Her Name is Emmanuelle

I feel as though I aged several years in less than one.

About this time last year we had our 2nd positive pregnancy test.  Magnus would be a big brother! We were ecstatic!

After Thanksgiving I started to feel very uneasy and worried that everything was okay with our little one - and in a few more weeks time we discovered everything was not ok.

She would have been born this past summer, instead we buried her on Christmas Day.

I've tried to write this post before, but it never gets finished.  I don't know what to say, but I know I don't want to say nothing.  As though she never lived. Because she did.  And she is now our family's own little saint in heaven, watching over us and interceding for us I have no doubt.

In a moment of peace and clarity, the day before we laid her to rest I wrote to my prayer group:

I would like to put Emma's birthday on the miracle calendar. 12/23/15.  

It is not a miracle that she died, of course, but it is a miracle that she lived,

and God's merciful love and transformation of my heart is miraculously wonderful. 

At first I was so bitter and cold.  I was unable to really enter into Advent (she had passed even though we didn't know it yet)  I tried to think of what an incredibly special thing it is to be carrying life at Advent and Christmas but I could not.  In my heart I did not feel that.  I felt very fearfully that I was not pregnant anymore.  As I waited for the news in the ER with Robyn last week, I told her,  "I just have to know if baby is alive and well or if I am just a tomb."  

Mary bore eternal life in her womb and mine was dead.  I was a tomb. My mind and heart were bitter and dark up to that moment.

But very soon God's mercy covered me and touched me deeply. 

I was still carrying a baby.  Not a live baby but I would see her through birth and bury her. What a gift to be able to be able to do that work of mercy of burying the dead.  My own dear one. 

How bitter that she was lost, but the suffering and death in our world because of sin IS bitter. This is not heaven, and it was good to feel the contrast, and that we do not live for this life. 

But God is with us. He meets us in the midst of the brokenness and offers us life. 

We named our baby Emmanuelle, "God with us"  

He truly has been with us in a deep and unique way.  He has taken my mourning and turned it to rejoicing that I am able to share in the mystery of this death and resurrection.

that our little one is celebrating Christmas in the arms of Jesus and Mary.  

That she is able to intercede for us so powerfully.  

If you didn't see it, Our pregnancy announcement had Magnus in a batman cape, with the caption "Every hero needs a sidekick"  -  it was so bitter knowing she had died and saying to myself "no sidekick for Magnus".

But God has transformed that for me as well.  She IS his sidekick, and can kick ass for him in Heaven in a way she couldn't have on earth.  I worry for him so much, as all moms do, that he will grow up to accept the faith and grow in holiness.  Now in addition to his guardian angel, he has Emma. 

God has expanded my heart through this in a way that nothing else could do.

That peace and surrender hasn't always remained so strong or tangible, but God does see me through.
How do you "bounce back" from losing a child, no matter how small that child may have been?

I guess you never really do.  You grieve. You mourn.  You continue to be and hope and trust, but you can never be the same.  Nor should you.  You have loved and lost in tremendous way.
Your mom heart has enlarged to a new size of empathy and compassion you never knew possible before...

Dear sweet little St. Emmanuelle,  continue to pray for us that we may one day get to hold you and rejoice alongside you before the face of our Lord.

What happened to 13.3, 4,& 5??

I'm late on this one, by a few weeks, and I figured I should get it out sometime before regionals ;)

Perhaps, it's helpful to look back. I just reread this post I wrote a few months ago.  It was good to be reminded of this. I was right for almost all my predictions.

Except, It was the THIRD not the second week of the open before I got my mojo back after all the disruption of mid December to mid February.
Unfortunately, or maybe providentially, I didn't remember the calm, prophetic view I had just 6 weeks prior. My meltdown in 13.2 changed it all for me.

A few thoughts in summary:

1) It's all mental.

2) Knowing you need to change your life doesn't make it easy.

3) In the end we are always better than we were before. And if we're not better, then it's not the end. But "better" isn't defined by a score board.

4) Sometimes we have more good in our lives than we can hold at a time, and in order to embrace new gifts we have to put something down, but that doesn't mean it's gone forever.

What if it's hard?



Sometimes I don't think I give credit to the "hardness" of "what I do"...

all this training nonsense ya know?  It doesn't seem like such a big deal.
I just do it. There is no other way.  I have a fire burning that drives me.

sometimes.

Not so much with the fire and 2nd nature business today.

I 'hurt' my neck last week. Of course, I have been kicking so much crossfit booty lately my brain had no problem accepting that I must be invincible and destined to climb and climb to the heights of my lofty goals... Long story short I pushed it until it was in-ignorable, leading to 5 full rest days... 5 FULL REST DAYS.
Chump change right?  When many people may not even remember the last time they 'worked out'.

For me, for the goals I have, the progress I've made, the volume I've been training... 5 days is kind of a big deal.  I get ONE, one day a week that I do nothing related to training, MAYBE two if I'm totally smoked.

That is what my program allows.  Breaking from the program to rest and recover I felt broken and defeated. I felt sad. I feared the loss of the momentum I had gained.
But I rested and then became reluctant to return, timid about my limits and recovery,
And down right FATIGUED as I tried to get back to the routine.

As I got moving again, my brain immediately processed the following message:

"This sucks. It hurts. I'm tired. It's uncomfortable."

