Our Home in Portland

We live in a tiny flat above a little quilting shop. The shop owner, Patti is a small, thin woman in her fifties who knows everyone in the building by name and will talk your ear off if she catches you on your way out the door. She always wears her long hair in a braid down her back and usually has on a pair of interesting, locally made earrings with a story behind them. Inside her store are many colorful quilts, totes, table runners, and quilting squares along with some homemade soaps that her daughter makes for the store. Patti is usually busy with her massive quilting machine but, she always has time for a chat. When she sees you, she wants to know where you're going or where you've come from and always has an anecdote about her grandson, Asher or her daughter who lives in Colorado.

The front side of our building is all commercial. We have Patti's place, an African foods market (which also carries a variety of African wigs and dresses), a Jazz music station, a woman who specializes in reiki, and a home decor boutique. We are friendly with all of the shop owners and will frequently say hello in passing as we go to and from our front door which is set right between Patti's shop and the African market.

Before entering our front door, we usually stop to check the mail box which is located to the left of the door along with several others. Emma loves to get the mail and is always hopeful that there will be a letter from one of her grandparents. She's usually not disappointed. We open the first front door which leads to a dark and very dusty flight of rather intimidating stairs. The stairway is narrow and, unfortunately, not very well lit. It was my first impression on move-in day as we had never actually seen the place until then. Let me tell you, it was a bit daunting. At the top of the stairs is a small landing and the door into our apartment.

Our apartment is very small, quirky, and old but, also cozy. We came to Maine with a beautiful, new couch that (no matter how hard we tried) would not fit up the stairs. We had to get rid of it. With no couch, the layout of our living area is unique but, I quite like it. We have a comfortable chair and a table with four dining chairs for seating. The living room is also home to our bookshelves, a small end table, a large area rug, a wooden chair that I found in someone's front yard with a sign that said "free", and Emma's art easel. Around the room you will find family photos and many treasures collected from the sea. Connected to the living room is our small kitchen and the "pantry" that we made out of Ikea shelves. The kitchen has no dishwasher, microwave, or garbage disposal. I don't even think about the microwave anymore but, I really miss having a dishwasher and most miss the convenience of a garbage disposal. The kitchen is also sorely lacking in counter space but, we make it work. The bedrooms are spacious but with small closets. Some of the closets in our place do not have doors. I added curtains to the doors to close them off from the rooms. Our room has the TV which means that when we want to watch a movie together, we all pile up onto our tall bed. In addition to the two bedrooms, living room, and kitchen, we have one storage closet and a tiny bathroom. The bathroom and our room are painted with a horrible sea foam green color that I later found out was a mix of leftovers that our landlord found in the basement and didn't want to waste. I'm not a fan of the "basement-leftover green" walls but, I do love having wood floors throughout the house (despite their obnoxious creaking).

Speaking of the basement (AKA The Dungeon), that is where we go to do all of our laundry. There is one washer and dryer shared with all of the tenants in the building. It is coin operated and costs us a total of two dollars and fifty cents for each load of laundry. The dungeon is everything you would imagine a dungeon to be; dark and damp, covered in dust and spider webs, concrete floors with random piles of very old junk, and complete with rodent traps set up along the walls. To get down into it, there is a heavy metal door that opens to another narrow staircase. One of the stairs appears to be rotting and I am certain every time I walk on it that THIS will be the time it gives out. Doing laundry is my least favorite part of where we live and I dread every trip to the dungeon, especially in the winter when it seems to be so much colder there than anywhere else.

The part of the building we live in is over one hundred years old which gives you a little more understanding of it's odd layout and condition. I wish I knew more of the history of the building but, I do know that Patti's space used to be the home of the original Rosemont Bakery which is now located a couple of buildings down from us. We are frequent customers there and I love that the original bakery used to be in our building.

