The Grief That Must Give Way

Today was to be my due date with our second baby, whom we call Claire.  She is not with me in body, but she is always on my mind and forever in my heart.  I can hardly wait to hold her in the presence of GOD.

"Resignation"
from The Seaside and the Fireside
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoe’er defended,
But has one vacant chair!

The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,
Will not be comforted!

Let us be patient!  These severe afflictions
Not from the ground arise,
But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors;
Amid these earthly damps
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers
May be heaven’s distant lamps.

There is no Death!  What seems so is transition;
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life elysian,
Whose portal we call Death.

She is not dead,–the child of our affection,–
But gone unto that school
Where she no longer needs our poor protection,
And Christ himself doth rule.

In that great cloister’s stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin’s pollution,
She lives, whom we call dead.

Day after day we think what she is doing
In those bright realms of air;
Year after year, her tender steps pursuing,
Behold her grown more fair.

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken
The bond which nature gives,
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken,
May reach her where she lives.

Not as a child shall we again behold her;
For when with raptures wild
In our embraces we again enfold her,
She will not be a child;

But a fair maiden, in her Father’s mansion,
Clothed with celestial grace;
And beautiful with all the soul’s expansion
Shall we behold her face.

And though at times impetuous with emotion
And anguish long suppressed,
The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean,
That cannot be at rest,–

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling
We may not wholly stay;
By silence sanctifying, not concealing,
The grief that must have way.

Beautiful Things

Last night my dear friend, Melissa, gave me two pots filled with dirt. And in those pots are the promises of something beautiful. She planted winter bulbs for me.  Now I have something to look forward to in the upcoming months: something beautiful growing out of what looks to be dark and barren dirt.

At church we sing this song that more and more it is hitting me at the very core of my heart and what I long for; what I need; and what I am clinging to.

We all need to hear that beautiful things come out of the dust. Beautiful things come out of loss. Out of sickness. Out of pain.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, is out of the realm of GOD and HIS ability to make beautiful things happen and come out of what we only see as dust.

And I know this, and I feel this, and I believe this even in the midst of where HE has me now.

Even in the dark I see the LIGHT. Even in the void I feel the FILL. Even in the sorrow I feel the HOPE.

It’s nothing foolish I have made up in my own mind. It’s there in HIS word, in HIS very promise to me as HIS daughter.

At the end of Melissa’s beautiful letter she penned these words:
“So I planted these for you. Give them a little water- just enough to keep the soil damp. And give them space. And quiet. There’s something beautiful at work in those dark places.”

To all who mourn in Israel, HE will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for HIS own glory. Isaiah 61:3

Shame

When you have your first miscarriage you are surprised and saddened all at once.  “This happened to me?…..but I was so excited about this baby……but this happened to me.”  You learn soon enough that you are in “good” company because one in four pregnancies ends in a miscarriage.  

And so while you feel devastated and heartbroken, you find some small comfort in knowing that other women have walked this road and that you are not, by any stretch of the imagination, alone.  While others will have undoubtedly processed their loss and grief differently, you find solace in the sisterhood of those who have miscarried.  Friends and family will seek to comfort you, too, and you will be encouraged by the stories of so many who went through the same thing and went on to have babies who were born alive.

When you have your second consecutive miscarriage you are bewildered, on top of being deeply sad.  “But I was so careful…..I did everything I was supposed to…….why did this happen again?....and why to me?”  Losing two babies messes with your head and you begin to feel the scary idea that maybe you will never have a living baby set in.  

Medical people will begin to talk to you about testing you should look into doing and you will oblige because what’s eight of vials of blood if you think it might prevent this from happening again.  Friends and family will not know quite what to say because they have not really known anyone who has gone through two miscarriages in a row.  It’s not common…..but it’s really not all that rare either.  

And then the unthinkable happens.  You have a third miscarriage.

You are shocked.  You are angry.  You are lost.  You are crushed.  “No, please, not again……why again?......why me again?.....what the #&*@ is going on in there…..I feel like a freak show…….I can’t do this again.”  And you may even feel a little numb to it all.  Because somewhere inside of you- and maybe this is GOD’s grace- you shut down for a little while.  I think it’s because the pain is too much and if you feel it all at once you just might die. 

Friends and family will be speechless.  They won't have anything to say.  

Statistics show that only less than 1% of the population has three or more consecutive miscarriages.  After three miscarriages, you are officially deemed infertile and you are strongly advised to stop trying and meet first with a genetic counselor and then with specialized infertility/high risk pregnancy doctors.

Hi, my name is Justine and I have lost three babies.  My body, for whatever reason, could not sustain their tiny lives.  

I used to be like you and I assumed that when I wanted to start having babies I would.  But now I am benched- I am out of the game for the time being.  And instead of this part of my life being between just me and my husband, now we are joined by special doctors and counselors.  

And I feel shame.  I feel marked.

Yes, I know that there is no shame for me to carry in the loss of my three babies.  Yes, I know there is no visual mark on me.

But I feel shame.  And I feel marked.

And I am struggling with who I am as a woman.  And as a wife.  And as a daughter who cannot “deliver” a grandchild.

I feel like a freak show.  And even though my husband very much dislikes me saying this, I can’t deny that I feel that way.

My self-esteem, and sometimes my self-worth, are just two more casualties of this past year.  Right or wrong, they are. 

Our Third Glory Baby

A letter of love for my son, Liam.

There are few things that bring a woman any measure of joy like when she finds out she is having a baby.  I remember the first time I learned I was pregnant and it was sheer shock laden with great excitement.  When we found out we were pregnant a second time, that was a different experience from the first time.  While we were excited, we were also cautious and nervous.  

And then we learned I was pregnant with you, Liam.  Finding out I was pregnant with you was a mixed bag of emotions.  It wasn’t that we weren’t excited about you- because we were- but our hearts had been broken twice from the loss of our two other babies and we were so afraid to have that happen again.  

But we had hope because that is what you do when you are a mom or dad- you hope and pray for the best for your children.  We hoped and we prayed and we invited so many others to hope and pray with us.

Your daddy and I talked about you often and we were convinced you were a boy- our second son.  Gosh, we were excited to see you and hold you and call you our own.

And then came our first ultrasound- the day we would get to see for ourselves that you were growing and well.  

But where were you, sweet Liam?  You must have been hiding in a secret place.  You were nowhere to be found.  You became a mystery to us and we left that appointment heart-broken.

