How to Let Go of the Pain

August 12, 2015 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 4 Comments

Usually the weeks and months after I give birth, I am so happy! I love caring for a newborn, nursing, snuggling, and looking into that precious little face. That face contains all of the wonders of the world, and I bask in the glory of it. Even in the midst of sleep deprivation, I feel the bliss of motherhood. This time I experienced something unusual for me. Amazing joy and deep sadness side by side. Sometimes in those rare moments of peace and quiet while nursing Annalise, I would begin to cry. I was so happy about my little girl, yet so sad about how she had to come into the world. The sorrowful thoughts kept coming, even though my life was so good. I had seen many women go through a C-section with strength and grace and never complain. Why was I having such a hard time?

My recovery was much slower than with my natural births. When I returned home from the hospital, I couldn’t walk and hold my baby at the same time. I would sleep any spare moment of the day and night and still feel dog tired. Yet that was not why I was so sad.

During the difficult days of pregnancy, I would envision my lovely birth and the ecstasy that would follow. That birth would make all the suffering worthwhile. Yet this C-section birth had not produced that bliss. In fact, as soon as Annalise was born and whisked away to the recovery room, I was left alone with a hollow feeling that went deep into my heart. To read the whole birth story read, “The Heartbreak and Joy of having a C-section.”

Having to give up my dream of a beautiful, natural homebirth had challenged many things that I had held to be true. It had shaken my faith in what I thought about life, what I thought about God, what I thought about my own body. It had challenged my ability to hear God’s voice. I thought that God had told me that natural, easy labor was my inheritance as his daughter, yet mysteriously I was denied access this time. I couldn’t figure out why. Scriptures God had given me during my pregnancy told me not to fear disaster. To me, having a C-section was a disaster. God didn’t design my body to give birth through an incision in my abdomen. If this thing could happen to me, this disaster that I couldn’t control or predict; what else would God allow to come into my life? What other catastrophic events were on their way? Maybe something could happen to steal the health and life of my precious baby. If I had so misinterpreted God’s voice concerning this birth, how could I ever be sure of hearing him again?

These thoughts are similar to the thoughts that any person has after a trauma, whether it is small or life altering. It occurred to me that this is a small part of what causes post-traumatic stress syndrome. A person lives through events that destroy their assumption that life is good, safe, enjoyable, and fair. They have to come to faith all over again. They have to find their way back into the arms of a loving father. It is a tragedy that once the horrible events are over and they are truly safe, they may never feel safe again.

I have lived through many such traumas. They don’t seem like much compared to what other people have had to endure, but they were earth shattering to me at the time. Each time I had to seek God again for the truth that would set me free and the love that would cast out my fear. Each time God would draw so near to my broken heart and bring healing. I would love to share what he has taught me, using my recent C-section as an example.

Pain demands to be felt. Don’t shove it down or pretend it isn’t real. Don’t deny it because you think you should be strong enough to be happy in all circumstances. Suppressed emotions always surface in one way or another. Feel what you feel. Grieving is an important step to healing. God is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Revel in his closeness through your nights of sorrow.

Don’t stay in your pain forever! What caused your pain may be the reality you are living in right now. Seek God for a higher reality, a reality that goes beyond what you can see. A reality that is forever.

My body was scarred and bruised from a surgery I had done everything to avoid. God had not answered my prayers for him to move my placenta out of the way. I felt betrayed. I had offered him my body as a living sacrifice, and I thought he would protect me from this.

I thought about my God, and realized that he could never betray me. It goes against his loving nature. Jesus was betrayed, yet he would never betray. He was scarred and bruised for my sake. He had proven his love for me. He COULD NOT EVER betray me. If he didn’t answer my prayers, it was because he had something better in mind. He would bring good out of this situation, even if I couldn’t see it.

Ask Jesus to show you where he was and what he was doing before, during, and after the traumatic event. Read through your journal entries during that time or look at pictures taken during that time and ask Jesus to speak to you about them.

I read through my journal that I kept during Annalise’s pregnancy. I saw God calming my fears again and again, promising to protect the life of my child. He did that when I had spotting around week 15. He did that when I was having signs of preterm labor around week 34. He did that when the marginal placenta was diagnosed at 38 weeks. My little girl was safe in his hands the entire time. He told me not to FEAR disaster, not that a “disaster” would never happen. He was simply telling me that there was no disaster that I needed to fear because he was with me.

I also had a dream toward the end of the pregnancy. Annalise came out through my belly and she looked up at me with ice blue eyes. She was a serene as could be. This dream turned out to be very accurate. God had been preparing me.

Talk about it with trusted friends. Many times they can see things with a clarity that isn’t clouded by overpowering emotions.