We have neighbors above us and to the side of us as well. Above us lives a family of three; A three year old girl and her mother and father. We don't hear much from the mother or daughter but, the father has a booming loud voice that can always be heard. He swears like a sailor and sounds exactly like Danny Devito (accent and all). What's worse is that he sings constantly. Sometimes he even pulls out a harmonica for accompaniment. He often drums on things or stomps his feet while he's singing and he'll pause occasionally to shout something out to his wife or daughter. He and his wife own a Philadelphia style deli restaurant and bar in town and are often gone for long hours at a time but, when he's home; you know it.

Next door to us is a young African couple, Patrick and Lucette. They both speak English with a lovely french accent and call Emma "Big sister" whenever we run into them. They sing too but, it is much more welcome. I love hearing them sing together on Sunday mornings as I get ready for church. He'll start with his deep, steady voice and then she will join in with a beautiful range of gospel sounds. It is so pleasant and I love to picture the two of them singing together. Other than their occasional duets, we don't hear Patrick or Lucette from inside the building. They are perfect neighbors, always polite and kind, and I enjoy running into them. Emma likes to check on the little garden box that Lucette has planted with vegetables near where we park our car. With the winter coming, the box will soon be empty.

There are other tenants in the building. Behind Patti's place and beneath part of ours is another small apartment where a single man, Lamar, lives alone. He is an African American who is typically filled to the brim with southern charm. When we pass him as we leave he'll exclaim, "Another beautiful day in the neighborhood, yes ma'am." or, "Top of the mornin' to ya!". We don't see a lot of Lamar because he works two jobs and is often up and gone before we are awake. Very rarely, when he has a day off, he will have too much to drink and turn his music up so loud that the floor shakes. It doesn't last long and sometimes we ignore it but, a few times, Sam has gone down to ask him to turn it off.

The last apartment is occupied by a group of African ladies who do not really speak English. We don't know them well but, once Emma and I brought them cupcakes and when they answered the door, they were all standing in the doorway, wrist deep in one of the lady's hair. They were making her long hair into the tiniest braids in an intricate pattern all around her head. It was amazing to watch but, we didn't stay long. I held out the plate of cupcakes and the sweet woman who answered the door thought that I meant for her to take just one off of the plate. I had to explain to her that I had brought the whole plate for them.

Because we are in a commercial building, we are positioned on a busier street. I mentioned that the bakery is on the corner but, also neighboring us is a baseball card and antique game shop, a barber shop run by a funny very old man, an insurance agent, an old bed and breakfast, and a gas station (which came in handy when I was pregnant and addicted to ice).

It sounds very busy but, we are actually quite happy with the location of our apartment. Behind our building are some lovely neighborhoods where we like to go walking. We always pass several people walking their own dogs along the way. It's a perfect neighborhood for trick-or-treating in the fall or flower peeping in the spring. A few minute's walk away is a beautiful pond with a walking path around it. The pond is thickly surrounded with trees, cattails, and flowers of all kinds.We have seen many toads and even a few turtles in the summertime. We like to pack a snack and go sit on a bench at the pond to read or walk around and try to find different kinds of birds or butterflies. In the winter, we like to go there with our snow shoes or a sled. Ice skating is also allowed during the winter months.

Our apartment is about a mile away from Sam's school campus and within walking distance to a couple of eateries, our local library, some cute shops, a park, and a massive cemetery where we like to explore. It is full of tombstones dating back to the early 1700s, mausoleums, and tombs. There is also a pretty little chapel with beautiful stained glass windows and a pond where we see ducks from time to time.