But now I have seen you, little one.  

Seeing you was nothing like I had hoped, but I am thankful beyond words that I had the chance to see you.  And I am grateful that you passed through me at home.  And it was peaceful and with your daddy.

Liam, I am crushed knowing that you will never be my little boy to hold and chase after.  Gone is the chance to lock eyes with you; to comfort you; to cheer you on in your first steps; to sing silly songs with you in the car; or to hear your first words.  

So much more has been lost in losing you.  In time that which was lost will be found in me again.  That’s the beauty of knowing God- He restores us; He heals us.  But you already know that because you have experienced perfect and complete restoration and healing.

My grief at the loss of you brings me to my knees.  I am struggling to hold on to the only thing I know that is true: that the Lord loves us and He is working for our good.  He is always working for our good.   

That still does not take the sting away of losing you.

I want you here.  With me. 

But you were meant for heaven, my dear boy.  You were meant for the arms of Jesus first.  

Some day you and I will meet.   And everything that was heart-breaking about losing you will no longer be.  And my arms will have the chance to hold you and my eyes will get to see just how beautiful you are.  

That will be a sweet moment.  I can hardly wait for it.

I love you, Liam.  And I always will.  You are forever and always a part of me.

Momma

He Who Has Dominion Over Me

The physical process of losing our baby- our tiny baby that could not be seen on the ultrasound- began at 3am this morning.  I awoke scared and in a good deal of pain.  There is something about waking up in pain when everyone else is asleep and the sun is nowhere in sight that makes the experience of it all so scary.  I am sure I am not alone in this feeling.

The pain scares me because I wonder if it is out of control.  Can my body handle doing this again?  Am I pushing myself to do this alone when I should be getting help?

This afternoon I made the 45 minute drive to see our counselor.  No amount of pain was going to keep me away from seeing him.  He is, in some ways, like a father to me.  In times of deep hurt- both in body and heart- I to want to be with someone who has a strong and reassuring father-like presence.  Roger is that for me.

We spent some time talking about God’s dominion because I had to ask the question if perhaps my body had gone rogue and was no longer operating in the will of God.  I mean this was the third time this happened to us and God did give me the words “grow” and “be well” to pray over this baby.  Surely something had gone awry and this was not supposed to happen.

Imagine the tears that flowed when he assured me over and over that the Lord indeed has dominion over me.  That nothing that is happening now- or has happened or will happen- is out of His control.  This is not an accident.  Losing three babies is part of my story.

And that kind of Truth makes the fear subside.  And it makes you brave.

Not the puffed up kind of brave.  Or the brave that relies on your own strength or understanding.  

But His kind of brave.  The kind of brave that only comes from the One who tells you to build an ark and keeps you in it for 40 days while all the earth and its people are destroyed.  The kind of brave that comes from the God who leads you through the desert place and makes a dramatic escape from your enemies.  It’s the kind of brave that allows you to step off the boat and onto the water.  

I feel a little brave tonight.  I feel Him in the midst of what is happening to me and my body.  Even though the pain is heightened and the physical part of this is far from being over, I feel a little brave tonight.  

And it comes from He who has dominion over me.  And it’s there because He has dominion over me.

Weeping

Death march.

This is what I call the walk I take from Michigan Avenue up to St. Clair Avenue, past Northwestern Hospital and a big, empty construction lot, until I find myself at the revolving doors of 680.  

I know this walk well.  I could do it blind-folded if I had to.  

I loathe this walk.

I made this walk today and just like all the other times I have walked it, my knees were stiff and my jaw was tight.  I tried to focus on “whatever is good and pure,” but mostly I was rehearsing how I would react to news that I didn’t want to hear.

We did not get good news today about our baby.  In fact, there was no baby to be found on the monitor.  All that was there was an empty sac.  There are about 13 million different thoughts racing in my head about this.

To be honest, I don’t know if I can stomach any one of you telling me how sorry you are or that you are praying for us.  Both seem so cheap and could offer no comfort to me.

But who am I to keep you from sharing whatever it is that is on your heart.  After all, I invited you into this part of my life with the hopes that all of our collective prayers would find us in a different place than where we are now.

We cannot celebrate together.  So weep with me.  

Weep because you are a parent and you can't imagine what life would be like without your children.

Weep because you know some of this pain.

Weep because you know this longing.

Weep because you have gotten a taste for the frailty of life.

Weep because you know what it feels like when He gives.  And when He takes away.

Weep because you can.  

Weep because you must.

Weep because it hurts to live.

Weep because it's scary to hope.

I am weeping.  Even in my shock and numbness, I am weeping.

First Ultrasound is Coming Up

Let me start be saying thank you for your prayers and encouraging words.  I have received so many e-mails and Facebook messages telling me that you are praying for our little baby and it has meant more than you'll ever know.  Truly, we are grateful for every prayer you lift up on our behalf. 

The last few weeks of knowing that I am pregnant have been a mixed bag of emotions.  But somewhere in the process of being scared of the unknown, joy crept in and has taken residence in a small place within me.  It's still a small part of me, but it's there nonetheless and that feels good.

Some of you have asked what I am doing this third time around to help keep this baby safe and well and I don't mind sharing if might help any one of you.  First, I am taking progesterone twice daily - I won't get into the how part of how I am taking it, but it should help raise my levels that were on the low normal side.  Second, I am doing a series of weekly iron shots to boost my iron levels.  Pregnant women should be in the range of 100-150 and I was only at 43 as of two weeks ago.  I am also eating red meat (something I have not done up until now) to help boost my levels.  And last, I have increased my vitamin D intake and am now taking 10,000 i.u.'s of it each day.  Progesterone, iron, and vitamin D are all very important in helping maintain a pregnancy and it is my intent to stay on top of my intake of all three. 

Also, I only had my hormone levels checked twice- the week that I found out I was pregnant and then 6 days later.  At that time, my HCG levels were doubling every two days like they are supposed to.  I opted to not go in for weekly blood tests to keep having those levels checked; it's an act of faith and trust for me.

Let me take this opportunity to say that if you are under the care of a doctor who is not listening to you and shows little to no concern for anything that you are concerned about, find a new doctor.  I have heard one too many stories about a doctor giving someone the run-around or making them feel like their concerns aren't valid or worth looking into.  I am fortunate to have a doctor who has journeyed with me since my first miscarriage and has been proactive in helping my body get healthier and stronger with the hopes of carrying a baby to term.  Each time I leaver her office I cry on the bus because I feel so thankful to the Lord for giving me such a compassionate and talented doctor.  Seriously, get out of your bad doctor relationship if you can and find someone who will listen to you and give you the kind of care you need and want. 

