Roundup

Oh boy.  I’ve got a lot to catch up on.

Let’s just do a few bullet points, shall we?

-    Christmas was wonderful.  We spent it with both our families and celebrated the birth of our Savior King.  More on our family celebrations here.

-    Our New Year was pretty low key.  That happens when you have a four month old.  We opted out of going anywhere, despite several very nice invitations from people we love, and spent the evening on the couch cuddled up with our dogs.  Blake, of course, wished us a Happy New Year before he hit the crib at 7PM.

-   I have a 2011 recap in the works.  Maybe by tomorrow.  Maybe not.  Here's to hopin'!

-    I’m excited about 2012.  Like, for real.  This is the year of the frugal housewife, since we’ve gone from a two-income family to a one-income family.  I’ve got a whole post on that in the works.

-   I’ve gotten back to my DIY roots in the last few weeks, and am so so so so excited (<-- are you sensing my enthusiasm?!) for the latest project I’ve got up my sleeve.  I’m especially excited because it will be F-R-E-E and will completely transform the look and feel of my living room.  In a big, BIG way.  And it’s bold.  I love being bold.

And, before I go, I leave you with one adorable picture of the littlest man in my life.  I know,  I said I was only going to do that over on the family blog from now on....but I can't resist.  Just don't tell my hubby, okay?

Adopted by the Father

At the recommendation of my dad, I recently read this book.

I can't even really describe how much it surprised me.  It's about a little boy who almost dies on the operating table, and when he awakes, he tells his mom and dad about how the "angels sang to him" and how he visited heaven and sat on the lap of Jesus.

Mindblowing stuff, right?  I wasn't sure I believed it, but decided to give the book a read anyway.

It took exactly one night to read it from cover to cover.  I was riveted.  I had tears running down my face.  I literally took my breath away.  

And I want to tell you why.

At one point in the book, the author (the father of the little boy) is telling about a heartbreaking miscarriage that he and his wife suffered before the birth of their son, Colton.  He describes it as the single most difficult event he and his wife had ever weathered in their marriage, and shared the shattered hearts that resulted from the loss of their baby.  I cried with him as I read these words, because I identify with that sense of loss as the mother of 15 IVF babies...not all of whom I will ever have the chance to hold on his earth.

Later on in the book, the topic of this miscarriage comes up again....only this time, by their little boy.  I'm including the passage:

"One evening in October, I was sitting at the kitchen table, working on a sermon.  Sonja was around the corner in the living room, working on the business books, processing job tickets, and sorting through payables.  Cassie played Barbie dolls at her feet.  I heard Colton's footprints padding up the hallway and caught a glimpse of him circling the couch, where he then planted himself directly in front of Sonja.
  
"Mommy, I have two sisters," Colton said.

I put down my pen.  Sonja didn't.  She kept on working.

Colton repeated himself.  "Mommy, I have two sisters."

Sonja looked up from her paperwork and shook her head slightly.  "No, you have your sister, Cassie, and...do you mean your cousin, Tracy?"

"No." Colton clipped off the word adamantly.  "I have two sisters.  You had a baby die in your tummy, didn't you?"

At that moment, time stopped in the Burpo household, and Sonja's eyes grew wide.  Just a few seconds before, Colton had been trying unsuccessfully to get his mom to listen to him.  Now, even from the kitchen table, I could see that he had her undivided attention."

"Who told you I had a baby die in my tummy?" Sonja asked, her tone serious.

"She did, Mommy.  She said she died in your tummy."

....I knew what my wife had to be feeling.  Losing that baby was the most painful event of her life.  We hadn't told Colton, judging the topic a bit beyond a four-year-old's capacity to understand.  From the table, I watched quietly as emotions rioted across Sonja's face. 

"It's okay, Mommy," he said.  "She's okay.  God adopted her."
___________ 

I read that passage with tears freely flowing down my face.  God adopted her.  Those words just kept replaying in mind.  

A few paragraphs later, the story continues with Colton's exhuberant exclamation:

"She said she just can't wait for you and daddy to get to heaven!"

If I had been crying before, then these were full fledged alligator tears.  I almost feel like those few paragraphs changed my world, or at least, my view of the world.

When we started the IVF process, God blessed us with 15 baby embryos.  We celebrated.  We were joyful.  We wanted them all, and we never ceased to pray for them all. But, if you've been following our story for a while, then you know that we didn't get to keep them all.  Blake was implanted along with a twin, who never attached.  Others stopped dividing and died just days after conception.  Of the original fifteen, we have just four left...waiting for us.  

