Distractions.

A mother's life is filled with distractions. {Which then in turn lead to short term memory loss.} But that's another story, or yet another "distraction."

Lately I feel like my life has been bombarded with distractions. Savannah's upcoming birthday, pregnancy and doctors visits, three rambunctious mess makers, the moving process, {by process I mean UGGGGGGH! Anyways...} and lastly the wonderful burden blessing that is a woman's mind. Seriously if science could link not only women, but mother's thought processes to America's energy crisis, our president would actually have something he could pat himself on the back for.

I have to tell you, I wish there was a way I could shut it down. Silence it at least. I wish this pregnancy brought delightful updates and typical worries or lack there of. Last night I had a migraine. Now I'm not a "migraine" kind of girl, pregnant or not, and just thought they were excuses some women used to get out of obligations... or sex. But they're not. {Not sure about the excuse category though.} I've been pregnant a whopping five times. So far 43 1/2 months of my life or 3 years and 7 1/2 months, but who's counting? Having obviously been down this road a time or two, I'd personally say I am a baby makin' veteran. So any veteran knows headaches can be common. Normal. Just fine. 

Being I've never experienced a pregnancy migraine, I turned to good ol' Google. {Ladies:: DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.}

"Is severe migraine in 2nd trimester a sign my baby died?" 

Yeah yeah, a little extreme, but until you've lost one, you won't understand the overwhelming fear of death in not one, but two infants. For once in my life, Google has no matching results, but I did put my hands, face, and feet under the microscope checking for any sign of preeclampsia. {Love you Google.}

Besides daytime terrors such as this, the night time terrors have become a distraction. Dreams are harder to deal with because there is no concept of "reality."

In my dreams I have faced a devastating diagnoses that our little Berenstain Bear, {what my husband thinks "she" looks like} was going to be born with a congenital heart defect. CHD. 

I have faced a reoccurring dream where I am in labor and each time I am forced into the same room that Savannah was born in, only leading to another baby who never takes a breath...

Today as I was packing I began thinking of all of these distractions. And a voice deep inside told me, somewhere in the past eleven months, the hurt, anger, and worry began to silence the divine knowledge that God has already laid before me. 

-That people should not have the power to harden my heart by their own actions, and I cannot control the heart of others. {It would be nice though.}

-That people who wallow in their grief of Savannah, truly are not taking the time to know her because if they did they would only see her beautiful life, her glorious love, and the message she left behind. {Savannah was chosen and sent to her mommy and daddy. If I could have saved her, I WOULD NOT be here today. I wouldn't have hesitated long enough to have said goodbye to anyone. I would not have wanted anyone to regret her life being here in place of mine, so I've learned she does not want us living in sadness or regret either.}

-God had also told me, on numerous occasions, Savannah's life was not a tragedy. Through her short life and her condition, her soul exists. That is the most important part of Savannah. Not her unformed diaphragm. Not the grief people felt for her absence. But that her soul is real. I'd repeat the the known outcome a million times to create her beautiful spirit.  Yesterday He comforted me in something that has haunted me through people's unknowing outspoken thoughts. 

She was not, nor was she ever tortured. Savannah did not feel pain, and we were not selfish in keeping her alive. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but thoughts such as these should really be kept to yourself. Life is bumpy. We gave her every medical opportunity to stay, but in the end Savannah and God revealed that she was our blessed visitor. And God is helping me now, to lift the burden of the words spoken,

"Savannah lived a torturous life."

He gave us His little girl to love. And we did. Though her life was grim from the beginning, and we knew she was not meant for our arms, we remained hopeful. Being hopeful, even if she had a one percent chance, isn't naive. It's called Faith. Even though Savannah did not stand a chance, we had Faith that God can and does perform miracles. So He didn't. Not in "that" way. He never meant for us to blame ourselves. 

I will refuse to believe that I selfishly tortured my daughter. I did exactly as God wished. I fought for her, I loved her, I drew nearer to Him, and I had Faith. I chose, in a time of weakness, to stand up and fight for HER. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Because as a mother that is what I should have done. It was not about me. I relinquished my control into the hands of the very best doctors, nurses, and surgeons. In the end, there was no control of the power here, and I relinquished her to her original purpose. But I never gave up. For someone to have people fight so passionately, I cannot fathom how their life could be torture. In eight days, Savannah experienced true love. A love some children never get to experience in their entire "healthy" lives. In our babies final moments, as she tried to stay for as long as possible, I repeated over and over again, "just go home Savannah, mommy and daddy will be just fine, you can go now." When it came down to our goodbyes, I did NOT keep her here, and her mommy told her, it was okay to go... Even as my heart sat breaking, I comforted my daughter.

