October Baby

Tonight Tom and I went to see the pre-screening of the movie October Baby. I wasn't exactly sure why I was going, because this screening was intended for pastors & leaders, people in the pro-life movement, or people who work as crisis pregnancy counselors. I left the pregnancy loss ministry behind at my old church more than three years ago, so I had no reason to go see this. But when I got the email from ARIN about it, and watched the trailer, I just felt like I needed to see it. I'm not sure where God is calling me, but He's had my attention lately, letting me know that something is coming.

I won't give anything away, but there were a few times in the movie where God spoke to me clearly. One of them was the use of John 8:36, which is my life verse. He whom the Son sets free, is free indeed. I am nervous & excited to see where God leads me.

In the meantime, please go see this movie when it opens on March 23rd. It is an amazing story, and so well done. Sometimes Christian movies have a great message but the acting is cheesy or it just looks cheaply done. October Baby was nothing like that at all. It was beautiful, powerful, inspiring and healing. Go!

Sanctity of Life

Yesterday was Sanctity of Life Sunday. I've talked about this many a January, and I'll let those posts speak (2008) (2009) again now. But I also wanted to add that if you are hurting from the decision you made to have an abortion, please go visit the Abortion Recovery site. There is help and healing out there.

Mother's Day

I have fond memories of the Mother's Day Tea that Miss Debby would always hold at her daycare & preschool.  The kids would parade in and sing songs praising their mommies. Debby would encourage them to sing so sweetly, and then to go sit with their mothers for cookies and tea. Most of us would shed a few tears of joy and appreciation. The children would present us with handmade place-mats and trinkets.  This was one of the events I knew I would really miss when we chose to put TC in a different preschool. I'm a bit ashamed to admit that I'm glad I won't have to be there for it without her this year. It's hard enough as it is.

I am beyond grateful for the gift of motherhood. As I said a few years ago, we had a bumpy road but not as hard as others, and ultimately ours led to three sweet babies. (If you weren't following me in 2008, please go read that post. It's a big piece of my heart.)

When we were trying to conceive the first time I naively thought it would happen right away. Over the months my heart broke a little more with every negative test. As we neared the end of that first year, I was in disbelief that we might need help to become pregnant.  Tom and I were visiting my mother's family for Thanksgiving, and I was waiting until we got home to test. I dreaded getting another negative, but at the same time I expected it. As we were exiting the turnpike I suddenly saw a rainbow. Not a full one, just a small piece, nearly hidden in the clouds. I felt like God was speaking to me, telling me that He had not forgotten me. I dared to hope.

When we got home I didn't even stop to bring in any bags, but went straight to the test and took it. I was in complete shock when it was positive. Positive?? After a year of trying. A year of tears and frustration. A year of alternating between shaking my fist at God one day and begging Him to give me a baby the next. Nine months later, A was born.

When A was about eighteen months old I was delighted to find myself pregnant again. How could it happen without any effort? I felt like God was giving me a generous gift, not making me go through that struggle again. The long story about that pregnancy can be found if you click on Losing Lily. (Read from the bottom up.) The short and devastating story is that we lost that pregnancy, and I lost one of my fallopian tubes as well.
With such a rocky history, we had no idea what to expect if we tried again. We were afraid, but we really wanted another child, so we risked it. I really couldn't believe it when we got pregnant right away. We still had to go through the confirmation process, however, which was nerve-wracking. Tom and I both felt like I was a time bomb waiting to go off. I had blood drawn and then drawn again a few days later to monitor my hormone levels. The results had us over the moon: my levels had more than doubled and we were overjoyed. They did an ultrasound just to be sure, and we were just able to see the tiniest little peanut with a fluttering heart. E was born after what felt like a year later, as I went to 42 weeks. I spent a night in the hospital at 35 weeks with contractions that seemed to give the baby an irregular heartbeat. Otherwise the extra-long pregnancy was uneventful. E was born all wrapped up in his cord, which explained the heartbeat issues.

A few years later I knew I still wanted more children. I had always planned (ha!) to have four children, but I was hoping at that point for three. After 8 unsuccessful months of trying I was at an emotional low. I was eating to soothe myself, and put on twenty pounds during that time. I just couldn't understand why it had to be so hard. I went back to my doctor who suggested we try Clomid and an HSG.

The HSG is not fun. It's a diagnostic test that I found to be excruciatingly painful. It felt like labor pain. As they injected the dye and tried to get good x-rays, the technician asked several times which side I still had a fallopian tube on. My heart sank, as I saw the screen above me and knew what the results would be. I wanted to throw up. This couldn't be the end of my journey, could it? I sat on the table afterwards and cried, even as my doctor assured me that it could still happen for us. He encouraged me to finish the Clomid for that cycle, but did warn me that if it didn't work, I was now beyond his expertise and would have to see a specialist. Tom and I had agreed ahead of time that we didn't want to go through IUI or IVF, so if this didn't work, we were done. I could hardly bear it.

A few weeks later, when I took my last ever pregnancy test, I was completely stunned when I saw that faint second line. I literally fell to my knees on the carpet and sobbed and thanked God. I had no fear of another ectopic and went through the confirmation testing with confidence. TC was born that fall with the faintest breath of red hair, and the same blue eyes of his siblings.

God has been so gracious and generous to us. I am painfully aware of what it can cost you to have children, but also that my story has a happy ending. I have friends who have walked a much more painful and lengthy road that did not end happily. My heart breaks for them. I think of them this Mother's Day. I will celebrate my own mother, and my children will celebrate me. And for my friends, I will pray that God would comfort their hearts.

Remembering Kilian

Seven years ago today my friend Jessie gave birth to a sweet baby boy. Kilian Richard was beautiful and precious. He was welcomed by three older siblings who were so excited to meet him.  At first, everything seemed perfect. But he quickly became ill, suffering from a Urea Cycle Disorder. Kilian was taken off of life support on Christmas Day. There are no words for how my heart grieved for Jessie and her family.

Seven years later, I pray that God would give this family comfort and peace. Some of us are planning to change our profile pictures on Christmas Day to one of Kilian. We want Jessie to know that we have not forgotten her son.

