Or maybe not like that at all.

You all know the story from last February through April. If not and you want to catch up, go here, then here, then here, then here. Then come back here. We’ll wait.

So, five months later and all I still think about is:

• I should be incredibly fat right now (legal twin pregnancy fat not the obsessing about chocolate chip cookies sans nuts, fat).
• What our life would have been like with two little ones.
• Am I gonna run into one of the adorable pregnant girls at church on Sunday and can I keep it together if I do?
• When does the statute of limitations run out on feeling like crap?

and as much as I know that there is no answer and God is in control,

• Why?

I think the biggest disappointment is that I’m 42, gonna be 43 real soon. That was my last real chance at more kids of my own. Before anyone comments that there is still time, that their sister-in-law had three kids after 45 years old…, it is not a matter of not being able to get pregnant, it is the problem I have staying pregnant. Not a risk I am willing to take. We’re talking adoption. We’ll see.

I haven’t blogged much since most of my time has been spent feeling sorry for myself, and I just couldn’t fit blogging into that tight schedule. But I think I need to get back to writing. I have some funny blog posts that have been piling up in my head such as: why I am so freaked out and disturbed by our male dogs humping each other, my daughter asking me if her teacher was a drug addict when she saw her smoking in her car during red ribbon week and why I believe my bangs are the source of all my powers. Good stuff, right?

My plan is to stay the course. Give it over to God every stinking day. See what the adoption option brings us and move forward as best I can.

So, I guess I’m okay-okayish.

My Gracie.

The many moods of Indy:

Obedient.

Wandering.

Melancholy.

Racy.

I’ve had some time on my hands lately. Between rounds of Bejeweled and waiting on God, I’ve been taking pictures of my favorite muse. Well, one of my three favorites.

Handsome.

Rugged.

Contemplative.

The many faces of Danny Z. Not a bad way to kill some time if you ask me. He’s a hottie.

]]> http://www.argyleandapricots.com/site/?feed=rss2&p=2827 5 http://www.argyleandapricots.com/site/?p=2827 http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ArgyleApricots/~3/X-DZUoibPCE/ http://www.argyleandapricots.com/site/?p=2791#comments Mon, 18 Apr 2011 21:40:26 +0000 Lori Zimbardi http://www.argyleandapricots.com/?p=2791 As our flight from Grand Cayman to Atlanta took off, my usual flight ritual of praying for a safe flight, a sober pilot (perhaps an air traffic controller that was not napping), a little confession-just in case, and wondering how on earth the electronic headache reliever/massager made it into Skymall, didn’t take place like it usually does.

My only thought as we ascending into the clouds was, “I’m leaving my babies.”

I knew their souls were in heaven and, at that moment, Jesus was holding them close to Him, but I was overwhelmed with the grief that I had left them behind. I wondered if they were sitting in a bio-hazard trash can or headed to the incinerator and if they were, the realization that there was nothing I could do about it.

It was surreal that, also at that very moment, we were supposed to be on a Celebrity Cruise ship headed back to Miami after a fun filled 4 days and 5 nights in the Caribbean. A cruise ship that had our friends and their kids on it.  A cruise that was not only a family vacation, but my 10th Wedding Anninversary celebration, plus an amazing creativity conference thrown in for inspiration.

It was not supposed to be the place where I miscarried the twins, was forced to disembark said cruise ship, made to undergo a surgery like procedure by Cayman doctors, left alone in a hospital room all night (they wouldnt let Danny stay) and then finally realeased with a ”fit to fly document”, a slew of pills, a belly that still looked pregant and directions to the airport to make our own way home.  It is pretty unreal to be standed in a foreign country with doctors in control of your sea or air worthy destiny.

From the top:

We boarded the cruise ship on a Saturday for a 5 night adventure to Jamaica and Grand Cayman. We spent Sunday on the ship at sea and ported on Monday for a day in Jamaica. It was awesome. I was almost 12 week pregnant so I watched Danny and our friends converse with the locals,

swim with dolphins,

and climb an amazing waterfall.

