A Letter to the Mother in Waiting

Dear mother in waiting,

            I have once walked the journey of waiting. Waiting for the right time. Waiting for God’s timing. Waiting for my period to show up. Waiting for the test results. Waiting to finally be MOM.

I realize every journey is different and many have walked more difficult, lengthier paths than mine, but I want you to know you are not forgotten. I remember you.

Some of you have had to say goodbye to your sweet babies before you ever got the chance to say hello. I grieve with you.  

Some of you have only known negative tests. I share your disappointment.   

Some of you have endured financial and physical burdens in the attempt to conceive with no results or no explanation. I see your frustration and stress.

Some of you feel jealousy and sadness with the announcement of yet another pregnancy. I validate your feelings.

Some of you hear ‘well meaning’ remarks that hurt you. I stand up for you.

Some of you are losing hope and feel like giving up. I pray for you.

No matter where you are in the journey of waiting, please know I am with you. When you feel invisible in a society that doesn’t understand what you are going through, please know I SEE you.

You are all beautiful and truly strong women for all you are and all you have been through.

Mother in waiting, you are loved.

 

Sincerely,

A former mother in waiting

 

JT<3

 

I am a survivor

Set Me Free
I’m not mad at what you’ve done,
I’m angered that you’ve won.
I’ve watched passively,
As you’ve slowly consumed me.
Silently dying each day inside,
While the black and blue I continue to hide.
Wearing a fake smile during the day,
And wishing each night to run away.
I bow my head concealed within the dark,
Praying that God will protect me from another mark.
I hate the girl I’ve become,
Feeling no emotion, being simply numb.
Your condescending words I no longer hear,
Seeing no bruises as I avoid every mirror.
Now you’ve left me bleeding on the floor,
While I struggle towards the door.
Just as I reach for the knob,
I collapse releasing a final sob.
Suddenly appears a happier place,
As a brilliant light shines upon my face.
God has finally brought me home,
After I lived years feeling all alone.
It took you killing me,
To finally set me free.

My name is Jenni, and I am a dating violence survivor.
It all started my sophomore year of high school; I was merely 15 years old. I was a high achieving student while still playing sports and leading clubs. Homecoming was quickly approaching and I was still dateless, but I had my eye on a certain guy. He sat behind me in biology, and his eyes always drew me in. To me, he was the Prince Charming I had been waiting for, finally sent to me in the form of a high school football player. My dream came true when he finally asked me to the dance. Shortly after, we began dating and the nightmare set in. Things were great for the first month, then everything seemed to fall apart, even though I couldn’t see it then.

There are always warning signs of a relationship becoming violent, but it is so difficult to see when you are in it. The abuse began with controlling behavior, as it often does. He dictated what I was allowed wear: I had to look good enough to be with him in public but I couldn’t attract the attention of any other guys. Every other day he would yell at me simply because of the outfit I chose to wear. He used offensive language calling me a whore, slut, bitch, and hoe. I stopped spending time with my own friends and family. I had to constantly be in his sights. I always had to answer my phone whenever he would call. He slowly isolated me from anyone that could have helped me, from anyone that would see exactly what he was doing to me. It got to the point that I couldn’t even recognize who the girl in the mirror was looking back at me. Therefore, I simply avoided any mirror in the hopes that I wouldn’t have to face these problems.

Things escalated, and escalated fast. Now instead of emotional abusing me with his words, he would push. I remember a time that I didn’t want to go where he wanted so he shoved me into a brick wall. His force was so strong that my back was cut open. I didn’t even feel the blood or the pain until a friend came up to me and said, “Oh my gosh, Jenni you are bleeding.” I laughed it off and quickly covered it with a Band-aid. I could feel the angry stare of my boyfriend on the back of my neck. But I knew better than to say anything. As the months went on, the cuts and bruises became more frequent. The weather grew warmer but my sleeves had to get longer. It would be 80 degrees outside but I had to wear a hoodie and jeans just cover the black and blue.