We have our first ultrasound for this baby on Tuesday, September 28.  I can't help but think of what my friend Melissa says about ultrasounds- "It's us taking an early peek at something that God is in the process of doing."  How true that is!  I feel conflicted about taking an early peek because ultrasounds can be scary and they can unnecessarily fill you with worry.......but they can also fill with you excitement and love for your baby.  I am hoping and praying for the latter, naturally.

I am asking for prayers of peace and reassurance that the Lord is in full and complete control and that whatever news befalls on Tuesday is in His control and because of His perfect plan.

Assuming we get good news, I'll share pictures on my next post!

Grow. Be Well.

We are happy to announce that we are expecting again.

Actually, we are happy/anxious/scared/thankful to announce that we are expecting again.  It's a gift we do not take lightly.  Nor is it one that we receive without baggage.

I have given blood beyond measure up to this point.  Hormone levels have been checked and rechecked.  There have been several doctor, nutritionist, and midwife visits.  Lab results are eagerly awaited and analyzed.   Plans and procedures are constantly being tweaked.  All of this to help us keep our little baby.  It brings me to tears when I think about all the efforts that have gone into helping this little life.

And yet we know that no earthly effort determines what happens to this baby.  Just like our babies before, this baby's life is in the hands of the One who gives life.  And that makes me cry, too.  They are tears of thankfulness.  Just knowing that this baby is known by GOD and that HE watches over our baby is of great comfort to me.

As a woman, I realize how fortunate I am to have gotten pregnant three times in ten months.  I am grateful that I can even get pregnant.  And yet I live in a constant state of longing for my babies that I have lost.  I love my Jack and Claire and I would have loved the chance to be there momma on earth.  There will always be that part of me that longs for what should have been.  It's been a hard, yet sweet, journey to both grieve the past and try to hope for the future.  This is a dance I know well. 

The day I found out that I was pregnant, the LORD gave me these words:  GROW.  BE WELL.  I believe these are words that I am to pray over my baby.

Whenever I am anxious; or scared; or resting in the knowledge that my baby is with me still, I pray that my baby grows and is well.

Grow baby.  Grow and let your momma delight in her swelling belly.  Grow and thrive.  Be well, sweet baby of mine.  Be well in my womb and let me see your beautiful face in May. 

Friends, we share this news not to seek your congratulations (you can congratulate us when a baby is in our arms) but to ask for your prayers.  Please join us in covering our baby in the prayer that he/she will GROW and BE WELL.


"Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old.  Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?  I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."  Isaiah 43:18-19

Checking In With Myself

I am like a roller coaster- up and down with twists and turns. I think about my babies every day and try to find the meaning in losing them. Just so you know, even in finding some meaning there is no loss of tears shed or heartbreak felt.

Finding meaning- no matter how much- does not bring one to peace with death.

And I am a little loopy in my thinking from time to time. The other day I thought that if I cried hard enough I could bring a baby into existence with my tears. It feels stupid to admit that now, but in the moment it felt true. Really, really true.

I have been asked if I have hope. I don’t. I have no hope.

I don’t doubt that I will get pregnant again. My body has proven that it has no problem getting pregnant. I just don’t have hope that I can sustain a pregnancy. Yet I continue do what I can to help prepare my body should there be a third pregnancy but to me, it all feels to be in vain.

This journey has been hard and to say that sounds so cheap because it has been more than hard. It’s been daunting. perplexing. disheartening. agonizing.

And such ugliness has surfaced in me. I struggle with jealousy of my friends who are moms and think mean things like “If you don’t stop talking about your children right now I am going to hit you” or “How can you be so happy when I am so sad” or "You have a lot of nerve to be complaining about your kids to me."

Yuck. Who is this person?

It’s me. And I hate that.

I continue to struggle with relating to others. I find myself identifying people, particularly women, as “never lost;” “lost one;” “lost two or more;” etc. But even with those who have lost there is a chasm because everyone’s experience with loss is so different. 

I would venture to say that some have found it to be a bit too much in how I have grieved the loss of my babies. They think I have made much of that which is small to them.

I make no apologies for how I have grieved and continue to grieve for my sweet Jack and Claire. They were both once alive with beating hearts. And they are worth grieving over.

Where is God in this? 

I think He is in my pain; holding me in my crying convulsions; washing over me with His peace in my restless nights; whispering Truth to me in my unsure moments; pouring out His care for me through the care and words of others; and binding me up in His love. 

I feel Him in this.  I know He is in this. 

A Title Didn't Seem Important

Two babies were born into our family last week. Their arrivals were sandwiched in between a due date that came and went. That would be my first due date.

I hesitantly looked at the pictures that were e-mailed and it pained me to see a happy momma with her snuggly baby boy. It only made me realize more just what I lost on November 11, 2009. I lost not only the chance to carry my baby, but the chance to meet him and take lots of pictures of he and I. Together.

Some of had said to me. “Well it’s a good thing you didn’t already have children because then you would know exactly what you lost.”

Aside from the fact that this is an ignorant thing to say to any woman who has lost a baby, this is an all-together completely untrue thing to say.

Believe me, I do not need to have a child at home to know that I have lost two amazing gifts; two beautiful chances; two sweet what could-have-beens.

The agony I continue to feel on a daily basis tells me this.

Not Just An Ordinary Day for Me

Today would have been my due date for Jack.  There's nothing more to say because nothing I write or say can accurately reflect what is stirring in my heart. 

No Peace in Death

It’s been a hard couple of days around here.

This week marks what would have been the half-way point had I still been carrying Claire. We would have had our appointment to find out the gender of our baby, but alas, no appointment is needed.

And in just two short weeks we would have been eagerly awaiting the arrival of our first baby, Jack. July was to be a month full of birthdays: mine and Jack’s.

It’s so good for me to say their names. To write them. To see them.

But I feel as if I must fight for my right to grieve. It feels sometimes that I am being pushed to “move on” and “get over” the death of our babies.

Some want to know how I am doing and act surprised when I share that I am sad.

Some say that they hope that I have found some peace in the loss of my babies.

Let me tell you about peace in death…….there is none.

Death is not something that we are supposed to be at peace with. Death was not supposed to be, remember?

