for anyone else, but, come on God, it's me."

Ugh. Sometimes I can't even believe myself. *big eye roll*

Faith is not being told the plan so we can "chill." Faith is believing and trusting and going forward with hope. I had to be reminded of that this week. I was just feeling so desperate and dismayed like, "How will things ever work out? When will it all work out?" Well, in answer to that, I came across this scripture:

Yea, and how is it that ye have forgotten that the Lord is able to do all things, according to his will, for the children of men, if it so be that they exercise faith in him? Wherefore let us be faithful to him.
And if it so be that we are faithful to him, we shall obtain [promise]; and ye shall know at some future period that the word of the Lord shall be fulfilled...
1 Nephi 7:12-13

"How is it that ye have forgotten?" Those words jumped up at me. How easily we do forget the most basic principles. The Lord is able to do all things, according to His will; His will. Not mine. Even our most righteous desires can take time to be fulfilled, but our prayers never go unanswered without purpose. Heavenly Father knows what is best for us, knows what we need and when we need it. Someday, if we endure faithfully, His promises will be fulfilled. 

So no, things don't always go according to our plans. Or how about ever? Raise your hand if your life is perfectly on track with your plans. Yeah, that's what I thought. I mean come on, we make a lot of plans in life, especially when we are young. And those plans typically change day to day, or even by the hour! From the time they can talk we start asking little ones, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" When I was little, I used to tell my parents, "I want to be an ambulance!" Obviously, I didn't want to grow up to be an emergency vehicle, and my parents had to correct me that what I wanted to be was an EMT. It didn't take too long for my sensitive little self to realize that the medical field was no place for me, my emotions, or my weak stomach. Then, after many Monday nights trying to steal my dad's attention from football, I decided I wanted to be a cheerleader. My lack of balance soon helped end that dream. For a long time growing up I thought I wanted to be a Kindergarten teacher. By high school, I dreamed of becoming a fashion designer or a buyer. So, in college, I went in to sales and ended up in marketing, which is a far cry from being a "ambulance." 

However, aside from my lengthy and changing list of dream jobs, one plan never changed. I had one, rigidly unchanging plan. I wanted to grow up, graduate from college, work in a career, get married and then be a stay-at-home mom. That was all I wanted. Growing up in a small family, I dreamed of having 5 or 6 kids and living a simple life to accommodate being home to raise them. Above everything else I had ever imagined, that was truly what I wanted. But plans change. And we have to roll with it. I got married before I graduated college, my husband is still in college, and our children are in heaven. Plans change. 

So, why bother making plans if nothing works out? That's not what I mean, you pessimist. What I mean is, let's not set ourselves rigidly unchanging plans. Let's make achievable goals, and realistic hopes and dreams. Life is messy and complicated and unpredictable. If we base our happiness on plans, we'll never be happy. We have to base our happiness on our blessings, gratitude and achievements. Yes, there are plenty of disappointments, but there are plenty of blessings.

I guess then, what I'm trying to say, is I'm not making any plans right now. I'm setting goals, but not making plans. I don't know what the future holds. I don't know what the Lord has in store for us. I know that He has made us promises and I KNOW that we will obtain those promises someday. I have faith in Him and in His plans that if I live righteously and endure, those plans will eventually be revealed. But I can and I will be happy with this life right now, because THIS IS STILL A GOOD LIFE. Life didn't happen the way I planned it, but it will happen the way God plans it.

Stop making plans, Stay faithful.

XO

When Your Body is the Cause of Infertility & Miscarriage

Our genetic counselor called with the results from my last blood test. And I'm the carrier of the balanced translocation.

The same chromosomal balanced translocation that they discovered in Max was found in tissue from the last pregnancy we lost, and in my own genes. 

There is relief in knowing, at last, what caused the loss of our little babies during the first trimester and had some part in Max's problems, but there is also an ache in my heart, knowing that my own genetic makeup is at fault. 

Over the last 5 years, it was hard accepting that my own stupid ovaries weren't doing their job and, therefore, keeping us from conceiving. And now, finding out that my own genetic makeup is actually the cause of losing our children... That's a lot to feel responsible for. 

Before we agreed to test further to find out who was the gene abnormality carrier, Tyler was quite adamant about one thing. He held my face in his hands and looked deeply into my eyes, "Promise me, no matter the results of the test, that you will not blame yourself. Otherwise, I don't want us to get tested at all." So, I'm really trying hard not to feel the blame. Now, I know what you're going to say, "It's not your fault." And, logically, I do know that. However, logic hardly ever rules my emotions, and it certainly has difficulty ruling on this. 

So, what if/when you come to discover that the cause of your infertility, miscarriages and even the loss of your infant son can all be traced back to your very own genes? How do you cope with finding out that you are probably genetically incapable of creating healthy, life-compatible children? How do you find peace within a body that's own genetic flaw is preventing all your dreams from coming true?

How? 

These questions and more have plagued my mind the last 10 days while I waited for the results of my blood test and for the last 7 hours since I received those results.
Here are some of the answers I've come up with:

You cannot blame yourself.

Trust me. I know! Easier said than done. It is in our human nature to place blame with something or someone when things go wrong. We feel like if we can find the fault then it will make it easier to cope with the misfortune. But that is not what this is about. Our bodies are imperfect; from asymmetrical faces to balanced chromosome translocation. No good can come from blaming unfulfilled "perfect" expectations on our own imperfections. Blaming yourself, will only lead to hating yourself. And hate is powerful, and destructive. YOU did not cause this to happen. YOU cannot control the imperfections of your body. YOU can only choose to accept this and move forward.

You have to believe your partner loves you.