Though we spend much of our time out and exploring all that Maine has to offer, there are also many hours spent at home in our little flat. It's where I teach Emma her preschool lessons, it's where I read to my girls, it's where we bake, play, build forts, eat our meals, and relax after long days. In our house we pray together, put bandaids on our "ouchies", watch baby Eve learn new tricks, and give group hugs. It has made me grateful for small and simple comforts and helped me realize how blessed we were to have some of the modern conveniences in our past homes. It has helped me work hard and problem solve with something even as seemingly simple as figuring out how to get two kids and all of the groceries from our parking lot and up all of the stairs into our apartment. It has given Emma valuable daily opportunities to be social with people of all ages, ethnicities, and backgrounds and to see goodness in all of those different kinds of people. It has been a place where we have all learned, experienced, and grown together and, though life would be easier without the dungeon and with a dishwasher, I wouldn't trade our time here.

Eve Amour-06.04.19

I feel compelled to write a little about the birth of our sweet Eve. It is a special story to me for many reasons and the events leading up to her joining our family have shaped and strengthened my testimony of God's love and mindfulness for me and my family in so many ways. I have been reminded again and again that He has a plan for each of His children and that His timing is perfect as I have gone through the experiences of this past year.

As it turns out, being a mom of two beautiful blessings is very much a full-time job which means, I don't have an awful lot of time for writing. So, here I am, typing in my bed in the middle of the night with my husband sleeping on one side of me and baby Eve sleeping in her bassinet on the other. She will wake up wanting to be fed in an hour or two so I really should be trying to sleep but, if I stop now, when will I have another chance?

In 2017 and 2018, I experienced some pregnancy losses. These were very difficult trials for me and I felt very discouraged and disheartened as I went through them. After my final miscarriage in 2018, I started to doubt my ability to have a healthy and complete pregnancy. It was painful for me to imagine that I wouldn't have any more children when I felt so certain that there was another child meant for our family. The month after was a rollercoaster of emotions; sadness, heartache, numbness, hope, and healing. To our surprise and complete joy, Sam and I discovered that I was pregnant again just two months later. The baby was due on our anniversary. Oh, how I hoped that this would be our rainbow baby.

Fast forward into the second trimester. As I approached my halfway mark, I had no reason to believe that I wouldn't deliver a healthy baby girl in June. Sam and I were thrilled to be having another girl, a sister for Emma! 20 weeks came and I was looking forward to having another ultrasound. Sam wasn't able to come due to his school schedule so, Emma and I went together. Emma was my buddy during Eve's pregnancy and joined me for all of my appointments. She was looking forward to seeing "baby sis" on the screen again as much as I was.

The ultrasound took a lot longer than I had expected it to and at one point, the tech had me tossing and turning in every direction as she tried to find a particular measurement that she couldn't seem to find. When the doctor entered later, I learned that the tech had been trying to find the baby's left kidney and was unsuccessful. "The baby only has one kidney that we can find but, her other kidney might just be in her pelvis." Even though he immediately assured me that everything was fine and that people live long healthy lives with one kidney (I knew this-my dad donated his kidney many years ago), I felt tears hit my eyes and I was in a panic. It is scary to hear that there is ANYTHING wrong with your child. I had never heard anything except for "You have a healthy baby" throughout Emma's pregnancy and this was unexpected and worrisome.

The doctor requested that I come back a few weeks later to have a follow-up ultrasound where they would see if they could find the kidney once it had grown a little larger. The next ultrasound came and there was still no kidney to be found but they did find a "mass of some kind" in her pelvis. Again-scary! However, he told me that her one kidney looked perfect and he didn't see any reason to be majorly concerned. I was scheduled for another ultrasound to continue to monitor.

At my next appointment, we were told that they still didn't see the other kidney AND they had discovered a problem with her existing kidney. They could see that her urine wasn't draining properly and it appeared to be gathering in an area it shouldn't. This was terrifying to hear. The doctor told us that she would need an ultrasound after her birth to determine what action would need to be taken. There was a possibility of surgery and other treatments. He said that tests would need to be administered and we would need to meet with a pediatric nephrologist soon after her birth. Naturally, all of this information was enough to make me feel very worried. Then, he told me that the baby was measuring in the 97th percentile for weight. With a few weeks to go before my due date, baby was measuring around 9 pounds. As you can imagine, that news also made me nervous. Emma was 8 pounds, 10 ounces. Her birth was very difficult and traumatic on my body. I felt a little unsure about how I would deliver a baby much larger than Emma.

