Our Right Now

I wrote this in October at the start of fall, but never posted it. I thought I’d share it today, as we near the start of spring. It’s amazing to see the things that have changed, the things that have stayed the same, and how our family has grown. If you find yourself in a stuck or painful season, I encourage you try out Emily P. Freeman’s practice (below!) of naming the season. It helped me process how I was feeling and see our reality, while also practicing hope and gratitude.

September was a blur. I wrote 10.3.19 down today and sat, for a moment, wondering where the month went. It was significant, but someday, I think, I will look back and barely remember the details.

I had another miscarriage on August 29. Chris ended his 10-year long job on August 30. I turned 33 a few days later. A week later, we started fertility testing. Then, the very next day, we left for our first week-long family vacation. It has been almost entirely highs and lows; a month that leaves you momentarily wondering what mundane feels like.

While at the beach, I met a girl from Indiana, who told me she was eight weeks pregnant. She said it the way only someone who has never had a miscarriage can. With confidence. Unscathed by the pain of loss, unafraid of what could happen. Like the way a younger woman talks about falling in love for the first time; never having had her heart broken. She doesn’t even know how vulnerable her position is. It’s the freest of free fall, before you know to brace for the bottom. It was beautiful and refreshing.

Hearing her say it so boldly felt like honey to my soul. I wanted her to shout it out loud. It was like sunshine and vanilla and fresh air all mixed together, pure happiness.

I’ve been deep in the miscarriage world this time around - hearing other women’s stories, comparing them to mine, mapping, counting, wondering, praying, begging, calculating. It feels like the only thing I think about and reminds me, so much, of when I was absolutely yearning to get married, with no husband in sight.

When I met Chris, I kept telling my therapist I wanted to be in free fall for him, but I was so afraid it wouldn’t work out. I was constantly bracing for impact. I knew how badly it could hurt if it all fell apart.

My friend, Robyn, told me that we are on holy ground right now. It’s a painful, formative space and we don’t know why we are in it, but, someday, we will look back and know it was sacred.

In her podcast, Emily P. Freeman encourages listeners to name the season they are in by calling out a few significant things. So I thought I’d do that, today, as we sit, waiting, waiting for a season to come.

• We are waiting and hoping for a baby.

• Chris is starting a new job.

• Mac is the most, most fun, wonderful thing we’ve ever known. He’s exploring, taking everything apart, wondering how it works.

• We are mourning what is lost and hopeful - albeit a little sheepishly - for what is to come.

• We are growing, deepening, coming together.

Today was, most likely, our last summery day. My car read 101 degrees. Saturday is a high of 65. The days are getting shorter. Mac’s room fills with darkness as I tuck him in each night. And while I’m inclined to hold on to summer forever, the darkening feels appropriate. Over the next few months, as we wait patiently for my body to be ready to conceive again, I’m praying for quietness and peace in my heart. I’m praying for trust and stillness and hope.

January Books, Podcasts and Other Loves

For a few months, I thought winter was going to forfeit its seat this year, finally relenting to my lifelong wish to go from fall to spring. But here we are, the last full week of January, and it finally decided to show up. I suppose the daffodils sprouting in our yard and the bumblebees buzzing around were a sign we needed a cold snap.

The start of the year has felt so hopeful for our family. I’m reminding myself daily that, even if I’m not pregnant, we are one day closer to a second baby. I have no idea how or what it will look like along the way, but I’m trying to stay present and approach each day with open hands.

We spent last weekend in Florida for Chris’ grandad’s 90th birthday. It was such a sweet weekend and we got to introduce Mac to his great grandpa. Four generations of Saxon men in one room! It was beautiful.

Books

I’ve been reading a lot this month, trying to get in bed early each night. Embracing those short hours of daylight, you could say. I read This Tender Land, which was incredible and I highly recommend, especially if you liked Where the Crawdads Sing. Right now, I’m reading Bringing Down the Duke, about which I’ve yet to decide how I feel. I’m also listening to The Dutch House (Audible version), which is narrated by Tom Hanks and - so far - incredible. Anything Tom Hanks touches really does turn to gold. Coincidentally, I tried to read Waiting for Tom Hanks and couldn’t get through it.

Podcasts

I’ve gotten hooked on Food, We Need to Talk. Also, Blood Ties and That Sounds Fun.

Other Loves

We’ve been buying our groceries through Imperfect Produce, which I’ve really liked. They have their imperfections, if you will, as a grocery delivery service. But overall we love the quality of the products and that they are reducing food waste. We got amazing feta because the label had a typo and delicious salmon because it was cut the wrong shape. The way food is wasted is so scary and buying from Imperfect Produce sort of feels like recycling - something small we can do to make a difference.

I’ve also been ordering a lot of products on Thrive Market, which means I am rarely going to the grocery. It’s weird! :) I’m love, loving Thrive. It has been an incredible experience and allows us to get better prices for high-quality ingredients. A few of my favorite purchases have been: Sprouted Spelt Flour and Cacao Nibs, both of which I used to make these delicious cookies. I also got the chickpea “bread” crumbs, which I’m going to use to make spicy chicken tenders.