Worse than the pain of losing my babies, is knowing that my husband lost his babies. Tyler is my world. He my definition of happiness. Anything that causes him heartache breaks my heart even more. Fighting not to blame myself, and fighting to believe that he could still love me despite the faults of my body is difficult. I have often wondered how he could still love me, even though I cannot give him the children he so deserves. And after confirming that my own genetic abnormalities are causing miscarriages, I wondered how he could still love me or my body. But, ya know what? He does. He loves me. He loves me and he loves this broken body. He loves me when I'm hyperventilating during a panic attack. He loves me when I'm too depressed to get out of bed. He loves me when I wake him up in the night sobbing that I miss Max. He loves me when I feel unlovable. He loves the scar on my belly from which Max was born. He loves all the stretch marks left by 7 months of pregnancy. I cannot deny what I feel when he looks at me and when he says those words to me, so I have to believe it is true. I have to believe he loves me and that he won't stop loving me just because my body is causing our infertility. You have to believe it, too. Marriage is hard enough as it is, adding the pain of infertility and miscarriage can add terrible strain to that. If you refuse to believe your partner loves you, despite the problems, then it will make it harder for them to love you.

You have to have Faith.

Are you sick of me preaching about faith, yet? Too bad, cause I'll never stop pounding the pulpit on that principle. By definition, faith is complete trust or confidence in someone or something. Complete trust. Not a little trust. Not sort of trust. Complete trust. You have to trust God's divine, great plan of happiness. I'm confident that the Lord's plans are greater than my own, and that in His infinite wisdom He has designed a unique path for my life that will bring me unspeakable joy. I have faith that I will learn and grow through experience, and be lead to the right opportunities. I have faith in miracles. I have been blessed with so many, yet I have faith that there are many more to come. If I didn't have my faith, if you don't have some faith, then it all becomes hopeless. You have to have faith.

You have to understand the power of the Atonement.

The Atonement of Christ was so much more than suffering for our sins. The healing power of the Atonement reaches far beyond repentance. In the Garden of Gethsemane the Savior bore all of our burdens, all our grief, all of our pains. That means He felt the sting of every negative pregnancy test, the heart-shattering ache each time the ultrasound revealed a still and silent fetus, and the indescribable anguish at the graveside. He felt mine. He felt yours. He bore those griefs, with all their miserable weight just so we wouldn't have to hold on to them. See, because of His Atonement, we don't have to hold on to them. We can release ourselves from the chains of sorrow. We are relieved of carrying those burdens. You have to understand that, because then you'll be free.

So, that's what I've come up with. And, I think, it's all I really need right now. 

I don't know how or when Tyler and I will be able to have more children. But I don't need to know that right now. I have Tyler, we have our families and we have God. This life of ours is an adventure in faith. This is still a good life! The miracles haven't stopped and they won't stop, if we just keep believing. 

XO

Stepping into Growth

"In any given moment we have two options: to step forward into growth, or to step back into safety."
Abraham Maslow

I came across this quote the other day, and I've thought about it a lot. 

At this point, there isn't much hope for us ever naturally achieving a healthy pregnancy. Testing after this last miscarriage revealed the same chromosomal balanced translocation that was discovered in Max's genes. So, we're just trying to figure out which one of us it is coming from. There are expensive IVF options for trying to conceive a genetically sound baby, but we're not really interested in those options. So, that leaves us with two options: We can keep trying in hopes that eventually we'd get a healthy baby, knowing that more miscarriages or birth defects would come, OR we can look into adoption. The first option is, obviously terrifying. The thought going through any more miscarriages or burying another child is unimaginable. Adoption sounds wonderful, but unless we find a healthy, nonsmoker knocked up girl who just wants to hand us her child, adoption is a lengthy and expensive process that also doesn't always have secure guarantees. 

At points, I've felt ready to give up all hope; to just stay put where we are and accept life as a family of two, afraid to endure anymore failure. Part of me, the scared part of me, thinks it would be better and safer to not try anymore. At least there'd be no more failure. I just don't know how much more loss our hearts can take! But then, the other part of me can't imagine never trying again. That part of me isn't ready to give up on becoming a mother. That part of me isn't ready to think about never getting pregnant again or never finding our children. 

And Maslow's right. In life, we can accept the hard things and move forward, ready to learn and grow through our experiences, or we can shy away in fear and never learn a damn thing. No matter how hard the last 5 years have been, I cannot deny how blessed I've felt and I cannot say I'm not grateful. Even with the losses, I am so grateful for my three pregnancies, for my sweet angel boy and the 5 incredible weeks we had with him. 

We don't get to choose our hard things. We don't get to decide the trials we face. But we do get to choose how we face them and decide what attitude we will have while we endure.

Staying put might feel safe, but it's not worth it. We have to take the leap, step up and make the hard choices and try, even if we fail.

XO

The Power of Faith

“The power of faith in our lives can be profound...
The purpose of Faith is not to change God's will, but to empower us to act on God's will... Faith is trust: trust that God sees what we cannot, that he knows what we do not. Sometimes trusting our own vision is not enough… Faith means we trust not only in his wisdom, but that we trust also in his love. It means trusting that God loves us perfectly. That everything He does, every blessing he gives, and every blessing He, for a time, withholds is for our eternal happiness. With this kind of faith, though we may not understand why certain things happen or why some prayers go unanswered, we can know that in the end everything will make sense." || Dieter F. Uchtdorf

I know I've been writing about Faith a lot lately, but it's been a subject that has been heavy on my mind for, really, the last year, but especially the last few months.

In the wake of this last miscarriage, I felt overwhelmed with misunderstanding and, even, anger. I wrote to you all about how hopeless I felt in my blog post about that pregnancy loss. After everything I'd remained faithful through, that miscarriage felt like a slap in the face. My faith suffered. For the first time in my entire life I felt ready to give it all up. A voice inside me that I had never heard, shouted at me, "If this is what we get for being faithful, then why are we even bothering?" I felt completely lost. 

