Start Your Family

Remembering Griffin

2010-03-16T05:57:29-07:00

(Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day, a holiday I celebrated as a child with Irish heritage, as a wife with a part-Irish husband, and as a Christian commemorating a man of faith. Now I also celebrate tomorrow as a mother whose second son would have been nine.)

Oh, good, I'm not pregnant.

I flushed at the thought and walked away from the home pregnancy test registering negative after one minute. With a 7-month-old asleep in the next room and a full-time job, another baby was the last thing on my mind.

I'd better double check.

Three minutes had passed and the second window was now registering a faint pink line. This can't be happening, I thought.

"Any visible line, no matter how faint, is a positive result," said the instructions. Surely this must be a mistake. I just had a baby.

My heart was racing, my stomach lurching, as the pale, but definitely visible, second line stared back at me from the bathroom countertop. I'm pregnant.

My first thoughts were for our son, Harrison. How can I possibly give him, our firstborn, the attention he needs if I'm distracted by months of morning sickness and worse — a brand new baby?

I cried. A lot. I cried when I told my husband, Steve. I cried when I told my mom. I cried when we told Harrison. He didn't understand what we were saying, but that didn't lessen my feelings of guilt.

Everyone around me was happy, albeit surprised, when they heard the news. Still, I couldn't shake the sorrow. I knew that abortion wasn't an option, the life growing inside of me was already part of our family. Still I found myself longing for a way to go back to the pre-pregnant me. I needed time to get used to the idea.

It took nearly three months to accept that Harrison's baby brother was on his way — he was just coming a lot sooner than we had planned. As the morning sickness started to lessen, so did my feelings of anxiety. We'd figure out the schedules and the money and all the other details a family with two kids always does. I was even starting to enjoy the idea of two little boys running around together sharing trucks, building forts and filling our home with giggles.

I went in for a routine doctor's appointment the day after Harrison turned 9 months. I was feeling fine. But they couldn't find a heartbeat. Initially, I wasn't worried. The first nurse who tried was new. The baby was just squirming around or hiding behind one of my bones or something. Besides, the books all said such milestones vary with each pregnancy. A second nurse tried. Then the doctor. He said he wasn't very worried but wanted to do an ultrasound just to be sure. I spent a lot of time waiting but was confident everything was fine.

Looking up at the monitor an hour later, I saw my baby, but there wasn't a moving line at the bottom of the screen the way I had seen it before. Still the ultrasound tech didn't act alarmed. She said she'd be back; she wanted the doctor to take a look. As she closed the door behind her, I had my first sense of foreboding. What if something's wrong? Surely everything's fine. I started to pray.

The doctor watched the screen as the technician moved the sensor over my slightly swollen belly. Finally, he turned around to face me. "I have bad news. The baby's heart isn't beating."

I was so shocked I didn't say anything. Just three weeks earlier we had seen a baby dancing around, heart beating strongly at 140 beats per minute. But now his tiny body just lay there — quiet, unmoving. His image was still on the screen when the doctor left and the hot tears began to pour out.

I felt so guilty. Guilty over not wanting this baby to begin with, guilty for all the times I prayed with bitterness about the pregnancy and afraid that maybe all my negative emotions had caused this little life to leave me.

I somehow got it together enough to leave the doctor's office and drive to Steve's office. He was experiencing his own guilt over not being there for the appointment — one of only a handful he had missed throughout both pregnancies.

Friends and foes

It wasn't long before the phone started ringing with people wanting to see if I was ok. One call in particular stood out. The mother of six asked bluntly, "Were you excited about this pregnancy?" "Well, no, I didn't want to be pregnant again," I mustered. "But, of course, I wanted the baby." I quickly ended the conversation, startled by her intrusion into my private world. There would be other painful, unhelpful comments from friends, but one thing was certain: This baby had entered my heart, and as unwelcome as the news of his coming was, the news of his departure was excruciating.

And for every friend who stumbled over her words, there were others who provided deep comfort. As hard as it was to repeat the story of our loss, our friends' responses — prayer and practical help — lightened our burden. "We understand that this is a real loss of a real child," wrote one, "and that you are grieving. It is amazing how much sadness the heart can hold for someone whom one never got to know." These words, written by someone who lost a child to miscarriage years earlier, were further permission to grieve — and grieve deeply.

