Perfect Imperfection

Today is mine and Steven's 4 year anniversary! Steven started the morning out with breakfast in bed. He had set his alarm early to run and get Chicken Mini's from Chick Fil A... mmm.. our favorite. I'm not much of a pancakes person, so I appreciated the idea of running to Chick. The morning continued with a disagreement about buying a new cell phone, followed by Steven knocking a glass full of iced tea off of the end table with his bag. It spilled onto the floor, blinds, and basket of blankets and shattered the glass. He did help pick up the big pieces before he had to go to work. And there it is, a picture of a typical morning in the life of Steven and Kristie. Our marriage isn't perfect. We don't always see eye to eye. We have to work on communication and sometimes the special anniversary morning isn't like it is in the movies. (I for one have never waken up with perfect makeup, unfrazzled hair, or pleasant morning breath). But that's our marriage and I wouldn't change it for anything. If things were perfect, we wouldn't need each other. There'd be no need in my life for another person to encourage and strengthen me, to hold me up and push me on. I am complete in Christ alone, but complimented more perfectly by my husband than any other human could. Our marriage is imperfect, and to me that's perfect.

Steven, thank you for four incredible years of intense love, endless laughter, and unwavering faithfulness! I hope we have 50 more! I love you sweetheart!

Ready

I think I’m finally ready to share. Get comfy, this one’s long.
Awhile back Randal did a sermon series at church called “Shattered Dreams”. He had everyone write on a post-it a time when your life was changed by a dream being shattered. I sat and sat, racking my brain for something substantial- I had nothing. GRATEFULLY! Steven and I talked about how blessed we were that neither one of us had any tragedy to list. How blessed we’ve been!

If that sermon series were this week, we’d have something to write.

Earlier this year Steven and I decided we were ready (as ready as you can be) to start trying to have a baby. Our plan was to get pregnant in the Spring and have a baby in the late winter- perfect for a teacher’s schedule. OF COURSE we acknowledged that God might have other plans (as we were told by many people), but that was plan A. So in March we started “trying”.
April 17 was the day in my head that I would wait for to take a test. I barely made it. Steven and I had gone to the grocery store and I picked up a test. I put some groceries away and ran to the bathroom. Honestly, I was not expecting anything. I had used one of those digital tests and almost immediately the word “pregnant” appeared in the little window. “WHAT?!” was my first word.. make that first 5 words in different intonations each time. I could hear Steven on the phone, so I yelled for him to get off and come here! He ran to the bathroom thinking I was hurt when I shoved the test in his face. “WHAT?” was his response too. Funny. He told me to go back to the store and get another test b/c he didn’t trust “those store tests” or something like that. Two more tests later, we had accepted it a little more- we were having a baby!

Those next couple of days were crazy, confusing, neurotic, exciting and fearful all at the same time. We were so excited to tell all of our family and friends. I even went to the local Burleson Family Medical Center to have a doctor tell me I was really pregnant. Steven and I spent hours on the internet reading about the do’s and don’ts, tips and guidelines, and lists and lists of baby names. Our home, hearts, and lives were immediately changed forever.

I bought a journal that week with the intentions of documenting every thought, plan, feeling, fear, and emotion. It turned into a series of letters. Letters to my “Sweet Baby” and signed “Love, Mommy”. Each letter contained my new ideas and hopes and prayers. I wrote about the fears I had, about wanting to do everything right to keep it safe. I wrote about what I did that day, who I told, funny things I’d thought. I wrote about the fact that my class at school found out by overhearing another teacher talking to me about it. A little girl named Rachel in my class told me, “Mrs. Lentz, when yous has yur baby, you should name hur Sally.” I told my kids that I hadn’t planned on telling them because sometimes “they just don’t make it”- something I didn’t believe for myself. I wrote it all to my Sweet Baby.