Some may wonder how I got to be nearly 30, and through some of life's greatest trials without ever having wavered in faith. For me, faith has always felt like a spiritual gift to me. Faith was as natural as breathing. Trusting the Lord always made sense. And this definitely helped me greatly in my life, but it also hindered my ability to empathize with others who struggled to understand faith. But in that ultrasound room on July 28th, I understood what it felt like to grasp for faith and not find a strong hold. It suddenly felt like I could never understand God's plan or ever trust in Him. I wrestled with my thoughts as I began to tick off a list of all the reasons I did not deserve to keep enduring this pain of loss, "I try to live righteously. I pray. I read my scriptures. I go to the temple. I serve at my church. I share my testimony with others. I did not lose faith through infertility. I did not abandon my faith when we lost our first pregnancy. I did not give up faith during my pregnancy with Max. And I stood faithful and praised God while I gave the eulogy at his funeral. I did it all right. So, why this? Why now? Why more pain? Why bother? Why keep trusting?" 

Great faith requires a lot of trust- trust in God's divine plan for us, trust in His eternal love for us, trust in the Savior's infinite atonement for us. While for some faith comes a little more easily, that kind of trusting faith is not built within us or maintained by us easily. It takes daily prayer and pleading with the Lord to help us see. It requires diligently studying the words of the scriptures to help us understand. Faith takes work and action. Without it, everything, every trial and hardship, would feel impossible to overcome. But with it, it all be comes a little easier to endure. 

Faith does not make the hard struggles of life go away, but, I realized, neither does giving up your faith. If  I gave it all up, if I stopped trusting in the Lord because things got hard, things would not stop being hard. The trials of life, the struggles of mortality would remain, but my ability to navigate them peacefully and wisely would be lost. That is what faith does. "The power of faith in our lives can be profound," it can give us strength to endure that could never posses with out it. That trusting faith in the Lord offers us guidance through the difficult times and the peace we need to keep going. And that is why I cannot and will not give up my faith.

Do not give up your faith. If you already have, pray to the Lord to help you regain its power. It will take time and energy, but you will be able to hold strong to it once again.

Do not be deceived into thinking that trials are punishments, or that God does not wish to bless you. that could not be further from the truth. God is not punishing you or ignoring you. Life is just full of testing and of trying our faith. God wishes for nothing more than to bless you, and when the power of faith is alive in you the blessings become so much more evident.

 Stay true. Keep trusting. Hold tightly to your faith. Sooner than you think, it will all make sense.

XO

Faith No Matter What

A year ago today, we celebrated our anniversary early with a day trip to SLC to meet with the pediatric neurosurgeons at Primary's. We spent hours looking at the MRI they took of my abdomen trying to make sense of what to do with Max. They had given us hope that they believed he could survive to delivery, but they were not sure beyond that. An MRI after birth would tell us more, but the Dr. did feel we could lengthen Max's life with a few surgeries.

Afterwards we got dinner & took a sunset walk around Temple Square. I remember walking through the streams of sunlight as they peaked and shined around the temple, and talking about all the what-ifs: What if things turn out to be better than they look on his MRI? What if he's severely handicapped? What if none of this works?... What if he doesn't make it?

I remember standing in the shadow of the Salt Lake City Temple as Tyler wiped tears from my cheeks and said, "We know the odds don't give us a lot of hope for  long life for Max. So, we'll love him with every second we get. And when he goes, we will hold on to each other and our faith in God. That's all we can do, Brit. It's what we have to do." I knew in that moment that no matter how hard it would be to lose our son, we could do it. I knew I could get through anything with Tyler, and with the Lord. We did our signature pinky swear with tears in our eyes, saying our promise, "Forever and Always, Always and Forever, To Infinity and Beyond."

We had this talk so many times before Max was born and on daily drives to the NICU. We were constantly promising ourselves, each other and Heavenly Father that we would remain faithful, no matter what came. We knew we could not let this push us away from our faith or push us apart.

Especially after Max was born, it became even harder to accept the possibility of his death. I remember the first time they put him in my arms. He was a week old and I could not even contain my emotions. I remember thinking, "How will I ever survive without this? What will I do when I can't hold him anymore" I rocked him in tears, praying to God to let me keep him a little longer. I am forever grateful that Heavenly Father gave us the tender mercy and unbelievable miracle of five beautiful weeks with our sweet boy.

No matter the difficulty, no matter the trial, I promise you that it's never worth it to walk away from God in your greatest hour of need. Leaving faith does not erase the problems, it only erases your lifeline to endure. Keep praying. Keep believing. 

Stay faithful, no matter what.

Into the Forest I go...

I read this quote not too long ago, probably on Pinterest,

"And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul." 

and I thought of it again this weekend while I wandered through trees and around lakes in the Uintas.

We went camping with our family. If you haven't camped in the Uintas, put it on your bucket list and check it off soon. By far, it is among the most beautiful places I have ever seen! It's cold, it will probably rain at some point during the day, but it is worth staying for.

Most of the family fish. I don't. So I walked the trails along and around the lakes, thinking, taking in the majestic views, and taking pictures.

I watched my brother-in-law and sister-in-law with my nephew. I watched them teaching him to fish for the first time. I watched them walk hand-in-hand. I watched them be the adorable little family I love. And while I watched them, I thought of the babies I never knew and I thought of Max. I thought about this time last year and how we wondered what our lives would be like a year from then. I knew then that it was very possible that Max wouldn't be here, but I'd hoped with all of my being that he would be. Tyler and I had dreamed of how our little family would be with a son with many disabilities. We embraced it. We weren't scared of living that life. We were only scared of not having our little boy. And as I watched my sister-in-law swing my nephew up to sit on her shoulders, I thought about how Tyler had said he would carry Max every day of his life, if he couldn't walk. And as our sweet little nephew ran around the lakes and through the mud and tall grass, I thought of how I could have a baby carrier strapped on me with Max while I followed.