In this realization, it brought me to an acceptance. I have Faith. You may read this and not agree with me, and that is okay. Someone who feels those things that I described, may not know how comforting a real Faith can be. In the end does it matter to you what I chose to believe to get me through this life?

I'll have Faith that my Sarah, Michael, and Brody will live full and healthy lives. I will have Faith that Savannah is safe in heaven, and that she knows I loved her and thought only of her during her brief life. And I will have Faith that this pregnancy and baby will be born healthy and live to see not only one but, one hundred birthday's.

And if all these things don't go according to my hopes and prayers; 

I will have Faith.

Because my Faith is so much stronger

than my heartaches and my distractions.

Now... What do you think?

Heaven is for Real.

Last weekend my mother brought me a book. I had heard of the book in my "CBD " or "Christian Book Distributors " catalogs. And here she was handing me a physical copy of the book that had crossed my path on numerous occasions. She gave one to my sister-in-law as well, and like a small child in a candy store, my mom couldn't wait for me to dive into the pages face first. {Mom had already finished the book in a day.} My sweet sister-in-law, Desirae {"Hi Des!"} finished the book a few days ago as well, as I had yet to make my way through the first page. In complete anxiousness for me to read the book, yesterday morning while on the phone, my mom asked again, if I had started the book. I told her that I had begun to per sue it one evening, but with the chaos of life, hadn't made it through the first page. Yesterday afternoon, for my mom, I started the book.

"Heaven is for Real ."

Written by Todd Burpo

 If you haven't read or heard of the book, it is about three year old "Colton Burpo's" stories of his brief visit to Heaven, while undergoing an emergency appendectomy.

I literally lounged on the couch for hours reading page after page. About half way through the book, my mind and heart were heavy. I was beginning to feel upset as I read page after page, of what Colton's father described, while him and his wife, Sonja, clung onto prayer and hope in the hospital. All while they knew their precious boy may or may not make it out alive. I put the book down, trying to regain my strength. But I couldn't. It was as though, through their trial during Colton's hospital stay, they were writing directly from what our hearts had experienced with Savannah. I broke down in tears. It was as though our time as UC Davis was fresh all over again. Koady sat on the floor next to me as I cried.

"I know that I haven't reached the point in this story where this little boy talks about Heaven. " I sobbed through my words. "But I can't help but read what his parents went through and think, the end of this story will be different than ours.... Their child lived to tell his story about making it to heaven ."

Needless to say, I put the book down for the rest of the day, because I had to step away from the wound. This morning with a little more courage, I sat down to finish the beautiful story I had started.

Mr. Colton shares many breathtaking and surreal events and biblical, factual, descriptions about his "three minutes " in heaven. He talks about spending time with his Great grandpa, and meeting his sister, whom his parents lost in a miscarriage, yet never spoke to him about. He speaks of Jesus, and how his eyes were so pretty. And like my Michael, speaks of the swords in heaven used to keep Satan out. It is a story I would recommend to anyone, especially anyone with doubts about heaven, and the existence of Christ. Or anyone looking for a beautifully touching story.

Most importantly this is a book I would recommend to any mother who has said goodbye to a child. Through the words of a three through six year old, it very possibly can bring comfort to those in question of whether your little ones are safe. Whether they are happy. Whether they are well loved, and well taken care of...

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

Sonja slid off the couch and knelt down in front of Colton

so she could see his eyes.

"Don't you mean Jesus adopted her?" She said.

"No mommy. His dad did. "

                                  

                                                 {Page 95- Heaven is for Real.}

Thank you mom, for sharing.

The day after tomorrow.

Supposedly, in case you hadn't heard, tomorrow marks the end of the world. *Giggles* An evangelist has claimed tomorrow marks the day of the rapture. (He also claimed this twice before.) I hadn't heard of this so called, "mark your calendar" event till yesterday.