My doctor and I discussed the option of an early induction at 38 weeks if baby continued to grow at the rate she was. The following week, she was estimated to be well over 10 pounds and I anxiously awaited a meeting with my OBGYN to schedule the delivery. At that meeting, my doctor talked over some of the risks of delivering a baby as large as mine potentially was, especially because I am a fairly small person. My labor was predicted to be very long, there was a real possibility that the baby could dislocate her shoulder, and it was likely that it would all end in a C-section. I was terrified at the thought of a C-section. I had never even had a surgery and had always been afraid that one of my births would end in a C-section. My doctor remained very positive with me and assured me that she would do everything she could to give me the best birth experience. She scheduled my induction for the next Tuesday. As I was leaving, she told me to call her if I had any questions or concerns about the induction at any time during the weekend. She then said, "even if you want to discuss the option of a scheduled C-section, call me and we can talk about it."

I, of course, had no intention of scheduling a C-section. However, as I walked to my car, her words kept coming to my mind and I had a strong impression that I should consider it. I started to think about this baby's potential health problems and the care she might need after birth. I thought about how traumatic this delivery might be on her little body and I started to realize that a C-section might be the safest option for her. With a C-section, there would be no risk of her dislocating a shoulder or getting stuck through hours and hours of labor. I also thought about how I would very likely end up having a C-section anyway and how much more difficult it would be on both myself and the baby to go through so many hours of hard labor before having the surgery. I started to really think and pray about the option of scheduling my section.

I know that Heavenly Father guided me in making my decision. Over the weekend, I was given clear impressions of people who I could reach out to for support and advice. I spoke with my cousin's sweet wife who told me exactly what I needed to hear in order to feel good about choosing the C-section based off of her personal experience. I spoke to a couple of church friends who happened to have had C-sections and were able to provide comforting words.

On Sunday night, my husband gave me a priesthood blessing which allowed me to feel completely resolved and sure in my decision. I was still very nervous about the surgery but, I felt absolutely certain that it was the right decision for me with this baby. On Monday morning, I called my doctor's office and told her what I had decided. The C-section was scheduled for Tuesday morning. I was to arrive at the hospital at 6:00am and the surgery would begin at 8:00am.

That evening, I was nervously getting ready. I kept feeling the anxiety build and then did my best to suppress it as I busily checked bags and did my last minute cleaning and organizing. I texted a sweet friend of mine who had offered to take pictures of our family after the birth to update her on my decision and tell her the time of the birth so that we could schedule a time for her to come. Immediately, she called me to tell me that all three of her children had been born via C-section. She wanted to offer any words of comfort and gave me some wonderful advice to help me stay calm during the procedure. She texted me later that night to tell me that she felt a strong impression that she was supposed to be there for me during this time and that she was praying for me. Her words were an immense comfort to me and yet another proof to me that I had made the right choice.

That night, I went to bed wondering if I would be able to sleep at all. Even though I had felt so sure of myself that day, I started to panic and tearfully expressed to my husband that I wasn't sure if I could go through with the surgery. I felt so afraid. With his help, I was able to calm down and then I began to pray until I fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up at 3:30am but, not because I was anxious. I woke up and felt indescribably excited. I was going to be meeting my sweet baby girl in a few short hours. I knew everything was going to be okay and that I was making the right decision. I felt calm and overwhelmed with joy. Sam and I had still not decided on a name for sure but, that morning, I had a quote run through my mind again and again:

I knew then that I was going to name our sweet girl 'Eve'.

It was such a tender mercy to feel those feelings of excitement and joy on the morning of Eve's birth. I could feel the prayers that were being said on my behalf. Prayers from my parents, in laws, other family members, and friends. My sweet photographer friend even texted me that morning to tell me that she had woken up early and was praying for me.