Katherine sent me this book and the writer had this to say about death and peace:

“Shalom is the fullness of life in all dimensions. Shalom is dwelling in justice and delight with God, with neighbor, with oneself, in nature. Death is shalom’s moral enemy. Death is demonic. We cannot live at peace with death. When the writer of Revelation spoke of the coming of the day of shalom, he did not say that on that day we would live at peace with death. He said that on that day ‘There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’ “

I have shared with some that I feel different inside and I can’t quite put my finger on what the difference is or even how to express it. But then in the same book, I came across this passage and it hit the nail on the head of how I feel inside that may not be apparent outside:

“I remember delighting in them- trees, art, house, music, pink morning sky, work well done, flowers, books. I still delight in them. I’m still grateful. But the zest is gone. The passion is cooled, the striving quieted, the longing stilled. My attachment is loosened. No longer do I set my heart on them. I can do without them. They do not matter. Instead of rowing, I float. The joy that comes my way I savor. But the seeking, the clutching, the aiming is gone. I don’t suppose anyone on the outside notices. I go through my paces. What the world gives, I still accept. But what it promises, I no longer reach for. I’ve become an alien in the world, shyly touching it as if it’s not mine. I don’t belong anymore.”

I am changed.

And I will never come to peace with the death of my babies; or stop grieving them; or thinking about them and what could have been; or stop longing for them.

Peach Cobbler (GF/WF/Dairy Free/White Sugar Free)

Post Edit: I decided that I am not all that happy with how this turned out- it is definitely best when served right out of the oven, but even then it left me wishing I had made something else.  So try it at your own risk!

I just pulled out of the oven a peach cobbler for my deacon meeting tonight (isn't that perfect, peach cobbler for a church function!?) and I tasted it........and it's pretty yummy!

Want the recipe?  It's yours for only $9.99......eh, but since you are here, I'll give it to you for free.

Peach Cobbler
In a greased 9 x 13" pan, place:

• 10 ripe peaches, cut into 1/4" slices (you could take the time to peel your peaches if you'd like- just blanche them in boiling water for 30 seconds and the skin will begin to peel off.  For what it's worth, I like to leave the skin on.)

In a bowl, mix together:

• 2 cups GF baking mix or flour (I used brown rice flour this time)
• 1 1/2 cup agave nectar
• 1/4 cup melted Earth Balance spread
• 1/4 cup melted coconut oil
• 2 eggs
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 teaspoons baking powder

Pour the mixture over the sliced peaches, being sure to cover the surface of the peaches as much as you can.

Bake at 350 degrees for approximately 30 minutes, or until the top of the crust is golden brown.

Enjoy!

P.S. You could easily turn this into a GF/WF/dairy free/white sugar free peach crisp- follow the directions from this recipe on what to do with the peaches and then go here for directions on how to make the crisp topping.

Homemade Spanish Rice......Muy Buena!

We had friends over for MYOB (make your own burrito) night and I wanted to make spanish rice from scratch.  Everyone loved the rice and I thought I would share how to make it here.

I can't call this a recipe....it's more like a few easy steps:

• Sautee 4 garlic gloves (fresh or frozen) in 2 tablespoons of olive oil until garlic is soft
• Pour in two cups of UNCOOKED, DRY rice (I use brown rice) to the pan and allow that to sautee for 5 minutes
• Add 32 ounces of chicken broth and 15 ounces of plain tomato sauce to the pan and bring it to a boil
• Once the mixture has reached boiling point, lower the heat, cover your pan and allow rice to simmer for approximately one hour or until all of the liquid has cooked into the rice

Enjoy!

Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp (GF/WF/Dairy Free/White Sugar Free)

Here is my recipe (a hybrid of a couple of other recipes with my own tweaks) for strawberry rhubarb crisp.

And it's for those of you who can't have wheat. or gluten. or dairy. and are staying away from processed sugar.  Yes friends, it's good and not too bad for you!

Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp
Mix these ingredients into a bowl and place in a greased 9 x 13" pan:

• 12 stalks of rhubarb, cut into 1/4 inch pieces
• A pint of strawberries, hulled and quartered
• 1/2 cup agave nectar
• 1/2 cup GF baking mix or flour
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 teaspoon of fresh lemon zest

In another bowl, mix these ingredients to make the crisp topping:

• 1/2 cup melted Earth Balance spread
• 1/2 cup melted coconut oil
• 3 cups GF oats (or less if you don't like a lot of oats)
• 1 1/4 cups GF flour or baking mix
• 1/2 cup agave nectar
• Cinnamon to taste

Pour the crisp mixture over the fruit and bake in the oven at 375 degrees for 25 minutes.  Then cover the pan with foil and bake the crisp for another 15 minutes- doing this should allow the crisp topping to brown without burning while the fruit cooks down more and absorbs the juices.

Enjoy!

Meet the Cuisipro Herb Keeper

Okay, it's time to lighten things up a little around here, so I thought I would introduce you to one of my most favorite kitchen items of late.....

The Cuisipro Herb Keeper.

Not only is this good-looking and BPA-free, but good golly it keeps your fresh herbs and vegetables (like asparagus) fresh for weeks!

I received it as a Christmas gift, so I am not sure if it can be found in stores or not (maybe Bed, Bath and Beyond?), but you can find it here on Amazon.com.

Here's to keeping your herbs fresh. Longer!

Raw and Random: Where I Am in the Process

I carry this grief with me. All of the time.

It’s with me when I meet you for coffee. It’s there when you see me at church or at a party. It’s still in me when I laugh with you.

My grief is always with me.

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You may think that I should be “over” this by now. You are wrong.

How can I get “over” the loss of life that God put in my body? the loss of what was supposed to be? the loss of what was to come?

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Even with getting pregnant again I have had to exercise the balance of what doctors say and trusting God with the timing. I just feel like trusting the Lord completely with this because I don't have the mental capacity to think about when is the best time to start trying again.

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I feel different inside- death changes you.

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Life, if you didn’t already know, is quite fragile. And death is painful no matter how you slice it- knowing God or not.

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I read somewhere the best color in an artist’s palette is black. You can add black to any color and it adds more depth and richness. I have to believe that my black is adding more depth and richness to my life.

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On looking for an answer to why this happened: My heart is not in pursuit of earthly answers. I just want to be present- heart and mind- in this journey and keep my eyes on Jesus.