A friend gave me three boxes of baby clothes she wanted me to have. Really cute little clothes that I must have sorted through and refolded three times. So tiny! We got a baby bath, one little sample diaper, some cute burp rags from my mom, and a few “congratulations”cards. The room in the front of the house was designated as the baby’s room. I imagined myself opening the door in the morning and greeting a little angel laying there in the crib. A sweet space in our home was already filling up with the promises of a little life.

I acted completely neurotic and ridiculous -according to some other moms who had that “oh, you’re just new to this” look. A look I’ll go ahead and say I don’t appreciate very much. I was completely excited and consumed by the thought of being someone’s mommy. I faithfully took my prenatal vitamins, gave up soda and caffeine completely, and started eating healthier in efforts to do all that I could to protect my little growing bean. I didn’t lift anything over 15 lbs. I rested more each day. I talked to it! Every time I went over a big bump in the car, I’d say, “Hang on in there!” Each morning my eyes teared up as I looked at myself in the mirror in a new way- I was someone’s mommy! I prayed and prayed and prayed each day that God would help our little one to grow strong and healthy each day.

Somewhere along the way fear began to creep in. I guess…no I don’t guess.. It was a fear that something would go wrong. That it might not be healthy. Until the first appointment, you basically have to just assume each day that you are pregnant and everything is ok. I don’t like that feeling. I prayed against it and searched His Word for something to calm my fears. I found this in Luke, “How blessed is this woman for believing that was spoken to her by the Lord would be fulfilled.” I clung to this. I mean I held on to this like I’ve never held on to a scripture before. I had to believe that God had put the desire to be a mother in my heart and that he would fulfill that promise.

We didn’t make it to my 8 week appointment. At 2:30 on April 29th we lost our baby. I started bleeding at work and left to go straight to pick up Steven and head to the doctor. We had to sit in the waiting room, in the very process of losing our baby while watching pregnant mommies and mommies with their new babies sit happily- cluelessly. They did an ultrasound and I gripped Steven’s hand, begging God for a miracle- let everything be ok. There was no baby on the screen. No little sac clinging to the wall of my uterus. To make it worse, the room next door must have had their sonogram machine turned up full blast b/c all we could hear booming through the walls was the sound of a rapid little heartbeat. We were sent home with appointments for blood work in the following days. Miscarriage. I don't like that word.

The pain I felt at that moment was the absolute worst of my life. Once we got in the car I completely lost it. I wanted to scream at God! Give it back! This isn’t happening. I can’t do this. I don’t want to. Someone help me. Not our baby.

We made it home. Home where we had cards, little gifts, and a tiny plain white onesie I kept out just because it was so stinkin cute. I went to bed while Steven started removing all the “stuff” and putting it all in a closet. How do people do this? How do you lose someone and move on? Grief and loss were completely new to me.

“..and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding…” you know the rest (and if you don’t, I can share it with you). This held new meaning for me. Yes, I was- and still am- confused, angry, brokenhearted, but the feeling of peace that Steven and I felt almost immediately truly did surpass all understanding. The resounding thought in my head was that God was saving us from a deeper pain. Saving our little one from a deeper pain. Things didn’t fall into place. The little cells didn’t come together quite right. God was in control and somehow we felt that in this He was taking care of us and our little one. He never said he would work things out for our comfort or happiness, but for our good. We are trusting in that. Holding fast to that.

That week was the worst and sweetest time of my life. We lost our baby. But in the midst, the outpouring of love from friends and family was overwhelming. We truly felt the prayers of our loved ones holding us up and encouraging us. Thank you to those of you who grieved with us, cried with us, and continue to hope with us.

It was sweet for Steven and I as well. We cried together and held each other more desperately than any other time in our marriage. I made sure he knew that this wasn’t just happening to me. His dream of being a daddy was lost too. A whole life and future and series of dreams had been shattered. My heart broke for him.

It was only 6 weeks, but we loved it so much already. All we have now is a closet full of stuff too painful to look at, traces of baby name searches on my Google task bar, and a more than half empty journal in my nightstand. I did write one last letter to say goodbye. Maybe I’ll be able to share that someday.