We dropped Emma off at our dear friend's house in the morning where I knew she would be well cared for. She had been looking forward to playing with her best friend and spending the day with their family for months. I told her that when she came to see me at the hospital, she would get to meet her little sister. She was so excited. It was a little strange to leave her knowing that I would have two babies the next time I would see her again.

We checked in to Mercy hospital right on time. My nurses were kind and comforting. They helped me get settled into my room and talked me through the coming events. They answered all of my questions and then the doctor came in to do the same. I was so happy to have Dr. Wadland performing my C-section. At my OBGYN office, I had 6 rotating physicians, any one of which could have been my delivering doctor. Dr. Wadland was the one I most connected with and I was so grateful that she would be there. Another tender mercy.

Before I knew it, I was kissing Sam goodbye to go get prepped for my surgery. I nervously walked into the bright operating room where they asked me to sit on the edge of a narrow bed as the anesthesiologist gave me my spinal block to numb my body before the surgery. the nurses helped me lay down on the bed and washed and prepped my stomach. Everyone laughed when they realized that a window washer had just lowered himself to our floor on the outside of the building to wash the window of the operating room. "Perhaps we should shut curtain!" someone exclaimed. I chuckled at the thought of him going home to tell his wife that he'd watched a c-section through a window he was washing at work today.  After shutting the window curtain, they placed another curtain above my belly blocking my view to my lower half and then brought Sam in to be by my side. Just like that, we were ready to begin.

Unfortunately, I was very nauseous during the surgery and they had to pause a few times to allow me to throw up. Otherwise, everything went very smoothly and I felt no pain or discomfort. They removed the blue curtain leaving another special curtain that allowed us to see the baby as she was lifted out of me. I watched them lift my sweet baby and the tears welled in my eyes as I looked at her. Just like Emma had been, this baby was absolutely perfect. I could feel her sweet presence and already loved her as I watched them carry her across the room. Sam followed her and was able to cut the cord before carrying her back to me and placing her on my chest. I loved watching him bond and connect with her right away. It was special to see him fall in love with her. As they stitched me up, Sam was already proudly telling family members that she had arrived. We both admired her chunky cheeks, her sweet little lips and nose, and her adorably grumpy expressions. She was so different than Emma had been right from the start. She was her own special, sweet person.

Born at 8:25am, Eve weighed 91b 15oz and was 19 inches long. Smaller than estimated but, still a large baby. We were so happy to have her safely with us. The birth had been one hundred percent different than my experience with Emma but, I felt all of those same emotions. Love. SO MUCH LOVE. I felt relief that she was here and that I'd brought her here safely. Gratitude. Proud of myself. Proud of my body. Proud of my courage. Overwhelmed with joy.

Despite comments that I have received and opinions I've heard, a C-section is every bit as much of a birth as a vaginal delivery. Take it from someone who has had both experiences. There is still so much sacrifice and bravery on the part of the mother in order to bring her child into the world. It's true that it is a completely different experience but, the important thing is that we get these sweet babies here and into our arms. In my case, I felt so proud of myself for choosing to bring Eve into the world this way because it had always been such a great fear of mine. I faced it, knowing that it was the safest and best decision for her and for myself. I felt just as brave and tough and proud of my body as I felt after bringing Emma into the world after 22 hours of hard labor.

As we held and loved on our new little angel-our sweet rainbow baby-I told Sam that I wanted to name her Eve and he agreed, it was the perfect name for our beautiful girl. We chose Amour for her middle name. Amour means love.

Recovery has been the most physically difficult part of this particular birth. Standing up for the first time after the c-sections was one of the most painful experiences of my life. However, I've never doubted for a second that I didn't make the right decision. In fact, I feel absolutely certain that something would have gone wrong if I had chosen to keep my scheduled induction. In the weeks that followed Eve's birth, we had several small health scares that I am sure would have been worse for her if I had attempted a regular birth.