I wondered what life would be like if Max had lived. And I even dared to wonder what life would be like if Max had been a completely healthy child.

In these thoughts, my heart teetered between joy and pain. Joy in what I have, and pain in what I've lost. Joy in what could be, and pain in what may never come again.

I don't know what the future holds right now. I don't know how Tyler and I will create a family. I don't know what the Lord has in store. But I do know that the Lord has a plan. I know that in the future I will feel the joy I once held in my arms again. I know that in my soul.

My soul is at such complete peace in the mountains. In the quiet, beautiful places the Lord has created I feel I can hear Him best. I can let go of all the crazy things that pester my mind in the real world, and I can escape to my true soul in the shadow of the trees.

So, as I pondered by the lakes, this weekend, I thought of that quote and this little poem came to me.

Finding peace in the quiet of the mountains.
Finding joy in the land of the Lord.
Finding hope in the great wide open.

I lost myself in the forest,
but I found my very own soul.
-Brittany King

XO.

All Made Right

My heart, albeit still quite tender, is mending. The pieces, so carefully placed back together, are binding and fusing into place. And it feels stronger than it ever has.

I was embarrassed to admit my defeat to all of you in my last post. I felt so ashamed in my anger and bitterness. But I am only human. I am imperfect and prone to feel the sting of it. For the first time in my life, my faith slipped like sand through my fingers. I wanted to hold on to it in that moment. I knew I needed it. I desperately tried to hold on, but I couldn't keep it all within my grasp. There was a booming voice within me that hushed the quiet voice of peace. A confusion began to rock me and I felt uneasy on my own feet. Suddenly, I knew nothing, except that everything felt hopeless. 

How could I pray and talk to God? He knew what had happened. He knew what had been done. He knew how I felt. I had nothing new to tell him. And how could I receive peace from this God who took away all the happiness I had ever been given? It was too much; it felt like too much. How could I keep going? How could I keep believing? How could I keep enduring in faith?

Well, how could I not??

Let me tell you, even in my fit of anger and my calls of betrayal, My Lord never left me. He stood by. He waited for me to calm. And He outstretched His arms for me when I, at last, collapsed into His love. Because he never, ever leaves us. Even when we step away, even when we run away. He waits. He stands by, arms ready to catch us. George Q. Cannon once said, "No matter how serious the trial, how deep the distress, how great the affliction, God will never desert us. He never has, and He never will. He cannot do it. It is not His character to do so... He will always stand by us. We may pass through the fiery furnace; we may pass through deep waters; but we shall not be consumed nor overwhelmed. We shall emerge from all these trials and difficulties the better and purer for them." We leave God. God does not leave us. Ever.

So, how could I not remain faithful to a God who remains ever faithful to me? How could I desert the the God that gave me Max and the hundreds of miracles that came in those 5 weeks of his life and in the months following its end. How could I let this setback allow me to forget everything He has blessed me with? Because that is just it, ya know? We all have difficult mountains to climb. We all have tough trials to endure. It is life. It is not punishment from God. It is not a curse. It is just life! And if we take a good look around and evaluate everything, then we can really see all that the Lord does for us to help us get through those hard times. He is always right there, giving us help and blessing us with the tools we need to endure. And when we feel like no one understands, like our pain is just too great, there is One who does understand and He will take away all our pain. 

Our loving, pure, perfect Savior sacrificed all He had for each of us. When he atoned in the Garden of Gethsemane, He felt each of our pains and heartbreaks. He has carried each of our burdens. He knows our griefs; he knows every ache. Because of His ultimate act of love, because of Him we can be made whole. I recently read in Preach My Gospel, "All that is unfair about life can be made right through the atonement of Jesus Christ." There is no promise more beautiful than that! Everything that is difficult, heartbreaking and unfair in this mortal existence cannot ruin eternity. The Savior has paved a way for us to achieve more happiness than we can ever comprehend. 

We cannot focus on the trials, the losses, and the hardships, because there is still so much more to be grateful for. Christ and Heavenly Father are always constant; they are always there. So, there is always hope. 

So, no, I cannot give up that faith. I cannot give up the faith that sustains me. I cannot give up the God that never gives up on me. I cannot give up on the only hope I have. I cannot give up on His great plan of happiness that promise me joy. I can endure this. We can all endure. We can persevere through it all, because we are never alone. We are never left empty handed. If we just seek the Lord, if we just reach our for His help, we can conquer anything. "We are more than conquerors through Him that loved us." (Romans 8:37) 

Somewhere Beyond the Rainbow

6.21.16

I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant?

Due to a sweet, personal experience, I knew I was pregnant. I didn't know how I knew it. I just knew. I could feel this precious spirit with me. It was late, but I stopped at the store for a pack of pregnancy tests. I hurried home and decided to get ready for bed and test in the morning. I was 4 days early to my projected period start date, and I had drank tons of water. I knew the result would be more clear in the morning. So, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, always keeping an eye on the box of pregnancy tests. I shoved it in a drawer and went to bed. I laid there for 5 minutes and jumped back up to go to the bathroom. I laid the test on the counter to "season" (Juno) and went back to my room. I changed my pajamas to pass the time. I watched the clock: 1 minute, 2 minutes... 3 minutes. Back down the hall and slowly into the bathroom. I peaked over the test. One pink line; not pregnant. I just turned around and went back to bed. But as I laid there I felt it again. No, I know I am pregnant, I thought. I went back to the bathroom and picked up the test. I pulled it closer to my face and stared. There to the side of a dark pink line was a very light pink second line. I gasped and threw my hand over my mouth to keep from shouting. It was midnight, and Tyler was gone to High Adventure for 2 more days. Before I could think clearly, I was running up the stairs and bursting into my mother-in-law's room, hyperventilating and terrifying her, "I think I'm pregnant!" "WHAT?" She threw the covers and jumped out of bed. I told her she had to come down stairs and look at my test. With a second pair of eyes and my undeniable feelings, it was confirmed, I was pregnant.