If you know someone who has lost a child, don't be afraid to bring it up.  Say something.  Let them know that you remember. Too many people think they are doing their friend a favor by keeping silent.  All that does is isolate them. You don't need eloquent words.  Just let them know that you remember. ♥

Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day

"Today, October 15th, is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. The 'Wave of Light' that marks the day is an international affair, something everyone can be part of. At 7pm local time, across every time zone, all are invited to join in lighting a candle in remembrance and honour of little ones loved and missed.
A wave of light around the world may only go a small way to brightening the darkness and silence of babyloss...both as an individual experience and as a taboo subject. But it is a beginning. May the light illuminate and honour, and if it is bright enough, foster discussion, research and prevention, empathy, and support for those who grieve."(Quote from the Loss Directory)


I post about this every year, so you may recognize the above graphic & quote. This cause is precious to me for so many reasons -- my own loss along with the losses of friends & family.  We have so many children waiting to meet us in Heaven.
If you click on the Pregnancy Loss label on the right, you can see other posts that I've put up about this topic. Or click on Losing Lily to read the story of my pregnancy loss.  I've written a lot about Lily because in order to deal with my loss, I needed to talk about it.  I'm not shy about talking about pregnancy loss because, quite frankly, it's about time people got over this hush-hush mentality about it. Miscarriage is devastating and women (& men!) should be able to talk about it without other people making them feel they shouldn't. With any other issue people are encouraged to talk about their feelings and not bottle them up, but somehow this is different.
I hope, if you have suffered a loss, that you have someone to talk to about it.  I didn't have anyone at the time, so I found support online, which was a huge blessing.  There are groups & forums out there, you just have to find the right one for you.

God Bless the Broken Road

So I mentioned the other day that I have to wear a bridesmaid dress this July.

The Man and I are taking a course called The Truth Project, and if you haven't taken it yet and you're a Christian, I highly recommend it. I won't try to describe it - you need to just watch the trailer for it and you'll see why: Truth Project.

This week the topic was history, and Dr. Del Tackett spoke about the big picture. This is something I actually think about a lot, because it brings me comfort to know that when things go wrong in my life, God has an amazing way of using them in a greater story. I may not see most of that story until He shows me the home movies in Heaven, but sometimes I get glimpses that give me goose bumps.

When we lost Lily eight years ago one of the ways that God brought me comfort was that I really never questioned why it had happened to us. I went through all of the grief and sorrow, but I never asked God why He let it happen. I know that only the Holy Spirit can give you that kind of peace, because I honestly cannot say how I could never question Him about this. I just didn't. I knew that our loss brought the Man and I closer to each other, and closer to God. I knew that He would work beauty from our ashes. I couldn't begin to imagine how He would, but one step at a time, He did.

Follow along with me.... The miscarriage led me to look for a support group. I couldn't find one locally, so I looked online and found one. I met wonderful women who had also experienced loss, and many of us moved on from that group into another one for women who were trying to get pregnant again. When I got pregnant with the Boy, I moved on to another group for moms who were due in March of 2002. Some of the women from the loss group also came with me, and we shared the joy of being pregnant again. At the same time I found a group for Christian stay at home moms, and began forging relationships there as well. Many of the moms in that group were involved with MOPS, an organization that I had never heard of before. I looked and found a local MOPS group, and began attending their meetings. It was there that I met Kate, who is one of my most favorite people.

Kate and I began hanging out and getting to know each other pretty well. This led to me talking to her about our church situation and our unhappiness there. I said I just would really like to find a good Bible study, because I wasn't learning anything at our church. She promptly invited me to come to hers at BFC. I have been in that Thursday morning group ever since. Two years later, when the Man and I finally made the decision to leave our church, BFC was the first and only place we looked. We knew immediately that it was a great fit for us, and everything we had been looking for in a church.

This led to several other families from our old church hearing about BFC, checking it out, and also attending there steadily ever since. (Disclaimer: these families were already searching, and their decisions to leave our old church were for their own reasons. The Man and I had no influence over their decisions, we just said that this was where we were going and why we liked it.) This also led me to invite a couple who were struggling with some things. They were from our same old church. They had made some incredibly bad decisions, and their sins were coming back to bite them. (I can certainly relate to that.) I suggested that a fresh start could be helpful. They've been coming to BFC ever since. A few weeks ago, during a meeting with one of the pastors, they gave their lives to Jesus. In spite of their previous time in church, they really had never taken that step. They got engaged a few weeks ago, and the bride asked me to be one of her bridesmaids.

When Del Tackett said that we should look at the big picture, I couldn't help but think that my daughter Lily must be rejoicing in Heaven today, knowing that her death sent us down a broken road that ultimately led us to so many good things. God could see all of this ahead of time, and He knew how this story would play out. Maybe it's presumptuous of me to think this way, or maybe the writer in me likes to see things in the form of a grand storyline. I had never needed a reason why for Lily's death, but if I had to lose her for two people to find their way to Jesus, I can rejoice in the small part that I played.

Sanctity of Life Sunday

Today would have been my 8th Remembrance Service at my previous church. As I've said in a previous post, I had a hard time letting go of doing this, even as I knew that my heart needed to move on. I spoke with my mother earlier this evening (who still attends that church), and she told me about the wonderful message that was delivered today, and how Sanctity of Life Sunday was recognized there. My heart is full, knowing that the service has continued on, and that my former pastor feels passionately about it. They didn't do a candle-lighting, which I do hope that they bring back someday. But I'm just glad that the Day was recognized, and that losing my Lily has changed that church forever.

My new church is currently holding a fund-raiser for a local crisis pregnancy center. They support Choice One on a regular basis, and right now are collecting spare change in baby bottles. I'm really glad to be able to help in this way, to give support, and not have to lead anything this year. I have such peace today with where He has led me.

*note: Sanctity of Human Life Sunday is traditionally marked on the 3rd Sunday of January. Because of scheduling issues in the past, we usually held our event on the last Sunday of the month instead.*

Moving On

I mentioned in a previous post that we have changed churches. I don't think that I have anything very eloquent to say about this, plus we really aren't broadcasting it to anyone at our old church, hence why I really haven't talked about it. But part of me just wants to share about it, because it's a BIG STINKING DEAL, and since everything in life can affect recovery, it seems wise to open the flood gate on this one.