With all of the joy and happiness Eve has brought into our family, it has also been a real challenge to navigate her kidney condition. In the first weeks after her birth, we had several appointments. She had an ultrasound performed to get a better look at her kidney, a procedure involving x-rays where she had to have a catheter placed, blood draws, and several appointments with her primary care doctor and a pediatric nephrologist. Eve has a very high risk for urinary tract infections and we have reluctantly had to give her a daily dose of Amoxicillin in order to protect her from them. She also takes a daily probiotic to protect her gut from the antibiotic she is given every night. We have had to watch her very closely and take frequent temperatures to make sure she hasn't contracted a UTI. She has more tests and appointments scheduled in the near future. It has been a very difficult thing to go through and to watch her go through. I have gained a whole respect and empathy for parents who have children with serious illnesses or health problems. I can only imagine the pain that they have had to endure in watching their children suffer after the short amount of time I have had to experience this with my sweet girl.

Another tender mercy surrounding Eve's birth was the timing. Not only was it important that Eve be born in Portland where we live minutes away from a wonderful team of pediatric nephrologists but, it was also such a blessing that she was born at the time of year that she was. Sam was on a break from school before beginning his fieldwork and was able to stay home with me for a full three weeks. He was able to help care for me as I recovered, develop a close and special bond with Eve, spend a lot of time with Emma to help her with the transition of a new sibling, and most importantly, was able to be there for all of Eve's appointments and procedures. This was an incredible blessing for me and for our family. I don't think I could have done it all without him.

I am grateful now, as I look back at the events, for how everything played out. I am thankful that God was so mindful of our situation. I am grateful that He provided so much love and comfort throughout this experience and for His patience with me as I have slowly begun to understand His timing and purposes.

Our family has been so blessed by the addition of Eve. We are ALL so smitten with her. She has brought a closeness and strength to our family. Emma is possibly the proudest big sister in the world. She tells nearly every stranger that we pass that she is a big sister and introduces them to Eve, making sure to include her middle name. Eve truly is a special spirit and we are excited to see all that she will be and do, she has already done so much to change my heart and help me grow.

A Season For Healing

For the last couple of weeks, I have wrestled with the decision to write about my experience with miscarriage. At first, I told myself that it was too painful to write about. It was hard enough to live it. This is not my first time but, it was the most difficult to go through. As days passed, I told myself that writing about my experience would make me look like I was looking for attention or oversharing. It's always a struggle to decide what to share on this crazy world of social media. Am I sharing too much? Am I only showing the most "sparkly" parts of me, leading others to believe that I lead a sunshine/rainbows life? It can be a difficult balance to maintain and it makes it hard to not care about what others are thinking about you. Living so far from home has made me more grateful than ever for social media as it has allowed me to stay connected with people I love in many different and positive ways. However, there are days that I feel like throwing all of our electronic devices into the ocean for good. 

As I have worked on healing from this ugly experience, once again, I have felt more and more that it was important for me to share it. I'm not sure if my desire to write about it is more to help me in my healing or to help others who may have had a similar experience or will in the future. I sincerely hope that what I write won't make anyone uncomfortable and I'm certainly not hoping for pity. I would love to read others experiences and would also be happy to answer any questions. Miscarriage is a very lonely and heartbreaking experience. I suppose my desire in writing about it is to feel a closeness with other women who have gone through what I have and to help them feel a little less lonely too. It's always a positive thing to feel strengthened and lifted by others. I know I have felt that strength as I remembered stories and experiences shared by others who have had similar journeys.