He became more and more comfortable with physically taking out his anger on me. The empty hallways were his scene of choice, and the metal lockers were the enemy that pierced my back with every forceful shove. The abuse was getting more public and more aggressive. One day I watched as he practiced for football with a few of his friends. He fumbled the ball and we laughed at his butterfingers. Suddenly I felt the pressure of all 185 pounds of him crashing against me. My feet fell from under me as he slammed me onto the field. My neck jerked my head hard against the ground, everything went dark. When I regained consciousness, the first thing I saw was him standing over me. His friends stood in shock and asked over and over again if I was alright. I wouldn’t take my eyes off of his. He finally spoke saying, “She’s fine. Get up, now.” I struggled to stand. The spinning feeling from the hit on my head caused me to throw up on the field. He grabbed my hand and led me into the school. I laid on the floor of the gym while he glared down on me, shaking his head as if out of shame for a wrong I had done. That was the first time that I prayed that God would have just let me die. I was in so deep; I was convinced that I would drown before I made it out alive.

Summer came, but there was no shining sun for me. Even the happiest place on Earth, as known as Disneyland, became a place of fear and pain. That summer we flew to California to visit colleges with some other students. The trip included a free day at Disneyland. I remember waking up that morning and saying to myself, today is going to be different. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. It was the Buzz Light-year ride that completely sent him over the edge. How dare I score more points on a silly shooting ride, right? He got so anger at my teasing remarks about being out-shot by a girl, that he came up behind me, wrapping his arm tightly around my neck. I tried to pull him off but he was too strong. I tried to scream but I had no voice. I watched as people turned their heads the other way and continued to walk. I started choking and crying, this only caused him to tighten his grip. I closed my eyes and prayed, “God take me now. Please just let me die.” Just as I was about to pass out, he released me. I fell to the ground gasping for air. He walked past me and waited for me to gather the strength to lift myself to my feet. I couldn’t even look at him for the rest of the night. Sometimes I still have nightmares of being choked. They feel so real that they wake me up.

It took over a year of bruises, cuts, and much more before I finally left. I feared that leaving him would spark more violence. But at that point, I figured I would end up dead if I stayed. It wasn’t easy, and there were times I doubted my choice. But now I can stand before you and say I am alive. My life is in my hands now. Death didn’t release me, I did. The journey to where I am now was tough; I had to rediscover who I was all over again. I no longer avoid the mirrors. I no longer fear being smacked around. I am no longer the victim. I am a survivor. And I am finally set free.

Why me?

The last few years have brought a lot of trials, but in retrospect I have been encountering trials all my life. While in the middle of the fire I often cried out to God, ‘why me?!’

Why must I go through the pain of losing a child?

Why must I go through the battle of illness?

Why….

Why….

Why….

Yet with the start of the New Year I took some time to reflect (and cry) about many of these trials and for the first time I saw their purpose. Throughout the years I have been able to use my struggles to minister to others going through the same thing.

I spent most of college working with women and young girls dealing with abuse; had I not experienced the control and violence first hand I would not have had the compassion or courage to share their journey.

More recently I have spent a great deal of time comforting mothers whose babies are in Heaven with my angel. For so long I felt like our child’s death was beyond senseless but I realize more now than ever that his life was not in vain.

While fighting what seemed like an impossible battle against infection, I made friends with those fighting illnesses of their own. We were able to find strength in each other and celebrate the little things that others could never understand.

God used every single one of these trials, and many more, to show Himself to the world. He used ME as an instrument of His love. How awesome is that?!

So as I wallowed in my own self-pity, I was reminded of a verse in the Bible:

“Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.”

~Isaiah 6:8

I’m sure the Lord has more trials coming for me and though they may be difficult, painful, devastating….instead of saying ‘why me?’ I will say "Here am I; send me.' 

<3 JT

Time Heals All Wounds?

They say time heals all wounds….I’m not sure I agree. With time the pain lessens, life keeps going but the wound still exists in the form of a scar. One week from today our sweet angel baby will celebrate his first birthday in Heaven. Though time has kept ticking away, though this year has brought us the miracle of our daughter, though the chaos of life has drown out the initial grief in the moments of silence I hurt.