6.23.16

I waited and surprised Tyler with the news when he got home. We were ecstatic, scared, overjoyed, shocked, etc. with a wide range of emotions. The Lord was blessing us with our little Rainbow baby. The timing, the feelings, we just felt sure that this little miracle was going to come and be ours and be the Rainbow we desperately needed after years of dark storms. 

The weeks pass and I start getting sick and feeling pregnant. It is the worst best thing in the world, feeling pregnant, but I'm just happy to be doing it! Sure enough, as with the others, my little bump makes it's appearance early. By 7 1/2 weeks I have a round belly by nighttime, and by 8 weeks it's present from the time I wake up in the morning, I'm wearing maternity pants before 9 weeks. Eh. Who cares? I'm pregnant!

7.28.16

I wrap the tissue paper thin sheet around my waist and hop onto the chair. Tyler, grinning, grabs my hand and we wait for the doctor to come in.

Dr. Lister, is all smiles and excited to see us. She's as hopeful as we are for this pregnancy. We chat about how I'm feeling (so sick, puking multiples times a week sick) and about what an amazing surprise this is to have just gotten pregnant so soon and so easily!

Finally, it's time to see this little babe, so we stare up at the dark screen with anticipation. The screen lights up as she moves over my uterus. And there it is. This perfect little gummy bear, just sitting there looking just like he/she should. Looking just perfect for 9 weeks. But... what? Dr. Lister's face droops. She closes her eyes and cries, "Dammit! You've got to be kidding me." She drops her face into her arm and says words I can't even believe I'm hearing, "There's no heartbeat."

I stare at her, confused. She grabs my leg and locks eyes with me, "I'm so sorry, Brittany." She turns to Tyler, "I'm so so sorry." She measures it's little body- 8 weeks and 2 days. My pregnancy is exactly 8 weeks and 6 days. It just died a few days ago. My head is spinning. I'm not crying. I'm just staring at it until she removes the ultrasound wand, and my baby is gone. Inside my head is just a voice screaming, WAKE UP! THIS ISN'T REAL!! WAKE UP! THIS IS A NIGHTMARE!" But nothing changes I'm still laying here, with my feet in the stirrups and staring at a black screen where I had just seen the image of my lifeless baby.

With tears in her eyes, Dr. Lister says she'll give us a minute and leaves us there in the dark. There's tears in my eyes but I'm still not crying and I don't know why. I can't find my words. Tyler and I try to console each other, but we're speechless and we're... we're... confused? broken? lost? wrecked? Yes. All of the above.

Dr. Lister comes back and we go over our options. We know from plenty of experience that we just want to get this over with and have a D&C. She completely agrees.

We wander out of the office and out to our cars. We call our parents and we drive home separately. Alone in my car, driving down Harrison, it hits me and I lose it. I feel my chest burst open and like my heart is being sliced into tiny pieces and I'm trying to see through a fit of tears to keep driving. I just keep rubbing my bulging bump and begging God to give our baby back.

How much breaking can our hearts take? Heaven now holds our 3 children, and we/re left to wonder if we'll ever get to have one to bring home, left to wonder if we'll ever have the chance to truly be parents in this life. I cannot help it. I'm breaking apart. It just feels so unfair.

7.29.16

Today marks 2 years since Boston's due date. I can't believe I could have a 2 year old right now. But instead of thinking about a birthday party or the "terrible twos," I'm laying in bed thinking about the baby inside my body that's no longer living and waiting for the hospital to call me for surgery.

For what it's worth, this is a much better experience than that with Boston. With Boston we had tried medication to induce me to miscarry on my own, but it hadn't worked and I ended up in the ER a week later hemorrhaging and needing an immediate D&C. Since I'd had it on a Sunday, they had to keep me in the Postpartum unit. They had wheeled me past the nursery on the way to surgery and I had laid in a recovery room with a bassinet and the sounds of babies crying in neighboring rooms. It was a cruel form of torture. It took hours to revcover due to days without sleep and all the blood I'd lost. However, for this D&C I got to the surgical unit before it closed for the weekend. I checked in at 5:30 and was home before 9PM. So, by comparison this was much easier... but I just still can't believe it happened.

When I came out of anesthesia, I was delirious and confused I wasn't sure if it had happened yet. I looked over at the nurse next to me and asked if it was done. She came over to check some things and told me that I was in recovery and that they'd take me to my husband soon. I don't know what came over me, but I started bawling uncontrollably, It hit me that if it was over, I was empty. Through tears I heard myself ask the nurse, "So, my baby's gone?" Her eyes turned glassy and she just nodded and grabbed my arm and mouthed "I'm sorry." She turned and left the room, and a different nurse returned to take me back to my recovery room. Tyler and I felt like by the time we left we'd broken every nurse's heart. Going over my history, or asking questions, they would come to find that this was our 2nd pregnancy loss and that our 5 week old son had just died in December. You gotta love that look people give you when they find out. Like you're so broken- which you kind of are. Like how are you surviving- which you're kind of not. It was good to finally leave and not having everyone looking at us that way anymore.

