On Giving Thanks in the Thick of It

I have re-written this post countless times in hopes that these words would find just the right balance of truth, grace, and hope. Because the thing is? The holidays can be really hard. They come every year. And those who are well acquainted with grief have come to learn that the holidays always bring with them waves of emotion. Complex emotion. Co-existing yet polarizing emotions. Still, the unwritten expectation remains: Smile. Just be glad for what you do have. Look around you... this is a time to be happy. If I am going to be honest, in the seven holiday seasons since losing Isaac, including last year's first round of holidays after very suddenly and horrifically losing my Dad, there have been years where managing both my grief and others' expectations has felt almost impossible to bear. And I have a feeling, I'm not the only one. So as Thanksgiving prepares to dawn, I wanted to share my heart on a couple of things.

Recently, some of you reading have experienced great loss. The loss of a job.  A marriage. A friend. A parent. A child. You've wondered how you are going to even put a nice meal on the table tomorrow. You've wept by a graveside, longing for more time... or even any time at all.

Others of you have experienced unwanted gain. A diagnosis. One of a friend. A family member. Or even your own. You wonder if your will get to spend next Thanksgiving with that person you hold so dear... or whether you may be here yourself.

The holidays have a way of doing that. They magnify everything. Everything. They magnify joy, and excitement and expectation. And they magnify sorrow and hurt and grief.

Our pastor shared this past weekend about the difference between being thankful and giving thanks. Most often, we think of giving thanks as the visible expression of a thankful heart... the action that occurs as an out pouring of feeling thankful.

But what about when you're in the thick of it? In the thick of the hard, the hurtful, and the horrifying... that heart-wrenching thing that won't seem to loosen its grip?

Give thanks.

1 Thes. 5:18 encourages us to "give thanks in all circumstances."

So, to those of you walking through the thick of it right now,  whose heart may be heavy this holiday season... who wants so much to feel thankful, and holly and jolly... but perhaps you just don't. Give thanks. You may not feel thankful. And hear me when I say, that's ok. Or maybe you do... but it's thankful, and yet....

Thankful, and yet missing someone you love.

Thankful, and yet scared for what next Thanksgiving may look like.

Thankful, and yet sorrowful.

Give thanks. Find that thing. Even if it's just one... and utter words of thanks. It likely won't make everything better... or maybe anything at all. But those words of thanks? They are words of hope.
Because He who has promised is faithful. Always.

And to those of you who can't in the least relate to what I am saying... who are full of joy and expectation and excitement? Be gentle and extend grace to those who just may not be there and may not be felling that way. Those "thankful, and yets" can be so hard, and so often misunderstood. Have the eyes to see them... their hearts... and lovingly, without judgement, let them know that you care.

This Thanksgiving, and in the Christmas season to follow... let's be gentle with one another, uttering words of thanks as much as we can, and extending grace whenever possible. And even in the thick of it, give thanks in all circumstances.

The Blindside

It's been nearly a year, and just now can I even make sense of it all to pen the words for which I have been so desperately searching. There are few times in life that blindside you to the point of feeling completely surreal, often leaving you shattered and shaken and requiring time to put the piece back together.

Through our journey with Isaac, there were experiences from which I knew to expect deep difficulty... walking into a funeral home, eight months pregnant, to select my soon-to-be-born son's casket being one of them. While surreal and my mind full of disbelief that this was actually my life, it was... expected.

But that call. The one where the phone rings at a time it rarely does. And deep in your soul you know something isn't right. You dread even walking to the phone to see who is calling, only to have your suspicion confirmed. As you answer, you hear your name... followed by a deep sigh, and panic sets it. Rightfully so. Those words... "Your dad.... his heart..."

Blindsided.

And so, as focused as possible, I threw clothes, basic necessities, and diapers into a bag, woke my sleeping baby, and embarked on what has undoubtedly been the longest one-hour drive of my life. One hour. A chasm of space and time that just couldn't be handled any other way but to allow it to pass... all the while praying that on the other side, he would be alert and conscious and... alive.

Another call on the way eased my fears... "He's alert. Talking to the doctors. I think we're out of danger now."

Sweet relief. A dose of hope.

So once inside, bag thrown over one shoulder and baby in her carrier on the other arm, I found may way to the emergency department, through security, and down the hall to triage. And the sight before me was anything besides free of danger.

Blindsided. Again.

And this is were it all turns surreal... living what must be someone else's life. Consciousness lost moments before my arrival. Doctors rushing and racing. Everywhere. I ran... not because the distance down that corridor was far; but because there was no way not to.

There were so many machines. And nurses. And a surgeon helping us to try, in the midst of complete shock and disbelief, make sense of it all. "Heart. Aorta. Rupture. Emergency surgery. Now."

Can you please sign here, on the consent form?

Questions swirled in my mind...  How did this happen? What if it doesn't work?

But they had to. It was their hail mary.

Those moments... it felt like an eternity. So much information in such little time. Watching my Dad... the one who was always, always, there... laying completely helpless.