Here's the catch though. People are actually concerned for this so called "prophecy."

I'd like to ask, "why exactly?"

And there are so many different questions I would love to have answered as to why...

• 1.  To believe anything that this "evangelist" claims, is to step towards religious topic. If you are going to base the end of the world by "religious topic" it is best to get your facts straight. The rapture is biblical truth. Yes it will happen. It is a real event that will take place in the future. 

           BUT... (AND MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN) In reference to the "apocalypse, revelation, the coming of  Christ, or the rapture" based on biblical truths, here is where I wonder where this "Evangelist" got his facts.

"No one knows about that day or hour, 

not even the angels in heaven, 

nor the Son, but only the Father ."

                                            -Mark 13:32

{But ONLY the Father.}

• 2.  The Rapture. He claims the Rapture is coming tomorrow. How many people (the people in panic mode) can even describe the definition.

The Rapture::

When Christian's are gathered to meet Christ, in heaven.

"...Then we who are alive and remain 

shall be caught up together with them 

in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. 

And thus we shall always be with the Lord."

                                                         - 1 Thessalonians 4:17

 So... if it was the rapture, why would you be concerned unless you know that you will not be meeting Christ in heaven. 

• 3. I would be more than happy to go tomorrow. Sadly, with these facts, NO the end of the world is not coming tomorrow. But if it does, I would not spend my last moments in fear, but rather excitement over the thought of joining my precious baby girl in heaven for eternity.  

 My prayers and wishes for all of my readers, is that you all have the same understandings. It's not too late. After all we are never guaranteed another day. Especially not if you talk to a so called Evangelist. ;)

Everything rides on hope now.

Getting "pregnant" like I said before was to say the least, getting a little discouraging. Two days before finding out I was indeed expecting, I hit my breaking point. What was the trigger you might wonder? A simple picture on facebook of....

Someone's positive pee pee stick.

Yep, that's all. I went up the stairs to my bedroom, and cried. Hysterically. In a moment of sure selfishness and self pitty, I thought it would never happen to me. To finally hold a healthy baby that was mine to keep. Koady came into the room and held me, silently, as I cried. And just when I had no more tears to cry, a song came on the lightly playing radio in the background.

"Everything rides on hope now.

Everything rides on faith somehow.

When the world has broken me down.

This love sets me free."

The gasps for air, were quickly silenced. I knew the song. I had heard it a million times. It was and is on my playlist right here at A Story Unfolding. "Okay God," I thought. "Your speaking to me through songs again." I intently listened.

"When my life is like a storm,

Rising waters all I want is the shore.

You say it'll be okay,

and I''ll make it through the rain.

You are my shelter from the storm."

I knew right then, that I was focusing too much on what I didn't have at that moment. But everything rides on hope now. Hope that I would have that baby in my arms someday. Everything rides on faith somehow. Faith that God has our plans cradled in the palm of His hands. Like my husband said, "this baby will come when it's God's perfect time. And not a moment sooner."

Little did we know...

...Two days later...
...would be His perfect time.

One step at a time.

I was a New Year's baby. Stubborn from the very beginning. January 9th. My birthday is upon us in five short days. This year, I take a step back and think of everything I have accomplished, and those I haven't yet since God first created me. 

Every person in the world is in denial that something bad could happen to "us." It seems unreal. Seems dream like. I'm sure the day I was born my mother didn't lay in the hospital cradling me thinking to herself, "Look at my beautiful baby. I bet one day she will loose a daughter of her own." We don't think our homes will ever be robbed, our cars will ever be wrecked, our children will ever die from our arms, our dreams will ever shatter. 

But that is just it. We are dreamers. We are humans. We are resilient. Because aside from never thinking "it could happen to us," we are also realists. We have homeowners insurance, car insurance, and life insurance. In event that these things DO happen to us. 

In my life, I made more mistakes than I can possibly account for. I still make mistakes daily. But as my birthday approaches, I look at the great that my life has brought forth to the world. My husband. We acknowledge regularly that we saved each other. We are and have found what many people search lifetimes for. Soulmates. And having married my soulmate, we have created Sarah... Michael... Brody... and of course Savannah. A very important piece of my creation. 