I'm always so careful when writing about this topic, because it's difficult to express my heart when it comes to how I feel about these lives.  I've also received some criticism from people who don't believe it's possible to honor God while simultaneously accepting the loss of these little lives.  I've written more about my thoughts on that here.  

For me, reading this little boy's account of meeting his sister in heaven rocked my world.  It brought all of my emotions back to the forefront, but in a different, more joyful way.  

And man, it really made me think.

God has adopted my babies.  His intention, from the beginning of time, was never for them to live out their days on this earth.  Their destiny was to forever live within the gates of heaven, adopted by the Father.  When I originally wrote about this, in this post, I titled it "Adopted and Loved".  At the time, I remember thinking that the title didn't really make sense, but it just felt right. 

And it really, really was.

God has blessed us with the gift of Blake.  He has placed him in our arms to walk alongside us on this earth.  But that's not the end of the blessing.  We may never get to hold all our babies here, on earth, but they are waiting for us.  I will have an eternity with them.  They walk the streets of Heaven, sitting on the Father's lap in the throne room even as I type this.  Not a bad way for this mama to picture her babies.

It's so easy to get caught up in this world.  After all, we live here.  This is our reality, all we've ever known, and our sense of time revolves around the day-to-day of this world.  But, wow, this life?  It's nothing.  It is literally the blink of an eye.   We can't yet comprehend that, because our humanity limits our understanding.  

This little boy's account of heaven opened my eyes just a little bit more to the blessing.  I prayed for God to make me a mom, and he did....fifteen times over.  He never intended for all of those blessings to be given to me at once, and He never intended for our little human household to be filled with fifteen pairs of little feet.  That doesn't negate what He did in my life for me, and it doesn't limit it.  My babies, those I'll never hold on this earth, have been adopted by the Father...and they are waiting for me.  For their mama. That is my eternal designation.

I have little Colton's words ringing in my ears "...and she just can't wait for you and daddy to get there"

I can't wait to get there, either.  In the meantime, my heart finds joy as I picture them sitting on the Father's lap as he tickles their tummies and whispers how much He loves them.  I know MY love for them could never compare to the Father's, but my breath-prayer this morning was that He gives them three extra hugs and kisses, today and everyday.  One from their mama, one from their daddy....and one from their brother. 

____________________

Maybe some of you are reading this post with a lot of skepticism, a lot of yeah sure the kid went to Heaven and saw Jesus.  Sounds like an over-active imagination, right?  I hear that.  I wasn't sure myself as I started reading the book.  For me, though, I had to ask myself this question: Do I, as a follower of Jesus Christ, believe that I serve the kind of God who would send His angels to comfort one of His little ones in their time of need?  I do.  Jesus loves the little children.  Do I also believe that God is a miracle-worker?  Do I believe that it is possible for Him to give a glimpse of heaven to this little boy?  How could I answer that any other way but of course?  Of course God could have offered Colton that glimpse of Heaven.   And if I believe those two things, then I don't need to analyze it any further.  So, for me, I choose to walk away from the book with a sense of renewed hope, and excitement. 

Back in the saddle again (...of exercising)

Well, it's time.  After 4 months of no exercise, I've decided to get back in the saddle and get rid of this baby weight. 

Before I got pregnant, I looked like this:

Then, after 9 months of pregnancy, I looked like this:

  

Now, four months post pregnancy, I look like this:

Hm.  Apparently I like to change my hair color and style a lot.  Anyway...

Let's put those side by side, shall we??

Hmm.  It's a work in progress.  In my pre-pregnancy shot, I'm weighing in at 125 pounds and wearing a size 2 jean.  In my post-pregnancy shot, I'm weighing in at a weight I'd rather die than post not 125 and (I think in that picture) wearing a size 6 pant.  That was a month ago that I took the picture, and today I fluctuate anywhere between a size 4 pant and a size 6.  I'm somewhere in the middle.  Definitely can't even look at the size 2 jeans pictured above.  I can barely get one leg in. 

For the past four months, I haven't really thought about it.  I'm breastfeeding, and that required good hydration and good food and nutrition.  So I've been focusing on that.  Yes, I would like to lose the weight, but I'm not looking to get back down to 125.  I gained a lot of weight during pregnancy (I couldn't even tell you how much because I stopped looking somewhere in the 2nd trimester) and my doctor said that was likely due to my petite frame growing a very non petite (10 pound, 7 ounce) baby.  I wasn't technically underweight before, but I was close, and my doctor would like to see me stay in the 130-135 range. 

