20 Weeks...

 

20 weeks have flown by!  I can hardly believe it.  We are halfway to meeting our little man!

I am feeling much better and even went a WHOLE week without getting sick.  Of course I've been sick every day this week but I'm going to count my blessings when I can.  Baby B3 is moving a bit more now, nothing too crazy, but he is doing a lot of flipping around in there.  Still nothing strong enough for anyone but me to feel, but I think those days are numbered.

I've started to walk everyday which has helped with my energy level and I am pretty much eating normally now.  A LOT less Ramen noodles and Saltine crackers!  Woo hoo!

We have an appointment coming up this week and I am anxious to see our boy on the sonogram screen again.  Can't wait to have him in my arms! 

See ya in four weeks!

she turned four

We blinked and she wasn't a baby anymore.  I'm not sure how it happened but suddenly her day was here.  She woke up with an instant smile on her face as we sang to her through her streamer-ed door.  Her smile so big, cheeks so chubby, her little slivers of eyes, gleaming.  She knew it was special.

  Our girly-girl who dazzles herself with jewelry, make-up and nail polish but prefers to watch Transformers, Ben 10 and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with her brother.

There is no shortage of sass in this little three-foot-something frame.  Attitude also comes along for the ride.  She challenges everything, has an opinion about everything, submisses to virtually no authority unless its convenient for her.



But she cuddles better than anyone I've ever known.  She nestles her head into the crook of your neck, throws her arms around you and always makes a sighing noise of complete satisfaction as if with you is the only place she wants to be.

She loves fiercely, is disgusted regularly, is passionately loud and uncharacteristically gentle.

We should have given her the middle name of "mischief" or "sneaky."  She is always finding herself in a bind, with a crayon in hand and a blank canvas, also known as her bedroom wall, just begging to be colored on.  We think we have misplaced important things only to find them tucked away in her "secret hiding place" also known as her play kitchen.  It's a good thing we know her secret or there would be a lot more panic as we look for car keys, jumpdrives and wedding rings.

  

She's dramatic and resourceful.

 

And always finds herself shakin' her "tail feathers" to whatever tune is playing in the background.

  

She hassles her brother and gives him way more kisses than he could ever want; but we know its because she loves him so fiercely.

 

She was a healing baby for our family four years ago and she continues to do so four years later. 

  

A dreamer, a peacemaker, a debater.

 

She wants to be doctor so she can help people in this world.

 

We couldn't imagine our world without her.

Happy Birthday, little girl.  We love you more than you could ever know.

It's A.....

16 weeks

 

I've made it to 16 weeks with Baby B3.  I am still VERY sick with pregnancy sickness, which means sometimes visiting my "porcelain friend" a few times a day.  The interesting thing is, I don't mind it as much this time around.  Maybe its because I've been through the loss of a baby and now every week that passes, I feel less worried about losing this one, and more grateful for every moment.  Maybe it's because I just know that pregnancy sickness is part of my body's process and I've just succumbed to the idea.  Either way, I am more laid back this time around.  Which is pretty unusual for me.

I felt my first little "flutters" this week and it is always a reassuring thing.  You just never know what's going on in there until you finally feel some movement.  I am looking forward to the weeks that come, feeling actual somersaults and kicks.  I am also looking forward to the first time that the kids get to feel it too!

Nothing big to report this week (except of course for my growing belly) so we will check back in in four weeks!

A Little Announcement

 

Yep, you guessed it!  The Braisted clan is going to be expanding.  Our little one's due date is April 11th, 2014 and we couldn't be more excited!  Check back every four weeks for updated belly pics and new information on the newest little Braisted!

School Days!

I blinked...and it was that time of year again.  Thirteen weeks of summer flew by us and suddenly I have a six year old in Kindergarten and a three year old in Pre-K4.  I never know how much they change and really grow up until I see their pictures from the year before.  

I just can't believe that these two used to be babies. 

Here's to another year!