I found out I was pregnant on July 23rd. I was filled with joy. I had no doubt that I was going to have a healthy pregnancy and that the timing was right this time. Emma had been asking about having a sibling and I knew it would be such a good thing for her and for our family. The baby was due in April which was kind of crazy but also so fun. Sam, Emma, and I all have April birthdays. I couldn't wait to bring another April baby into our family. For the weeks following, we made plans and worked on preparing ourselves for the new adventure. I planned how I would tell my family, I ordered Emma a "Big Sister" T-shirt, I researched OBGYN's in my area and set an appointment for an ultrasound. I wrote lists of possible baby names and started doing some baby shopping. I had even started a journal on the day I found out just as I did with Emma. I had written several entries recording symptoms, experiences, and feelings in letter form to my sweet baby. I was anticipating so many magical moments. Discovering the gender, telling Emma that she was going to be a sister, helping her feel little kicks on my belly, and watching her meet her brother or sister for the first time. Sam and I both were so excited to have another sweet baby in our lives. 

Just before 7 weeks, I was laying in bed when I had a feeling that I had miscarried. I realized that many of my symptoms had lessened and I just didn't feel the same. I was worried and stayed up nearly all night fretting about it. I tried to convince myself that it was just anxiety and that I shouldn't spend time worrying about it but, the next morning, I started spotting. Immediately I was flooded with emotions. Tears, tears, and more tears as all of the hopes of another precious, tiny baby were taken from me. I called my doctor right away and was told that it was possible that I wasn't having a miscarriage and to call to schedule an appointment if my spotting got worse but, I already knew. I was already lost in grief. The next day, my fear was confirmed. It was oddly comforting to have the ultrasound and see that my baby was there, even though it was no longer growing. Otherwise, the day was utterly comfortless-full of tears and a heavy, lonely darkness. 

For me, one of the worst parts was that I was not only grieving this baby. I also felt like I would never be able to have a healthy pregnancy again. Not only did I feel like my body wasn't capable, I also felt like it would be too scary to try again. I never wanted to live through this awful experience again. If I ever did get pregnant again, I couldn't bear another loss. I hated myself for not being able to give Emma a sibling like I so desperately wanted to. I felt like Emma was going to be my first and last child. Other mothers got to make the decision that their family was complete and I felt robbed of that decision because in the days that followed, I was certain that I would never have another baby of my own again. 

So few people knew that I had been pregnant and I felt alone in my grief. Of course, my husband was my rock and a dear friend of mine that I confided in was willing to have even the most difficult conversations with me about this uncomfortable topic. Even so, I was experiencing some of the worst pain my heart had ever had to experience. My greatest comfort came from a loving Heavenly Father as I prayed to feel any kind of peace and hope. 

A few days after my miscarriage had been confirmed, we were to scheduled to leave on a trip to northern Maine. We planned to visit Acadia National Park and then head west to Moosehead Lake where we would stay in a family member's cabin for a few days. At first, I wished that we weren't going. I was crying constantly and didn't feel like doing anything besides laying in bed. Not only was I experiencing the emotional grief and pain of my loss but, I was also feeling a lot of physical pain and discomfort. As it approached, my physical pain was lessening and I realized that getting away from the house could be a good thing for me. I resolved to make this a trip of healing and hoped to return home with a little more peace in my heart.  

Miscarriage is one of the terrible experiences in life where you have no choice but to just sit in your pain in order to heal, there really isn't much to be done. For me, it was about feeling the love and support of my family and those close to me who I initially shared my experience with. It was especially comforting to feel the loving arms of my savior and to truly realize that he understood my grief perfectly. I later realized that He had also provided many tender mercies for me as I would go through this difficult time. Sam had just finished his semester which meant that he was no longer distracted with classes and finals. He was home and completely available to help me through my emotional and physical pain. We had originally planned to travel to Utah on this break from Sam's classes but, hadn't felt right about it. I realize now that even though I miss my family, it would have been a very difficult time to travel and visit everyone. We had instead planned to go on this trip which, turned out to be the biggest tender mercy of all. It provided me with a lot of time for reflection and rest and most importantly, to feel loved and supported by my family and my Heavenly Father in a truly beautiful place. 