And that's fine by me. 

So now I just need to motivate myself and stay accountable until I get there.  I've always been an exercise junkie.  I really love it.  In the summers when I didn't work, I'd go to the gym every morning and just regulate my body with a hot, sweaty, can't-sit-for-the-rest-of-the-week workout.  And I loved it.  During pregnancy, I worked out every single day until my 38th week of pregnancy.  And I gave birth at 39 weeks to the day.  I have no doubt in my mind I can do this. 

In the new year, I've decided to take advantage of my husband's insurance benefits and sign up for Weight Watchers.  Not because I want to lose some massive amount of weight, but because I want the accountability of watching what I eat and being aware of what I eat.  With a baby around, it's too easy to just grab something quick for lunch rather than making something nutritious.  Same way with dinner.  It's not impossible, just more difficult.  I've also cleared all the boxes off the treadmill started working out in the evenings, which is already making me feel more invigorated and motivated.  I'm also hoping that a certain someone (hi honey, I love you!) will buy me a gym membership for Christmas.  There's just something about getting in the car to go to the gym that I love and can't replicate in my garage. 

So that's my plan.  I've been making dinner menus each week and sticking to it so that I can make sure we are eating good food rather than quick food.  I've done Christmas baking but given away all the spoils to keep those temptations out of my hands.  I've stocked our fridge with fruits and veggies that are ready for snackin'.

And so here we go!  I'm planning to blog once a week at least twice a month about my progress so I can stay accountable.  Wish me luck!!

Updates

Check out a couple new posts on my new blog, here.  They are full of baby cuteness. 

Don't know the password?  Email me or comment and I'll make sure you get it!

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I wanted to let you all know about a change to this little 'ol blog. 

As of today, I am officially splitting Grace Like Rain in two.  There will be this blog, and then this one. 

My new blog, All you need is love...and a blog, is going to be where I post pictures, projects and write about family life.  I've imported everything from Grace Like Rain into my new blog, and I've gone and deleted a bunch of my older entries from this blog. 

So why the change?

Well, really two reasons. 

First, I wanted Grace Like Rain to remain true to what I originally created it to be: an outlet for me to write about our struggles with infertility, the awesome love of the Father, and the beauty of life...even when it doesn't go as planned.

And the second?  Well, really, the first reason leads me to the second. 

When I started this blog, I had no idea that (a few years later) I'd have so many people tuning it every week to find out what's happening in our lives.   It's really humbling that so many of you have taken such a vested and genuine interest in my family, and I have been so touched by the outpouring of love and support I have received through this blogging community.   For real.

That being said, now that I've got a little one running (okay, rolling....kinda) around, I need to be conscientious of safeguarding his privacy.  I realized last week that I was getting thousands of hits from around the world from people googling his full name.  Not even mine.  His full name. And I'll be honest...that kind of made me nervous.  Because for the 1000+ awesome, amazing, wish-I-knew-them-in-real-life bloggers out there, I'd be naive to forget about those 1 or 2 that aren't the type I'd want to bring home to mom and dad (...or have looking at pictures of my sweet baby boy). 

So, in an effort to balance that out,  All you need is love...and a blog was born.  All posts on that blog are password protected, but you are all invited (and I hope you will!) continue to check-in on our little family!  The password for all posts over there will be my maiden name.  If you've known me for a while, you already know it, but if you haven't/don't, please feel free to email me and I'll send it to you!  I'm not trying to keep anyone away, I just want to have a bit better idea of who's reading ;)

Infertility, revisited

I've written about infertility more times than I can count, and yet, as I sit down to write this post it just feels different.   And I am very aware that the difference in this case is the 3-month-old miracle sleeping soundly down the hall.

I know how immeasurably we have been blessed.

But as I sit here, I'm letting my mind wander ahead to tomorrow, which will be December 1.  And I'm remembering that day one year ago.  It was a defining moment in our journey.  It was the day we became parents.  I'll never forget the feelings and emotions I had as we left the clinic that day, and as we approach the one-year anniversary, I find myself thinking about and reflecting on four itty bitty lives who are currently waiting for me in that frozen nursery.  I think about them, and my heart flutters in anxious, eager anticipation. 

Today I am so cognizant and aware that our journey isn't over.  In fact, the majority of it is still head. 