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I have had days where I wished I had never been pregnant. I think I would rather not know the pain of loss and would much prefer to be a person who is still trying to conceive.

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I am tired and weary and have no words to say. I feel like a lump. I feel like a shell of myself. I am easily angered. Easily disappointed. I am neck-high in grief and doing my best to stay above the surface. I am low. I am sad. I am uncomfortable in my own skin and disheartened.

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I dream of babies. I long for babies.

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I find comfort in the morbid and uneasiness in the fairytale that all will be well.

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I know life is bigger than me having a baby. I know this. But as I explained to some friends, I am just trying to find my place in THE story. And in November 2009, I thought my place in the story was to become a mom. And then that chapter was deleted. In March 2010, I was ecstatic to see that the chapter had been put back in and I was to be a mom after all. And then the chapter was thrown out again.

Violently torn out of my story, really.

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You don’t know this loss. You don’t.

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This is my journey.

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I have had moments where I feel like I am in a bad movie- being asked to choose between trying to miscarry at home or do it quick and and have a D&C; trying to decide what to put my baby’s remains in while we are at home; and handing over my baby’s remains to the midwife and everyone in the room asking if I am okay with that.

Am I okay with that? Hell no, I am not okay with that. That baby should be growing inside of me and not being handed off for tests.

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So many are rendered speechless at the loss of a baby. I’ve had many people tell me that they don’t know what to say and that is why they haven’t called or written. I understand. I get that. I don’t know what to say either. Nothing can be said, really. Words are cheap anyway. So know that it’s okay to say nothing more than “I am so sorry” or “I am praying for you.” But please, for heaven’s sake, say something. Pay honor to the life of my baby and acknowledge that this happened.

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I had a moment where I did not feel utterly alone. I stood with two other women who have lost babies and between the three of us, we have five babies in heaven’s glory. There we stood, we three childless mothers, forming a tight little circle with our husbands satelliting around us. And for a few minutes I felt understood. I felt connected to something bigger than my own pain. And I felt some relief. For there they stood, these childless mothers, and they could smile and make jokes and have hope and that- that ability to smile through the grief and laugh in spite of the pain and hope because of His promises- can be me some day. What a relief to know that there is something on the other side of how I feel now.

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What’s been lost?

More than you’ll ever know.

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I am still here. I am breathing and doing things that make me appear alive and well. Most things are a chore and anything that takes my mind away from thoughts of my baby are temporary distractions at this point.

I am still here but wish I wasn’t. Not suicidal, just wanting to escape this pain.

I am still here but don’t know where I am. Or where I am going.

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Where are You, Lord?

My Babies Names....Written in the Sand....in Australia

Go here to see Jack's name; go here to see Claire's name.

It may not make sense to some, but seeing my babies names written in the sand gives me some peace and in some ways, validates the sorrow I continue to feel each day.

Go here to see the story of how their names got written in the sands of western Australia.

Go here to learn and see more about this amazing woman who is ministering to many families.

It's A Fallen World, Eve

I am grieving sin.

I am angry at Eve for what she did in the Garden.

If Eve were alive today, I would call her and invite her to lunch. And I would grill her for what she did. And I would tell her just what her eating that fruit has come to mean to me.

It’s a fallen world now, Eve. And babies die because of it. My babies died because it’s a fallen world.

Poor Eve, she would have wished she had never accepted my lunch invitation. I wonder if she would storm out of the restaurant or quietly cry at her seat at the notion that she has unleashed so much hurt into our world.

If she stayed put, I would let her cry on her own for a bit, but then I would slide next to her and weep with her. For a woman should not be left to bear such grief on her own for too long.

And then I would tell her that beautiful things have come out of this barren road…

The other night we had dinner at the home of a couple whose church partnered with ours for a night of worship and prayer. The wife is an old friend from college and we saw her the night of the event for the first time in years. So we reconnected and set up a time to have dinner with her and her husband. After dinner, we prayed with them in their living room and as she prayed for me and the longing in my heart, she put her hand over my stomach and prayed for my womb.

It was beautiful.

Earlier in the evening she told me that the night she saw us at the prayer event that she felt compelled to pray for my fertility. She had no way of knowing what we had been through these last six months. The Holy Spirit put in on her heart.

That is beautiful.

Hannah gave me a sweet reminder of my babies- two tiny hearts on a necklace…..one for Jack and one for Claire. I wear it every day.

It is beautiful.

I have the privilege of leading the children’s ministry at our church and on Mother’s Day- a day that I was dreading for all the obvious reasons- I was presented with a large envelope filled with cards and notes written by some of the families at church thanking me for what I do for their children. I sat on a couch in the church office and read them all, moved to tears by the words written for me.

They all were beautiful.

I still reach for babies and find joy in being with children. And that may not seem like anything, but it means everything to me. My heart is not hard and the Lord is still moving in me.

Love is even more beautiful in the presence of pain.

It is a fallen world, Eve.

But God gives beauty for ashes.

Submitting Myself

In less than a week I’ll meet with my doctor and together we will determine what series of tests she will order so we can get some answers on what’s going on in my body that does not allow me to stay pregnant. This will be man’s (my doctor) attempt to understand the complexities of God’s creation (my body). And while I do not know what to expect from these tests, I do know the One who determines their outcome.

So I am submitting myself to the quest of getting some answers, knowing that the answers do not change the outcome of what has passed. I wish insurance paid for the answers I really want. But I have it on good authority that the Lord is not in my network plan. So I’ll have to wait for those answers later.

Each day I am reminded of my loss by the reality that some have what I long for. Sometimes they will vent about their pregnancy aches and pains; their children’s poor behavior; or their lack of sleep and time to themselves and I must remind myself that this is their story. It’s not mine to judge or criticize.

So I am submitting myself to the call to be a friend to those who have what I want. And doing it without judgment or disdain. It’s not easy and I sometimes fail. But I am trying. And I am learning how to be happy for others even when I am sad for me.

Every morning when I wake there is a pain that settles in my heart- it rouses just as I come out of my sleep. It’s my pain and while pieces of it can be chipped away by a thoughtful gesture or a sincere word of care, it stays with me. From morning until night. This morning I spent the better part of my shower crying and asking the Lord why it is this way. He gave His answer. But I still hurt.

So I am submitting myself to the process of living with pain and waiting for healing.

To Jack and Claire, With Love

Sweet Babies,

The other night I had a beautiful dream of you. I saw you. You were whole. There was nothing broken. Nothing torn. Nothing separated. You were perfect. And you were mine.