Because even though on the day of my birth my mother didn't lay there thinking, "look at my beautiful baby. I bet one day she will loose a daughter of her own..." God was by her side thinking, "Look at my beautiful baby. One day you will loose a daughter of your very own. I am here for you now. I will be here for you then. Every step of the way, one step at a time. Never loose your faith dear child, for I promise to hold your tears in my hands. The plans I have for your life, will help change the world. You may never understand, but I need your creation, to bring forth big plans."

This year my resolutions are far deeper than in the previous years. For my life was changed in 2010. I was shown a light. Her name was Savannah. And she has set her mommy, daddy, brothers, and sister on some new paths. This year, knowing that life is short and nothing is ever guaranteed, I promise to live. 

One step at a time.

I look at everything good, every tiny ripple that has happened since Savannah passed away. Each one of those moments may have never came to existence if she hadn't altered our world.

Selfless.

Motherhood is not for the weak of heart. It begins the second you discover the little life growing within. It continues long after the grave. Whether it be ours... or theirs...

Sometimes I find myself incapable for the task that the Lord has laid before me. Every morning I wake to give all of my being to three little people selflessly. There are days I fall short of the "selfless" tasks I need to overcome.

But even with my job being harder than anything in the world, I know that my job, my title, is raising/forming/molding our future. And personally I think our futures look very bleak...

One glorious night, thousands of years ago, a Father gave himself, selflessly, to his children. He didn't have to. But he did. Out of the sheer love and devotion He always holds in his heart. He stood back to watch the devastation we brought upon ourselves. He stepped down from his thrown to save us all. That cold night, a perfect baby boy was cradled in a manger, by his loving mother. Sweet Mary. She held in her arms a piece of her heart. A child given to her by our almighty Father. A boy that will grow into a man, and that would die before her very eyes. She would one day be cradling his vacant body. A son that she would bury and mourn for. 

But a King who's life meant far more than just his tragic death. 

God knew the outcome of the life he bore to Mary, that very first Christmas. Mary was chosen for the burden God knew she would face. Though I am far from Mary, she was indeed a blessed woman, I would like to think God chose me in the same thoughtful way that he chose Mary. To bear the burden of Savannah's life unlived.

Every drop of blood shed from the tiny, innocent baby born unto us Christmas day, saved me. Saved you. Saved Savannah. 

Today, I look around at the world before me. We have yet again, brought devastation to our lives. We have destroyed the relationship between the one man, whom was born into our world to bring us peace. Give us love. Show us divine mercy. The world spits upon the feet of the maker of heaven and earth. The one whom formed us, created us, planned for us. 

I pray for our future. I will selflessly give myself to my children... to instill in them, the people we should always strive to be. Whether that makes us outcasts or not.

Merry CHRISTmas

& Happy Birthday Baby Boy

After all you can't take the CHRIST

out of Christmas.

Between you and me.

I hope that I haven't portrayed myself as an ideal Christian. Because I am not. As much as I strive to walk in His footsteps, I fall short. Right on my face usually. I struggle to do the things everyday, that I know I should or shouldn't do to reach that goal. But I try. And that has to count for something, and it is all we can do. Just try.

Today, while sitting at church, I came to an understanding with God. See, I have to be honest with you. Here in my little spot where I feel like I can say anything because I don't have to say it to anyone's face, I've shared some of my regrets, some of my resentments, and my inability to fully accept the fact that Savannah wasn't mine to keep. . And because I want to share my weaknesses along with my strengths, there is something that I haven't told many people. I don't think I even really understood what my subconsious was whispering to me this whole time.

I have been blaming myself for Savannah's death.

Even though I have tried to counteract those thoughts with the fact there was absolutly nothing I could have done to salvaged her situation, I still blamed myself. And because of this, I have been unaware of the fact that I began resenting my husband. Like I said, until today. Let me explain...

Savannah's condition was between me... her... and God.

God;

Because He planned her life.

Down to the minute she was born, and the second she died.

Her maker, her creater.

The one whom left her unformed for a greater purpose.

Savannah;

Because afterall, this is her story.

And Me;

Her safe haven.

The one who was responsible for her safety.

The one who's womb cradled her,

and was supposed to help form her.

Her home. The heartbeat and voice that she listened to...

and was comforted by.