Our trip was absolutely perfect in every way (well, except for the part where Sam lost his wallet and we spent three hours looking for it). The first two days were spent in Acadia National Park where we hiked Cadillac mountain, picked and ate wild blueberries, dipped our feet into Jordan Pond, visited the Bass Harbor Lighthouse, and walked Sand Beach. The three of us squished onto an air mattress in a tent both of those nights and snuggled all night long. 

Cadillac Mountain looking out at fog-covered islands in the distance.

Wild blueberries on Cadillac Mountain

Heading to Jordan Pond

Spot the frog

Bass Harbor Lighthouse

We ate delicious food and splurged on ice cream both days. We hiked, explored, watched the sunset, and listened to the rain as it pounded our waterproof tent through the night. I savored the time spent with my beautiful little girl and loved watching her excitement as we saw and experienced new things on the enchanting Desert Island. 

Sand Beach

On our way off of the island, we bought a pie from a little local place that we had seen a line outside of every day. We ate it straight from the pie tin right after breakfast as we made the three hour drive from Acadia National Park to Moosehead Lake. 

Moosehead Lake was a dream. We stayed in a cabin where I could sit on the back porch and watch the loons glide across the lake and hear them call to each other as the sun set. I could see the reflection of pine trees in the clear water and I listened to Emma laugh as Sam caught her again and again and again jumping from a large rock into the water where they splashed and played. We all swam, fed the ducks, and kayaked until our arms felt like jello every day. I loved being in the middle of that beautiful lake, completely surrounded by trees. I'd close my eyes and just be still. 

Every night we built a fire and ate multiple s'mores and then climbed the ladder to the loft where we all slept together. I was too tired to stay up at night crying and being sad. Instead, I contentedly snuggled between my two favorite people with a warm little dog at my feet and drifted to sleep. 

There is kind of an unspoken rule about staying in a cabin with Sam where he is the one to make breakfast in the morning. I tried getting up on the first day to make pancakes for everyone and he insisted that he wanted to do it. Who am I to argue with that? Every morning Sam made pancakes with cinnamon and nutmeg with hot chocolate (which Emma fell in love with). 

We ventured away from the cabin a couple of times. We visited the adorable little town of Greenville where we wandered through quaint shops and ate at a couple of fun places. We visited Elephant Mountain to see the wreckage of a B52 bomber from the Cold War era where 7 soldiers in training were killed in the crash and 2 survived despite having to spend a night in -29 degree temperatures after their crash. One of them was the only person to survive a plane crash in an ejector seat where their parachute didn't open. It was a sad site and walking the 1/2 mile of wreckage was a sobering experience. 

We enjoyed picking wild raspberries all over the area as we hiked, finding all sorts of strange varieties of plants and mushrooms, and seeing some fun wildlife (although we were disappointed that we never did spot a moose). The whole area surrounding Moosehead Lake was green and lush with all sorts of vegetation. It was the perfect place and we had the perfect time together. 

As I watched the fire die down on our last night, I told Sam that I was sad that the trip had to end. It had felt so perfect and I had smiled and laughed so much. I felt sad that something so wonderful had to end. I wanted the feelings to last and didn't want to have to go back to the pain of what happened and the worry of what the future would hold. 

I don't know what God has in store for my family but, I do feel more hopeful as I look to the future. I am grateful to be so loved by my people and to love them so much. I am grateful to have the support that I have. I think after this last week, I am more grateful than ever for the life that I have and for the sweet baby that I've been blessed with. Being her mom is the greatest gift. My process of healing might look different than yours. The way I felt and grieved may be different too. I think Heavenly Father is mindful of our personal needs and knows what we need and how to best teach us and strengthen us through our trials. My experience is unique but, many have had similar stories and I have been comforted by the strength of others. I am not alone and though the sadness is still there, I am stronger.