As soon as Blake was born, we did two things.  We set up a college fund for him, and we set up an OHSU fund for his brothers and sisters.  We're going back in the summer of 2012.  If all goes as planned, we'll make a final trip to OHSU (hopefully with a lot of babies in tow) in 2014.  Statistically speaking, each of our frozen babies will have their best shot in the baby-maker before I turn 30.   And because we are committed to them wholly and completely as their parents, and because I'm young enough for the timing to work out, that's our plan.

That's our plan.  Even writing that sentence makes me cringe, because I know that my plan means nothing.  I know that writing the words won't make it come true.  After all, our plan was to have had our first baby two years ago.  Our plan was to have two pairs of little feet running around the house by 2012.  

But our plan was flawed. 

It was imperfect.  And all those months of waiting were not in vain, because while we thought we were waiting for a baby...we weren't.   

We were waiting for Blake.

And that wait was perfect, and beautiful, and necessary.  Today, my eyebrows do funny contortions when my friends tell me about their "plan" for having babies.  While there's nothing wrong with preparing for the future and setting goals, if I've learned anything on this journey it's that my plan all along should have been complete surrender to His plan.  

So now, as we gear up for our next tango in this ongoing infertility dance in 2012, I'm feeling deeply contemplative.  It's hard, even now, to downplay the anxious thoughts that fill my heart.  Infertility is brutal.  It never gets easier.  After Blake was born, my doctor wanted to put me on birth control.  But there was no need.  I can't get pregnant on my own.  That fact always hits like a slap in the face, even though I've learned not to let it sting.  I've embraced this facet of my life as an integral part of who I am, who God made me to be, and I am willing to lean in eagerly with every step that I take in step with my Savior.

I know this is the path that God laid out for my feet to travel.  I know He has walked beside me every step of the way and remained faithful in my darkest days.  I don't feel the same fear I felt all those many months ago when we were waiting for our first miracle.  This time around, it's different.  Maybe, in some ways, the emotions are amplified because I know what's at stake.  Four little humans who are wholly mine.  My precious babies.  Blake's brothers and sisters.  I feel this season so deeply because I want them all. 

And so I'm spending this anniversary week--their anniversary week--in prayer.  For our future.  For our family.  For the babies who have now been on this earth for 1 full year and who I'm still longing to meet.  I think about them all time, wondering if they'll look like their older brother or if any of them will have green eyes like me.  They are all so precious to me, so much already a part of our family.  And yet, they aren't here with us.   

I've always found the waiting to be the hardest part, because it is so unknown.  But instead of dwell in the unknown, I'm choosing to dwell in the known:  

I know that God has the perfect plan for my family, and that it was ordained since the beginning of time. 

I know that our waiting has never been, nor ever will be, in vain

I know that my babies, born and unborn, are loved and cherished by the Father.   

I know that He has already counted all the hairs that have yet to grow on their little heads

I know that He had numbered their days long before any of us were ever born, and that nothing that happens on this earth can ever change the plan He had for their lives

And I know and trust in His timing

When I look into the eyes of my son it's like God is whispering in my ear, reminding me of all I'll ever need to know:  Your waiting has never been in vain.  You were waiting for this little boy, the one I intended for you.  I take faith in that, choosing to believe and trust that this journey has already been played out in the eyes of my Savior.  He knows my family and each member that is to be added to it.  And I know that His master plan is perfect.  As we enter into this next leg of our infertility journey, we do so with anxious anticipation as we await the grand reveal.

We're not waiting for a baby, we're waiting for our babies.  And so we will wait.  Because we are already so, so in love.

In God We Trust....right?

I've been thinking a lot lately about the relationship between an all-encompassing, all-powerful God and….science.   

Cue dramatic music here.

It’s a show stopper, right?

Maybe not.

Science and religion, or a belief in an omnipotent God, are often portrayed as going head to head in this earthly battlefield for the hearts and minds of humanity.  But I don't believe they have to be.  Instead, I believe that science and faith are complementary.

We serve a complex God, and yet the Bible tells us that God cast us in his own image. Given we are intelligent, we can then imagine that we share this with a God who made us in “His own image”.  He gave us free will and a brain and He intended for us to use both.  Science is a natural offshoot of that gift, and without it—without the quest to understand the world around us using our God-given gifts of free will and intelligence—we could only ever operate at the whim of God.  But that’s not how God made us, and that's not what He wanted.  He didn’t mean for us to be mindless followers.  Instead, he gave us the ability to question, to explore and to learn.  In our humanity, God have us the free will we would need in order to choose to follow Him.  In our individual weakness God bestowed upon each of us incredible gifts that He intended we use to further His kingdom.  I believe it is through these spiritual gifts that we come to understand the connection between God and science. 

