I honestly don't know how to start this blog post, so I'm just going to let the words fly off my finger tips (if I was talking to you, I would have said the words would fall out of my mouth). Here it goes: I get irritated when people don't seem to understand that being around a bunch of pregnant people or people that have babies would bother me. I'm not too old to have more kids, but due to medical reasons, I cannot. Yes, I have three children already. I'm sure someone out there just rolled their eyes. "Oh poor baby," you may think "she already has three kids and she wants more? How greedy! I can't even get pregnant with one!" Well, my darling sister, it doesn't hurt any less. My arms ache to hold a little one. My lips need to sooth a crying bundle. My ears need to hear the little noises. I have been there and tasted the sweetness of the love that comes from holding a precious gift.
    Now, before you think badly about me, I do love my kids. My oldest is 12 now (gulp) and although I secretly dreaded it, her growing up is so much fun! She is smart and beautiful and excels at every single thing she does! It is a blast to wonder what she might do with her life now that she is coming into the person she will choose to be. I love watching her walk with God bravely and unashamedly. My son is 10 and possibly moodier than his older sister. He is growing like a weed and this year shot his first buck to bring home venison to feed our family. He looks different to me somehow. More grown up, closer to being a man. My youngest, is still little enough at 7 that she still needs Mommy and Daddy. She still loves to snuggle and is tiny-major bonus!
    I have never suffered a miscarriage, but I have lost babies. I have never had to cry over the unknown and wonder why God chose to keep that baby from me. I don't have babies in heaven that I count. I cannot even imagine the pain that would cause. The struggle your entire family would go through. The pain in your husband's eyes as he tried to be strong. The overwhelming emptiness that must follow is, I'm sure, too vast for understanding. If you have suffered a miscarriage. I am so sorry. If you have tried and never gotten pregnant, I only wish you well. Your pain is something I'm not sure I could endure.
     What I do have to endure is the memories of when I did have my babies. The giggle of the 6 year old that is only a haunting memory. The way the toddler would suck down a juice box faster than I could get my coat off and then take off running saying "Mommy, catch me!" The birthdays and Christmases we shared. Learning to ride a bike, learning to walk, the first day of school, losing her first tooth, the family camping trips, the church plays. All of these good times seem a little tainted now. I don't have the pain of the unknown, I have flashbacks to the day they were literally pulled from my arms and I have to hear their screams as the van drove off. I replay the moment when I laid my hand on their hearts and said "I love you, but Jesus loves you more and he is right here in your heart. You remember that." I watch my other kids as they find something in the house belonging to the girls and I see in their eyes the longing they have to just be able to hand it to them. The words "Mommy, come with me!" echo in my head as I look out into the driveway. 
     Sympathy only comes for so long after you lose a foster child. I appear to be strong because while there are other moms that have had miscarriages that can support each other, there are very few that can relate to what I am gong through. I cry by myself and each time I fall to the floor sobbing, I promise myself I am cried out and I won't have to do this again. Over and over I have promised myself that. I still catch myself looking at the size 3T clothing at the store, because in my heart, they are still with me. I try so hard to smile when I talk about them for the sake of my other kids. I want them to associate good memories with the girls, not the paralyzing grief that happens to me. So while I sat in my Sunday School class room yesterday with three pregnant moms, all my energy went into being happy for them instead of the thoughts that wanted to squeeze in. I spend almost the whole hour planning my major cry session. I didn't expect anything different from the ladies, and I am truly happy for them. Two of them are my cousins, so another baby (or two) in the family is a blessing.
     I am quite sure I am over wanting to be pregnant again. I just want more babies in the house that fit as well as these two girls did. I want to complete my family with adoption and still be able to help other foster kids. I want to be able to grieve openly. I don't think this is too much to ask. 

~Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me~

Mark 9:37

Pinterest. Pinterest. Pinterest. Hello, my name is Jennifer and I am addicted to Pinterest. Anyone else? Show of hands. I would go right now to look on my Pinterest page to be able to tell you how many Pins I have, but it would be like "squirrel!" and before you know it I would be pinning things about shoeing a giraffe. Just because. I get on there to look for a recipe or a quilt pattern with the best of intentions and two hours later, we're all still hungry and the only thing keeping my warm is the heat from the laptop on my legs. I even have the Pinterest app on my phone, so any time a person repins one of my pins, I get a notification, and don't you know it, I will click on the notification just to see which pin the unknown person liked! How sad is that? But, there is an upside to Pinterest. My kids' Christmas gifts were definitely supplemented with projects that I saw on Pinterest. 