What a gift to have gotten a glimpse of what could have been.

Jack, we would be just weeks away from meeting you had you not been called to Jesus- nine weeks to be exact. Nine short weeks. We gave you the name “Jack” because I always wanted my first son to have that name. Deep in my heart I knew you were a boy and now you are forever our first son. Thoughts of you come when I see a little boy fumbling on a playground, reaching for his mom with sticky fingers or a cheeky baby nestling into his mom’s arms for sleep. I assume you would have your dad’s natural curiosity and my penchant for order and from both of us you would have gotten our love for people. I would have prayed that the Lord grew you into a strong and godly man all the while showing you how to be tender.

Claire, it’s ironic that we gave you the name we did because it means “clear” and my thoughts and emotions have been anything but clear since you passed. I thought you were a boy the entire time I carried you, but a few days after you passed, something in my heart told me you were a girl. You are our first daughter, our second child- though not second in my love for you. I think you would have liked me for a mom. We would have baked and made pretty things for you to wear in your hair and I would have let you pick out your clothes in the morning because I believed in making room for self-expression….even if secretly I was embarrassed at what you were wearing.

You may have not had any physical weight in this world, but because of you, I am softer around the edges; moved more easily by other’s pain; and know the fragility of life a little more. Because of you, I am learning how to grieve while clinging to promises from God that He is working for my good; loving your daddy harder and fiercer than I ever have before; and longing to be with Jesus (and you) more and more. Because of you, I am doing less and being more.

No, you may not have had any weight in this world but you weigh deeply in my heart and I am changed because of you. All because of you.

This morning your daddy and I walked to the lake with you on our minds. I wanted to send you a little note:

We prayed that you would somehow know that we love you. That you are loved.

You are loved.

And the wind carried my message to you:





I wish so badly that I could have given you the message myself.

The day before we went to the lake, a friend sent something in the mail:


Two beautiful birds- one for each of you.

Now I have something to look at each day that reminds me of you. My two baby birds.

Babies, nothing and no one can ever replace you. You will always be a part of our family and if the Lord should bless us with children this side of heaven, they will know who you are.

I have a son.

I have a daughter.

And someday we will see each other and we will be whole. My heart will no longer be broken or torn into two. Our family will no longer be separated. It will be perfect, just as you are now.

You are loved, Jack.

You are loved, Claire.

Momma

Remembering What God Has Given Me: Friends

It is good to remember what the Lord has given us, especially during times when He has taken away from us. I have had to make a pointed effort to remember what God has given me so that I do not accuse Him of giving me nothing of any good.

He has given me friends. Some are old friends and some are new. But all have a special place in my heart because of how they have loved me through my sorrow. I love them all.

Hannah who is hoping for me until hope takes up residence in my heart again. She is my warrior friend. She was the first person I called after we received the news about our baby. That should speak to how much I cherish her.

Annie who fills me with Truth and sends me off with the knowledge that I am loved and not alone. She makes me cry (the good kind of crying) because she knows how to speak to my heart.

Rachel who prays for me as she holds her baby boy because she knows this loss is deep and it is wide and it is grueling.

Renee who reminds me that there is no such thing as smaller losses and bigger losses- just different losses. She blesses me and in doing so, honors her son who is with Jesus.

Lauren who knows this loss twice over. She is fresh in her own grief and yet she seeks to offer me some comfort.

Melissa who helps me see that even in the hurt there is a blessing from the Lord. Her prayers are laden with Truth and she has been one of my many blessings from the Lord through this.

Janel who sent me the simplest message when I made the decision to wait for the baby to pass at home-”Ask the Lord for exactly what you want.” It made all the difference. All the difference in the world.

Audra who points me back to the truth of who God is and what He is not. There is comfort in hearing her voice. She has always been a healing presence.

Naomi is my oldest friend and while distance and life stages completely separate us, she has made the journey with me, sending me notes and CD’s along the way. I know she doesn’t understand this, but I love her for trying.

Katherine, my dear friend. Even the silence between us could not keep me from feeling her love for me. One day I may tell our story here.....but it's still being written.

And you, Reader- you have ministered to me by telling me your own stories of loss and while I will never say that I am glad we share in this experience, I am glad that we have found shelter in each other’s words.

When Words Heal

When a friend said this, it was water to my soul:
“You have a mother’s heart and that is why you grieve so much and so hard. You have a mother’s heart and that can never be taken away and that will never change.”

And my counselor confirmed that I am not crazy and I have not gone off the deep end to grieve this much and this hard. He says:
“Your grief is how you honor your babies’ lives. So your tears, in essence, are hugs and kisses that will never be given to your babies.”

And when a friend, who miscarried at four months, said this to me, it brought me to my knees:
“This baby was supposed to be born and held and kissed. You were supposed to meet this baby.”

And as I sat in her kitchen and watched her make wedding cake, a friend who delivered her baby stillborn perfectly summed up what this journey feels like:
“It’s icky.”

And when I put myself out there and shared some of the darker parts of my heart, I heard:
“I am praying for you.”

And when I went to the Lord yesterday and could only utter this:
“Heal me.”

HE said:
“I will.”

When God Met Me at Starbucks

Me: I’ve been thinking about You…..just haven’t known what to say.

God: I am always thinking about you.

I lost my second baby last week.

I know. I was there. I was there when your baby’s heart beat for the last time. I was there when no heartbeat was found. I was there when you wept in the exam room by the glow of the ultrasound screen. I was there when you left the office and rode in a cab back home. I was there when you opened the front door and that wave of helplessness and grief overcame you. I was there when you went to bed crying and when you woke up crying. I was there the whole week you stayed home waiting for your baby to leave your body. I was there the moment your baby left your body. I was there all the time. I never left you. And I am still here.

I know You were there. I felt You there. I felt Your presence in the exam room. I made room for You in the back of that cab. I hoped You would meet us at home and You did. I slept at night because You were watching over me and I got out of bed each morning because You promised to take my cup. You watched over my body and You allowed me to be at home when the baby passed. And You washed over me with Your peace when I looked at my baby and saw no signs of life. I know You were there and I know You are still here. But I feel like You have forsaken me. Like you have forgotten about me and let my baby die.

I know you do, but I haven’t forsaken you and I haven’t forgotten you.

But it feels like you have.