Active grieving

It wasn't enough to weep. I needed to get out of the house and do something with the pain I was feeling. At the end of that first day, we went to a tree farm, bought three apple trees and planted them on the hill in our backyard. Not only do the trees remind us of our baby, they do so with beauty and variety. They're especially sweet in the spring when the branches come alive with pink and white blossoms. We named them Griffin's Grove in honor of the baby we had planned to name Griffin George.

Besides giving our baby a name, we moved ahead with plans to ask two close friends to be his godparents. They joined us in October for the dedication of Griffin's Grove, bringing a sack full of bulbs to plant around the trees. We huddled together and shivered in the 30-degree cold; perfect weather for bulb planting. Everyone took turns burying a promise of new life.

Commemorating the life

Griffin died inside me after only 14 weeks. By the time his due date arrived, I had been grieving and healing for nearly seven months. Still, the sense of loss was overpowering. I wrote the following in his baby book.

March 2001, the 17th

Griffin,

It's a cold, snow-covered day in your grove as we anticipate spring and the first shoots from the bulbs we planted around your fruit trees. Today was your due date. My heart is so heavy with the sorrow of your loss. The sadness seems so fresh all over again.

Harrison is getting big, growing so quickly. He loves little babies. I know he would have loved you! As he matures, I'll share this book with him and the story of you.

Today is St. Patrick's Day, an annual holiday we celebrate in honor of the Irish relatives on both sides of our family. It will also be an annual reminder of your birthday. Even though we didn't get to celebrate it here, it will serve to heighten our anticipation of meeting you in the world to come.

The corned beef is stewing — filling our home with the scents of generations past. So many things about this holiday — the subtlety, the links with the past — will forever tie me to you. You will not be forgotten.

I can't explain it, but I love you. You will always hold a special place in my heart.

Love,

Mommy

Embracing the future

Time does have a way of healing, or at least lessening, the pain of wounds. A year after I wrote the above words, I was again writing in Griffin's book. Only this time, the sorrow was mixed with sweet.

Griffin,

It's so hard to believe a whole year has passed since your due date — you would have been one today! It would have been your first taste of chocolate. Do they have chocolate in heaven?

The good and really special news is that you have a baby sister now — Zoe Kathleen. She's just two weeks old. So today is bitter sweet. I miss you deeply still. And I am overwhelmed by the joy of new life. Life. That's what Zoe's name means.

I pray Jesus will hold you and give you a hug for me. I love you and can't wait to meet you, my son.

We planted more bulbs in your grove — we're anticipating a spring full of life.

In 2003, when we again add pages to Griffin's book, Zoe will be 1. And what a celebration that will be! Zoe will taste her first chocolate cake, open her first doll house, and just as I had hoped before, join Harrison in filling our home with giggles.

The Week in Pictures, part 2

2010-03-04T07:05:30-08:00

It's a whole new world being able to make friends online, one I'm grateful for. But even better is turning those virtual relationships into real, flesh-and-blood friendships with people you can see. And hug! We became friends with this family over our computers, and how blessed we've been by them.

But when it looked like they would be coming to town for the Focus on Marriage simulcast, we were thrilled to be able to host them in person.

And for that, nothing less than the orangest of flowers (and the saltiest of hummus) would do.

These beauties were front and center, along with these.

That's another thing about the internet, and especially mom blogs -- you get to know quirky details about things early on in friendships. Things like favorite flowers and favorite colors. So for this dinner, the color of gerberas was orange. (To read part 3, click here.)

The Week in Pictures, part 1

2010-03-01T08:52:31-08:00

It was a bittersweet moment Friday saying thank you and goodbye to the Dobsons after 33 years of serving families through Focus on the Family. Dr. Dobson is both champion and hero to me. What an honor to be able to tell him so! His farewell chapel message is now online. May God bless you and keep you!

Babies, Keep 'Em Coming

2010-02-25T06:39:03-08:00

A few days ago I tweeted about Yitta Schwartz, a Holocaust survivor who had 16 children, and as the New York Times tribute put it, put her "thumb in the eye of the Nazis."

How? By leaving behind 2,000 descendants when she died at 93. 2,000!

By virtue of saying yes to the blessing of children, she "may have generated one of the largest clans of of any survivor of the Holocaust."

I think she's a hero. Not everyone does. Someone commented on my tweet with, "Most people don't believe having 2000 living descendents at the time of your death is a good thing. We're not rats & cats."