A week after Annalise was born; I was able to attend a birthday dinner for a friend. During the meal, I confided to the ladies that I still felt sad about the C-section. I was sharing about how I love to minister to other pregnant women, to pray for them and give them peace and confidence about labor. Now I wasn’t confident about anything anymore.

One of the women said, “Do you think you have more empathy now for women who have had a C-section?”

I most certainly did! She continued to say, “There are so many women out there who are feeling inadequate about some part of their mothering. Perhaps they couldn’t give birth naturally; perhaps they were unable to nurse. You are able to understand and minister to them.”

“Yes,” another friend chimed in, “God has just extended your authority.”

I had never thought about it that way, but it was really true. There was meaning to my suffering.

Another friend sent me a text before the procedure, because she knew I was very distraught. She said that God was increasing my trust in him. That has been true as well! I trust him more because he brought Annalise and I through beautifully. If a circumstance brings me closer to God, then it was worth it!

Give Jesus the pain and receive his joy in return. He gives us the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. He already carried the weight of all of our pain. Let him carry your pain right now and every day. (If it was another person who caused the pain; forgive, forgive, forgive.)

I kept giving him my sorrow, every time it resurfaced, even if I didn’t totally understand why I was feeling so sad. It became less and less. He already carried the weight of my pain so there was no reason for me to try and carry it. One of my favorite songs remind me to “Turn my eyes Upon Jesus.”

Take care of your body. Your body, soul, and spirit are so interconnected; one affects the other. Eat good food. Take probiotics. Get some exercise.

Once Annalise and I were both able to sleep through the night, it was amazing how much better the whole world looked to me! For help with that, read “How to Help Your Baby Sleep Through the Night.”

Thank God for everything you can think of, every morning, every evening, every day, now and forever. When you realize all he has given you, all he has already done for you; gratitude begins to eclipse the sorrow. Fill your mind with all the good things, and the disappointment doesn’t have room.

When I shared with my friends and family that I was going to have a C-section, I was overwhelmed by all the love and support and prayers I received. I would think of each person and feel so thankful for their love.

My homebirth midwives spent 7 hours at the hospital with me even though they couldn’t attend the birth.

My mother-in-law drove all the way from Florida to help.

My mom was so excited about the new little girl and brought me a rose and blueberries in the hospital.

My other children were amazing and took care of each other at home.

My husband Chris was a hero in the hospital. After the surgery, I felt uglier, weaker, and more pitiful than I ever had before. Yet I never felt more cherished! My husband tenderly helped me to walk, to go to the bathroom, to take a shower. He slept on that horrible hospital chair night after night and never complained about a thing!

Annalise has been one of my easiest, happiest babies. She is worth any pain I had to endure. Now when I see my scar, I don’t think about my disappointment. I think about my little bitty pretty one and I am so THANKFUL that she is here!

Looking back over my life, I can say that the worst of times were always transformed into the best of times because of God’s voice. When I am desperate, God always meets me and shows me his love. He always speaks words that impact me deeply. His words and his close presence during my times of sorrow have changed the way I see the world for the better. They have shaped the person I am today. Even though I still have to walk through hard times, I know that amazing joy is waiting for me on the other side. And I know that the journey is worth it!

The Golden Days of Summer

August 6, 2014 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / Leave a comment

Ah, those glorious days of summer, kissed by the golden sun!

I was sitting on the back steps under the sunflowers. My children were running barefoot in the green grass. I wanted to drink it all in and not miss a thing. Summer won’t be around much longer. The sunflowers only last for a few weeks.

We will never be exactly the same as we are right now. My children are growing taller and getting smarter every minute. Soon the toddler will be a little boy and the little boy will be a young man. As I watch my children playing in the summer twilight, I think back to the summers gone by, memories now faded and misty with time.

The absolute glory of the end of school. The days suddenly full of free time, balancing between excitement and boredom.

Discovering new things.

Riding bikes.

Playing in the cool creek water. Catching fireflies that turn the dark into a magical fairy land.

Picnics outside.

Birthday Parties.

Fun and laughter.

Get-together with friends.

Now I am grown, and my friends are grown, and we have children of our own.

We still feel like we are teenagers. Full of fun and adventure. Youthful and energetic (at least during the first half of the day)! Still trying to figure out what we want to be when we grow up.

Yet we see that some of our babies have become teenagers.

Mature and responsible. Standing on tiptoe to peak out over the horizon to catch glimpses of adulthood. We realize that we are teenagers no longer. We are adults barreling down the road of life to middle age.

And look at the fruit our lives have produced!

Nineteen children who play in the golden days of summer.

Soon these days, now crisp and sharp, will fade into memories. School will start again. The air will become cool. The leaves will change.