One of his nurses.... a former student of his who pursued a nursing degree because of the paramedic biology course he had taught. It came full circle.

Another nurse... looked at me and said, He said 'thank you.' Thank you. To who? For what? I longed to know more...

That night... that awful, horrific night... it changed me.

Our hope hung so delicately in the balance for the next ten hours. Updates, though promised, rarely came. And then the surgeon came in... He made it through. But it's bad. Uncontrolled bleeding. May need to operate again. 

And they did. And he made it through. Again.

But the surgeries... they took their toll. His heart stopped several times during surgery, he said. We were able to bring him back... but we're unsure right now as to the extent of the damage. 

Damage. That word... all that it means and all that implies. Deep down, I knew. I believed what the doctor said. It's bad.

My Dad... my poor Dad... his body accosted by this horrific series of events rendering him completely helpless and fully dependent on external means of keeping his body going.

Minutes... hours passed as the juggling act of trying to help him heal left all of us waiting with bated breath, hanging on every word... every detail one of the doctors shared. Time... that chasm. No way to hurry it, and yet somehow this became the most excruciating combination of sudden and prolonged. One kind of horrible juxtaposed against the other. It was just that: horrible.

Days passed... and in the horrible some of the sweetest moments were found. Hours... just sitting with my Dad and holding his hand. Walking down memory lane, sharing scripture and singing to him. The nurses told me that hearing is the last sense to go... and I hoped it was true.

Eventually, that time came. The one that no one can ever prepare for. How can you really know when it is time to say goodbye? How do you surrender your hope of a miracle and give in to the reality before you? I remember asking myself that same thing with Isaac. That balance of walking the line of hope for the miracle and the reality of the situation.

The only answer I can give is this: peace.

Please don't misunderstand... I can safely say that none of us felt peaceFUL in those moments. But there was peace in knowing that this is what my Dad had wanted... his handwriting on that dreadful form said so.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face.
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.


********************************************************************************
I've experienced the to-be-expected out of order loss of my son. And I have experienced the too-soon, sudden in-order loss of a parent... my Dad. Whether expected or when it completely blindsides you... whether in order or out, the truth is this: when you love deeply, you hurt... deeply.

So we have almost completed a "year of firsts" without my Dad, and his absence has been so pronounced. And I think the reality of the fact that our kids being so young... they will likely not remember much about their time with him. My nephew will be born this December... and he will not ever meet his G-Dad. That is excruciatingly heartbreaking to me.

I am again reminded that there is simply no timetable or expiration date on grief... that it is hard, it's messy, it's surprising, and it will never leave you unchanged. And through it, we find ourselves relying on what it is that anchors us.

Faith.

Oswald Chambers has said, "Faith is the deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways we don't understand at the time." 

I love that. Because admittedly, I don't understand. And quite honestly, I don't like it.

But I have confidence and hope in the One who knows all things... who sees all things... and who doesn't change in the face of horrific circumstances. He is a sure foundation, an ever-present help in trouble. He is close to the broken-hearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

For Him, there is no blindside.

I love you, Dad...

... And Then There Were Four

I realize that I haven't updated here as much as I would like. Raising three kids under 4 years old is not for the faint of heart! What I didn't realize, though, is that I never introduced you all to our sweet addition born October 17, 2013, weighing 6lb 11oz and measuring 18 3/4inches. So without further adieu...

Meet Ryleigh Grace Delisle!! Now at 4 months old, she has mastered tummy time and rolling from tummy to back, she is all smiles most of the time, and she has a great giggle!! Eliana and Jacob are enamored by their little sister, as are we. :)

  

    

You Are Seen...

It wasn't until I personally experienced the elation of that first positive pregnancy test that I began to understand what it would mean to be celebrated on Mother's Day. After all, with my first-ever due date being May 9, 2008, I remember the joy I felt in thinking that I would get to BE celebrated that year... in addition to celebrating my own mom.

And so at 13 weeks, when it was discovered that we had lost that precious life, I felt as though I no longer belonged. I not only lost my child, but also my entry ticket into the club of motherhood.

To no one's surprise, then, when I learned I was pregnant again a few months later, my hope was renewed. I may not have had that first child in my arms to love and to hold and to cuddle on Mother's Day of 2008, but I would have another child whose life was being formed inside my very being.

And yet the unthinkable happened: between the joy of that second positive pregnancy test when we learned I was pregnant with Isaac, and Mother's Day of 2008, we learned that Isaac's prognosis was very, very poor. So poor, in fact, that we were given no guarantees of how long he would make it... either in the womb, or out.

So came Mother's Day of 2008. And to maintain a spirit of honesty, I will say this: I was dreading it.

I remember being in church that morning, and all of the mothers were asked to stand. And here's the thing: I didn't know if I should stand or not.

I had no evidence of my motherhood for the world to see. I had lost my first baby, and wasn't far enough along in my pregnancy with Isaac to be past the "is she pregnant or....?" phase. I didn't know where I belonged... other than this strange limbo of somewhere between motherhood and not.