Dr. Lister, obviously, felt concerned with the pattern our pregnancies have taken. Missed miscarriage, infant loss with multiple birth defects and, another, missed miscarriage. She got permission to perform genetic testing on the fetus, so we'll have another microarray done to test this baby's genes. If the genes come back normal, we'll know that this miscarriage was just a fluke and we can try again, if we're up to it, in the future. If the genes are abnormal, we'll need to do some more extensive keriotype testing with my and Tyler's genes. It may just be that we cannot conceive a healthy embryo, and we'll be done with trying to. 

7.30.16

So, here I am now, waking up today and realizing this dream has really come to an end, again. There is a hallow and dull ache in my abdomen where our little baby's home has been demolished. 

I really thought this was going to be our chance. I had faith in it. I had faith in the Lord for it. I believed that this little baby would be our Rainbow and that we would bring this one home, healthy and full of life. But, again, we're left with empty arms and little hope. I can't really even seem to cry, even though I feel like it might help. I just feel numb.

I would like to tell you that my faith is unwavering and that I see God's hand and I understand His purposes. I want to. I want to be ever-faithful and ever-leaning on my Lord. But this time has made it very hard for me. This time I feel so blindsided, so broken. I'm so embarrassed to say that my prayers are weak and feeble, and my heart isn't truly in it. I am falling apart in the wake of this loss. Instead of getting our Rainbow we got another devastating storm. 

I just feel like somewhere beyond the rainbow, the end of it that we'll never reach, lay all of our hopes and dreams. And I feel so pessimistic for thinking that. I feel so disheartened that I feel so bitter. But I just do. I just feel so hopeless. I feel like it will never be our chance. The realization that we truly may never have children, is a tough pill to swallow. I feel like I'm leaving this blog post so unresolved, but I have no resolution right now. I can't tie up this sad story in a perfect bow and tell you that everything is just going to be alright, because I don't feel alright. So, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't give you an hope. I feel almost out of hope today. I just don't know how much more our hearts can take.

XO

The Faith & Courage to Keep Going

I haven't blogged for awhile, and there is a reason for that. I want this blog to be a place with uplifting messages, a place to find comfort and reassurance. But it has been some time since I could come up any words to portray that message, and then more time to figure out how and if I could share this. As difficult as this will all be to share and admit, I feel that it is important that I do.

Theodore Roosevelt said, "Comparison is the thief of joy," and, man, is that ever true. No good comes of looking at the things others have that you do not.

After Max died I couldn't go see friends who had babies around the same time or right after. All I could think of is how old my baby would be, what he could be doing if he had been a healthy baby like them. The ache of seeing these little babies that were the same age as mine was too much for me to handle. I felt so much guilt for not being able to, but I couldn't help it. 

I've tried to keep a positive attitude throughout our journey to have a family. Of course, I've had my up and downs during years of infertility and my miscarriage, but a darkness seemed to slowly envelope me in the wake of Max's death and I sunk below depths I wasn't sure I could make my way out of. I looked around at the happy families with their beautiful healthy children, and I ached for my baby boy and for the joy of a family. I felt the pain of "unfair" and jealousy for what others had been blessed with. Despite what I knew about Max and his special mission, my broken heart outweighed my knowledge and I just wanted my baby back.

In the beginning, the grief had been difficult, but manageable. But as the months waned on, it just seemed to get harder and harder. I began to hear the voice of self doubt whisper to me that I wasn't worthy of a family, that I hadn't been a good enough mother, that I would never have the family I dreamed of. It felt like my heart grew more and more broken, instead of healing. Just as I would try to mend the pieces, they would crumble to dust in my hands. My chest began to feel like a gaping hole that would never close. Between the grief of loss and postpartum depression, I began to feel nothing but miserable about my life without Max. I felt hopelessly unhappy. I saw no way for us to ever live "happily ever after" after what we'd gone through. I wondered how I could ever escape the darkness of grief and the pain that I felt. I spent many of my days in bed and in tears, aching and, ultimately, just wishing I could die and be with Max again. I would find myself haunted by suicidal thoughts constantly in my moments alone. The longer I kept my feelings to myself, the more unhappy and hopeless I began to feel. I couldn't find the courage to admit to anyone how horrible I was feeling. 

People have come to expect me to be this positive, uplifting, ever-see-the-bright-side person. So, I felt like I had to keep up that act with everyone, everywhere. But it started crushing me.

My counselor suggested I get further evaluated by the psychiatrist to try a new medication. So, I started there. I prayed that I would have an easy transition and that the Lord would guide the doctor to put me on the right medication to help start making me feel like I could manage again.

Finally, I told Tyler about how bad my depression had actually become. I was embarrassed to admit my defeat to him. But, as he always does, he wrapped me up in his arms and comforted me. We prayed together for peace, help and guidance to navigate both of us through this difficult time, and to know what we should do to help me find my way out of the pit of darkness I felt I was in.

As always, it never fails to amaze me how the Lord so often blesses us through others. In church the following Sunday, a sister in our ward taught a powerful lesson I will never forget as long as I live. To me, it felt as though the entire room had vanished away and she was teaching only me. Her words struck my very core. She relayed her own story about trials and experiences that had lead her to a dark time in her life. And as if God was speaking directly to me through this amazing woman, she spoke the words I needed to hear and gave me the answers to my prayers. While I had been struggling so much, I thought that I had dug myself into a pit of hopelessness I would never be able to climb out of. She shared that she when she had reached such a time in here life, she had heard a voice declare to her, "If a seed of faith can move a mountain, it can surely fill the deepest hole." As she bore her testimony of that experience, a light began to peak in through my clouds of darkness and I began to see pillars of hope again in that very moment. 