We spent a tiny bit of time in town having lunch before we boarded the ship for the next leg to Grand Cayman which would port on Tuesday morning.  Then after a day of snorkling and exploring, spend another day at sea before docking back in Miami.

I was tired after the day in Jamaica but not exhausted and really, other than a headache, I felt fine. I took a nap as the ship left Jamaica and I woke an hour later, or so, feeling only the urge to pee. I went to the ladies room, which was an hourly pregnancy occurance, but this time I knew something was wrong. Danny was out on the ship while I napped, so I frantically went to find our friends who were in the cabin next door. The guys headed out to find Danny and I was rushed to the medical center on board. They determined that I needed to be seen the next morning by doctors in Grand Cayman so Danny and I went back to our cabin and waited. We prayed and our friends prayed and our friend’s kids prayed.

I begged God not to allow these babies to leave me. I prayed that they would be protected and I would be healed. Danny read the Bible that night and I pleaded with God for a miracle. That if they were gone, He would raise them like Lazarus or the young girl in Mark 5:25 who Jesus told the parents, who thought their daughter was dead, not to weep because their daughter was just sleeping or just prior to that in Mark 5:21 to heal me like the lady who had had “womanly issues” for 12 years who Jesus healed when she touched his robe and said to her “My daughter, your faith has healed you; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

I wanted so badly for God to pick me to heal. I was His daughter. I have incredible faith. I begged God to allow my story be the story of miraculous healing. I wanted my belief and faith to make me and the twins well. I had already lost 2 babies, it would be a great testament to God’s mercy and love if only…

He didn’t pick me. Well, he did but just not to be the earthy Mom of the twins. I know he has picked me for so much more but this is about the babies so…

We went in for an ultrasound at the hospital in G.C. and there they were. A perfect image of both babies still in my womb. They were so much bigger than my pervious ultrasound.  I had incredible hope. I thought I had lost them on the ship. I’m not gonna get graphic here-so I hope you know what I mean by “lost them.”  But I hadn’t, there they were on the screen. A sac on the left and one on the right. Their heads were big and they had arms and legs. My hope and relief turned to fear when I asked the technician if they were okay. They looked fine, but she would not answer when I asked if they had heartbeats. I thought maybe she didnt hear me, so I said again “Do you see a heartbeat.”

No answer. There weren’t any heartbeats. They were gone but still inside me. I was devastated but we had some medical business-dilemmas to take care of.

Dilemma #1- I couldn’t get back on the ship, which was leaving in 6 hours, until they knew that the babies were out. Without another miracle, that was not going to happen.

Dilemma #2 – my body was not making it clear that it was going to happen naturally anytime soon and it was clear God was allowing me to go through this for an unclear, as of yet, reason.

Dilemma #3 – the only solution was either a D & C (which I did not want) which would keep me in G.C. at least one additional day or stay in the hospital indefinately until it happened on it’s own which, by the way, the doctors would not allow-nor would our bank account.

Long story short- I had the D&C. We stayed in G.C. one additonal day and flew directly to Atanta to pick up Gracie who was staying with family then home to reunite with Perryann and begin to deal with our new reality.

What I am dealing with: 1. Losing our twins which has been one of the most painful physically, emotionally and spiritually events in my life. 2. Anger that God did not pick me, in this instance, to save and heal the babies. 3. My new reality that has me still, seeking God and waiting for him to reveal my Plan C-in His time.

What I know:  1. I will heal. 2. I will never know why my last four children are in Heaven and not here with me. 3. I WILL see them again. 4. That I have two outrageously amazing daughters that need their Mom here and present in their lives 5. A husband that loves me, takes care of me and is hurting with me. 6. The most amazing family, church family and friends that care and are walking through this with us. 7. Anger is okay, at times, as long as it does not become who I am and allows me to seek God more.

And most importantly:  8. I still have faith and I still believe in a God that is good and knows what is best for me.