The following year...Mother's Day of 2009. I am sure it goes without saying that this was one of the most difficult "firsts" since Isaac was born and passed away. My pregnancy and our loss of Isaac was very known my the members and attendees in our church; our pastor had even brought us in front of our congregation a few weeks before he was born to have them pray over us.

So once again, on Mother's Day of 2009, all of the mothers were asked to stand. This time, there was no confusion.

And I did. Knees trembling, tears streaming, and heart breaking... but I stood. Because to honor my son and acknowledge that he was born, and that he lived, and that he was here... how could I not stand?

It's not the picture of honoring mothers that we think of when celebrating Mother's Day. It isn't the situation whose sentiments can be nicely contained in a Hallmark card. Yet, it is often the situation that goes unacknowledged.

And so today, as I shared on my Facebook status this morning, I want you to know that YOU... you, whose situation doesn't fit the norm or can't me nicely summed up in a card... YOU are seen.

To the mommies out there who have every reason to celebrate today: I wish you the happiest of days. 

To the mommies out there who can't hold one (or more) of their kiddos because of a loss: I am missing them with you today. 

To the ladies out there who long to be a mother but have yet to see that dream realized: I am praying for you today. 

And to those of you who have a mother who is no longer here to celebrate with you: I am remembering with you today. 

Lots of hugs to each of you today, friends, whether your situation is celebratory and joyous, or if today is a day that brings up hurt and sorrow. You, too, are seen and acknowledged. 

12 (ish) Week Ultrasound and Consult

One of the strangest things about this pregnancy is that the timing of it aligns completely with my pregnancy with Isaac. So much so that the due dates are only two days off, and which consequently means Isaac's birthday and this baby's birthday will be within days of each other. And yes, that is hard.

Today I have my 12(ish) week ultrasound, nuchal fold test, and consult with my high-risk obstetrician. This is the same appointment, and the same high-risk doctor, at which we first learned of Isaac's prognosis. Almost to the day, five years ago.

To say it feels anything but odd would be false, and perhaps that's because of the timing of this pregnancy. It all feels so similar. In some ways it is such a gift because it brings to mind my sweet son so often; in other ways its poignancy is so much greater than my pregnancies with Eliana or Jacob. So what does that mean regarding today's appointment? I am a lot more nervous about it than I would have expected.

It is no surprise, however, that God meets me right where I am with it, and this morning's devotion was no exception.

"...Similarly, I give you sufficient Peace for the present, when you come to Me by prayer and petition with thanksgiving. If I gave you permanent Peace, independent of My Presence, you might fall into the trap of self-sufficiency. May that never be!... Approach My throne of grace with bold confidence, receiving My Peace with a thankful heart."    ~ From "Jesus Calling", April 18

So please pray with me today, for a great scan, that baby is looking good... and most of all for the Lord's perfect peace.

This Is {some of} Us

We had the pleasure of having updated family photos taken recently by a good friend, and this one happened to be one of my favorites. Eliana has gotten so big, and Jacob, well, is three pounds bigger than his older sister :)

 

** All images are personal property and may not be copied, used, altered, or displayed without prior consent.

An Open Letter to My Obstetrician

Dear Dr. D,

I wanted to thank you for the years of care you have personally provided for me and for my family, particularly during my pregnancy with Isaac. Many, many aspects of my care at *** have been great, and I appreciate the sensitivity you have shown us with regard to concerns that have come up in regard to some of the prenatal care I previously received.

Recently, upon hearing of my current pregnancy, Dr. B asked me in a phone conversation if I was going to continue my current pregnancy since she knew it was not planned. I had seen her on a Friday for my annual checkup, discovered on Saturday I was pregnant, and called her on Monday to talk with her.

Before learning of my most recent pregnancy, I had been contemplating switching practices out of convenience. Once I learned I was pregnant again, I wanted nothing more than to have you and Dr. B to once again provide my prenatal care and deliver our newest (and final) addition to our family as you had with our other three children..

However, Dr. B's response to my news came not only as a surprise, but with a lot of hurt. On a very basic level, I have a hard time understanding why a doctor would ask a married woman (and truth be told, anyone) that question. Based on the depth of my pregnancy history, though, I have an even harder time understanding why I would personally be asked that question when my beliefs on this are abundantly clear. What I have struggled to understand is this: If I didn't end a pregnancy with a child I was told was going to die, why would I end a pregnancy with a child simply because it was unplanned?

I know you all have numerous patients that you see because you are a large practice; but I, personally, am still your patient. I, personally, deserve the same support of my values and beliefs while being provided exceptional obstetric care. At this point, as much as I would like to feel otherwise, I believe it is in my best interest to switch to a practice that is, as a whole, more understanding, supportive, and respectful of my beliefs.