This upcoming celebration of life has proved to be more painful than last year’s. I have had the great joy of watching Jasmine grow, learn and come into her personality which makes me yearn to know the child I never met.

Who would he look like?

Whose personality would he take after?

Would he be walking? Talking?

The list goes on and on……

People assume that having another child in some way will replace the other. This could not be more untrue. From the moment of conception our first child was entirely different than our sweet Jasmine. I guess that is what pains me the most, not having the opportunity to know our son or daughter.  My heart just aches.

When a woman has a miscarriage she loses more than a pregnancy. She loses all the hopes and dreams she had for her baby. She loses a future she was so eager to start. She loses memories she’ll never get to have. She loses a part of herself. A part she will never get back.

As January 13^th approaches I will praise the Lord for the blessing of two children: one in Heaven and one in my arms. I will praise Him for His provision. I will praise Him for giving me the time He did with my angel baby. Though I will weep, I will praise Him.

Time may not heal all wounds but it does keep going (sometimes much to my dismay), and with every second I am given I will keep the memory of my Jellybean alive.

“It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”
― Rose Kennedy


<3 JT

“I Will Carry You” Selah http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxZhEcTzn6Q

"I am new"

My Testimony

“Now I won’t deny the worst you could say about me. But I’m not defined by mistakes that I’ve made because God says of me I am not who I was, I am being remade, I am new. I am new.”

~’I Am New’ by Jason Gray

As always I share on my blog as I am led by the Lord and tonight I am finally sitting down to write out what He has been urging me to share for years: my testimony. I would like to preface this by asking readers to please withhold from judgment and gossip as this is very difficult for me to share and deals with many sensitive issues.

In 1996, at the age of 5, I accepted God as my personal Savior and His gift of eternal life. I was raised in a Christian home where we attended church regularly and prayed every night before bed. My mother was the one who ultimately lead me to Christ the first time (I will explain the use of the word first later…) We weren’t the perfect family, there were rough times in my childhood, but I am thankful for the family I was born into and for the exposure to Christ at an early age because it was the foundation I came to lean on later in life.

I was a pretty good kid. I excelled in school, attended VBS every summer and AWANA every Wednesday. I continued to be active in the youth group into my Middle School years and even shared Salvation to a few friends during that time. But High School is really where I want to get to the meat of my testimony and my life transformation.

Freshmen year, as expected, was difficult. We were dealing with family illness, financial issues and I faced a huge identity crisis. Most of my friends were falling into different clicks and I wasn’t sure where I fit. At the age of 14 I first experimented with cigarettes; in my undeveloped mind it was ‘the cool thing to do.’ After awhile I found my core group of friends and continued the adjustment to high school.

Sophomore year was a big turning in my life and really when things started to go downhill and quick. Throughout the years I had had a multitude of ‘crushes’ and doodled a few Mrs. Jenni <insert crush’s last name> on my notebook but when I was 15 I began dating my first real boyfriend. I was raised with the belief that Christians should date other Christians: ‘Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?’ 2 Corinthians 6:14 But at 15 I had no thoughts about the long term effects or even marriage, what could be so wrong with dating a non-believer? I rationalized that I could always be the one who led him to Christ. This would not be the case. I changed my life to revolve around him, his interests and his friends which left very little room for the Lord. Sure I still went to church every Sunday and youth group every Sunday night but when I was on my ‘own’ time I did what felt good at the moment. I sought satisfaction from the world and the people of it. At the young age of 15 I gave myself away, a decision that still haunts me to do this day. With that action I set forth a chain reaction….unknowingly I learned to define love in unhealthy terms which I still struggle with. I programmed my mind to believe that a guy would only love me if he got what he wanted from me. Let me be real honest, changing those precedents is extremely difficult once you’ve replayed them so many times. It took me 3-4 years to get out of this reckless behavior. I am ashamed to admit the pregnancy scares I had as a teenager and later as an adult I realized how STDs were the bigger consequence. Thankfully the Lord protected me but the what if’s still plague me.