As I began to actively seek that light and turn that hope into renewed faith, I began to feel my small seed of faith fill my deep hole. As time went on and my new medication also started to take effect, I slowly began to climb out of my pit and out of the darkness. 

Each and every day takes faith. Faith in the Lord, faith in myself, faith in the future and faith in each day. Is it easy? Not always. Some days it is so hard just to get up out of bed. I think, it would be so much easier to give up. It takes strength and courage just to keep going. But with a little bit of faith, I promise, it will start getting better.

Gordon B. Hinkley said, "In such hours of darkness there has shown forth a light, steady and certain, to sustain and comfort and bless." That light is the gospel of Jesus Christ. His perfect love, His infinite sacrifice, His faith in each of us even when our faith in Him dwindles. He is the truth and the light. When my faith is steady and strong in His redeeming power, I feel lifted up by His glory. He loves me. He doesn't doubt me, even when I, shamefully, doubt Him. We are never alone, if we can just believe in Christ. His atonement meant that He took on all of our griefs, sorrows, pains, losses; everything that has ever and will ever break our hearts broke His first. He knows us. He knows that pain and He wants to take it from us so we can hurt just a little less. It is the most beautiful part of His gospel, the most beautiful gift He could give us. 

And so, with faith we keep moving forward. We keep hoping and believing that something better must be somewhere up ahead. In the meantime, we seek out the joy that surrounds us right now. And, if we just look, we can find so much of it. Despite all the hardships we face each day, there are always blessings. That is the thing I know most to be true about my Heavenly Father, no matter what trials He allows us to face, he never leaves us empty-handed when we are faithful. With our most difficult trials come abundant blessings, if we can just have the faith to see them. If we can just stop worrying about "happily ever after," we might realize how happy we could be right now. We just have to find the faith and the courage to keep going.

XO 

Let go and Let God

The doubting thoughts of a Mother are probably among the very first instincts she gets.

From the moment the little person enters her world, all she does from the point on focuses around their direct needs. She becomes a mother above all else; their mother.

From the moment Tyler's eyes welled-up and he told me that Max was finally here, my world changed. Nothing but Max mattered. I didn't care about myself or my needs, I didn't care what anyone else was doing or what they wanted. All I cared about was Max. I made people wheel me from my room to the NICU multiple times a day. I stood or sat by his bedside for too long, sometimes until I almost passed out from the pain. I obsessively pumped every 2-3 hours, even through the night. When I wasn't at the hospital, I called the hospital. When I wasn't in the NICU, I called the NICU- yes, sometimes, I even called from the pump room across the hall. I stepped outside the NICU occasionally to take bites of snacks, only sometimes leaving to actually go sit in the cafeteria to eat a meal. I was his mother. I could do nothing else.

So, as the time passed after he died I spent many sleepless nights staring at my ceiling wondering what I had done wrong. Deciding what I could change if I had known better. Thinking about what I would've done differently if I could've know we'd have him for 5 weeks.

I would go down my checklist of "I should haves,"

I should have stopped pumping.

I should have stayed later each night.

I should have gotten there early each morning.

I should have read to him more.

I should have taken more videos.

I should have taken more pictures of his nurses.

I should have let more people come to see him.

I should never have gone home once a week.

I should have gone, even in that blizzard.

I should have talked to other parents more.

I should have talked to him more.

I should have been braver.

I should have been more alert.

And the list would go on...

Eventually all my motherly guilt and doubts started to weigh on me. One afternoon in counseling, my therapist asked me about it. She shook her head as I lamented over all the things I wished I would've done or all the things I felt I should've done. She gave me a piece of paper and told me to write them down. After I had, she told me to cross out my list. Then, beside where I had marked it out, she told me to write, "I did the best I could."

With time, I learned that this is not just a problem a mother has if she loses her baby. Its a problem ALL mothers have. We beat ourselves up with time for not doing things we know now that we didn't know then. We take on all the blame and responsibility when things go wrong, and always defer the honor when things go right. The only solace I found in this was to learn that, even though my baby was gone, I was still just like every other mother. 

So, here's the deal. We all do the best we can. The best we know how. Moms or not. It applies to all of us. And ya know, tough situations, like we were in, makes it SO hard to know what the right thing to do is! We all have to make tough calls in life, and you cannot blame your past self for things you feel now are a mistake. Hindsight is 20/20, but there is nothing we can do about the past. We can learn from it and we can move on. Living in the past and living in guilt and doubt only leads to pain and suffering. We have to let it go. Let go and let God. 

Our Savior is the ONLY being who can understand our pains, our mistakes, our tribulations. He is the one who suffered them for us. He suffered for our sins and our grief. He took care of it! With faith in His holy name, we can let it go. We can give it to Him and be done with it. 

Trust me, I know how hard it is. I know the pain of wishing you could erase parts of your past. Max is just part of my history, and while I certainly don't ever wish to erase him there are plenty of things that I had wished I had done different. I know that it hurts to keep reliving the things we wish we could change. Friends, it is time to let it go. Let go of the past that haunts you. Write it all down, cross it out and say, "I did the best I could!" Shred the paper up. Forgive yourself and move on. I promise the burden can be lifted and you can feel so free.

Let go and let God.

XO.

There's Nothing Weak About Struggling with Mental Illness

I have had depression and anxiety since my adolescence. I battled with an eating disorder as a young adult. Endured infertility for 4 years before finally having a son, and lost him 5 weeks later. I'm 6 months postpartum and my mental health is far from stable. At this point, I don't even know what is my normal, what is grief or what is postpartum depression. It's probably all of the above! All I know is that it is awful. 