Thank you, Dr. D, for your personal support and care for our family... For being the brave one to walk into a waiting room filled with our family and close friends on the morning of October 7, 2008 to share with them the news that our sweet Isaac was no longer with us... For so sensitively cutting out portions of the discharge instructions pamphlet from the hospital because you knew that reading about them would be hurtful... and for looking Spencer and I straight in the face after Isaac's delivery and telling us you thought we were heroes. I do not at all think of myself as such; but I know that in saying that you recognize in us how much we love our son, and how deeply we treasure the lives of each of our children. I want you to know that we haven't forgotten these things... And we are grateful.

Best,

Stacy Delisle

Therein Lies The Miracle

I remember so clearly during my pregnancy with Isaac praying for that miracle... the one in which God would prove Isaac's diagnosis wrong... The one in which for no good medical reason Isaac made it... The one in which Isaac was healed on this side of Heaven... The one in which those around us who didn't believe in God at all couldn't help but then believe.

After all, the stage was set. The doctors had said he had no chance of living after he was born. And other doctors had said that his condition, though his genetics, brain, and heart were all just fine, could not be treated. It was the perfect story... one set up for a miraculous ending... the one in which God saves the day by healing our son and sparing his life.

And when it didn't happen that way... when Isaac's story was much, much shorter here on Earth that I would have ever hoped, I spent a long time wondering: "God, you are capable of miracles... where was it?"

It has taken me a long time to come to the place where I now understand this: I was only looking for one kind of miracle.

And because of that, I had been blind to the fact that the Lord HAD in fact performed a miracle... one different than that for which so many had prayed... but a miracle, still.

You see, when confronted with unthinkable tragedy, we only have two choices: fight or flight.

We can either go to the wrestling mat with God, like so many past heroes of the faith; or, we can walk away.

"God, you didn't heal my son..." Fight, or flight?

"God, you promise a hope and a future... where is it?" Fight, or flight?

"God, you provided Abraham a ram in the thicket... where was OUR ram?" Fight, or flight?

So while the miracle we, and so many of you had prayed for, never came to fruition, the Lord has still performed a miracle in our lives through our sweet son:

Even when the unthinkable has happened, we are still standing. We are still okay. And we still have faith, hope, and trust in the One whose ways are higher than ours.

And this is not of ourselves...

It would be easier to run. It would be easier to give up on a God who allows your son to die. But that is just it... even in our brokenheartedness... our questions... our frustration with Him... our lack of understanding, and even lack of trust because we just couldn't seem to reconcile our circumstances with the truth of who God is... God never gave up on us. He continued to pursue our hearts, to help us understand, and to bring us to a deeper level of faith and dependence on Him.

Countless people, particularly women I have encountered who have also suffered the loss of a child have asked me this: How in the world do you go through this and still remain strong in your fatih?

That is just it: I am not strong. But He is. And therein lies the miracle: that life's deepest tragedies can be suffered, but that one thing remains: His love never fails... it never gives up... never runs out on me. And so faith remains... hope remains... and love remains... Because He is the great I AM, and will never change... not even in the most painful of circumstances.

The Post in Which I Share One More Thing...

 

Got to see this little one's heartbeat flickering away yesterday:)



 

SURPRISE!!! Baby Delisle #4 is due to arrive in October :)

Too Long...

Oh it has been way, way too long again.

The holidays, the stomach bug, and life's momentum have kept me from here much, much longer than I had hoped. Lots going on in the Delisle house, lots for which to be grateful, lots that I have been pondering, praying over, and purposefully crafting into posts.

While that's happening, how about another round of questions... haven't done that in a while, and it will be fun!

So, please feel free to leave questions you have for me in the comment section below... questions about our walk with Isaac, our kids, our marriage, etc.

I look forward to reading them!!

Simply Jesus

Like many of you, I have spent a lot of time thinking... praying... reading... pondering, particularly this Christmas season since Eliana understands a lot more, about how as a family we should handle Santa. And Elf on the Shelf... I mean, he is a cute little fella, don't you think?

What you are about to read are my thoughts and opinions, and are in no way a judgement on how your family has tackled the questions surrounding these Christmastime characters. I recognize, though, that this topic can become very contentious, and for this reason, have disabled comments on this post. Should you desire to share your thoughts with me, you are welcome to email me at the address on the right side of my blog. That said, I hope you'll read on.

As children, both Spencer and I grew up in homes that "did Santa." I remember fondly writing him letters, listening to a message he left me on a cassette tape, leaving out cookies and milk and being amazed at how they were gone in the morning. As I got older, I started realizing that some Santas looked a lot more real than others, and eventually, as Santa would make his rounds through our neighborhood, I remember trying to guess whose Dad was dressed up as Santa that particular year. We would wait in line to sit on Santa's lap, run into Santa in various places as we completed all of our Chistmas-y tasks, and I remember singing all kinds of Christmas carols, including "Santa Claus is Coming to Town."

And now as a mother, this is where I stumble.