I'm not surprised by such sentiments, just saddened. In our anti-natalist culture, it's tempting to look at babies as consequences to be avoided. But that's not how God sees them. Psalm 127:3-5 says,

Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.

It's not easy having a lot of kids. We just got back from a long visit with family where 10 of the 12 cousins were all together. It was busy, and noisy, and not always easily managed (to say the least). But in the messiness, was beauty.

What about you? What's your reaction to Yitta Schwartz and to other families with a lot of kids?

Advocating Adoption

2009-10-12T07:36:23-07:00

When you meet the Browns the subject of adoption comes up. But it was this way even before Motte and Beth went to Ethiopia to grow their family.

Yesterday I spent some time capturing their precious family on film to help tell their story for the January issue of Citizen magazine (sneak peek above). I love that the Sanctity of Life issue will have at its centerpiece the subject of adoption.

In addition to the photos and retelling the why, how, hardships and joy of Motte and Beth's journey, I'm reviewing Russell Moore's book Adopted for Life. It's different, reminding all believers that we are adopted into God's family as well as called by Him to be involved in the adoption of orphans. But it's not the kind of book you should be scared to read. It's not a guilt trip. Yes, you may finish it with a strong desire to adopt. But it's not a given. What you will finish with is a desire to be involved in adoption somehow, consistent with God's plan for you life.

Have you considered adoption? We'd love to hear your story.

Experiencing the New Normal

2009-09-20T11:49:19-07:00

Saturday mornings are our time for fun. We start the day with pancakes and lately, a loud dose of Phil Joel's deliberateKids. Churchill, who's been known to utter the words, "where's my microphone?" grabs the paper towel roll,

Harrison tunes his broom,

or whatever other instrument he can find

and we're off and running.

Last night we went to see the real deal in concert.

The kids were especially pumped to meet the band and shake Mr. Joel's hand. But for Teddy, it was just another outing in pjs. He seemed most interested in the band's luggage.

And putting whatever technological things he could get his hands on into his mouth. Or at least trying.

It was a great show. Loud music to dance to. New friends to make. Air guitars to strum and riffs to mimic.

It was well worth the long drive to Longmont to see the Joel family living their message of deliberately pursuing relationship with God and the abundant life that follows.

When Is a Good Time to Have Kids?

2009-09-16T19:38:35-07:00

Chelsey emailed us the week before her wedding. She wanted to let us know she'd read Start Your Family, and in her words,

We had been unsure about whether or not we would use birth control. I don't want to take the pill, and honestly, we didn't want to use birth control at all, but we are on a limited, though sufficient, income, and we didn't know if it was 'wise.' Your book, along with the wise counsel of our pastor, was such an encouragement.

Recently she wrote again with an update. I asked her if she'd write a version for the blog. And graciously, she agreed. Here's what she had to say,

My husband and I got married in April, almost three years to the day after we started dating. I had been 23 for a month; he was 22.

During our pre-marital counseling, our pastor reiterated what we already wanted so desperately to believe: that God is the giver of life and that whatever our best laid plans may be, He was the one who would ultimately determine when our family should start.

We had talked about wanting to have kids right away with our friends and families, but the word was almost always the same, based on our plans for the future: your early twenties is not a good time to have kids; right after marriage is a not a good time to have kids; when you’re in seminary is not a good time to have kids; when you’re on the mission field is not a good time to have kids. We were left wondering—when is a good time to have kids?

We couldn’t answer that, and neither could anyone else. So we decided that we would let God decide when was a good time for us to start having babies. It didn’t take long to find out. His good timing appears to be sometime next February, which means our ten-week-old son will be celebrating our one-year wedding anniversary along with us.

Since God softened our hearts in this area, there have been times of fear and doubting. Did we make the right decision? Is everything going to turn out OK? In response to these anxieties, God has proven to be the God of Psalm 94:18-19: “When I thought, ‘My foot slips,’ your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up. When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul.”

What have God’s consolations been for us? He provided me a job the day after we got back from our honeymoon, which has allowed us to build up our savings account. He has us in a church that values family and children. He recently gave my husband a new, better-paying job that will allow me to stay home with our little one.

I don’t know how many children God will ultimately give us, but whatever His plan, we are truly “tasting and seeing that the Lord is good” in allowing us to start our family when He did.

Congratulations Chelsey and Christian. Thank you for letting us rejoice with you!