And before all you naysayers start listing off how you think I can turn my frown upside down -let me fill you in. I work out 60-90 minutes 4 to 5 days a week. I eat healthy, most of the time (Hey there, National Donut Day). I say my prayers and I read my scriptures. And guess what? I still have a rough time pulling myself out of the abyss to get out of bed every morning. Some days I can do it. Some days I can summon the strength to get up early and get my crap done. But some days, too many days, I don't get out of bed until afternoon because I just cannot fake it anymore. 

And ya know why? It is because I have a disease. A mental disease. And it is just as real as if I had a physical one. I am sick of people thinking that depression is just "feeling sad." Believe me, there is a big difference between feeling sad for a day or two and feeling so hopeless you don't know how to keep living every single day. And, no, anxiety isn't just worrying about random things. No, anxiety is suddenly being overcome by irrational, heart-stopping panic in the middle of the grocery store, having to leave your cart and run home to take a Xanax and crawl in bed. 

This is a disease. I can't exercise my way out of it. I can't pray my way out of it. Do those things help? Of course! My physical and spiritual health are both major parts of my personal treatment. But those alone cannot fix it. I have to see doctors and take medicine, which means a lot of trial and error to find the right medicine. And I'll probably always need medication because there is NO cure for my disease. No one bats an eye at someone who needs to see a doctor or take medicine for physical ailments. But when it comes to mental illness, the general population suddenly thinks you need to buck up and "just be happy." Trust me, if I could "just be happy" I would!

If you haven't seen it, yet, go read Kristen Bell's essay on her struggle with depression. She's so awesome. I love her! Anyway, she wrote this powerful article about her personal experience and opened up conversation about mental illness all over the internet. She said, 

"Mental health check-ins should be as routine as going to the doctor or the dentist. After all, I’ll see the doctor if I have the sniffles. If you tell a friend that you are sick, his first response is likely, 'You should get that checked out by a doctor.' Yet if you tell a friend you’re feeling depressed, he will be scared or reluctant to give you that same advice. You know what? I’m over it."

I'm over it, too, Kristen! Let's encourage each other. Let's be there for each other. Let's stop making others feel weak for their struggles. Let's stop tearing each other down and start building each other up. Let's stop judging each other and, for that matter, stop judging ourselves. Let's stop apologizing for who we are!

"Here’s the thing: For me, depression is not sadness. It’s not having a bad day and needing a hug. It gave me a complete and utter sense of isolation and loneliness. Its debilitation was all-consuming, and it shut down my mental circuit board. I felt worthless, like I had nothing to offer, like I was a failure. Now, after seeking help, I can see that those thoughts, of course, couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s important for me to be candid about this so people in a similar situation can realize that they are not worthless and that they do have something to offer... It’s a knee-jerk reaction to judge people when they’re vulnerable. But there’s nothing weak about struggling with mental illness." 

 The older I get, the less I begin to care about telling people about my problems. I'm starting to feel less apologetic about it. It is still really embarrassing if I have a panic attack in front of anyone besides Tyler- its just so awkward when your crying and hyperventilating and you can't say why. But, really, would you blame a diabetic for having to take an insulin shot when they need it? No. So, why is it so uncomfortable for me to say, "I have to go home and take a Xanax." It shouldn't be embarrassing. I'm sick. I need medicine. Plain and simple.

I'm tired of being embarrassed of who I am and feeling less because of my mental illness. Aren't you tired of it? Maybe if we all get on board and start advocating we can erase the stigma. Love each other, no matter what. Love yourself, no matter what. If someone you know if struggling with a mental illness, encourage them to seek help. If you have a mental illness, do not be ashamed! While depression can make you feel so hopeless, there really is hope out there. Seek help. Find a good psychiatrist, talk with a counselor, discover a higher power. Use all means possible to get help. There is no shame in needing help.

XO.

Prone to Wander

Sometimes it feels like part of me died and was buried with Max in December. I feel like just part of a person- part of the person I once was.

Sometimes it feels like there is no possible way I could ever feel whole again. And, honestly, there are plenty of days I just wish this could all end and I could just be with him again. Most days, heaven sounds so much better than this life.

In these times I am prone to wander. I wander to the mountains and sometimes, in my grief, I wander from my God. I sink into the abyss of grief and I get swallowed up in its darkness. I become consumed and sink lower and lower, further and further from the light. 

The other day, I was totally sunk. In tears and panic, I fled the house and drove towards the mountains. I gasped the fresh air as I burst from my car and fell to my knees beside the rushing creek in the shadow of the trees. I sobbed for a long time, and then I started to pray. Slowly, streams of light started peeking through trees and all around me began to glisten. A breeze blew and I took a deep breath, at last. My heart returned to a steady pace as I began to calm.

I pulled myself to my feet and as I looked around me, all I could think of were the words to my favorite hymn, Come Thou Fount. Quietly, almost as a plea, I began to sing...

Come thou fount of every blessing;
tune my heart to sing thy grace.
Streams of mercy never ceasing,
call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet
sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount, I'm fixed upon it,

mount of thy redeeming love.

O, to grace, how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be!

Let thy goodness like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee.

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love.

Here's my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.

And there were streams of mercy and blessings and grace and comfort and redeeming love, because even when we stray from Him Heavenly Father never strays from us. I was enveloped in the arms of His love, and comforted by the grace of my Savior. There in the mountains, in the thick of trees, I was invisible to the world, but not to my Lord. He found me there and He gave me hope. 

In promptings since, I feel His promise that it is okay to hope. I feel in my heart something amazing lies ahead of us, and with that will come joy and happiness we cannot yet imagine. With the Savior's atonement and His saving grace, we will be made whole again. We will not be broken forever. Our hearts will be mended and we will be healed, and we will love a little one again. I have everything faith in my God that this is true. 

I am human and prone to wander but, Lord, seal my heart for thy courts above. 

Bind my wandering heart to thee. 

XO