Some in the Christian community would argue that by "doing Santa" and allowing your children to believe in him only sets them up to later doubt you about the truth of God's existence when you share with them that Santa Claus's existence isn't real. And for some, that may be true; and if so, it is a good reason to avoid Santa as "the guy who rides on a sleigh and brings gifts to all of the good boys and girls."

But for me, it's more than that.

As a mother, I want nothing more than to instill the truth of the Gospel and the love of Jesus in the hearts of my children. And I believe our society's modern-day inclusion of Santa is completely counter to that goal.

Let me explain.

Did you catch what I shared a few paragraphs back? That Santa is the guy who brings gifts to all of the good boys and girls.

Think about the words to the much-beloved song "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"...

You better watch out, you better not cry
You better not pout, I'm telling you why:
Santa Claus is coming to town.
He's making a list, checking it twice
Gonna find out who's naughty or nice
Santa Claus is coming to town.

He sees you when you're sleeping,
He knows when you're awake.
He knows if you've been bad or good,
So be good for goodness sake.

Truly, I loved this song growing up. It was cheery, and joyful, and I was always convinced that I had been on the "good" list... or at least, I had been good enough. I remember, though, being legitimately afraid that if I missed up, Santa wouldn't come to my house. And while I was sad at the thought of him not bringing me presents, I was more worried about the fact that Santa would have been disappointed and that I wouldn't have measured up. I wouldn't have earned his visit.

Do you see the flaw here?

Our culture "does Santa" in such a way that children believe the gifts that they receive from him are based on their good behavior. Yet nothing could be farther from the truth of the Gospel.

Scripture tells us in Romans 3:23 that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. We can never be good enough to earn God's favor. The second half of Romans 6:23 says, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

You see, Santa says, "Be good to earn the gifts I bring;" Jesus says, "You can never be good enough; the gift of eternal life that I give is free."

I don't want my children to grow up in a home where they think that gifts on Christmas or birthdays, the love of their parents, or most importantly, the love of God and offer of salvation is based on their behavior or works. I want them to know the Gospel and the love of Christ, and I want the decisions that we make as parents to be those that help foster their understanding of it.

So for us, our focus for Christmas is one thing: Jesus. Simply Jesus.

You may be wondering, then, how we handle the fact that Santa is everywhere, and that many families we know do the whole Elf on the Shelf thing. Foremost, we don't ignore Santa. To our kids, Santa is a fun, fictional character with made-up stories about him that we read around Christmas time. They liken Santa to Elmo, Mickey Mouse, or Dora. We have done the Santa train and breakfast with Santa, but it is treated the same way as meeting Bob the Tomato at the bookstore, or Clifford at Port Discovery.

Secondly, we have started to talk to Eliana (who will be 3 in March) about the real Saint Nicholas. In the spirit of that discussion, we have started to ask Eliana to look through her toys and pick out some that she no longer plays with for us to give away to other children whose parents may not be able to afford to but them toys. We have explained to her that God is generous and has given us more than enough; and so, we need to be generous as well... not keeping everything for ourselves, but as we are fortunate to get new toys, to then pass along those we no longer use. {As she gets older, we may change this some and have it make more of an impact by asking her to give more sacrificially; for now, though, in the mind of a 2-year-old, giving away ANY toy is sacrificial.}

Lastly, we tell the truth to our kids about who the gifts are from. We do give gifts to them on Christmas, and do so as a tangible reminder of the gift of Jesus that God has given us because He loves us. We tell them that we give them gifts because we love them, too. I grew up in a home where gift giving was extravagant... I mean, really extravagant. That is not the direction we have chosen to take with our own children. Of course I loved and appreciated the generosity of my parents; but if I am to be honest, for most of my childhood and teenage life, I looked forward to Christmas because of what I would receive and overlooked that One who as already given me everything I have ever needed. I focused on what I would get, rather than the gift that had already been given: Jesus. And so we are careful about how much we buy {many of which were second-hand this year} because we would never, ever want it to be about the gifts. We want it to be about Jesus. Simply Jesus.

I feel like our culture is so caught up in the "I know what I want, and I want it now" (remember that song?) mentality, and it is so easy to let that permeate every aspect of our lives, including the ones we had intended hold sacred. Black Friday starts earlier and earlier, and at this point, poses an interruption to family gatherings on Thanksgiving. Parents map out a black Friday strategy so that they are able to get everything their kids want {or they want to get them} from each store. Gifts upon gifts upon gifts pour out so far from under the Christmas tree that they may end up needing their own zip code. And when others see the enormous pile of gifts they remark, "Wow! Santa must have known you were really, REALLY good this year!"

I wonder if that's how the parents in Uganda, where a good friend of mine moved to establish a nurse-managed health clinic, think of Christmas. I wonder if they do black Friday. If we were to zoom out on our perspective a bit, I wonder how ridiculous this might just all seem.