 

 

   

 

Until it Happens to You

 

I realize it is a bit unorthodox to write about things that are painful.  But I promised myself, and those who read these posts, that I would keep our blog real, open, honest and raw.  There is very little that is more raw than the events that transpired this week.  Nonetheless, I still felt God asking me to share them.  We are meant to live in community, we were not created to deal with things alone.  For it is in loneliness that Satan thrives and strives to isolate us into shame, embarrassment and doubt.  Through transparency and a genuinely-lived life, I believe it is where we conquer Satan through our Savior.  Where we give him no foothold to grab, where we leave no stone left unturned.

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It's the kind of pain that starts in your heart.  Not the actual muscle located in your body but a place that begins somewhere deeper, that doesn't appear in a medical book.  It slowly pulsates upward through your lungs and spreads wide across your chest, radiating into your shoulders, slowly penetrating your arms.  It makes its way to your hands, to the tips of your fingers.  It's so electrifying that you feel like anyone who is within a one-mile radius of you must feel it too.  You hope they feel it too.  You hope you're not alone in your suffering.

From the moment the two pink lines show up on that plastic stick, something is lit inside of you.  You can't explain it, you can only feel it.  With every week that passes, more and more of this little future begins to unfold in your mind.  Promises, hopes and dreams; they already exist.

Physical signs that life has started to make you acutely aware of this miracle taking shape inside of you.

Names begin to circle in your daydreams.

All the "firsts" they will experience play out like an old movie in your thoughts.

You wonder if they will be blonde or brunette, boy or girl.  Will they be fiery like their sister or sensitive like their big brother?  Will you finally have a child with blue eyes, that maybe could look a little like you?  Those Braisted genes are awfully strong.

You grin when you pass by your husband as he washes dishes because the fact that you share this intimate secret only brings you closer.  You sign up for "Baby E-mails" and put a weight tracker on your electronic devises, this time you are going to keep those pounds in check.

In the back of your mind there's a little dark corner of "what ifs" that you keep smashed behind happy memories of your past two experiences.  It's still such a slight chance, and really, that kind of thing only happens to other people.

Until it happens to you.

I sat there thinking how wrong it was that my child, the one I already had playing soccer in my mind, was now sitting in a place to be flushed down like waste.  The child with Mike's infectious smile and my blue eyes, was no longer in a warm or caring environment.  Coupled with the fact that I could barely grieve because every time the kids saw me crying they thought the end of the world was coming.  In their eyes, I'm a rock, and if something could upset Mommy this much...

I used to be sympathetic to mothers who lost a child in early pregnancy.  I never knew what it was like but in my mind I said things like, "Well at least the baby was only the size of a sesame seed.  She didn't get to see the child's face or anything.  That must feel better."  But now that our baby was just the size of a sesame seed I completely understand.  That is our sesame seed and it doesn't make me feel any better.

The kids were occupied and the sun was setting, I could barely make out some rogue rays creeping over our backyard wall.  The same place from where my hurt was seeping through, called to me to come see beauty through it all.  I yearned for it.  Not for an answer or a quick fix but to see beauty through the ashes of what was left of my broken heart.  So I climbed the stairs to our roof and saw it.

Beauty.

Promises.

Hopes.

Dreams.

In the clouds, the rays of light, I saw God's heart breaking for mine and at the same time His healing powers flowed over me like ocean waves.  For a moment, and if only for a moment, He spoke through His creation the way words never could:

"I love you, my child.  My mercies are new with every sunrise, my grace is new with every sunset."

I have been in this love affair with Christ long enough, through enough battles and hard places, to believe His words.  To know that as His Word promises "to work out all things for the good of those who love Him," He will do just that.  And like all the other circumstances throughout my life, I can't see it, not standing in the middle of a messy and painful place, but after a few more sunsets I know He'll show me just how much mercy and how much grace He planned to give.

Brown Paint and Refrigerators

Phaeton, Haiti

Many years ago my mom was opening up several Curves for Women clubs and she wanted to do some murals on the walls to spice up the place.  So we did some caricatures of women exercising.  Given that I was an art major and loved anything to do with painting, she asked me to help.

