Ain't No Supermom

Author: Michelle White

  • The Glory Days…

    My kids, (and I),….have been blessed. Especially this last week. Camp compass happened. (VBS). It rocked their world! And mine too if I am being honest. We had entirely too much fun being with friends, friends, friends. Our church did an unbelievable job of pouring truth into these young little souls. At the end, I asked my sweet friend E-why can’t we cut tape and do crafts and be all communal again? She didn’t have a good answer. Here is a recap of this spectacular week. If the week wasn’t good enough, Sat was spent getting to see and talk the night away with our Andersen’s and new baby girl, Emily. She is beautiful. Sunday we will watch our Papa preach from the pulpit at his church! Such an exciting week. So much to praise God for.

                                                     No pain, No gain. It’s that simple.
          How we roll into little league games where we don’t belong fit right in.

    Baby Emily! She is perfect. Told ya.

  • Sweet Mercy

    One month has passed since our baby has left our arms to be in the care of our Father’s. Preparing myself for this day, I thought I would need buckets for the tears, a few ambien if things got real bad. And then today came. No tears. Not one. Our good Lord is ever faithful. Oh, is He faithful. And abundant in the many ways He shows us He loves us. His Word is alive. His people are His arms and feet. We feel His love through you all. The sadness can be paralyzing, but the hope of the other side of the cross is overwhelming. God had the details of this day all worked out before we existed, dare I say that?  I had made up this day  to be intolerable, dramatic, and full of sobbing. Instead I was given unexpected emails, texts, cupcakes, flowers and a very generous gift involving pretty hair by a very sweet friend. These gifts were given in love, not intentionally knowing it was to be a hard day for us which made it all the more special. It showed us God’s handprint in this healing process and His sweet mercy. Thank you to everyone who reached out and loved on us, or just said hello today, you will never know the gravity of that act.  

    Sweet baby, 
    You are one month old in eternity. But who is counting? Me. Your mama. I am counting the days until I get to see your sweet soul again. I miss your sweet smile, how you use to scrunch up after I would unswaddle you. I miss your diapers. They were so tiny. I miss them. I miss you, my love. The time is moving by and it hurts….but it is good, it has to move forward, that is how God has designed us-to live under the constraints of time. I will forever seek out babies/toddlers/ children that are around your age to see what you would be doing, what you might look like. I will never fail to think of you or who you might of been. I think it is the mama in me. I miss you terribly, and while I wish you were here, I am content you are secure with our Savior. Thinking of you every day.
                                                                                               Love Always, 
                                                                                                   Mama

  • Sunday Funday.

    The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, 
    His mercies never come to an end, 
    they are new every morning, great is your faithfulness.
    Lamentations 3:22-23
    God’s word is true. His promises stand firm, and He has given us more mercy than we deserve. Today was dripping in grace, and I am thankful for a reprieve. It was the first day I did not cry through out the day, and feel burdened beyond what I could bear. So what did we do? Great question. We did weird stuff. Chad painted our fence. Because it was two shades off and he is a stud like that. We fed the kids 2 breakfasts, smores, and then lunch and headed to the cemetery to spend some time together as a family. I know it sounds morbid, but it brings us peace to spend time together there. People probably think we are bizarr-o. The boys played overthrow and fetch catch, Halle yanked all the pinwheels off the other babies graves. (soooorrrrrry). I got really irritated that people would pay to bury their child then never order a plaque for their child. It is almost like their baby is forgotten. It made me sad. I then strolled through the entire infant/ child section of the cemetery and realized there are people who have lost far more life than us. One family lost 3 babies in 3 days. One family lost 2 children in 2 years, never made it past a month old. I could go on. I won’t. It just brought me this unexplainable comfort to know there are other moms and dads out there who know this kind of pain. 
    After tearing up the memorial park, we hit up the home depot and made the boys day by spending 5 minutes in the toilet aisle. In case you don’t know us too well, our kids are a different breed. Some like chuck e cheese, ours like toilets. We are talking fascination. Then super Dad took the boys out for some ball and mama took a nap. I am writing this play by play to share with all you prayer warriors that God is hearing you and chose to say YES today. Thank you so much for loving on us and taking the time pray for us. Today was a sweet gift because of all your sweet prayer, so thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