Oh, how I long for more for my children. Not more gifts, more stuff, or more make-believe. I long for them to know Jesus and to think that He is the greatest thing. I long for them to know the joy in giving... generously giving... and how it is so much better than anything in this world they could receive.  I long for them to know that they have already been offered the greatest gift given: salvation through the One who came as a baby, lived a perfect life, and died on the cross for their sin... because they could never, ever be good enough to earn it.

So after a lot of thinking, praying, and talking with other Christian moms, this is where we have landed as a family. We have been asked many questions and have been countered with many arguments about why believing in Santa won't hinder their faith; why we need to let them believe in the "magic" of Santa at Christmastime; and how our kids better not ruin it for the ones who do believe in Santa {don't worry... we're working on that and I think we've got it covered :) }. The truth remains that when our children think of Christmas, they remember one thing: Jesus. Simply Jesus.  And we want all that we do to point to Him and His great love for us.

Some resources I have found helpful with this take on Christmas:
http://truthinthetinsel.com/
http://www.thrivingfamily.com/~/media/Thriving/1-articles/PDFs/ADVENT2012-printable.pdf
http://thethingsilovemost.blogspot.com/2011/11/25-days-of-christmas-service.html

From our family to yours, we wish you the merriest of Christmases... praying that you can rejoice in the hope of our Savior.

Why I Didn't "Just Take Care of It"

It's been a while, hasn't it?

This post has been about four years in the making. I have started to write it several times, and have probably written it, in my head, from start to finish more times than I can count. I am not sure why now seems like the time to finally publish this... I know it is the Lord's prompting... but other than that, I don't know.

I starting crafting this post, at least mentally, shortly after we first learned of Isaac's complications in 2008. Upon tearily {or in reality, more like sobbingly} sharing the news with several people, some of them asked me point blank: "Why don't you just take care of it?"

Take care of it? Take care of IT??

To be honest, I was so stunned by the question, I didn't even know how to respond. Eventually, I did respond to each of the people who asked; but still, the question has sort of haunted me because it seems to make a statement about a very widely accepted view in our culture about the life of the unborn: "They aren't really people yet." "Children who are developing less than perfectly are expendable." "If the child won't live long anyway, why not just end it now?"

Let me be clear: This world view is completely counter to the word of God, and is, quite simply, untrue.

I didn't "just take care of it" because from the moment of conception, my child had value, dignity, and worth. He was not expendable.

 I didn't "just take care of it" because choosing to end the life of an unborn, yet fully alive child, is still killing a child.

I didn't "just take care of it" because by the time we had been given Isaac's diagnosis, his heart had been beating for weeks. He had fingers, and toes, and many of his major organs had already formed.

I didn't "just take care of it" because God is bigger than a diagnosis, and He is in the business of miracles.

I didn't "just take care of it" because I knew that any time I had with Isaac was better than none at all.

I didn't "just take care of it" because I knew that God would prove faithful, even if I didn't understand how.

I didn't "just take care of it" because Isaac wasn't an "it." Isaac was a "he".... my son.

But even still, some countered: "But it would be so much easier this way." "If he does live for a while, think about how hard that would be on your family." and even, "It is really hard for doctors to deliver a 'baby like that.""

It just didn't seem to end. From the moment of Isaac's diagnosis up until I was about eight months pregnant, there were questions... looks of surprise when I shared that I wasn't going to terminte the pregnancy... and even being chastised by some in the medical field for our decision to carry Isaac to term.

And all I could think was, "Really? Are they serious?" You see, I never knew Isaac to be a "ball of tissue." I never knew him to be a "fetus." I only knew him to be who he really is: My baby. My child. My son.

And really, that's why I didn't "just take care of it." He's my son. He has never been anything else. He was fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God, and ALL the days of Isaac's life had been ordained before one of them came to be (Psalm 139). From the beginning of time, the Lord knew... He knew how Isaac would develop in the womb; He knew that his life would be 36 weeks 6 days in utero and 16 minutes outside of the womb.

As much as I hoped, prayed, and pleaded with the Lord that his life would be longer, that wasn't God's plan. It wasn't His design. My job as Isaac's mother was this: always protect him, always trust in the Lord with regard to him, always hope for God's best for him, and to always persevere through the tough stuff (1 Corinthians 13). Because, like the song "Unredeemed" by Selah beautifully explains, "When anything is shattered is layed before the Lord, just watch and see... it will not be... unredeemed."

And Isaac's life has been ANYTHING but unredeemed.

His life was redeemed thousands of years ago by the One who has saved him... when Jesus died on the cross.

His life has been redeemed by the Lord by drawing thousands of people closer to Him because of Isaac's story.

His life has been redeemed by the Lord when a few women who have written to me sharing that upon being given a fatal prenatal diagnosis, they were going to end their pregnancy.... but in hearing Isaac's story, chose otherwise.

His life has been redeemed by the Lord in using his life and story to encourage so many other women and families who have also lost a child.

His life has been redeemed by the Lord in using our wrestling for answers, grief, and heartache to cultivate hearts of compassion and sensitivity in his parents.

I could go on.