Eventually my first relationship ended, yet I still carried the stigma and careless behavior into other relationships and flings. At 16 I needed an escape from myself. I found a new group of friends and a new crutch: alcohol. It allowed me the opportunity to become someone else because I could not stand who I was at the time. Yet with every drink I hated myself more and more, mostly because of the way it inhibited my already altered inability to make wise decisions. I don’t know how many times I got into a vehicle with someone who had been drinking….again the Lord protected me for reasons I still cannot comprehend. And when the alcohol wasn’t enough I turned to prescription pain killers. I just so badly wanted to escape the mess of my life. Numerous times I would fall to my knees crying out to God to forgive me and promising I’d change my ways; but I always fell back into my old patterns. I’d show up hungover to church Sunday morning after a night of drinking the night before. I’d go to nightclubs downtown located in dangerous neighborhoods. I’d flirt and date guys who only wanted one thing and shamefully I gave it to them. I was slipping fast and it would take something big.

Senior year finally came, little had changed except for the fact that many of my friends had graduated the previous year. I felt invincible. I carried around a lot of hurt from a previously abusive relationship. I was harassed daily, called names, nasty rumors were spread about me….I was angry and decided to get even. Without even thinking a few friends and I decided to pull a prank that would completely turn my world upside down. The next day I was suspended for 10 days with a pending expulsion. Even with all my mistakes I had managed to maintain my ‘good girl’ image but now that was quickly slipping away along with everything else. My suspension lasted the entire month of March with an additional 3 weeks of in-house suspension. In that month God started to get a hold of my heart and revealed to me the consequences of my actions. I spent a lot of quiet time with Him apologizing, begging for guidance and promising to change. I gave myself to Christ for the second time and now when people ask me what age I was saved at I reply with 18 because this was when I really knew what it meant. Looking back I am so grateful for getting suspended as weird as that sounds. God needed something BIG to get my attention and boy did He!

I was not magically changed overnight. I wish I could say I didn’t slip after my life-changing experience but I did. The summer after graduation God really used that time to refine me through fire. One of the things that pains me the most is having people still see me for the person I once was. I hurt a lot of people in those years, I made mistakes I can never take back but I have to live with those consequences.

Had you told me 6 years ago how my life would play out I probably would have laughed right in your face. Now one of my greatest joys comes from hearing people say ‘wow you are so different’; it reaffirms to me the power of God. He took a lost, hurting, out-of-control girl and molded me into a woman for Christ. Praise Him for never giving up on me and my family for loving me through it all.

I pray in sharing this others will embrace their pasts and realize that they are not defined by them. You are not alone in your struggles. I also want to paint a picture of why I am who I am today. I’m not perfect, never have been and never will be, but ‘I am chosen and holy and I’m dearly loved. I am new. I am new. Too long I have lived in the shadows of shame believing that there was no way I could change. But the One who is making everything new doesn’t see me the way that I do.’

<3 JT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9bjPwwLgj0

  

P.P.D

            This post is long overdue and even as I sitting here writing this I am still torn about sharing it for fear of what people will think. But God has laid it on my heart because maybe by sharing my struggle I can be a testimony to others. I always promised to be transparent with people, to give the blunt truth no matter how difficult it might be.

P.P.D. also known as postpartum depression affects 10-20% of new moms and is the most common undiagnosed disorder after the delivery of a baby. It also carries a very harsh stereotype that ‘these’ women are unfit mothers or in the Christian realm it holds the stigma that you need more Jesus in your life. But the reality is P.P.D is a medical condition which may require medical treatment. Untreated postpartum depression can be very dangerous. There is a significant difference between ‘baby blues’ and P.P.D. A few of the most common signs include:

·         Loss of appetite

·         Insomnia

·         Intense irritability and anger

·         Overwhelming fatigue

·         Loss of interest in sex

·         Lack of joy in life

·         Feelings of shame, guilt or inadequacy

·         Severe mood swings

·         Difficulty bonding with your baby

·         Withdrawal from family and friends

·         Thoughts of harming yourself or your baby

 

You may be wondering why I am rambling on. The truth is I am avoiding saying the one thing I’ve been holding in, I have postpartum depression. It all started at my 6 week doctor visit. I had been feeling ‘off.’ I didn’t want to say anything to anyone, including my husband, because I didn’t want to come off ungrateful for the INCREDIBLE blessing the Lord had given us. But I could feel myself slipping and I knew I needed help. I tried to do it on my own but was unsuccessful.