We've been unhappy at our church for a few years. We just felt we weren't growing there anymore, or learning much of anything. It was a great 'starter' church for us, where the people became like family, and genuinely cared for one another. But as the years went by, the things available for the men dwindled, and the Sunday school classes descended into group therapy rather than Bible study. Still, we stayed. We were involved in just enough that to leave would be difficult, and we loved the people so much. We made many close friends there over the years. But we continued to be unhappy, and were completely frustrated by the lack of 'meaty' sermons. You can only grow so much as a Christian if all you hear are Dr. Phil-esque lessons on life. I am not diametrically opposed to those kinds of sermons, but if they are all you are being fed, you are slowly becoming malnourished.

A year ago in November I had a conversation with one of my closest girlfriends about the situation. As I shared all that we were frustrated or fed up with, she gently pointed out to me that I didn't need to continue to pray about this, because God was clearly showing us the door. I resisted her point, but she repeated back to me all of the things I had told her, and asked, if the roles were reversed, would I tell her to stay or go? I knew in my heart that I had my answer. I had prayed repeatedly, and time and again He had answered me. I needed to stop asking Him questions that He had already answered. I asked her why, then, couldn't we go? She said, 'because you don't want to'. The truth was that we had a certain measure of comfort in the familiar, and to leave would be to start over in a foreign land.

So we stayed, still unhappy, but too hard-headed to do what we should. It wasn't until the beginning of August, when the Man and I hit a breaking point, that we were able to make the decision. Our marriage was a mess, we couldn't communicate, we bickered, we festered, we were unreasonable. There was a low point where I just wanted to check out of the marriage, not legally, but just emotionally. I was tired of trying. The Man and I sat down one night, and amidst many tears, we knew we had to do something drastic. We asked ourselves, if we were in a church that was feeding us spiritually, where we were learning and growing and walking in our faith the way that we were supposed to be, would we be struggling in our marriage like this? We agreed right then and there that we would finally make the change.

And now here we are, over a year after my conversation with my friend before we finally did leave. I slowly extracted myself from my commitments and we quietly left. Some of our friends have also recently left, but not for all of the same reasons. Some core reasons are the same, but individual disagreements have contributed more to their departures. My one friend stated that he would like to have left but kept his membership there, so that he could go back if circumstances changed. I thought about that, but realized that if we were going to uproot our children and take them on this journey, then we could not do so with the idea of waiting things out. We need to be committed to this change, and not to sound too Frodo-esque, but I think that over time we will realize, there is no going back. The church we have left would not be the same church that we would go back to years from now. A church is made up of changing individuals, and as such, is a fluid entity. I have found this to be very true when I have gotten together with the 'old gang' from my drinking days, and felt uncomfortable. Time has changed all of us, and sobriety has opened my eyes to a lot of things. I don't belong in that circle of friends anymore, even if they wanted me, which I'm pretty sure they do not. And that's ok now. As I go forward making my amends, I have peace about leaving that life behind.

And so it must be with this change. I have to let God give me peace about leaving that church life behind, even as it is so difficult to start all over again. We will make new friends. We will find a new niche for our family. I have left behind the Remembrance Services, which was one of the main things that held me back from leaving in the past. I wasn't willing to give those up, nor did I feel like God had released me from it. I needed to see it through. But something happened this year, a change in me that I did not expect. I became ready to finally let go. In my head I had always been willing to let go of the past, and lay my children to rest. But in my heart, I was incapable of doing this. Holding that Remembrance Service every January was a way to keep their memory alive, but it also served to keep wounds open. When God finally answered my prayers for answers, and gave me permission to walk away, I balked. It may seem senseless to someone on the outside, but when you have lost a baby, and all you have left is your grief, you are reticent to let that go. The pain was all I had left of them. I know that it's time now, and I must let go and move on. I don't know how to do that, but I'm trying.

After talking and praying about this decision for so long, having made it seems anti-climatic in some ways. We have been at the new church for a few Sundays now, and are hoping to join a small group in the new year. The Man is incredibly happy, and his joy is enormously helpful to me. I need his affirmation that we made the right choice, and that we are in this together. God had told me that 2008 was going to be a big year for us, and it has been. It has been an incredibly difficult and painful year, with many challenges. We have grown in unexpected ways, and I look forward to seeing where He leads us.

Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day

"Today, October 15th, is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. The 'Wave of Light' that marks the day is an international affair, something everyone can be part of. At 7pm local time, across every time zone, all are invited to join in lighting a candle in remembrance and honour of little ones loved and missed.
A wave of light around the world may only go a small way to brightening the darkness and silence of babyloss...both as an individual experience and as a taboo subject. But it is a beginning. May the light illuminate and honour, and if it is bright enough, foster discussion, research and prevention, empathy, and support for those who grieve." (Quote from the Loss Directory)

When we held the first Remembrance Service at my church, we did it on October 15th. (The service was later moved to January, to coordinate with Sanctity of Human Life Sunday.) This date is very special to me, and to so many others who have faced the heartache of child loss.

A very dear friend of mine had a miscarriage this week. My heart is heavy for her, wishing I could do something for her but knowing all too well that I cannot spare her this pain. She needs to go through this alone with God, and my job is to pray her through. When I went through my miscarriage some people respected my grief and acknowledged it, but left me alone about it too. I appreciated that, because the last thing I needed was platitudes about where my baby was or what God's plan was. Losing Lily didn't make me question my faith. I just needed to be allowed to grieve for her, and I didn't need to know the reasons why. I wrote this poem at that time:

Please
Please don't tell me that it will be fine.
It won't, it will always be different.
Please don't tell me that I will get over it.
I never will. I won't even try.
Please don't tell me when it's okay for me to get pregnant again, or how long I should wait.
That's between us and God.
Please don't try to mother me.
I already have my own mother.
Please don't hide pictures of other babies from me.
I couldn't hide from this if I tried.
I don't need to be handled with care.
I am not fragile.
I don't need to be discussed in quiet voices.
I am not your sad secret.
I don't need anyone to tell me anything reassuring.
Nothing you can say will change anything.
All I need is for you to smile, and listen, and comfort me in silence.
God gives me strength, and I will survive.
Please just be my friend.

Shay ©2001

For those of you who are grieving recent losses, I pray that God would comfort you and give you the peace He has given me.