So why didn't I "just take care of it?" Because he's my son... and I love him more than words could express.

We're Back {with a few requests}

Spencer and talked a lot after so many of you contacted me asking to continue to follow my blog. First, I just would like to say that I so much appreciate your interest in our family, and all of the kinds words that were shared about how Isaac's life has impacted you and those around you.

So, because we deeply desire for the Lord to continue to use Isaac's story (and perhaps I just can't seem to make up my mind lately!) we decided that I would go ahead and keep my blog public.

However, I would like to request that for those of you who also blog:

Please respected the fact that what is shared her is deeply personal, and do not use any content on your own blog (to include post titles, parts of posts, photos, etc) without my permission. While my blog is not officially copyrighted, I would hope that those of you reading who also blog would be respectful of the fact that these are my words and thoughts, and not use them as your own. As you can imagine, it is disheartening to see others use your own content and pass it off as their own... particularly on a topic that is so sensitive and personal.

So with that.... we're "live" once again. :) I hope you will continue to join us here!

Going Private

After a lot of thought, I have decided to make my blog private for the forseeable future. Please know what we greatly appreciate the love, prayers, encouragement, and support you all have provided for us over the past few years.

If you would like to continue to keep up with this blog, please feel free to email me at stacy.delisle@gmail.com. Additionally, if you are looking to refer a friend who has faced a loss to my blog for encouragement, please email me as well.

This has been a difficult decision, as my greatest desire is for the Lord to continue to use Isaac's story to bring glory to Him. I hope that many of you will choose to continue to follow along with us on our journey, and that this blog will still be a place that can bring encouragement and hope to others.

Many blessings...

Long Overdue

Hello... It seems like it has been forever! I appreciate the comments and emails of concern. Truly, we have just been very busy and it has been hard to find the time to slow down enough to thoughtfully but anything about our day to day into words. But as a start, I would love to simply update you on what is happening! I am loving my time at home and not working. Well, let me rephrase that... Not leaving the house to go to work. :) As I am sure you know, staying at home to raise your children is a LOT of work... And it is the greatest job ever! I have been learning a lot about myself, and having two kids two and under definitely causes me to better prioritize the imperative versus the important...evidenced by the enormous pile of clean laundry beside me that STILL needs to be folded and put away. :) Eliana turned two in March and she is full of life and spunk. She talks all the time, and I am both impressed and amused by the things she often says. I love watching her develop a sense of empathy for others, including her stuffed animals, and to begin to devlop interests. She loves anything that requires movement, so it should come as no surprise that games of catch, running around outside, and dance parties are a typical part of our day. Eliana has learned to count to ten in Spanish and French, knows how to spell her name, and can usually accurately identify her letters and their corresponding sounds. I am amazed and what she picks up and how fast she learns. Her memory is amazing... Recalling details that in my haste, I often overlook. I love to watch her marvel at life's simplicities. Jacob is just ansolutely precious. He is incredible, amd has a smile(completebwith the sweetest dimple) that will meltm your heart. He is such an easy baby... Not a terrific sleeper, but sweet as can be even if he is tired. He just recently got over his first ear infection and is currently about to cut his bottom two teeth. He can roll from his tummy to his back, loves the bumbo seat and exersaucer, and laughs sweetly when you pull him up to a standing position and tell him how strong he is. He is captivated by the book "Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See?" and is all around a complete joy. He is in diapers tnat are only one size smaller tha Eliana's, and I am pretty sure he will exceed her weight-wise by the time he turns one. He definitely takes after his Daddy! Spencer is a out to wrap up another school year and will continue to be pursuing an assistant principal position in the school system. We would appreciate your prayers that he would recei e that promotion this year. He has worked so hard to position himself for it, and I pray that God would honor his hard work and integrity. I am not writing this on my laptop where my pictures are, so I will add some updated photos at some point soon. It feels good to be back after a four month hiatus!

Jacob Spencer Delisle

We are so grateful for the safe and healthy arrival of our precious Jacob! Thank you for praying for us. Enjoy seeing his sweet face!!

Meet Jacob...

It is with great joy and excitement to announce the arrival of baby Jacob at 8:22 this morning! He is weighing in at a healthy 7lbs 4oz and 20 inches long. He has a head full of dark hair, just like his big sister, Ellie! Everybody is doing well!

Pictures and more updates to come :)

Auntie Kate

...Because Hope Was Born This Night

During the Christmas season I am always reminded of how incredible the incarnation is. That Jesus... Emmanuel... God WITH us... came in the form of a baby with a mission of redemption. And because of the incarnation, this beginning of God's redemptive plan for humanity... for your heart, and for mine... there is great hope.

I know for many,though, the holiday season can sting. Whether it's the recent loss of someone dearly loved, broken relationships that weigh on your heart, effects of this economy that have hit harder than you could have imagined, or guilt or shame over choices that have been made, the hurts of this life can often feel magnified around the holidays.

Yet even in the hard and hurting places, there is great hope.

