Diary of a Broken Momma

Oh my loves, it feels like it has been forever since my last heart to heart. I guess in the "blogging world" a week is actually a really long time. Can I just pour my heart out to y'all tonight? There has been so much stuff going on, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Brother Derek, our Pastor, just spoke about telling our stories in hopes of helping others through the same struggles. Sharing is Caring, right? I hope by doing so, I am showing that I genuinely care about you and maybe someone out there can say, "gah, I relate sister!" I don't know any other way than just to start at the beginning.

12-3-15: The Pact
After my youngest was born, we thought we were completely done having children biologically. (We have always talked about fostering and adopting in our 30's.) Three kiddos at 21 and 23 years old, yeah, we were all but running through the doors for my tubal. And so on December 29, 2008 I, in my 23 year old confident self, had a tubal ligation. This decision has all but completely shattered me for the last four years. A very select group of my closest people, and of course my hubs, have known that for the last four years I have desperately wanted another baby, specifically another girl. The idea has been prayed over, researched, and analyzed entirely. I have looked at surrogates. I have researched IVF. I have talked with Bill about what could happen in an ectopic pregnancy. Seriously, every angle has been covered. About a year and a half ago, I finally decided to let it go, and let God do what He does. And of course, He did via my addiction- FB articles. Someone had posted Why I Can't Hold Your Baby, I read it, I cried, and totally agreed with her. Alice wrote from her and my heart-

"...as my body gets older and my biological clock ticks rapidly down to zero, when Mother Nature will forever slam that door shut for me, I don’t want it to be over. The thought of never having another baby placed in my arms, squalling and wet and new, of never looking into the blank page of possibilities that every newborn holds, of never meeting for the first time the tiny person that I’ve known forever…  It’s more than I can bear.

I will never again hear the first time a little one says “Mama” and know that they are calling ME. I will never again have a child softly pat my cheek as they nurse at my breast. I will never again have chubby arms reach for me as they take their first steps.

And I want it. I want it so very badly...  

So you see, I can’t hold your baby. I can’t smell her fresh newborn smell or feel the way her body molds to my body or watch her little fingers furl and unfurl as they reach toward me. I can’t feel her solid, grounding weight in my arms because it just might be too much. Her 7 pounds 10 ounces might just be enough to tip the precarious balance of my emotional scales. My weak and creaky knees might just crumble under her weight. 

So you hold her. And hold this moment that passes so quickly, because I just can’t."

For the last year and a half, I have refused to hold newborn babies. It stirs up those feelings of not being content and a severe heart-yearning. I won't say heartbreak, but a definite yearning. I have to admit, I think I have been pretty strong on this point, only breaking my rule I think once. 

2-19-16: The Glimmer
Going on 5 days of missed menstruation. I know that is blunt, but my cycle is pretty much clockwork y'all. 

You can imagine my surprise and hope and joy when I realized I was 5 days late. I immediately started seeing "signs and symptoms" of pregnancy. "Babe, do my boobs look bigger?" "Gah, I feel so nauseous." "My stomach feels like it has this little hard knot." 

2-24-16: The Possibility
10 days late, and my mind is running rampant with the possibility of a baby. Only my hubs and sister know this precious information. 

At this point, I have convinced myself, and worried my poor husband that this is a legit possibility. I sent my sister my baby names; I have to have proof that I picked them first and win the battle of the names! My mind was going crazy thinking about nursery colors, monogrammed blankies, and the best new baby gadgets. 

2-25-16: The Reality
Aunt Flow makes her appearance. I am alone and devastated.

Bill had left early the afternoon before to travel to Pensacola. The day went on fine, and then night came and the storms hit. The weather at home, and in Pensacola, was treacherous. Because of the storms, I couldn't reach Bill on the phone. I texted, I called; it was not going through. The older kiddos were already in bed, and I was alone. Outside it was ugly and in my heart was a raging storm to match. I cried red hot tears of anger. I yelled at God. "Why, why on earth would you let me get so wrapped up in this just to be so crushed?" I was so mad, I didn't even want to talk to God. I didn't want to hear His excuse as to why I couldn't just have this one thing. I turned on the weather channel. 

I was so out of it, I had missed the notice on my phone. Tornado in Pensacola.

Frantic and with a new purpose, I tried call Bill again. Finally, an answer. He was completely fine, totally oblivious to the fact that there even was a tornado. He had ended up staying about 15 minutes away, actually on Pensacola Beach -lucky dog. I yelled at him. "Why are you not answering? Don't you know there was a tornado? Where are you? Well, I hope you're having a grand 'ol time, cause I sure as heck am not." I lost it. I was crying and hung up. 

Thankfully, my husband knows me all too well. He waited what seemed to be forever, although it was only 10 minutes, and called me back. He comforted me. He consoled me. He prayed over me. 

"God I want to follow your will and I will do what you require of me. Please let me and my family thrive together. I am ready for your challenges ahead, whatever you choose..."

I heard the words, and cried some more. "Whatever you choose." 


2-28 through 3-4-16: The... 
I don't know what else to call this week.

As I said, our Pastor spoke on using our circumstances to encourage others, and God drove that home with me. I knew I wanted to share this hurt, but I didn't know exactly what to say. I didn't know how it would be received. I jotted down some notes. I put it away. I'd pray about it, and then nothing would come. So I waited.

3-5-16 to currently: The Anesthesia State
I had my wisdom teeth removed last Friday. Folks usually get one of three effects from sedation; loopiness, sadness, or tiredness. 

I was the crying one with a two hour trip home ahead of me. My phone was going crazy with texts after I got out. I checked them. Some were from folks checking on me- thank you guys, and some were from a close friend asking for prayer. My friend asked that I pray for a friend of hers. The friend had been trying to get pregnant only for it to end in miscarriage. I lost it. The drugs coupled with my own pain and the hurt I felt for someone I didn't even personally know, just brought everything crashing down. My poor honey, he said I was inconsolable. He had to get out of the car and call my friend and ask her to quit texting me. She didn't even know I was having surgery. I couldn't even respond to her because I was crying so hard. When I finally calmed down, I fell asleep. Most of this week has been in and out of a pain-daze. It wasn't until Wednesday that I finally started to feel better. 

I started feeling better, and God whispered to me, "You need to write. You need to let others know that they are not the only ones. Let me help heal you with your writing. Get it out."

So here I am, writing to you. Praying earnestly, knowing that God has got me, that you will let Him hold you also. To know that He has you. That through this, He will still carry you and me. 

"The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;

    he delivers them from all their troubles.

 The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The righteous person may have many troubles,

    but the Lord delivers him from them all" - Psalm 34:17-19

He loves us so. Be blessed my loves.