Even so, I am well aware that there are many believers in the world today with great faith who believe that science, and more specifically, the use of modern medicine, goes against the Divine plan for humanity.  While we know that God is the Great Healer,  does that mean that we should rely on divine healing to the exclusion of any other medical treatments?

If you believe that, then I have the following question for you:  If divine healing is ours as followers of Jesus Christ, why is it that some people, despite their great faith, do not get healed?

Let me use the example of little David Hickman, who was born two months early at his grandmother’s home and then died less than nine hours later when he had trouble breathing.  He was born with a bacterial infection and underveloped lungs.  His parents, rather than seek medical care, prayed and rubbed olive oil on their sick infant.  Despite their fervent prayers for his healing, David died. 

Medical experts have since testified that the baby had a 99 percent chance of survival had his parents sought medical care.

No matter what your (or my) opinion is of these parents’ actions, I believe one thing is very clear:  David's parents did not lack the faith to see their son healed.   They prayed.  They called their family and church elders to pray over the tiny baby.  I'm sure they loved him.   

So why wasn’t he healed?  Was it God’s will that the little boy should die?

This example begs two wider questions:

Does the Bible promise physical healing?

Isaiah 53 is an often quoted passage when it comes to divine healing. Verses 4 - 5 in particular read:

“Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.  But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

These verses are sometimes used as a reference to our spiritual, rather than physical, healing. And I can see that.  But if we look at these verses in conjunction with Matthew 8:17, where Isaiah is quoted in direct reference to the physical healings that Jesus fulfilled, I think a new picture is painted of physical healing:

“When evening came, many who were demon-possessed were brought to him, and he drove out the spirits with a word and healed all the sick. This was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah: "He took up our infirmities and carried our diseases." (Isa 53:4)

Furthermore, writing about 30 years after the death of Jesus, James reiterated.

Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. (James 5:14-15 NIV)

Clearly, the Bible teaches that God is still in the healing business. Physical healing from sickness and disease is part of what Jesus accomplished for us by his life, death and resurrection.

So, let’s move on. 

Does seeking medical treatment or taking medicine contradict my belief in divine healing?

I am fully aware that there are some Christians who understand the taking of medical treatment as a demonstration of disbelief in God's word. After all, Jesus never sent anyone to the doctor, right?

In my opinion, this over looks the fact that doctors in those days were very primitive. We do, however, know that doctors did exist because Luke, the writer of the Gospel of Luke, was a doctor himself (Colossians 4:14).

Truly, medical treatment has come a long way since the days of Jesus. But even in the early church not all sickness benefited from divine intervention. Paul left someone sick at Miletus (2 Timothy 4:20) and Timothy was advised to take a little wine for medical purposes (1 Timothy 5:23). Epaphroditus, a co-worker with Paul, fell sick and nearly died (Phil 2:25-28). None of these hindered Paul from believing in divine healing.

Paul had a respectable record of praying for the sick and witnessing many of them receive their healing from the Lord. Just read the following accounts in Acts (14:8-18; 16:16-18; 19:11-12; 20:7-12; 28:1-9). Even today, despite the many false and exaggerated claims to divine healing, genuine cases do exist. 

The truth of the matter is that Paul had a healthy understanding of the different ways in which God can intervene to restore us to health.

It’s important as followers of Christ to understand that the gift of healing is not the only gift available and promised to us. There is also the gift of wisdom (1 Corinthians 12:1-11). As followers of Christ, we are entrusted with the wisdom to address problems that arise in this life.  We can get ourselves into serious trouble when we put God in a box and expect him to heal us in only one particular way.  Let us not forget that God is the inventor of modern medicine.  Can God choose to heal through divinity?  Absolutely.  But God may also choose to heal through the use of science, and that’s no less miraculous. 

So in answer to my own question; no, I don't believe that seeking medical care contradicts my belief in a God of miracles.  Rather, I believe it is an act of faith and obedience.   As a follower of Christ, my greatest charge is to make decisions for my family that pair the gift of wisdom with my understanding and faith in my God as the Great Healer.  God works in mysterious ways, but it's not up to me to define what that looks like.