But God’s goodness is unchanging, unwavering. We can savor every drop of summer while we look forward to the glories of autumn.

The radiators turning on for the first time. The nippy air, permeated with the smell of wood smoke. Children romping in the leaves. We can treasure the past, revel in the present, and joyfully anticipate the future. We are pursuing God and dwelling in His love, day in and day out. We are going from glory to glory, going from good times to even better times. We are confident in the promise that these golden days of summer will come around again.

Before we know it, a summer will come when children will go off to college. Someday some of them will get married in the summer…perhaps to each other! We may be gathering as childhood friends turned into family, watching our grandchildren playing barefoot in the grass. And we will be different too. Our hearts will be stretched and expanded to contain more love…more of the goodness of God…more golden days of summer.

I Love My Tribe

July 14, 2014 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 4 Comments

The music washes over me. It is not just melody and rhythm…it is the very atmosphere of heaven. The lights are bright, the stage is full of musicians, and I am surrounded by my tribe. Almost every Sunday morning I find myself here, in the sanctuary of Life Center and saturated with the swirling presence of God and humanity. There are so many worship leaders that share the stage, so many musicians that rotate from week to week. They are full of talent and resurrection life, and I love them all! They have birthed an abundance of CDs out of the overflow of their lives of praise.

I watch the senior pastors in the front row, boppin’ to the rockin’ music. They are in their sixties, but they enjoy the youthful expression and energy as much as anyone. They actually lead the rest of us in radical, “out of the box” thinking! They have served this church for over twenty years, and I love them! I see one of the younger worship leaders, passionately singing a song that he wrote; and I think about how I used to babysit him when he was a boy. I look over and see his parents in the front row, beloved pastors who raised me in the youth group; still loving, still serving, still standing for all that is true.

Some folks are out of their seats, dancing. Some are swaying to the music. Others are sitting with their eyes closed. Others are kneeling on the floor. My teenage daughter is up front, worshipping with her friends. I observe many gray heads in the crowd, faces lined with wisdom and love. I see parents holding their little ones. I see children twirling scarves and prancing on bare feet. Life is always bursting forth at Life Center. There are more pregnant women than I can keep track of, and I love them all! I long to be able to tell each one of them how gorgeous they are and how precious they are to God, carrying His little children of promise!

I notice women running to each other in joyful reunions, laughing and hugging. I see people spontaneously begin to pray for the person next to them, passion and concern on their faces. I see others exchanging gifts or notes.

It is time for the offering and one of the “newer” pastors takes the microphone. He and his family have become so precious to me. Every time I see him take the stage, I am alert with anticipation. I know that some stunning revelation will spill from his lips that will rock the way I see the world.

The music subsides and there are announcements of births and deaths; family business that herald joy and tears all at the same time. How we each know that thrill and that pain, and how we each long to share those with our brothers and sisters. I walk to the back of the sanctuary during the meet and greet time, and I am enveloped in a warm and healing hug by a beautiful black mama.

“Look at you! You’re beautiful! Just beautiful!” she always says to me with her eyes shining and her amazing, white smile blazing. She is the beauty! I wish I could describe the indescribable, how dark and lovely she is…but her beauty is so deep and so true, I am at a loss for words.

It is time for the message and another pastor comes up. He and his wife are treasures to me, having led countless youth events, missions trips and prayer times that I was apart of. We have even lived with them a couple of times. Some folks in the crowd are a little confused because he talks too fast, as though he has 4 hours worth of revelation to impart in 45 minutes. Chris and I are fluent in “speed talk” since we grew up under his tutelage, and we just chuckle to ourselves. In his message, he talks about a mission trip that he led 20 years ago. I was part of that trip, and how I cherish those memories!

After the service, I hug my dear and longtime friends. I greet friends I grew up with and friends who were in my wedding. I talk with my children’s pastor, who I went to school with. I see more recent friends, who have quickly taken residence in my heart. I identify new acquaintances as well. I notice many fresh faces and hope to call them my friends someday too. So many personalities, so many gifts, so many stories, so many ways that God reveals Himself to me; represented by these precious people.

“I love my tribe!” I always think to myself on a Sunday morning. The love wells up within me, along with pride. I love my tribe! There are children of God all over this earth, in different denominations, different countries, varying cultures and traditions. But I am so glad that my boundary lines have fallen here, at Life Center. I started coming to this church in 1989, when it was meeting in the old casket factory. My husband Chris started coming earlier than that, in 1985. We left for a time and moved to Colorado Springs. In the eight years we were there, we couldn’t put our roots down, no matter how hard we tried. Now we are back in our promised land, surrounded by family. How good it feels to watch our family tree grow tall and strong with a wide trunk and thick bark, an oak of righteousness, a planting for the display of His splendor.