As I looked out into the clouds while our plane was taking off I did have a moment of comfort. I knew the twins were in Heaven and I know I heard God tell me that they were with Him and not discarded in Grand Cayman. That they were fine and waiting for me. Then I felt their love for me-for just an instant. I passed Danny a note on a beverage napkin because I could not speak (I have no idea what I actually wrote) but I know it stated that I knew where the babies were. I knew God was taking care of them and that He allowed me to feel for a moment the peace they were experiencing.

February 22nd was my last post. I hadn’t realized that it had been that long since I had blogged but I had good reason.

Morning Sickness.

For the past 6 weeks, I could not think clearly or focus on small words and even the light of the computer made me want to puke. I wasn’t walk away, just taking yet another blog sabbatical… at least until I was a little farther long.

I found out a couple of weeks after my last post that I was pregnant with TWINS-which explained my intense morning sickness that pretty much lasted all day and night.  I didn’t matter that I was sick or that I was temporarily abandoning my blog, I was pregnant with twins! And we were all extremely excited.

Perryann loves her sister Gracie and was excited about more siblings. Gracie was Over. The. Moon. about having two new babies in the house. She voted on Charlie and Abbie for the names because she was sure it was a boy and a girl. We did not give my belly official names since I had two previous miscarriages in which we named my belly. Bob was the first in 2005. After we lost Bob and I got pregnant again in 2006, the belly was named Rocco. It was tough once we lost them to have had such a strong connection to them via belly identity, so we vowed to leave my belly anonymous in any future pregnancies. In my mind though, Charlie and Abbie were great placeholder names until we met our babies, even though I never said it out loud. I actually called them brotherbrother-sistersister-sisterbrother when I would talk about them to Gracie.

After having two miscarriages, I never thought In. A. Million. Years. that I would lose the twins. I just assumed that they would be fine because there was NO WAY God would allow these babies to not be born. I figured I had supernatural protection which constituted a free pass to an easy, perfect pregnancy because, again, NO WAY could I lose 4 babies in a row.

Not what happened.

We lost the twins last week, of all places, on a cruise to Jamaica and Grand Cayman celebrating Danny and my 10th Wedding Anniversary. We are devastated and heartbroken-and kinda still in shock.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell the story or that anyone wanted to read about this event in my life. In reality, my initial plan formulated this past week was to abandon the blog indefinitely and try and figure out what in the world I was going to do with my life now that my Plan A was abandoned  and my Plan B had been foiled.

What I love about blogging and what I hope you appreciate is that this blog is me. I don’t make up stories or try to impress or imply that I have it all together or that I am super spiritual.  I write about what happens in my life whether it is about my affinity for maternity underwear (even when I am not pregnant), my veracious facial hair issues or my realizations that even when I suck God loves me (there are too many post about my sucking yet God loving me to link one here).  It is my journal and the best record of who I am right now. One day I’ll print this all and pass it on to my kids and beyond so they will know who Grandma Z was and who they need to blame for their issues.

So, for now, why not continue doing what I love, which is writing, while I wait on God to reveal my Plan C.

My next few posts will be about our trip, losing the twins and a little about  Bob and Rocco.

*The door picture is from www.flowerdust.net entitled Church Door Locked.

Remember my last post about one door closing while another one opens? This one here. Well, I’m ready for the big reveal:

There is so much turmoil, for many of us, surrounding our figuring out what “God’s plan” for our lives entails. I have, on many occasions, called out to God and begged, “Just reveal your will for my life and I will do it. I’ll start tomorrow and I’ll be the best at it,  just tell me what to do…” I am sure on those many occasions God was shaking his head and rolling his eyes at my arrogance.

God is always revealing his will, I just don’t, really, want to hear what he has to say unless it involves exactly what I want it to. Which rarely happens, so you think I would have caught on by now that God is not holding out on me. That very possibly I am holding out on God.

Well, this is only half true because, yes, I have called out to God, but I thought he had already answered me. What I should have realized is that I had “God’s plan” all planned out. My Plan A. Write a book directed at young girls and women, outlining my life experiences and how God had redeemed me through all of it. I knew exactly how I wanted it to go, what it would take to get there and what the outcome would be. (See the problem? A lot of I’s and me’s in those statements) It was a great plan and one I know God had me on, for a time. The only thing missing was understanding why God was having me go there.