Losing Lily: Part IV

It was a strange and difficult recovery. The physical pain faded for the most part after a week. But the emotional pain was undefinable. At first, I didn't cry. I began to think that maybe something was wrong with me, that I wasn't sad. One day, about 3 weeks later, I was on the internet, and I found an article that talked about the grief associated with miscarriage. It said that sometimes women go through shock and denial, and it doesn't seem real. Their minds protect them from the shock of the event. I was stunned to realize that this was me. There wasn't anything wrong with me. My mind simply could not allow me to try to process all that had happened in that Nevada hospital. It was too big. The fact that it had happened 2500 miles from home only made it more surreal, as if it hadn't happened.


The next day I went to a funeral for a church friend, and I began to cry, missing her. I cried my heart out. As Trisha Yearwood says, "It was like a dam had broken in my heart." I cried after that for days; it felt like I would never stop. But it did. Moment by moment, day by day, the Lord began easing the agony in my heart. I don't recall any time that I was angry at God for what had happened. He gave me peace about not having answers to the why's. I knew that there must be something good that could come from losing Lily. There had to be. I could not go on like she had never existed, with nothing in my hands to show for her short life.


But something else happened, something that I could not have foreseen coming from the loss of my daughter. Sobriety. Two months and one day after losing Lily, God brought me to my knees. I had been drinking all day at a barbecue, to the point that the Man took our daughter and went home without me when I refused to leave. I don't know how I got home. But that night, standing in my kitchen, God knocked the wind out of me, showing me what I had become through the years. I was heartbroken and laid at His feet, knowing that things would never be the same. I stood at the sink, pouring bottle after bottle after bottle down the drain, crying brokenly as I said goodbye to my past. I knew it had to end. I could not begin to fathom how I would go on without alcohol, any more than I could fathom how I could go on without Lily. But I knew that God would be with me, giving me the strength that I was incapable of summoning on my own. I told the Man about it the next morning. He was quiet but accepting, and has remained so to this day.

A few weeks later I became pregnant again, this time with our first son. The months crept timidly by, as I waited for the other shoe to drop. I held my breath at every twinge, unable to stop the fear. But as my belly grew, my fears slowly subsided, and I began to finally believe that I would have a new baby in my arms in a few months. I still thought about Lily every day, longing for her. What had she thought when she arrived in Heaven? Who had come out to welcome her? Could she see me? Did she know how much I desperately wanted her? How much I would always desperately want her? I had no closure, no goodbyes. I couldn't be at total peace because it was wrong, it was WRONG that I had not been able to say goodbye. I could not accept this, I would not accept this. I don't know that others can understand how I could continue to feel that way, even as I carried my son. But children are not interchangeable or replaceable. I needed to say goodbye to my child.


I began imagining what it would be like to have a funeral for Lily. Would anyone come? Would everyone think I was crazy? I needed to do something. It couldn't end like this. I began seeking out pregnancy loss resources, reading books, and talking to others online who had also lost a baby. And one day I found what I was looking for. A remembrance service for lost babies, held on October 15th, the day President Reagan had set aside for pregnancy & infant loss awareness. I knew I had to do it.

Six months after losing Lily, I spoke at the first annual Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Service at my church. I told Lily's story. Not many people came, but we shared our tears, and wrote little notes in a book, and lit candles in memory of our children. I finally had my closure. The service has continued year after year, growing from a tiny evening event with a dozen people, to a Sunday morning event where people flood the aisle coming forward to light candles at the end. Others have been willing to come speak and share their stories as well. Hearts are being opened so that they can finally heal. God is so good, and my heart overflows with all that He has done.

I don't think that there will ever come a time that I won't be sad for Lily. It's been seven years but there are still tears on my keyboard as I write this, and when I write in the journal that I still keep for her, filled with my memories and tiny keepsakes. But I have moved on with my life, and I can't say that I would change any of what has happened to me. I learned so much about myself, my husband, and God through this experience. It was hard, so gut-wrenchingly hard some days, but I knew at every moment, that the Lord was with me, watching over me. I could have died, but I didn't. I lost some of my fertility, but was still able to have two healthy sons. My husband and I grew even closer, bonded through shared loss. We have grown in our marriage, and in our Faith. And I have discovered the grace and mercy of God through pain that I can't even describe. My life was spared, and I have a beautiful family. I am grateful. My child is in the arms of the Almighty God, and someday I will meet her. That is enough for today.

Follow Up: God Bless the Broken Road

Losing Lily: Part III

It took a long time to wake up. The Man told me later that it was about two hours. I would start to wake up, but my eyes were so heavy, I just couldn't. I felt heavy and emotionless. I finally was able to force myself to keep my eyes open. I could see my husband and friend standing over me, in the distance. I realized that she must have come back from the hotel. It's very blurry, but eventually I know that my husband told me what I was waiting to hear.

Our baby was gone.

She had been growing in my fallopian tube. The tube had ruptured, and I had been bleeding internally. They told my husband that if we hadn't gone to the ER, that I would have collapsed by the time we got to the wedding, and that they wouldn't have known what was wrong with me. I would have continued to bleed internally until I died. They removed the baby and my entire tube.

I didn't cry. I guess that I just couldn't. I had literally cried all day, through it all, and now it was suddenly over. I had to get up, to get moving. I wanted to just lay there in the bed. I didn't want to move. They told me that if I didn't get up, that it would make me feel worse later. What could be worse than this? I wondered. The recovery nurse was mean, which she told me was her job. She said she had to make me get up and get moving, to get the gas out. No one had ever told me about the gas pain. When they do the surgery, they expand the belly with gas, so they can see everything. As they work, the gas is absorbed by the blood. The pain from this is unbearable. It was the worst up in my shoulders. She and the Man took me to the bathroom, but all I could do was moan and complain about the pain. They took me back to the bed I had been in. I tried to get up and get moving like I was told, but it was so hard. Evil Nurse told me that my insurance wouldn't pay for me to stay the night, so I had to get up. I eventually was able to move enough to be checked out, and we were able to get to the car. I was in a daze, feeling shoved out the door and unable to process anything beyond putting one foot in front of the other, with my husband holding my arm.

I managed to sit in the seat, with it put back a little, for the ride back to the hotel. We stopped at a drugstore to get my prescription for Percocet, and for Mylanta Gas to try to help with that pain. (Didn't help.) We got back to the hotel, and they had a wheelchair waiting for us. The ride up to the room was horrible, I felt so nauseous. We got to the room and the Man wheeled me inside. I immediately threw up. I threw up several more times before the night was through. They got me into bed.