The enemy is whispering this to you and he is lying. Don’t listen to him. Listen to Me and believe Me when I say that I have not forgotten you or forsaken you.

But why did You let this happen? Is there something I did or didn’t do that caused You to take this baby away? Is it because I did not thank You each day I carried this baby? I tried to be cognizant of that- I tried to remember to do that each day because I was thankful. You know I was thankful, right?

I have not taken this baby away to punish you because you did or did not do something. I don’t keep tabs how many times you thank Me for a gift I have given you. You could have not acknowledged this baby as a gift from Me at all and I still could have chosen to let you keep this baby.

But why did You take my babies?

There isn’t an answer I can give you as a grieving mother that would bring you any measure of comfort other than to remind you that I AM good and loving and I work for the good of those who love Me. You can’t understand My purposes now, but I love you and I am working for your good.

You’re right, that’s not comforting……at all. I love my babies and wish they were here with me.

Dear child of mine, I know you love those babies. There’s no question about the love you have for them. You will be with them again one day. I promise.

Do You remember when I was small and played “mommy” with my dolls?

Of course I do.

Do You know the love that leaps out of my heart when I am with children?

I do.

Then why won’t You give me a child of my own?

It’s not time.

I want to crawl in a hole and disappear.

I will find you no matter where you go.

You always know where to find me.

I do.

The pain is more than I can bear.

Give it to Me.

And what will You do with it?

I will turn it into something beautiful.

How can losing two babies be turned into something beautiful?

The same way that the death of My Son could be turned into something beautiful for all of mankind.

You promise to make all things new.

I do. And I will.

Is there hope?

There is always hope for those that love Me.

But I am promised nothing.

You are promised Me.

And that is supposed to be enough?

It is more than enough. I AM more than enough.

It doesn’t feel like it. I don't know what else to say now.

You don't need to say anything more. I know how you feel. Sit with Me a little longer, child, and we will weep together. I know your sorrow- I will take this cup from you. You are weary, I can see that. Your heart is crushed and you have no hope. It is good to sit with Me, for I have overcome the world and your tears of mourning will not always be.

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed." Revelation 21:4

Our Second Glory Baby

A letter of grief written in three parts

To My Baby:
We saw you on Friday- your little heartbeat was like a twinkling star on the screen- and it seems we lost you on Saturday. A mother knows when something is wrong with her child and deep in the tucked away parts of my heart, I knew on Sunday that you and I were not going to meet the way I had hoped. So when it was confirmed on Monday that you were no longer with us, there was little surprise but just the heartbreaking realization that a mother’s instincts are often right.

My sweet second baby dead in my womb and raised to heaven in the arms of Jesus on Easter weekend. How very appropriate.

I could not bring myself to look at the ultrasound screen as the midwife and technician looked for your heartbeat. But on the way out of the room, both your daddy and I took one last look at you on the screen as we left the room. There you were in all your splendid creation- so tiny and wondrously made by your Maker. It pained me to know that when we left the room the lights would be turned back on, the linens changed, and the screen erased so that the room could be ready for the next patient. Didn’t anyone want to sit in that room and weep over you like I did?

The morning after we learned of your passing, there was a thunderstorm in the city and I think it was especially for you- creation was mourning you. Heaven put on a fierce display of tears and loud and angry booms and that, my sweet baby, was a perfect reflection of your mom’s heart and spirit. It still is.

We chose to come home and wait for you to make your passing out of my body- I can’t tell you how much agony this still brings me, for the thought of you and me being separated like this is unbearable. You were conceived naturally and in this home and by God’s grace and provision, you passed naturally and in this home. I felt the pains of you being separated from inside of me and while I have never been one for pain, I chose this way because it was the only way I could think to honor your too-short life. It was the closest I would ever get to delivering you.

You are loved so very much by me and your daddy. You were not a replacement to our first baby, but rather you were a happy second addition to our family. It does a mom’s heart good to know that her babies are with each other in the presence of Jesus. Oh sweet babies, how loved you will always be; I eagerly await our reunion.

And now we are left to grieve you and cling to and try to make sense out of God’s promise that He works for the good of those who love Him. It’s hard to see the good in your not being here and I suspect it’ll be that way for as long as I live.

You are gone from my womb and I am left to wonder what I could have done differently to have kept you longer. But I know there was nothing in my power that could have kept you here. Your daddy wonders if you were too perfect for this world. Maybe you were.

There is no replacing you. You will always, always be my sweet second baby. And I will always be your loving mom.


To You, Reader:
Nothing can prepare you for the time when life leaves your womb lifeless. Nothing.

I have learned some things about myself and done/said some things through the process of losing two babies and it’s not all that good, really. I have come to think that I can negotiate with God and barter with Him with the hopes that He would let me keep me just one of my babies. What can I give up that would make Him want to give me a baby of my own? And if there is ever a next time, should I pray more and ask for more specific things like “Please God, let my baby have a heartbeat and be in a normal size sac so I don’t have a higher risk of miscarrying”?....I was just praying for my baby to have a heartbeat all this time. I have found myself telling the Lord that I would find it appalling if He did not give me children of my own. I have suspected that He has been withholding His favor from me in this area of my life and have quietly argued with Him while other women go on to have second, third, and fourth babies. I have questioned whom He gives babies to and I have told Him in no uncertain terms that I should be at the top of His list. I have wondered if there are only so many babies to go around and if that’s the case, where do I sign to put my name on the list for consideration? And in moments of desperation, I have shamelessly pleaded with Him to tell me what I need to do to have a baby of my own, as if He would have me answer some silly riddle to figure it out.

What am I to do? How can I have hope after losing two babies? Does anyone out there know the deep, deep sorrow I feel to have lost two babies and come home to a quiet house?

Unfortunately yes, there are people out there who know how this feels and to you, I ask: Is there a book I can read or a song I can listen to that will come at all close to putting into words what I cannot? When does hope come again? And when it comes, will I know it or feel it or see it? Will the day come that I do not want to crawl into a hole every time I see a belly swelled with baby? Did you cry each time you reached for your pre-natal vitamins after you lost your babies? Do you ever wish people would hurt as much you hurt? How long will other people’s baby joy bring up my own pain? And back to the subject of hope- how long will I feel hopeless? Is it normal to feel bitter towards women who are pregnant yet feel equally drawn to them because they are experiencing something I can only dream of, something that all together eludes me? Do I look like someone who lost two babies- am I marked for life? I don’t feel like laughing or smiling- is that okay? Will Mother’s Day be as horrible as I am expecting it to be this year? Seriously, is this really happening to me?