I was spending so much time looking forward and beyond, I failed to look down and back to see the trail had been orchestrated step by step for God’s glory and not my own.

I won’t go into big details because it really just makes me look like an idiot. The cool thing is that as I look back on ‘ol Plan A, I see God’s healing hand and his intention and direction toward what I am now referring to as “My Open Door.”

Sidenote: Calling it Plan B instead of My Open Door would make more sense and it would keep the theme a little more congruent or Plan A should really be called My Closed Door, if I am now referring to my new plan as My Open Door…

Moving on.

A few weeks ago I had an inkling that became a nudging that has turned into a commission, of sorts. I heard “Any ambition, other than that for your family’s greater good, is dangerous.” I knew exactly what that meant. I love independence. I love being alone and doing my own thing. I love change and I love walking away never looking back. The bible is pretty clear that all of those things on a constant basis are, well, dangerous. Especially dangerous for me because I crave them.

If I continued on with my plan, I would be risking the well being of my family, not because my plan was not serving God and others, but because my plan was giving me those things that are most dangerous for me.

I talked to Danny and decided to put my focus on our family, use my gift of hospitality to serve others in our church by joining a new ministry that would allow me to use those skills. I decided to cut back on writing and walk away, completely, from my Plan A because God’s plan had already served it purpose. I felt great about it. I quit my job last year in pursuit of my Plan A so I have plenty of time during the day to pursue more domestic endeavors.

I still was not completely sure why God had put me on this domestic path but I felt very strongly that this is where he wanted me, for now.

I’m pretty sure I now know why.

A few days beyond my inkling and four store bought tests and one doctor test later I found out that I am pregnant.

No calling to move to Africa. No march on Washington. No commission to write for any other purpose than to heal. Just a call to, right now, have ambition for my family.

How’s that for a Plan B?

I saw a license plate holder today that said, “I make plans… and God laughs.”

Well, God must have been doubled over belly laughing about what I thought His plans were.

I was so sure!

I was so, so wrong.

Yep. God has big, big plans for the Zimfam.

-Cue the door closing.

All the pieces aren’t in place yet.

-Cue a completely unexpected door opening. Slowly. Very, very slowly.

More to come.

There are certain words in the English language that make me cringe. I don’t know why. I have never been verbally abused using any of them, they just give me chills up my back when I hear them. I want to run away or, at the very least, leave the room where said word is being, well, said. For example:

Moist. Just typing it gave me chills. It just sounds gooey.

Nipple. Maybe it’s the p’s in the middle but this is a creepy word to me. And what is up with calling the baby bottle top a nipple. Sorry, I don’t want any random nipple in my child’s mouth- just mine and only until they are like 8 months old because any longer and it resembles a snausage and I am not sure what is worse, the word nipple or the word snausage referring to the appearance of a nipple.

Salve. I think it’s the v. Yes, I’m sure of it. The v is the problem with this word. I have nothing, generally, against v’s but in this word it just seems as if you can’t just let go of the v when you are done saying the word. The v lingers or an imaginary a has to be placed at the end just to chop it off or it will go on forever.

Bejewled. I think it sounds arrogant, like you have to say it with a snotty, uppity accent. “Chaaarles, fetch me my bejewled clutch, I just must have it for my weekend at Martha’s Vineyard with the Rothchild’s”

Caca. Call it poop. Caca sound dirty. Yes, poop is dirty, but caca also makes it sound messy and much harder to wipe up than just regular ‘ol poop.

Titillate. Okay, just shut up if you use this word.

There are many others, as you can imagine, but I figured I would end this list with the one word Danny doesn’t like:

Taut. I will have to ask him exactly why he doesn’t like it. I just know that when I use it, he does the shiver and shake move like if he doesn’t shake it off, it (whatever “it” is) will get all over him.

What words drive you crazy?