My girlfriend left to go back to the hospital to pick up my husband's family. They had taken a taxi over there after the wedding, and none of us had known when I would be checked out, so they missed us.

They eventually made it back to the hotel. I was pretty hazy by then, since I had taken some painkiller. My sister-in-law came in, still in her wedding dress. She looked beautiful. My daughter was happy to see me, and I was so happy to see her. I held her as best as I could, so glad to be able to hold my child in my arms, stroke her hair. I knew I was happy to have her with me, but I felt nothing beyond that. There was no emotion. I felt vacant.

We spent the next day in the hotel room. The family took the Princess with them and went to see the sea life over at the Mandalay Bay. I don't remember much about the day. I tried to sleep some, but I don't know how well I did. We had to check out by 11am, but our flight wasn't until late that night. The Man called the front desk, and they agreed to let us stay in the room until 5pm. At that point, we had to move to my sister-in-law's room. She and her new husband were staying an extra day, so they still had their room. We were able to stay in their room until we had to leave for the airport.

I tried to eat, but didn't do too well. They had told my husband to give me soup or broth, but he couldn't find any. He got McDonald's for our daughter, and got me some too. I was able to keep down about half of a burger.

We eventually had to leave to go to the airport. Somehow we survived this trip. We got on the plane, and I took painkillers just before takeoff, so I would sleep. Our toddler was well-behaved, and we both slept most of the flight. We got to the Philadelphia Airport in the early morning hours. The airline had a wheelchair waiting for us, but it only took us to baggage claim. I had to sit and wait forever while my husband tried to find someone who could help us. Someone finally came with a chair, and took us outside to the shuttle. I was able to climb onto the shuttle, which would only take us to designated drop-off spots. The Man unloaded us, and I sat on a suitcase while he hiked to get the van. He was gone for a very long time, and I started to worry. The Princess was patient, thankfully. He finally arrived, and we packed up into the van. He said that he had taken a long time because the car wouldn't start, and he'd had to get a jump. I had left a light on in the van before we left, trying to amuse the Princess on the drive to the airport.

We got onto 95, and drove home. I told the Man that I never thought that I would be so happy to see that dirty old city. Even Philadelphia looked good at that point. We got to our house at 9am. We were finally home.

Part IV

Losing Lily: Part II

We left the hotel with two sets of directions to two different hospitals. The front desk had given us one, but my father-in-law gave us another that he thought was closer. We found neither. We drove for what seemed like forever, but couldn't find any of the roads we were supposed to be on. We finally stopped at a red light, and a police car happened to be next to us. My girlfriend suggested that we ask him for directions, which we did. We kept driving, and eventually saw a building in the distance that looked promising. We noticed the big white cross on the front, and we were sure that that had to be a hospital.

We got inside; I was able to walk. They found a wheelchair for me to sit in in the triage. We were there for quite a while, and they asked me a bunch of questions. The nurse was very reassuring. She said that since I had only bled a little bit, and it had stopped, that I could still be pregnant, and not to worry too much. I still had pain however. It continued to get progressively worse, and now it was all on my right side. They took my blood pressure and temperature, and eventually someone came and took me to the ER curtain area. This was where I spent most of the time.

They decided to take blood, which was surprisingly painless. They did this in a separate room from the curtain area, where they also did a pelvic exam. The ER doctor did this exam. It was very uncomfortable, and I really couldn't tell what he found. They eventually took me back to the curtain area. They decided to do an ultrasound. Instead of having me drink a lot of water, I guess they thought it would be quicker to insert a catheter and fill my bladder themselves. This would prove to be the most painful experience they had in store for me. The insertion of the Foley was excruciating, and I sobbed. The nurse did not seem to think this was unusual. They finally came and took me to do the ultrasound. The tech filled my bladder up, and spent a very long time staring at the screen. She didn't talk to me. I looked at the screen, but I couldn't really tell what I was seeing. She said that she needed to do an internal ultrasound. I was relieved, thinking that this meant that she would take the Foley out. She said that she had to leave it in. (I complained many times about how uncomfortable it was, but was told that if they had to do surgery, they would just have to put it in again, and then I would be really sore.) She drained my bladder and started the internal. Again, she just stared at the screen, not talking. She eventually muttered that she needed someone else to look too, and called another woman in. They both stared together at the screen for a long time, pointing and quietly talking, but neither of them spoke to me. I knew they had to do their jobs, but I couldn't help but think, "I'm a person! Treat me like a person! I'm right here!"

She eventually ended the ultrasound (after about 40 minutes) and wheeled me out into the hall. She left me there for about 10 minutes, then came back and took me to the curtain area, where my husband was waiting.

At some point, they had to put in an IV. I am a big baby about this kind of thing, and cried just at the thought that they were going to do it. Something about needles mentally freaks me out, and with my low blood pressure the person always seems to need to 'dig'. The woman who put it in was also unfortunately a student, and although she tried her best, it hurt like hell, and I was sobbing hysterically once again. She felt really bad, and it just made the whole thing even more pathetic and awful.

We were there for probably six hours, enduring test after test and being told nothing, before the OB doctor came down to the ER to examine me. We still weren't being told anything of course, but it felt as if we were starting all over again because the ER doctor had given up. By this point we were mentally drained, afraid, shaky. But she was calm and had a lovely manner about her. She explained to me that my HcG levels were only at about 300, and for six weeks pregnant, they should be closer to 3,000. She took me away to do another pelvic exam. She said she would feel my uterus and ovaries to try to determine what was causing the pain. After the exam, she told me that she wanted to do surgery. She said that they couldn't find the baby on the ultrasound, and they could only see something suspicious on my left fallopian tube. This also made no sense, since the pain was on my right side.

The doctor explained the surgery to me. She would go in through my belly button with a laparascope. I might have three or four incisions overall, depending on what they found when they went in. (I ended up with three incisions.) I was taken back to the ER, and they got me ready to go. I had never actually been admitted, so they had to do the paperwork for that before I could go to the OR. I think the Man signed everything for me, but I don't really remember. My girlfriend was gone at this point, she had returned to the hotel. She was supposed to check out of her room that morning at 11am, and was pretty late getting back. She checked her bags for the time being, and tried to reach my in-laws who were getting ready for the wedding.