The moment I uttered the word postpartum depression the nurses insisted they remove Jasmine from the room. I was heartbroken. Did they really think I would harm my baby?? Stereotype number one. Luckily my doctor was understanding and prescribed an anti-depressant. After a week I felt like myself again and when a month had passed I stopped taking my pills. Biggest mistake. Please never, ever stop taking medication because you starting feeling better.  Depression does not magically go away that easily.

Fast forward a couple months….I was slipping again and this time I was not coming back out. I lashed out at my husband in episodes I can only describe as pure rage. I would lose control of my emotions and I couldn’t bring myself back. I would rant and rave, sometimes almost to the point of becoming violent. After it finally passed it was if I couldn’t even remember what I did or said; it consumed me that much. I scared myself and worst of all I scared my husband. Recently I hit rock bottom, I needed help and I needed it quick because my P.P.D was getting worse. I had almost every symptom listed above with the exception of thoughts of hurting my baby and not bonding with her. I realized this wasn’t about her but me. I had a problem.

I have begun taking my medication again and I pray I make wiser decisions than I did before. I do not want to go back into the darkness and I refuse to drag my family there with me. God has been so faithful to me and I know He will bring me through this too. Thankfully I have a supportive husband who has not left my side even when I pushed him away, who has fought to bring me out of this pit, and who loves me despite my flaws.

Depression is not something to be ashamed of. If you or someone you know has experienced any of these signs seek support from a doctor, friend, or family member. Don’t assume it will just go away. Mental illness is nothing to play around with, it is very real and in some cases debilitating. You don’t have to live like this.

My name is Jenni and I have P.P.D.

<3 JT

'What if your blessings come through raindrops'

I was driving home from the hospital, finally taking a second to breathe when Laura Story’s song ‘Blessings’ came on the radio. (I’ve posted the lyrics below with a link to the song if you haven’t heard it before).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOOFAaUGfRE

We pray for blessings
We pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
All the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear
And we cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
All the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near
And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know the pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near
What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy
And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise

 

Needless to say I completely lost it in that moment; and as if to add to the perfectness of the lyrics for this day it began to rain. Then I cried….

I cried for the fear I felt when I got the call about my husband’s accident.

I cried for the horrible outcomes that could have taken place.

I cried for finally feeling a sense of relief.

I just cried.

As I continued to listen to the song I could feel God moving in my heart. Instead of seeing all the bad parts of the day, I could finally see the mercies of it too. It is so easy to take life for granted or to get too busy throughout the day to neglect the ones we love, yet we never know when that could be the last moment we have with them.

Honestly this morning I was tired, no exhausted. Jasmine woke up twice last night, once at 2:45am and again at 5:45am, when I had to be up by 7:30am for work. I was in a hurry to get out the door and gave my husband a quick hug, kiss and ‘I love you’ before rushing out.

What if that had been the last goodbye? Would I have looked back and regretted not holding him longer? Kissing him harder? Or doing more than saying ‘I love you’ out of routine?

Absolutely! And I think that is where the bulk of my emotions are pouring from tonight. Thankfully my husband is ok and he will recover with time but I learned a valuable lesson. So tonight as I look into my daughter’s eyes and see her daddy’s face, I promise myself that tomorrow will better and I won’t take my loved ones for granted. Sometimes it takes earth shattering moments like I had today to see God’s grace and feel Him moving. Because after all, ‘what if trials of this life, the rain, the storms, the hardest nights, are your mercies in disguise.’  

<3 JT