“How blessed is this woman for believing that was spoken to her by the Lord would be fulfilled.” I haven’t given up on this. The Lord has placed in my heart the desire to be a mother and I have to continue to believe that just because it wasn't fulfilled this time doesn’t mean it won’t happen later. I have to trust. Trusting in Him has taken on a whole new meaning and is transforming my heart.

There’s more to this story. More to share and get out. For now I’m tired of typing and I’m sure this is too much to read. I’ll save the rest for another day.

Thanks for listening,
~Kristie

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I'm having one of those days. So much to do, overwhelmed, underwhelmed, feeling lazy... just want to lay in bed all day kind of days. My to do's today:
-laundry x3
-put dishes away
-clean out the "junk room" (I've heard some people do junk drawers... hmmm)
-groceries
-post office
-Beth Moore study (not a casual thing as some of you know)
-Dex needs a bath and a good brushing- the dog hair is out of control
-I need a bath
-paint bookshelf
-start looking at school stuff
-pack for weekend trip to Abilene w/ my parents
-cook lunch
-exercise
-get pictures off camera

I'm very juvenile and possessive of my summers. I want to be laying in a pool or under a tree reading a good book, not worrying about all that other stuff. I want to spend all day painting, napping on and off, and taking it easy b/c in just a few short weeks the chaos of my life will multiply times ten and I'll be dreaming of lazy summer days. So instead of seizing the day and doing some things I want or need to do, I waste my time blogging about being a brat and checking my email a zillion times. I hope other people are like this. Ok, I'm getting up. I'm going to be productive. I'm turning on the shower.... well maybe in a little bit.

Whew!

The summer is slipping by! We've been pretty busy and not able to post. Now the amount of events and pictures to share is overwhelming... where to start....
Two weekends ago I went to Nashville with some teachers for a conference. I had never been, so I was pretty excited despite the fact that it was work. I decided -unintentionallly- to start off the trip with a bang at the airport (Yikes, I'm not sure you can actually say "bang" and "airport" in the same sentence...). Going through security I noticed my bag being backed up through the machine again and then the guy asked me if it was mine. I said it was and then he asked me if I had brought a knife. I'm sure the look on my face on that moment was what saved me from being labeled a terrorist (not that I'm sure I look like one otherwise, but you get the point). I told him no way, and he replied with a kind of laugh, "Oh yeah you did, you brought like a steak knife or something." I couldn't believe it when he pulled out a huge steak knife! There are no words to describe what an idiot I felt like. It was a knife I used at school in my classroom- on fruit, etc.- not on the kids ya jerks, I knew what you were thinking. Anyway, they were really cool about it and just sent me on. Needless to say, for the rest of the trip my coworkers nicknamed me "Blade". Nice.
The rest of my trip was good. We stayed at the Gaylord Opry Land Hotel, which is incredible and overwhelming and confusing as heck. I had to use a map or ask for directions to navigate my way around that place. We learned a little, refreshed a lot, and I got to know the other teachers much better... maybe some too much better.. ;). I had my first pulled pork sandwich and saw the Grand Ole Opry. It was fun to see, but not all I expected Nashville to be. Here are some pics of my trip.








mmmm...my sandwich
Inside the Gaylord

... and this isn't even half of the place!
This is Divine. Her hands and feet are both on stilts and she "stalks" around hiding in the greenery, then she creeps out. You could walk right by her and not know she's there! Creepy!








Last weekend we went to visit Steven's parents and help them paint the living room. We had a nice visit and the room looks great. Then on Sunday there was a swim party at the Tigners'. Good barbeque, water balloons being launched at my husband, and grown men doing cannonballs and making a whirlpool... you don't get much better than that! I had some awesome pictures of the guys suspended in air right before their can opener or belly flop, but I somehow lost them in the transfer from camera to computer... very sad. We'll just have to do it again!

How cute is he?!
This is a horribly unattractive picture of my husband, but somehow I know he'll love it!