The doctor came in and sat with me before they took me to surgery. I was really cold, and someone brought me a blanket. The doctor noticed then that the ultrasound tech had never cleaned me up after the procedure. I still had the gel and sticky towels all over me, underneath my blankets. She cleaned me up, and we talked a little bit. We talked about our daughters, and had a smile together. She was the only 'safe' and human part of that day.

They eventually got all the paperwork together, and an orderly came to wheel me upstairs to the OR. I was shivering cold by now. No matter how many blankets they put on me, I just couldn't get warm. I just thought that it was cold in there, I never really put two and two together. On the way up to the OR, the orderly stopped and got another blanket out of a warming cabinet for me. It felt great, so nice and warm.

They parked me in another curtained area, and the Man and I waited for a little bit. The anesthesiologist came and asked me some questions, then left. I said that maybe we should pray, so the Man did. It didn't seem real, that I was going in to have emergency surgery, and that we didn't know what would happen. We cried a little, and smiled a little, and pretty soon it was time to go. He kissed me goodbye, and they wheeled me away.


They wheeled me into the OR. It was icy cold. Everything was very bright and white. I looked around at all of the faces above me, and found it funny that they were all women. The doctor came in and said "Girl! It is freezing in here!", and went and got me another blanket. Soon I had to give up some of my blankets however, as they got me ready. They plugged things into my IV, and put an oxygen mask on me. The doctor took my hand. I was so grateful to her for the only moments of humanity I had in that hospital. They told me to breath deeply, and I did. I felt like I was suffocating, it was so hard to breathe in there. I felt panic rising up in me, as I wondered what was going to happen, would the baby be ok, would I be ok? The terror was too much, I wanted to scream. I squeezed tightly onto the doctor's hand, and suddenly... there was nothing.

Part III

Losing Lily: Part I

I said a while back that I would tell Lily's story, and after reading the recent news about the losses experienced by members of the group Selah, I decided to come back to this. I wrote this out years ago, but it needs a bit of tweaking to post here. I think it will have to be posted in a few parts, as it's just too long for one. I apologize ahead of time if anyone finds anything in this story too graphic, or too upsetting. I don't want to make anyone feel bad for us, I just think that it's important for people to understand what happened. Miscarriage is a shameful and painful secret for many women, and it shouldn't be that way.

We found out that we were expecting around the middle of March, 2001. I went to the doctor on March 21st, and he confirmed it. The pregnancy test came back positive, but barely. He guessed that it was just very early in the pregnancy, and was not concerned. We guessed our due date to be November 20th. The Man and I were surprised by this pregnancy, but thrilled nonetheless. It had taken a year to conceive our daughter, so a surprise baby was a dream come true. We imagined our Thanksgiving baby, and we began to make plans.

On March 25th we boarded a plane to go to Las Vegas. The Man's sister was getting married out there. She was also pregnant, and we happily shared our pregnancy symptoms and other girl talk. We arrived on Sunday, and were scheduled to fly out on Wednesday night. We survived the "red-eye" and got to the Luxor hotel in the middle of the night. We had arranged for a crib for the Princess, who of course refused to sleep in it. The room we were in had two double beds, so I slept in one with her, and the Man slept in the other.

The wedding was set for Tuesday, at 3:30pm. We spent Monday walking around, and seeing all of the strange and interesting things in the casinos. The live lion exhibit in the MGM was great! We played some slots, but not too much, since the Princess wasn't allowed on the gaming floor. Some of our group rode on the rollercoaster on top of the NY NY Casino. We admired all of the extravagant architecture in all the casinos, then headed back to the hotel. I was really tired on the walk back. I had to stop and rest a few times, as I got a bad cramp in my side. I figured I was just overexerting myself, and resolved to try to take it easy the rest of the trip. We all got freshened up and met for dinner later. We ate at a large buffet in the Mandalay Bay Hotel. The Princess was uncooperative and tired, so I didn't really pay attention to the fact that I was so tired. I had felt a little faint while waiting in line for a shuttle train earlier, but I just chalked it up to pregnancy fatigue and forgot about it.

We gave up on trying to get our picky toddler to eat anything, or sit at the table with us, and headed back for the hotel room. By this time, dinner was not sitting well at all with me, and I was glad for a private bathroom. I lay on the bed and relaxed for a while, but I felt crampy and uncomfortable. I was sure that it was just digestive, and turned my mind to other things. A girlfriend of mine happened to be in Vegas at the same time as us, and we met up with her before dinner. She rented a lemon yellow BMW convertible, and wanted to go out and "cruise the strip." I left the Princess with her dad to go to bed, and we headed out.

We felt like teenagers again, driving down the Las Vegas strip, the wind in our hair, laughing and talking. We tried so hard to be out in front of the Bellagio at the exact right time to catch the waterfountain show, but we just caught the end of it. We drove around for a while, but eventually I got pretty tired. My friend took me back to the hotel and dropped me off. I went to bed, happy and exhausted.

I slept soundly, but woke up early. I looked at the clock, it was a little after 5am. I got up to use the bathroom. In horror, I discovered that I was bleeding. I was frozen for a moment. I had had some bleeding when I was pregnant with the Princess, at about 9 weeks, but it had turned out to be nothing. Maybe this was just like that; surely it was nothing. But the cramping pain I had felt the night before was there again, only now it was worse. Maybe it was just the food that hadn't sat well. Or the stress of travelling. The more I thought about it, the more I tried to convince myself that it was nothing. The bleeding seemed to have already stopped, so maybe I could just go back to bed. I left the bathroom, but as I approached the bed, the pain was too much. I began to cry, and woke my husband up.

I told him what was happening, and we decided to call my doctor back home. I called, and explained what was happening. When I told the nurse that I was calling from Las Vegas, she laughed. Somehow, I didn't find it that funny.

She told me that we needed to find an emergency room right away. She told us to call the front desk of the hotel and get directions. The Man called his parents and then called my girlfriend too. (Fortunately, we were all staying in the same hotel.) At this point, my daughter was awake, and climbing on the bed to sit with me. I held her and cried. The Man's parents came into the room. It was good to hug my mother-in-law, as I really needed a hug from a "mom" right then. The Man packed some things for the Princess. He packed up her white flower girl dress and sandals, and my MIL said that she would take them, but she was sure we would be back before then. I wasn't sure, but the Man agreed with her that we would surely be back by then. We had no inkling at that moment of what the day would bring for our little family.