How glorious it feels to let our roots descend into the rich and fertile soil of Central Pennsylvania! How refreshing to drink the deep, deep waters. How thirsty we had been for those waters!

There are wonderful people of God all over the world, but this family is mine…my clan…my tribe. I am so glad! How I love my tribe!

Oh, the Love of a Sibling!

July 12, 2014 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 6 Comments

It is such a gift to have siblings…lots of them! My firstborn was a girl, Areli. When she was 18 months, our second child, Cole, arrived. Areli took to him right away. She couldn’t say, “baby” but she could say “boo-boo.” Boo-Boo became his name for the next two years. Areli and Cole cannot remember life without each other or “our chuthers” as they used to say. They were always best friends, like peas and carrots. They still are.

Two years after Cole, Cadin came along. They were a happy trio, getting into trouble and playing pretend. Cadin was always his own person, however, having different tastes than his older brother.

Ashlyn was born 18 months later. Her development was very delayed because of a chromosomal abnormality. She didn’t crawl for a long time and didn’t sit up until she was almost two years old. She didn’t begin to stand and walk until she was nine. Her world until that time was on the floor. God provided three little boys to take turns sharing the floor with her. Chai was born when she was 18 months, Cooper two years later, and Calvin two years after that. Oh the fun fellowship they shared, exploring every inch of the space underneath things and “cleaning up” any crumbs that fell there.

Cooper and Calvin have a special bond because they share a room and a bunk bed. They are now 7 and 5, and they are hyper, little balls of energy. We call them C&C Music Factory. If I want a peaceful outing to the store, I must only take one of them along.

My children love each other! They never lack a friend to play with. It is true that sometimes they express hatred rather than love, hurting the other just for the sheer enjoyment of it and denying that they are related at all. But I know that when the immaturity of this season passes, they will be deep and earnest friends for the whole of their lives.

Each new baby was welcomed with such excitement and enthusiasm that we had to protect the vulnerable little thing from being loved on too much. It was so sweet to see a normally wild boy get quiet and still when it was his turn to hold the baby.

Areli was always a natural mother. She got to be present at the birth of four of her little brothers. She was enchanted with it all. Childbirth can be intense at times, but witnessing it only seemed to increase her love for babies and her desire to be a mom someday. When Calvin outgrew the newborn, eat every few hours at night stage, he slept in a crib in Areli’s room. She was so happy to have him there. She would change him and clothe him and snuggle with him. She would even comfort him if he cried during the night and she wouldn’t tell me about it until the morning. A sister like that is worth more that her weight in gold!

Calvin turned two, and no new baby arrived. Cooper, age 4 at this time, began talking to me about the fact that we really needed a baby. I told him to pray about it. He did! After a few more months had pasted, Cooper came to me exasperated.

“I prayed for a baby, but I don’t think God heard me! We don’t have a baby yet!”

I encouraged him to keep praying and that God knows the perfect time for everything. More prayer seemed to increase Cooper’s vision. Soon he was reporting to me that God had 10 babies for us, 5 boys and 5 girls! They were up in heaven, just waiting for God to send them down.

This seemed rather far fetched, so Daddy told him, “Perhaps you are talking about the children that you will have someday when you get married!” Cooper didn’t seem so sure.

Not long after that, Chris and I announced to the children that I indeed had another baby in my belly. Cheers erupted! They all wanted another baby to hold and snuggle and change and dress. They were all so excited, none more than Cooper.

“I hope it’s a boy!” he announced.

Since we already had 5 boys, the rest of us thought a girl would be nice. An ultrasound revealed that the baby was indeed….another boy! Cooper was overjoyed!

“Now we only need four more boys, and 5 more girls!”

I have always encouraged my children to pray to God and listen to His voice. Cooper had always been great at this, possessing that child-like faith in great measure. I didn’t want to tell him that he was not hearing God’s voice, because how did I know? In my own walk with God, His words were usually somewhat surprising to me when they came, interrupting my own thought with an altogether different message. I have found that His thoughts are truly not like our thoughts; that His ways are not like our ways. He is constantly trying to get us out of that box (or cage), encouraging us to jump off of that cliff, and teaching us to fly with Him above the logical and obvious.

So Cooper’s ambitious vision for brothers and sisters does seem like impossibility, considering my diminishing fertile years. We had seriously looked into adoption a few years back, but right now, that seems impossible as well. How do I feel about the fact that Cooper thinks I should give birth 9 more times, or have triplets 3 times, or have two more babies and adopt seven, or any number of other scenarios?

I know that God knows what He is doing and His ways are mysterious beyond my comprehension but far better than what I could ever imagine!

So I just say, “Keep praying Cooper…keep praying! You never know what God might do…for the love of a sibling!”