I love this song by Sidewalk Prophets... it was part of our church's Christmas Pageant Sunday morning, and I am grateful for the promise of hope that is offered here: that on Christmas night, HOPE was born.

You can listen to the song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fok1h3p1sh8 (cut and paste link into your browser). Be sure to pause the music below first.

Tonight I can see a star shine
And its splendor fills up the sky
It's the samethat appeared
And the wisemen revered
When Hope was born this night

Out upon the snowy fields
There's a silent peace that heals
And it echoes the grace
Of our Savior's embrace
Because Hope was born this night

Glory to God in the highest
Peace on earth
Goodwill to men
Let all of the world
Sing the chorus of joy
Because Hope was born this night

I can hear the Christmas bells ringing
As softly a church choir sings
It's the song used to praise
The ancient of days
When Hope was born this night

There are angels in this place
And my heart resounds in the praise
Like a shepherd so scared
I'll rejoice and declare
That Hope was born this night

Glory to God in the highest
Peace on earth
Goodwill to men
Let all of the world
Sing the chorus of joy
Because Hope was born this night

Gloria (x 4) (repeat)

Glory to God in the highest
Peace on earth
Goodwill to men
Let all of the world
Sing the chorus of joy
Because Hope was born this night
(repeat)

I know hope was born this night
Because Christ was born this night

You see, because of Christ... there is great hope. There is no circumstance too desperate or too far gone that He can't bring redemption. There is no person who has fallen beyond the scope of His love and grace.

I pray that you might know the great hope that is in Christ this Christmas season.

Family Update

This past week I had the pleasure of meeting two blog readers... women who I have never met, yet who kindly went out on a limb when they saw me out and about, asked if I wrote a blog, and then shared a little bit with me about what this blog has meant to them. I am so grateful that they chose to say hello, and to say something.

And then I realized, I have not updated here in a LONG time. It's not for a lack of life that has been happening, but more for a lack of both time and energy.

This fall has flown by. Sweet little Eliana was a ladybug for Halloween...

We took a trip to the Baltimore Aquarium...

... and have spent a bunch of time playing outside on playgrounds.

Eliana has been having some sleep issues for the past few months that we have been trying to help her with, but without much success. We are thankful that our appointment scheduled with the director of sleep medicine at Children's National Medical center has been moved up two weeks to December 8. We would appreciate your prayers for this appointment, that our concerns would be heard and understood, and as we try to help get her into a pattern of being better rested, particularly before Jacob is born.

Speaking of Jacob, our little guy has followed in his older brother and sister's footsteps, and is quite an active little guy in the womb... particularly at night! Next week marks my last ultrasound, and second to last checkup prior to his arrival. This pregnancy has been flying by, and I can't believe we get to meet him in twenty-six days.

We are thankful that this pregnancy has progressed without cause for concern, and that Jacob continues to thrive and look healthy. We are grateful that Eliana continues to grow and thrive and flourish, and that she is excited for her little brother's arrival! We appreciate your prayers in the coming weeks as we prepare for Jacob's arrival and this next, exciting transition in our family!

How We Pick our Childrens' Birthdays

A good friend recently asked me if it was a lot of pressure to choose your kids' birthdays.

The answer: YES.

Not in a stressful way, but in the sense that when they're older and they understand that Spencer and I actually got to choose their birthdays, I want there to be something meaningful, or a good story behind it.

When I was pregnant with Isaac, we decided on his birthday, October 7 by looking up all kinds of 10:7 verses in the Bible. None seemed to fit; but we came across Psalm 107 and in particular, loved verses 19-21...

"Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress. He sent out his word and healed them; he rescued them from the grave. Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for man."

You see, we knew that apart from God's intervention, we knew the likely scenario. We knew that we'd be faced with the unthinkable task and heartache of burying our son. And in the midst of that, we clung to the hope found in these words... the fact that by His great grace... the grave would not be the end. We are still so grateful for that hope.

When I became pregnant with Eliana and knew that I would need a repeat c-section, we decided to continue the tradition of choosing our kids' birthdays based on verses in scripture. Her birthday, March 4, was picked based on 1 Peter 3:4...

"Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight..."

While I am not sure that I would currently characterize Eliana's spirit as quiet, she does have a gentleness about her that is simply precious. She comforts her baby dolls, is very tuned in to peoples' feelings, and even loves to give her little brother (aka, my stomach) kisses. It is so sweet.

Earlier this week I had a doctor's appointment, and tentatively scheduled my c-section with Jacob. (Did I even share his name with you all yet?!). We are hoping for a delivery date of December 28. There were a lot of 12:28 verses that jumped out to me, but our favorite is Hebrews 12:28...

"Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe..."

There is so much truth wrapped up in that verse, and it is our desire that Jacob cling to all of the truth and the hope that is found in these words.

So there it is... how we deal with the pressure of selecting our kids' birthdays. I hope that as they grow up, Eliana and Jacob would cherish the intentionality with which their birthdays were chosen and view them as incredibly special!