We used an overhead projector (yes, I just said overhead projector) to reflect the images on the wall and I traced around the edges of the design and later painted it in.  All was going well until we got to painting the women's hair color.  I could paint every shade of blonde or red or black or gray but I absolutely could not mix the right color to make brown.  Being a painting major at the time, I was incredibly frustrated at the fact that I couldn't make that darn brown paint.  I may have even thrown a little bit of a temper tantrum too.

My mom and I decided to take a break and go out for lunch and I expressed my frustration with the brown paint, to which she replied, "Well, did you pray about it?"  "Mom, God doesn't care about brown paint." "Well, why don't you try and see."  So in my most snotty, attitude-y, teenage voice I prayed, "Dear God, I need to make brown paint.  Amen."  I'm sure I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms and stared out the window at the sheer ridiculousness of the conversation I had just had with the "Almighty Deity" about a bit of tinted media.

After lunch we returned to the club and I took out my paint brush, grabbed some paint colors and just threw them in there fully expecting a disgusting color of blah to be revealed.  But within seconds, the most beautiful Auburn color that any woman would die to achieve showed up in my little Dixie cup.  I couldn't believe it.  I didn't even try.  I completely expected there to be no brunette gym bunnies on my mother's club walls.  But there it was; brown paint.

Although I wasn't a Believer back then, I never forgot that brown paint.  For many years after, when I had become a Believer, I caught myself in the most trying of circumstances quietly saying to myself, "brown paint."  I fully expected that no matter how impossible something seemed, if God cared that I could make brown paint He certainly cared enough to walk me through anything with more serious ramifications.

Monday, my refrigerator stopped working.  Of course something like this would happen when my husband is out of town.  Of course this would happen when I just went to the grocery store and bought a month's worth of meat to freeze.  Of course this would happen when I live in a Spanish-speaking country where I don't know the technical way to say "the external temperature control" or could possibly not know the technical terms they would throw back at me if I called someone asking for help.  So after panicking for a little bit and then calling the manufacturer (which wasn't as traumatic as I thought it would be) the words "brown paint" came to my mind.  I hadn't thought of the phrase in quite a long time so I paid special attention to the fact that it resurfaced in my desperate time of need...and I use desperate loosely, of course. 

I walked over to my refrigerator, put both hands on it and said something to the effects of, "Lord, I hate that my husband is not here to take care of this.  I just want to sit on my couch and drown my sorrows away in chocolate but I am choosing to actively seek You.  I know that You are the God who controls the wind and the waves, the sun and the moon and you even probably control the electricity somehow.  I need this refrigerator and really don't have the energy to jump through the hoops I will have to jump through to get this fixed.  Please fix my refrigerator."  In the exact moment that I said "Amen" I felt the urge to unplug my fridge.  I thought it kind of odd considering that would seemingly be counter-productive but I have learned to pay special attention to things, and thoughts, that are out of the ordinary.  I walked over, unplugged my fridge, plugged it back in and instantly heard the glorious sound of the temperature fan kicking in.  All the lights came back on and cool air was flowing through my perspiring food.

Some may call that coincidence.  Some may call that my own intellectual knowledge of a working refrigerator.  I prefer to call that an Infinite and Mighty God who takes small moments everyday to remind us of how Intimate and Loving He really is.  Our God who paints the colors of a Haitian sunrise the most majestic colors of red, orange and yellow also whispers to our souls His unbelievable love for us through brown paint and refrigerators.

"I prepared you..."

Three and a half years ago one of the biggest tragedies to ever grace my life occurred.  It knocked the wind out of me.  It shook me to my core.  When it happened, I refused to believe that it was happening to our family.  When we were going over funeral arrangements I felt like I was outside of my body watching other people grieve.  When I finally let myself believe that he was gone I had a husband that was completely broken, a son who couldn't believe his gaga was gone and all the pieces, and people, surrounding our life felt like they were crashing to the floor.  Although it's true that the pain stings a little less over time, this morning his face flashed through my sub-conscience like I was reliving it all again.  But God reminded me of the beautiful things He laid before me during that time and the many months after.  And I knew He wanted me to write about them here.