This is why I didn't want a break. I was afraid it would come to this. 

And I realized, "gosh, this is why people DON'T work out."  (it may be one reason anyway.)
They show up and it's hard, it's all of those things I said and more.

And the will just screams, I DON'T WANT TO! 

Doesn't it?

Mine does. I really don't want to, I don't "feel" like it.  I'm embarassed and sad that I'm only doing half of what I "should" be doing (PS. BRILLIANT POST BY FOLLOWHOLLY ON THIS POINT & more).... but there are things I want more than I don't want to expose myself to this yucky feeling.  Things I want more than listening to the voice that whispers, "there's really no need for this, now is there?"

Don't you have those things too?

More than you hate the current discomfort,
          and how much you want to convince yourself that it's not really that important,
                   or isn't going to make that much of a difference,
                               or you are just not made for exercise, 
                                          or you have to much to do,
                                                          or you'll do it tomorrow,
                                                                   or you are destined to fail any way,
or what ever the excuse (and they really are all excuses).

More than all those things... there's a reason you DO want to follow through.

Don't your kids (or future kids) deserve to have a healthy mom/dad?  Who will be there with them for the long run?   What about your spouse or significant other? What would you like to be for them?

Don't YOU deserve to feel better, more energetic, more confident, happier with your accomplishments, that You didn't give up?? 



well. and there you have it from the poet himself.
I don't know where this came from, but I don't make any $ here. so...
It's fine right?



As I sat on the rower, counting down the meters,

I was thinking about all these things, remembering how hard it was in the beginning, how hard it is RIGHT NOW, and negotiating with myself to find the will.

I AM WORTH IT.
Having goals and fighting for them is worth it.  
It DOES matter.
AND it matters so much more when it takes a sacrifice.


One day at a time, I'll show up. I'll work my way back.
I'll choose to be patient with myself, while calling myself out and fighting not to make excuses for what I could do because I am afraid it will suck (not injure me, just suck).  I'll choose not to compare myself with others and where they are.  Not to compare myself with myself and where I have been, or where I feel I should be. (Thanks again Holly. Seriously read her post if you want some jedi mind tricks).

We all face these kind of days.  These kinds of hurdles.
You all motivate me not to give up.
This isn't just about picking up from little set backs.
It's about also being courageous to make a change if you need one.
Because It will be hard... some times more than others.
But without a doubt,
You are worth it!

Got Dumped?

I don't really know how to write concisely about my "life in the balance" at this moment.  There are too many words in my head and yet. nothing.

Let's start with a mental picture:
Remember grade school gym class.  Remember the picking of teams:  two team captains, usually the more coordinated and agressive in the bunch.  They stand set apart while you stand with the rest of the class in a line up helplessly before them, waiting for the determination of your fate.  Waiting. Waiting. As each  classmate got chosen and placed, the coolest and most athletic first. And maybe you weren't dead last (which is it's own brand of awful), but you certainly weren't first, and every moment you waited was like and eternity as embarassment and shame filled your heart. It was horrible, right? Or is that just me?  An asthmatic chubby kid with allergies...

Left with the sense of being NOT chosen, NOT picked, considered not worth it, cast aside, left out, and dismissed.  And the resulting desire: Run!  And the resulting agreement: Never expose yourself willingly to such an awful feeling.

I think grade school gym class bears some guilt in why so many people think sports or fitness in general, "just aren't their thing."  It was branded into them this way and others.  It was shaming, not fun.

This is one of the memories that stirred up in my heart last weekend, after the public announcement of the team that our gym wants to take all the way to the Crossfit Games - and the absence of my name.
If you know me much, or have followed this blog for any length of time, you probably understand how heartbreaking this was to me. How much of my time, energy, heart and life I've poured into crossfit and trying to be my best.  How what brought me to this gym was being on the team last year.

To be pretty much told - you're not enough, but if you think you are, prove it.
I'm sorry I don't work that way. I'd rather just settle into resignation where I'm not going to be cut down and cut out.

And Yet.
There's a diference between who I am today and that poor little girl in gym class.
There's a difference between how I feel and what's true.

It is a grace to be able to separate the present from the past.  To seek healing for the past so that I can gracefully handle my present.
Scrambling in my mind with the situation and where do I go from here, I determined to choose to be the person I want to be in the face of this disappointment, To be a blessing.  I was determined to choose to put my hurt feelings aside and continue to be a blessing to those in my life. I knew that as soon as possible I needed to approach my teammates and coach, and be sure they knew I am with them and behind them. 

Over the course of the following three days I accepted my feelings, I sought healing for the wounds of the past that were affecting my now, I reached out to those by whom I felt betrayed to hear their truth.  I found that their truth dispelled the lies, and their compassion and encouragement eased my hurt.

It's not about being unwanted, and it doesn't negate all I've done. 
How far I've come. It doesn't change who I am.

I am the same.  I still love crossfit.  I still want to be my best.  I am afraid to compete as an individual.  But no matter what team I am or am not a part of, at the end of the day it's just me.  This is a call to grow more. 

The challenge is not to take account of the "winds and waves" as Peter when walking on the water - not to fret over my own weaknesses and how the odds are not at all in my favor.  But to just set my feet, keep my eyes fixed on Jesus - the only one who gets to define who I am - and stay my course.

from my friend Courtney on FB... This experience gave evidence to support this fact.