After my first miscarriage, I had to endure some really insensitive comments and while I know people mean well, I think people end up saying the most insensitive things in situations like this out of ignorance. So let me help you know what not to say, not just to me, but to anyone who has ever lost their baby.

Please don’t tell me that I will have a baby someday- you don’t know that. I am promised nothing.

Please don’t talk to me about the hope of future babies- in case you haven’t heard, I don’t have a lot of hope right now. And I am not ready to think about that. I was still grieving the loss of my first baby and now I am grieving my second baby. My two babies are all I can think about now.

Please don’t try to speculate what went wrong this second time around. Don’t assume it is anything I did or didn’t do. Or because we did not wait long enough to get pregnant after my first miscarriage. We waited exactly the amount of time we were told to and there was no reason to think that we were putting our second baby in jeopardy by getting pregnant when we did.

Please do not quote statistics or tell me that this is normal and happens all the time. I could give a hoot about statistics and there is nothing normal about seeing your baby in a toilet bowl. Absolutely nothing.

Please do not compare your pregnancy with various complications with my pregnancies. If you ended up with a baby in your arms and got to take them home, there is no comparison.

And to God:
I am quite speechless. Words elude me and only grief finds me when I come to You. I might be angry with You, but I don’t know if I am…..yet.

You say that you work all things together for the good of those who love You and while I believe that for others, I don’t believe that for me. Why are You asking that I go through this again? I feel like You are torturing me.

Do You see the agony this is causing? Do You see how I struggle to find something in my day to look forward to? Everything was so much brighter, so much happier before. And now, everything appears dull and barren.

Do You find it ironic as I do that not only do I not have any children of my own, and apparently won’t any time soon, but I spend most of my time taking care of and making plans for other people’s children? I don’t know if that’s a blessing in disguise or…..or what, I don’t know.

Do You know how much I loathe being the person whose story others will read or hear about and then they will go on to say things like, “I am so glad that is not me…..I am so happy that I have my children……Thank goodness I never had to go through that”?

I don’t know what to make of this and I feel too weary to walk through this with You. You’ll have to carry me most of the way, maybe even all of it.

In the mean time- and I don’t know how things work up there, but if it’s possible- please give my babies a kiss for me and tell them I’ll be home soon.

My Favorite GF/WF Things

Some of you have decided to make the switch to eat gluten-free (GF) and wheat-free (WF) and perhaps you are feeling a wee bit overhwhelmed with the choices you have and wonder which are the best-tasting ones. Well let those who have gone before you be your guinea pigs!

I am by no means an expert of all things GF/WF (I've only been eating this way for 10 months), but here are a few of my favorite things:

For Breakfast
Here are some old favorites done up in a new GF/WF way!: Bob's Red Mill GF/WF oats make great oatmeal and homemade granola (and oatmeal cookies!).

While I am not a big fan of frozen waffles, I would recommend Nature's Path brand. I disliked Trader Joe's frozen waffles- they had an awful after taste.

I also recommend Nature's Path fruit juice sweetened corn flakes and Trader Joe's brand of corn flakes are very economical.

Trader Joe's sells a GF pancake mix but I can't remember if it is WF, too.

I still haven't found a GF/WF english muffin, so if you find one please let me know!

For Cooking
There are so many great GF/WF products out there to use for cooking and to be honest, I have not even scratched the surface of what is avaialble, but here are a few basic things I have found to be GF/WF friendly:

• Trader Joe's brown rice pasta is not only good, but affordable ($1.99 for one pound)


• Quinoa is your GF/WF answer to cous-cous and you can buy it almost anywhere. I highly recommend using chicken broth when cooking it- using water gives it a rather bland taste.


• Brown rice is great as a side or in soups

For Snacking
When you can't eat wheat or gluten, it's important to be prepared when hunger comes before meal time. I typically defer to eating things like veggie and hummus; raw nuts; fruit; and rice cakes with almond butter, but sometimes these are not convenient to take on the road or carry in your purse, so here is what I like to have on hand:

Blue Diamond's Nut Thin crackers are equally good and I highly recommend the Hint of Sea Salt and the Pecan varieties.

Mary's Gone Crackers crackers are tasty and sophisticated enough to serve at a party. I love to eat them plain, but they are good with hummus and almond butter, too.

Carman's Muesli Bar are your answer to granola bar prayers! They are better than those candy bars, uhm, I mean Nature Valley granola bars and Kashi's awful attempt to make a good granola bar. My favorite is the apricot and almond bars. I have only found these at Whole Foods and since they are pricey ($5 for a box of 6), I wait until they are on sale and load up!

For Baking and Ready-to-Eat Sweets
In my opinion, Pamela's Products can do no wrong. Everything they make is amazing and oh so yummy. Here are a few things that I promise you will love, Love, LOVE!

You can use this mix to make cookies, breads, muffins, and more! The flavor is nutty and satisfying and the texture is quite similar to what you would get if you used flour. I especially like to use this mix to make pancakes on the weekend. At our home, we are big fans of blueberry and walnut pancakes- super yummy!

Technically, I am not supposed to eat these cookies because they have peanut butter and processed sugar in them, but when it comes to peanut butter and chocolate, I do cheat!

Oh good golly, these are pure bliss. I love to have one of these with hot tea or a rice milk latte. I mean seriously, these shortbread cookies are better than what my grandma ever made!

Want to trick people into eating GF/WF and show them how good it can be? Bake a cake using this mix and you will succeed! This mix is better than my best homemade chocolate cake recipe and I am extremely fussy and critical of baking mixes, especially cake mixes. I added a cup of chocolate chips (Trader Joe's sells GF chocolate chips for $1..99) to the batter and it makes what is already a perfect cake even more perfect....if that's possible!

Trader Joe's sells a GF brownie mix (I use applesauce instead of oil) and it is pretty good if you are looking for a chocolate fix. Again, I can't recall if it is WF, too.

I also have found Whole Foods GF pie crust to be very good ansd while I have not used them for baking a pie, I do use them for making quiche.

I have primarily only seen Pamela's Prodcuts at Whole Foods, but I know that other grocer's carry their products. You can purchase most of their products from Amazon.com but the cost savings is only pennies and you run the risk of getting expired or nearly expired products (I have heard this can be an issue when ordering food from Amazon).