After a lot of debate, we recently changed from the ScanPan to the Xtrema Ceramic Skillet. We got the ScanPan for our wedding and have absolutely loved it, but ever since having Mac, I’ve been nervous about it. They say their nonstick surface doesn’t leach below 600-degrees, but it was stressing me out. We LOVE the Xtrema! Something about ceramic makes me feel hardcore, too. Like running in a snowstorm.

Anyway, those are some of the updates we’ve made around the house in the new year. I hope your 2020 is off to a wonderful, hopeful start!

What 2019 Taught Me

The week before Thanksgiving, we lost a third baby. Another positive pregnancy test, another beautiful due date, slipping through our finger tips.

On the hard days, I’m tempted to say 2019 was a terrible year. I’m tempted to make it only about our miscarriages. I’m tempted to let these losses define all 365 days, leaving us limping into 2020.

But I know better than that. And, for me, to label it only as a no-good-very-bad year, would feel like taking the easy way out. Like leaving a movie when it gets to the sad scenes. It is shortcut; not the full picture.

In 2019, Mac turned one. He learned to walk - and run! He went from a baby to a toddler. He talks and jumps (or thinks he’s jumping!). He dances and has opinions and loves spicy food and vinegar and La Croix.

He’s funny and wild and a reminder, daily, that we can create life.

Chris started a new job and no longer travels (three cheers for that!!!). We’ve never felt closer. If our marriage is a knot, it has been yanked and tugged all year. Financially, emotionally, spiritually - it is as if someone has taken the rope and tightened it in every direction. The pressure and pain of that has been real. But the result is our marriage being stronger and more certain than ever before.

Charlottesville feels like home. We have family nearby who we see all the time. And we have friends - really good friends! We feel known and loved in this community.

There is so much I could say about our miscarriages and the way they have shaped our faith and family. There is so much I could tell you about the hard days - how I still cry unexpectedly and beg God to move us out of this season. How I feel scared we’ll never hold another newborn in our arms. About how hard it is to be around friends with babies - even though I’m so, genuinely happy for them. About how I honestly wonder if pregnant people are following me (are they?).

I could tell you about the good days, too. How sure I am that the Lord has not forgotten us and already knows the birthdays of all of our babies ahead. How He has written this season for us and not one minute of pain will be wasted. How I’ve never felt more surrendered in life.

Yes, there is so much to say and so much I am still learning. So much on which I am uncertain. But today, I know this to be true:

2019 was hard.

2019 was beautiful.

2019 taught me you can have both peace and pain simultaneously.

It taught me that sorrow deepens joy. But joy does not deepen sorrow.

It taught me to celebrate everything. And to be grateful for every single day with a baby inside you. A day with a baby is better than a day without, even if you don’t know how long you’ll get to keep it.

It reminded me to think of afterlife often, of our babies dancing on Heaven’s doorstep.

It reminded me that every single life is a miracle.

We say goodbye to 2019 with gratitude for all it taught us. And we await 2020 with open arms, hoping for a turning tide.

Making Space

I recently listened to Myquillyn Smith on Annie F. Downs’ podcast. She talked about how, when she wants to buy new decor or feels overwhelmed by her home, she takes down all of her decorations and puts them away for a few days.

After she’s gotten used to the cleared space, she adds back the pieces she loves, often placing them in new spots. She said it helps her live with less, as well as see things as new. It allows everything to fall into the right place in her home.

First of all, I tried it and it works. The basket I had under our coffee table? By removing it, I found I no longer needed it. And the plant in the office? Totally brightened the dresser in my room. Our house went from feeling stale and crowded to alive and cleansed.

I don’t try to hide the fact that I’m a summer girl. Fall has always felt like pre-winter to me. I understand that those bright leaves are beautiful, but, historically, they’ve chanted dying! winter! brr! all the way down to the ground.

As we’ve navigated our miscarriages over the last few months, I find my soul aligning with autumn a little more. As things have fallen away, slipping from our grasp, it has created unexpected stillness. The darker evenings are creating quiet in my heart. I find God asking me: What can be released? What can be rearranged?

I’ve yearned, all of my life, for five babies. For a big house full of love and noise and chaos. I’ve also worked hard to build The Letter Project and a freelance web design business. I find God asking me to give it all to Him: the dreams, the goals, the works. He’s asking me to put it all away, just for a little while, so He can show me what should still be here in my life.

I know some of these things will be just like the plant in my bedroom - still in my life, but I’ll see it in a new way, finding the right place for it. Other things, though, might be like the bookend I removed and never put back. It was once perfect for the shelf, but now, has served its purpose, falling away like autumnal leaves.

I’m trusting, today, that I can let go of so many of the dreams, the plans and works I’ve held tightly for years. I’m believing, wholeheartedly, that by opening my hands, I’m creating space for the Lord to put something beautiful in them at the right time.