The resentment towards my husband, whom I love deeply, came out from my own insecurities with her death. He did nothing to deserve my resentment, but it was there. And like I said, I was completely unaware of it.

I am a people pleaser. Have been all my life. But people are mean, and sadly I take everything people say to heart. I thought for sure people were talking about Savannah's death. Not everyday you hear about a baby you know dying. Usually when you hear of babies born with problems it's assumed the mom didn't take care of herself. There are mother's out there that drink and smoke up until the baby that relys on them is born. And everyone has been made aware of the effects this can have on innocent babies. But this doesn't stop some women from doing these things, knowing the chance they are taking for their unborn child's life.

When a baby is born and dies to mother's that deserve so much more than to bury the child that they nurtured, cherished, and loved, I can imagine to some people it may come as a shock, and they may look for any explanations elsewhere. It's human nature to want to point blame somewhere. The mother of these precious beings can be the perfect place to point fingers.

Because of the way society can be, I am more cautious of when and who I tell about Savannah's death. My husband on the other hand, loves to share Savannah with the world. It could be the checker at the grocery store, but if he knows them, he's going to share her story. I am guarded though. Everytime the story came out of his mouth, I feel as though all eyes are on me. Obviously we don't have hours to spend with each person we encounter to share every detail that went into Savannah's complications. So these people, these random aquaintances, are left with their own thoughts.

{"I wonder if she smoked?"...}

{"I wonder if she drank?"...}

{"How awful for the father...

If only the mother would have taken better care of herself."}

I don't know that is what the people are thinking, but everytime the story came out to these random people, this is where my heart would take me, and I would want to crumble. I wanted to hide. My meaning well husband, shared her story in his own way. But I felt guilty... Over, and over and over again. Followed by resentment.

Savannah's death is something that I have come to my own understanding that it doesn't come down to me. I was just the vessel that brought her purpose into the world. There was nothing more I could do. People will say what they feel necessary. This is something I cannot help. I cannot change who people are or what they are going to say. Dwelling on what is untrue and unreal isn't a very good Christian thing to do.

Yes, Savannah's condition was between me... her... and God. There was nothing I could do to change His plans. My husband has every right to tell her story... no matter what people might think of me.

I gave her life... and was not responsible for her death.

Praise you in this storm.

Yesterday marked an important day for us...

...Yesterday, The Fraser's made our way back to church since,

Savannah.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and it was a lot hotter than it should be for an October day. But the warm rays of sunshine warming our cheeks were a pleasent reminder that God was reaching down through the sun He created to comfort our hearts. We got the kids ready and headed out to meet my brother, sister-in-law, and thier two boys there.

I had been looking forward to church all week. We hadn't not been going to church because we are angry or resentful towards the Lord. Because we aren't. At all. I've said before, I look at Him taking Savannah home is a constant reminder that he really does love us.

Every second of every day.

He loves us so much that he gave me the gift of being her mother. He loves us so much to take her home where she is safe and healthy. I praise him!

We did the typical parent thing, dropping little ones off each in their own Sunday school classes. Everything felt comfortable. Everything felt normal. We took our seats and worship began. I loved it. I sang along to the familiar songs dear to my heart. {Most of which you could actually listen to on my blog playlist! It was wonderful. It was as though, through the worship team at church God hand picked the songs just for me. The songs He knows I listen to frequently bringing peace to my heart.}

But then, as I praised him my mind began traveling.

The last time I had been to Church, Savannah was with me. The last time I sang praises to my maker, her maker, it was as though she danced along inside me. Savannah loved worship. And with my head held high I would stand proud, hand on my belly, singing. Singing to Him. Singing to her. And she danced.

I daydreamed about bringing Savannah to church. Bringing Savannah to know the Lord. Holding her in my arms instead of my belly while we worshipped. 

  

But I never got to bring my angel to church.

As I continued singing, all the while thinking these thoughts, I realized so much more than my fragile "human" thoughts. I felt her again. I felt her presence stronger than I have felt her since she was in my arms her last night. Savannah was at church. Only I didn't bring her. Jesus had. Jesus held her hand as he walked her into church and sat her down beside her mommy. And as I stood standing, and praising... I knew Savannah danced... 

And I broke down and cried.

I, {with the help of my Jesus} had finally brought my babygirl to church.