Part II

Gratitude

The Man and I had a crabby day yesterday. I'm not sure what was bothering both of us, but we weren't kind to one another. Neither of us has been feeling well lately, and I think that becomes our excuse to be rude. He has had an achy feeling the last week or two, and my allergies have been brutal. I was having a lovely sit on my pity pot about it the last few days, asking God why He won't heal me of all of the things I'm allergic to, and how I would be a better servant, mom and wife if He would heal me. I've been watching the Todd Bentley revival in Florida on and off for weeks, and it's exciting seeing all of those people get healed. I'm sure there are some who aren't truthful, but there are many that you can just tell are genuine. The woman the other night with the birth defect for example, you could tell that her ear was terribly malformed, and I have no doubt that she had been deaf in that ear since birth. And now she can hear! A true miracle. I'm no dispensationalist, I firmly believe that miracles and healings still happen today. But I find myself praying, 'God, I believe! Help my unbelief!' (Mark 9:24) More than my own healing, I want it for my mother. I have faith that she will be healed, but the waiting, waiting, waiting.... will You heal her this side of Heaven Lord? Can we all live with it if You don't?
I'm confronted with my own lack of gratitude, and I know that I must learn to ask with complete faith, but with enough maturity that I can live without what I ask for. The Apostle Paul asked God repeatedly to heal him of the 'thorn in his flesh', but it was left there for a purpose.
Gratitude... this is something we talk about frequently in meetings. It must be more than emotion, but follow into action that shows we are truly grateful. In my day to day living, I need to be showing in my actions that I am grateful. The way I speak, the way I raise my children, what I teach them - should be infused with the gratitude for all that I am given.
I was sitting in the breakfast room this morning, drinking my coffee and reading a book. The Barnacle was in his high chair, chatting in a sing song voice and eating his cereal. I was struck by how translucent his blonde hair looked in the early sun. The Princess was packing her bag for school while the Boy snoozed on the couch, escaping the heat of his upstairs room. I thought about the members of Selah, so fresh in their losses, and of the several women I know who have become young widows this past year. And I am confronted with the reality that no matter what pain my broken road has shown me, I am alive, my marriage is whole and I am abundantly blessed.
The Man called me last night from work and we both apologized. A bit of quiet and time gives the gift of perspective, and both of us sitting many miles from each other, alone in the silence of the evening was enough to show us our own ridiculousness. I don't know why we so often choose to learn things the hard way. But I can be grateful that we get there, however long it takes us.

Maria Sue Chapman

I was heartbroken when I heard the news today about the death of the youngest child of Steven Curtis Chapman. I don't know what you say when a child dies, at least not in a blog. I know that there are no human words that ease that pain. We can only rely on God for that.

We used a Chapman song, With Hope, during our Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Service this year. Anyone who knows his music has to be thinking of this song today, and praying that it brings him and his family comfort, while at the same time they think on the cruel irony of this song now applying to his own life.

No child loss being alike, I would not even attempt to say that I understand in the slightest what he and his wife must be going through right now. But having had a miscarriage, I can tell you that what is most helpful when you are grieving is for people to simply be there, willing to listen, and willing to do daily tasks for you without being asked.

My heart aches for this brother in Christ and I pray for the Peace that passes all human understanding to fill his home.

Mother's Day

I saw this video on A Life At Home and was incredibly moved by it. Mother's Day was very bittersweet for me for a long time, as I struggled with the children I didn't have and the children I did, and the broken road that it took to get me there. I really appreciate the range of emotions presented in this music video by Kellie Coffey. I remember Mother's Days that were excruciating for me. I can celebrate this day now, but I don't want to forget the many women who find it painful.

When we were expecting the Barnacle, our third baby as far as anyone outside our close friends knew, a woman jokingly asked me if we ever watched tv. I never quite appreciated the humor in her little joke, and I have always wondered at how careless people can be when it comes to the subject of children. People ask invasive questions that are none of their business, questions that can hurt. We were asked those questions before our first was born, during each pregnancy, after each pregnancy, and after we made the decision to end our child-bearing years. We were asked if we planned each pregnancy. We were asked how long we tried, if we were trying, if we did this or that to conceive, how much weight I had gained, if we wanted more, if we wanted a particular sex, why would we have more when we already had one of each, and on. and on. and on. Seems unbelieveable, doesn't it? But a decade of "I didn't mean anything by it" questions adds up in the end. I don't want this to sound bitter, for I do not hold anger in my heart towards any of the people who asked. I just want to share my experiences, in the hopes of provoking others to THINK before they SPEAK. It's a good habit in general, but in particular when it comes to fertility and children.

If you know someone who does not 'yet' have children, think before you ask them why or when. Consider how they must feel, being asked why they are broken, why their bodies betray them, why God is punishing them. You may not think that's what you are asking them, but it's what some of them are thinking. And trust me, if they wanted you to know, they would have already told you.

Moving on to happier things.... I was pleasantly awakened this morning to the sounds of the Boy singing, "Happy Mother's Day to youuuuu..." The Princess was right behind him, carrying her pink Disney Princess tray laden with toast, eggs and milk. The Man was just as surprised as I was! What a joyful surprise to have breakfast in bed and read the cards they wrote out for me. I am beyond blessed.

Happy Mother's Day to all of you out there. Wherever you are in your mothering journey, may you always have the laughter of children in your heart.

Lily Faith

Had a mostly boring day today, but I got in an ANGRY funk after I picked the kids up from school. Was just one stupid thing after another, clingy baby yelling while I tried to cook, kids leaving their school bags and junk all over the floor of the breakfast room.... nothing major, just got me mad. But good little girl that I am, I called my sponsor to check in. She very astutely made the connection that I had been on a relaxing 'vacation' last week, and that since I've gotten home it's been non-stop responsibility and stuff going on. I hadn't thought of it that way, but she was right on the money. Had a birthday party for the Boy, had single-mom duty all day for Easter festivities since the Man was home sick as a dog, blah blah blah busy busy busy, and suddenly today I'm blowing a gasket over nothing major. This is why I love my sponsor, she has a gift for putting things into perspective.