I remember January of 2009 very clearly.  One early morning I sat on our couch, staring at the fibers in our living room rug.  The rest of the house was asleep and I was almost jealous that they were.  The early signs of depression had already set in, although I was in denial because "Christians weren't supposed to be depressed."  I had known for some time that something was off, that I wasn't myself, but I couldn't really pinpoint exactly what it was.  I began to feel fearful of everything; fearful of car accidents, fearful of harmful parasites, fearful of childhood leukemia.  We had never been in a car accident in the Dominican, we had never contracted harmful parasites and Landon definitely did not have childhood leukemia.  Nonetheless, the unknown began to cripple me.  I didn't want to leave my house.  I didn't want Mike to go anywhere without me.  I didn't want to leave Landon with anyone.  Slowly but surely I was convinced that if we were separated, one of us would die.

Looking back, it sounds so incredibly dramatic but the reality is, in the thick of depression even the most irrational things become rational.  My irrational fears of loved ones dying went past my immediate family to my extended family as well; parents, sisters, in-laws.  It was a suffocating place to be.  The once out-going, happy, passionate person I was, slowly began to die within me.  I knew I needed help.

I began meeting with a mentor friend of mine who also happened to be an incredible woman of God.  I can't imagine what she thought when I laid everything out for her, but regardless, she acted in love and committed to walking me through this very dark time.  I discovered that the real source of my depression was a lack of trust in God and a completely warped idea of who He was.  I had a past that I never felt like I had been adequately punished for and I was waiting for the shoe to fall, the lightning to strike.  I couldn't wrap my mind around this whole "new creation" thing or the fact that my slate was wiped clean.  Surely, God was keeping a tally and just when I thought life was too good to be true, the punishment would come.  And because the punishment I deserved hadn't come yet, I sat waiting, day after day, wondering when the day would arrive and my life would be in shambles.

We began reading the book, "The Shack," chapter by chapter.  I realize this is an incredibly controversial book in the Christian sphere but for me it held all the answers.  No, I do not believe that God is a large, African American woman or that I can sit and eat meals with The Holy Trinity but it revealed to me the characteristics of God that had been hidden from me before.  And through those characteristics I began to realize how trustworthy God really was.  How He cared for me - how He paid the price for me so I didn't receive the punishment I deserved.  It changed my perspective, the cloud lifted.

For nine months we met and I was a different person.  Mike and I were expecting baby number two, we had moved into a new house, Landon started school.  Life was as good as it could get...

...and then the shoe dropped.

I don't need to describe to you all the emotions and painful recollections that surrounded the phone call we received when my father-in-law passed away.  Or the brutal months after as my husband dealt with the loss of his best friend.  Or trying to deal with a newborn and a very confused two-and-a-half year old, essentially on my own.  It just goes without saying.

Several months had gone by since Joe's passing and I was trudging my way through my devotions one morning.  The words, "I prepared you," kept going through my mind.   "I prepared you," He kept saying.  Prepared me for what?  For the exact thing I couldn't bare to happen, to happen?  For someone I loved to die?  For my world to go to shambles?

And then it hit me.

My world didn't go to shambles.  I was broken but not defeated.  He had prepared me nine months prior for something that He knew was going to happen on September 10th, 2009.  For something that should have rocked my world and crippled me.  He walked me through my deepest fear, gave me a clearer picture of His love for me and restored my trust in Him before the very thing came to pass that should have plunged me further into the depths.

Some people may see that as a spiteful God, to "let" something like that happen knowing it was the thing I feared the most.  But I saw it in a totally different light.  Jesus never said we will have nothing but rainbows and roses once we accept Him as our Savior.  He says, "In this world you WILL have trouble..."  Trouble is inevitable.  We live in a lost and broken world.  But what I realized through one of the biggest tragedies of my life is that I have a Savior that takes the time to give me knowledge, insight, hope and counsel to prepare me to face whatever giant stands in my path...past, present or future.

Life, Motherhood and Seizing Moments

I wrote a little post over on our ministry blog today...check it out!

A lesson in life, motherhood and seizing moments!