Christmas morning 2015, 4 kids in the house

Please ignore the 'Totally Gross' game in the middle of the picture. this was a donated gift for our foster son. The doll bunk beds we made after hours of looking at tutorials online. The mattresses and quilts I just banged out in a couple afternoons. The 1960's wooden doll high chair was a major score at Goodwill. I replaced the cushions and ruffles, wiped it down and called it good. The barn shaped shelf was made for my daughter's Bryer Stablemate horses. The coffee table was just that-a coffee table from Goodwill, that I turned into a lego building table for my son, and the Ford truck grill on top of it, will hang on his bedroom wall for matchbox cars. So, Pinterest isn't all bad. we downsized our Christmas in a huge way this year, but the kids didn't notice, or didn;t complain if they did. 

    This week we are having some financial struggles since even after cutting down on Christmas, the weeks following are tight. So, I got out a pack of ground venison and hit the Pinterest boards. I found a fabulous recipe for venison burgers. I'm not normally a fan of venison burger. Venison? Yes. Burger? not so much. However, this was my son's first buck and he was really insisting we have burgers. Since he was bringing home food to feed the family at age 9, the least I could do was indulge his supper request. The recipe I used was titled "The Best Venison Burger Around" and included seasonings and bacon. Bacon rocks, so I might as well give it a go. One problem...no hamburger buns. No bread, wither. I had tortillas, but I was fairly certain the hubster would not approve. So, back to the boards. I stayed somewhat focused this time, covering my eyes when visions of quilted pillows and cross stitched ornaments showed up, and went in search for a hamburger bun. I was trying to block out the last time I tried to make them and finally realized it was no use. If the burgers failed it couldn't be because of the buns. Then, I had a light bulb moment. Pretzel Buns! A few minutes of research later landed me to a pretty straightforward recipe and I started mixing ingredients. The result? Oh.my.cheeseburger. I see these in my future a lot! And, they were essentially free. Of course, my husband will argue that getting venison for our family is a lot of work, we process it ourselves and he enjoys hunting with our son and friends, so the price is minimal. And I had all the other ingredients on hand. So, supper that night looked like this.

  Now, please forgive the fact that the top of my bun looks like a crown. Instead of slicing it with a knife, I cut it with kitchen shears. Won't be making that mistake again. We added bacon and Amish butter cheese to finish off the burger. A little yellow mustard and that first bite was beyond explanation. And now, it is time to figure out what to fix for supper tonight. Or breakfast. Or camping ideas. Or hair braids. Or closet organization...

If you're at all interested in my crazy ping pong squirrel chasing thoughts while I am on Pinterest. Follow me here.

 ~and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: you should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you~

1 Thessalonians 4:11

Does your husband ever surprise you? Not with flowers or candy, but in the way he reacts to something ? Mine does. A lot recently, actually. We are going through a very tough time in our house right now, and I am trying to be strong, but those few moments that I waiver and try to hide it from him, he shocks me completely by saying something I needed to hear or just by holding me. We are not newlyweds here. We have been married for 15 years. We were together for 7 years before that. We started dating when I was 14 and he was 16. So we've pretty much grown up together. I've been with him for the last 22 years and every day is still unpredictable. How is that possible? Every morning he gets up with the sound of his alarm ringing, shakes me as he heads for the shower. He gets dressed, brushes his teeth and then puts his socks on and makes the rounds to say goodbye to the kids. I even now how he will give the gas petal a little flutter as he goes down the driveway. He comes home from work and says "hello kiddos" as he takes his wallet, keys and change and lays them in the basket while pulling his belt off. He pours himself a glass of milk before bedtime and takes his socks off before we go up the stairs together at night. I know him. But then, there will be a moment when he will react to something and I will think "who are you?" Not in a bad way, but just in a where-did-that-come-from kind of way. It's pretty awesome actually. As he was listening to another one of my 'I should do this and try to make some money' ideas, he just said "honey, there are a lot of things you want to do." He didn't insist I pick one, didn't tell me to just do something, anything as long as i stopped talking about it, which of course, is probably what I would be thinking if it was reversed. What a great guy. No wonder I love him. And I love marriage. 

~Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord. Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them~

Colossians 3:18-19.