At my meeting tonight I also thought of something else that was creeping up in the corners of my mind today..... tomorrow is the seventh anniversary of my miscarriage. It stirs up a variety of emotions, some bad, some actually good. Losing Lily was a catalyst for a lot of positive things in my life, the first being my sobriety. God used that loss to bring me to my knees, and I got sober two months later. The story is long, because I don't really know how to tell stories that are short. I won't try to tell it all now, as I've written it out many times before and don't feel the need to do that tonight. It was one of the most traumatic events of my life, and I know that anniversaries have a way of pulling things to the surface. But, God is SO good, and He has given me such peace and comfort over the years. I am so grateful, even in the face of loss. He always gives me beauty for ashes.

Beauty for Ashes

So, where to start, where to start.... I usually dread March 1st, thinking it will be painful and I'll spend the day sad and small. However, I don't think I had five minutes to spare to myself today in which to spend regretting the past. My day officially began at midnight when I thought about what it used to be like when I could go to bed and actually STAY THERE. The Boy couldn't sleep because of growing pains in his knees, so he was up several times before I got him settled with ice packs in the recliner. The Barnacle coughed most of the night, and I got him out of bed around 1am to give him a treatment. I went to sleep sometime after 1:30.

I had already known I would have to miss MOPS this morning since the Barnacle's eye funk has not cleared up and he's on the drops 3x a day yet again. (mental note: write a blog about the joys of putting drops into the eyes of an angry 17 month old who has octopus arms)(another mental note: buy a catcher's mask) So I was bummed about missing out on adult conversation and snacks. I didn't have time to really fuss much about it though, as I had a mountain of laundry to catch up on, cleaning, dishes, and the never-ending housewife list. I got the Princess and the Boy both to school (at 9 and 1) and the Barnacle down for a way-too-short-nap, grabbed a shower and then was out the door. The pediatrician confirmed that the Barnacle does indeed have junky lungs as I suspected, so he's back on the nebulizer yet again. Since he has been sick like this so much this winter, she has also now put him on a steroid. So he gets treatments four times a day, two of which have the steroid along with the Albuterol. Have I mentioned that the Barnacle hates these treatments? No? Well he hates them. A lot. And he has to be on the steroid for 1-2 months. Booyah.

So off we go to the pharmacy, then run out of time because they have to call the pediatrician since they can't read her chicken scratch, so I leave and go pick up the kids from school. Back to the pharmacy yet again to pick up all three prescriptions since the Albuterol you mix with the Pulmicort is not the same as the regular Albuterol. Did you get all that? So now we're home again and kids need snacks and dinner needs to be started and the Barnacle is throwing matchbox cars at the cat. Oh, and called my father who is out of state visiting my sister, because his birthday is coming up.

And really, I could go on and on, but the point is -- I was so busy with my full and crazy life today, that I did not have time to spend my day moping about in my pajamas. I needed today to not be excruciatingly painful and it wasn't. I made the worst decision of my life 13 years ago today. I will never recover from it, I will bear the scars for the rest of my life. But the Lord continues to give me beauty for ashes, and today He blessed me with a bustling kind of day that left me smiling at my happy little life, and not filled with pain and grief. I lit two candles tonight, and thought about how far I have come since that day 13 years ago. I am thankful, so thankful that my heart is bursting, with the love and peace that He has given me. I do still have days where the pain overwhelms me, and I don't know how to cope with it. But today was not one of those days. He has given me beauty for ashes.

John 14:27

I had a hard morning. Nothing bad happened, it was just my own mind, my own thoughts, my own memories. Things can creep up on you so suddenly; you aren't prepared for it.

I was in the shower and for whatever reason I was thinking about a movie I had seen recently, and a woman in it who had four children. That made me think of a show I watched last night about a couple who had adopted more than 2 dozen children. Meandering along, I thought of my own family, with my three precious children. And as I have so frequently done since the Man and I made the final decision on the size of our family, I found myself feeling a bit of sadness that our 'babymaking' days are finished. I tried to steer my mind back on track, to think of how I needed to finish getting myself ready for church. But it was too late. I was already headed down that path that I am powerless to avoid. I thought about the size of my family, and the reality of how many children I 'should' have. And I cried. I cried because I am the mother of six, but I only get to kiss three of them every day. I cried because even though so many years have passed, time can never change a mother's heart that yearns for her children.

I am so thankful for how the Lord has healed so many of the black layers of my heart over the years, a healing which I never believed that I deserved. There are days that I cling to my grief like a petulant child in many ways, for it is all I have left of them and I choose to not give it up. But I am thankful that mornings like this are more fleeting than not.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” ~ John 14:27

Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Service

Tomorrow we're holding our 7th Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Service at church. I started this service in 2001 after my ectopic loss. I cannot even begin to describe what an amazing gift this service has been to me and how blessed I feel to be a part of it. God definitely gave me beauty for ashes, and the oil of joy for mourning (Isaiah 61). As much as the preparation can stress me out, I know that He is going to do amazing things tomorrow and touch a lot of hurting hearts.

Each service is very simple, but very powerful. Someone with a testimony of how God moved in their life and brought them healing after loss will share their story. We read scriptures such as Matthew 5:4, 'Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.' The Signing Choir is performing a Steven Curtis Chapman song titled 'With Hope', about the hope that only He gives us, in knowing that we will see our lost children again someday.

For those who have lost children to miscarriage or stillbirth, I pray that you would find comfort in Him. For anyone out there who reads this, who has an abortion in their past, please know this -- God longs to reach out to you and comfort you, and forgive you. You don't have to live with the pain and the shame any more.

With Hope
This is not at all how we thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for youwe had so many dreams
And now you've gone away and left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say and nothing we can do
Can take away the painthe pain of losing you
We can cry with hopewe can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end
We can grieve with hope
because we believe with hope
There's a place where we'll see your face again
We'll see your face again
Never have I known anything so hard to understand
Never have I questioned more the wisdom of God's plan
But through the cloud of tears I see the Father smile and say well done
And I imagine you where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home and now you're free
We can cry with hope, we can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end
We can grieve with hope, because we believe with hope
There's a place where we'll see your face again
We'll see your face again
We have this hope like as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything God promised us is true
So we can cry with hope, we can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end
We can grieve with hope, because we believe with hope
There's a place
By God's grace
There's a place where we'll see your face again
~Steven Curtis Chapman, from his 1999 album 'Speechless'