  • A request

    3 weeks ago, grief was unchartered water to me. My toes had never touched her volatile, always changing currents. Now, my body is fully immersed in her angry territory. Most of the time she bears down on my chest just enough to convince me I am drowning. Sometimes she lets up enough to let me see the the light. The smell of a baby, the finding of a binkie, hearing my baby girl shriek baybee!, baybee! brings another tsunami I do not feel I can withstand. She will not own me forever. I know God will not leave me in her unpredictable hands for eternity. I am His. His purpose for my life is not to worship the loss of my child. But I will grieve and mourn unapologetically. I will cry at random. I will be sad when I should be happy and be happy at times where perhaps you think I should be sad. This will be an ongoing battle, (some call it a dance), between an angry ocean we call grief and a girl whose hope is in her Savior.
    Many of you are so sweetly reaching out asking how you can help? What can you do? Please pray. Pray that Chad and I would continue to grow close to one another, that our family would stand united. Please pray that our souls would find rest in our God’s perfect Holy nature. Please pray that our lives  would be glorifying to Him. That we would be vessels for His good use.
    Also practically, please talk about our baby, Christian. Don’t pretend he was never here. We have 4 babies. One is with Jesus. We miss him terribly and right now our biggest fear is everyone will one day forget he was here, and this was all for nothing. What a miracle he was. From conception to his birth. We had a healthy baby for 26 days! This was a miracle not to be overlooked. I beg you to help us make Christian’s life count. Make it matter for God’s kingdom. I would love to talk about him to anyone at anytime. Please encourage me with anything you remember about him or any way His life has impacted yours or anyone you know. Sweet friends, I beg you, please do not let his story end here. Thank you for your prayers, love and sweet reminders of God’s love for us.

    Lastly, I am not posting all these posts to FB. If you want to follow the blog, you can do so, anonymously by going to the upper right hand corner and “subscribing”. I think they email you when I update or something like that. If it gets too depressing you can always unsubscribe too.

  • Due date

    was the 18th. Tuesday. Still, I am a wreck.  I could also be balling and sad because I am devestated. It is ok to be sad. This IS sad. My baby is no longer here. He is no longer mine to hold, mine to nurse, mine to pray over.  While my hope is not here, newsflash: We are stuck here. Until we get the fast pass, or our Lord comes back, we are ordained to be here until He calls us home. My God will not abandon me, I know this. and I am left repeating truth to myself, or desperately searching scriptures for comfort. What I usually circle around to (the only thing that brings me comfort) is knowing I will get to meet up with him one day that is much too far away. So I end these sessions with what our reunion will be like. The mom in me wants to make sure he is ok. of course he is ok. Who welcomed him? Does he know how much I love him? How I miss him?  Does he know me? Has he missed me? What happened? Did it hurt? Can he hear what I am praying for him? Does God hug him and tell him how we love him and miss him so? What are the rules for heaven? And I finish these times in frustration.
    I will spend the rest of my life grieving his sweet short life, and the miracle he was. I will never forget what God has done to my heart in this short time. I don’t know if you will ever get me back whole. In many ways I feel like I am on life support right now. I am breathing. Ingesting enough food to function. I can hear you. But I am broken like I have never been broken before. I revisit that morning, the hospital…. Revisiting the most painful moments in your life… and then a child cries over a stupid toy you know you have thrown away at least 6 times, or you have to unload the dishwasher. It feels like blasphemy. Motherhood and everyday functioning has all of a sudden gotten very confusing. I feel as though God has given me a home, a family, and role, but left me disabled. Does that make sense? In the moments of feeling the most disabled and overcome with sadness God is good to remind me He is still good. He is the same God as before all this happened. God has reminded me I have hope because He lost His son too. I have hope for my baby and being able to hold him again, because of the blood shed on the cross and the fact He was in fact resurrected. I am clinging to that hope tighter than I ever have. That is allowing the breath to come in and out. That is my life support.