Five days into 2019 and I find myself accompanied by a familiar friend, grief.
Let me backup to October. This past autumn, as we sat chatting with some of our oldest and dearest friends late into the evening, something happened. A dream I hadn’t allowed myself to dream came forward. There were many logical reasons why I had tried to convince myself I didn’t truly want this dream, yet there it was, staring me in the face, speaking it’s truth to me. I hadn’t allowed myself to dream this particular dream because of one thing, fear. When the truth of that hit me, it stopped me in my tracks. That was not how I wanted to live my life, based on fear.
So on that dark, lovely, cool autumn night, I spoke the dream out loud. Loud enough for myself, my husband, and our friends to hear. I wanted to try for a third baby. There, I had said it, it was real.
For the next month we began dreaming, started appointments, and contact with our fertility clinic in Idaho. The ball was slowly rolling. At that time we allowed ourselves to dream of what our little family could look like with a new member and we took these sweet pics in hope that they may be used in a special way.
I am a dreamer at heart. I am usually optimistic and full of hope so it’s not really strange that I would want to begin preparing for the possibility of a new arrival this way. As November approached we were working with my body and what it was doing. We were making plans to have a natural frozen embryo transfer (FET) which meant my body had to cooperate with the clinics availability. On the 8th of November, the boys and I got in our little Subaru and we made the eight hour drive to Idaho to stay at my Mom’s while we waited for the timeline of November to unfold.
As my period had started and the dates rolled by we realized that even though my body was doing what it was supposed to, it wasn’t in a workable timeline due to the Thanksgiving holiday at the clinic. Once the November window closed, we decided it was best for the boys and I to stay put in Idaho and hope that the December window would work. Once again my body did what it needed to do but this time the window worked.
At this point I need to add that the clinic was not super excited about a natural FET cycle. They preferred having the most control of all the variables but we had decided that a natural cycle was the way we wanted to proceed. I had done enough injections and been through enough hormone craziness over the years that if my body could do it naturally we felt that would be better. They also didn’t see bodies cooperate that often so when my body did, you could actually sense their surprise.
Everything seemed to be lining up perfectly for December. After blood draws, ultrasounds, and ovulating, things were looking positive. My body was moving forward in the ways it needed too, the dates were working for the clinic, and best of all Bryan would be in Idaho by that time for his Christmas break from work. Everything seemed to be coming together for what we thought would most likely be the beginning of our family growing.
On the 14th of December I got the go ahead to give myself the Trigger Shot to help prepare my body for an embryo transfer the following week. I did the shot in the bathroom of a Cracker Barrel with Christmas carols blaring in the background and one of my sons running around the bathroom as I stood behind the stall door on the other side, needle in hand. By the 21st of December Bryan had arrived and it was time for the transfer. We left Kidran and Cohen in my mom’s care while we drove to Boise. On our way there, we received a call from our doctor. The first embryo they thawed was not looking good, only a 20% chance of a pregnancy. We opted to thaw the next embryo. As we continued the drive we chatted about that reality not being something we had considered. Strange to think in a matter of minutes you go from having potentially eleven little lives to ten, just like that.
We arrived, had my bloods drawn again and then I took my valium. As we sat there and the valium took effect, I began rambling about embryos and wondering what percentage of an embryo I was and what Bryan was? It’s crazy to think that each of us starts as an embryo with potentially slim chances of survival and yet here we are.
About twenty minutes after arriving the doctor and embryologist came in. They brought in our embryo, our 45% chance embryo, our potential little girl or little boy. Then we watched them insert the embryo into my uterus, marked by two tiny air bubbles.
There it was, our little embryo. Wrapped up in hopes and dreams, unseen by the naked eye, but seen clearly by the soul. My heart skipped a beat. My dream was taking shape, our dream was happening. The dream that I had been afraid to speak of. Yet speaking this dream out had powerfully led us to this place, taking baby steps each day to make the dream turn into our reality.
Flashback to the transfer we had in 2014 that turned into our two beautiful sons. I wore the same necklace that is now tattooed on my wrist. A gift from a friend and a reminder of God’s promise that we would have a family someday. A promise kept. Yet did the promise extend to one more child? We would have to wait to find out.
Thank goodness the days following the transfer went by rather fast. With Christmas, Boxing Day, time up at my brothers cabin, and New Year’s Eve all between the transfer and the blood draw to test for a pregnancy, we occupied our days and made some very sweet memories. Still if you have ever walked this road yourself, you know how even though you are living your life day to day, the fact that you are waiting for your future is always in the back of your mind. Each day you are measuring what your body is doing. Do I feel crampy? Are my boobs sore? Do I feel more tired than normal? The questions go on and on. The waiting is always the hardest part once you have actually had the transfer.
2019 arrived, we had a lovely evening celebrating with my brother and sister-in-law. It was quiet and I was filled with hopeful anticipation. We drove back to Nampa on the 1st and unpacked. That night I struggled to sleep. I couldn’t relax into rest. I was too anxious for the awaited outcome the next morning. Morning came, my mom and I got ready and headed to Boise for the blood draw. Bryan kindly agreed to stay home and watch the boys so my mom and I could have a day together.
The blood draw was quick and over by 9 a.m. We then spent the day eating and shopping. It was a lovely, sweet day. Around 2:30 p.m, as I was standing in the Macy’s maternity section picking out maternity jeans that my mom was going to buy me as a gift, I got the call. My blood draw had shown that I was pregnant, but my levels were low. This meant that they thought I was having a chemical pregnancy which after I looked it up basically meant an early miscarriage. My vision went a little blurry and I felt hot. I knelt down next to the rack of clothes I was standing by and asked my mom to stop asking any questions, I needed a minute to focus. Everything went into tunnel vision. I was technically pregnant but it wasn’t looking promising.
I told the clinic I would call them back after I spoke to Bryan. As I called him, my hands shook with the news. His silent pause on the other end was enough to undo me. Neither of us had been prepared for this result. We were expecting a yes or no. Not a yes, but wait. We decided to keep our plans to return home the same and that I would get my bloods done on the 7th if my period still hadn’t started.
We celebrated my mom’s birthday the next evening at a fun sushi restaurant with some of the family on the 3rd. Then on the 4th we packed up our car with all the thoughtful and fun gifts we had received for Christmas along with skis and supplies. We hugged my mom tight one last time, said our goodbyes and drove away. The drive home was uneventful and we made it in good time. We arrived home at 7:30 p.m, the boys thrilled to be home and play with their toys. We unpacked our bags and settled some of our belongings back into their familiar homes.
Then at 9:45 p.m, I went to the bathroom and there it was, the marker that told me my body had finally given up the pregnancy. My period had started. In almost an act of denial I still inserted my progesterone suppository in a feeble attempt to reverse what my body was already moving towards…a miscarriage.
I came out and told Bryan. Then I came unglued. Uncontrollable sobs escaped my mouth, and the tears streamed down my cheeks as I wept on his shoulder. Our journey of infertility marked once again by grief and heartbreak. My husband has consoled me so many times in our married life and I am beyond thankful for his presence, calmness, vulnerability in these moments. This was our dream together, now over.
Bryan, being the incredible husband and father he is, took our two miracle sons skiing with him today so that I could have a whole day to be alone and process the past few months. I am so grateful for a spouse who knows me, understands my needs, and graciously loves me in the ways I need when I need them. He is one of my biggest treasures in life. As I drank my coffee slowly, staring out our window at the mountains, the sobs continued.
A whole new kind of grief washed over me. in all our years of infertility we had never experienced a miscarriage until now. It feels so different. We had given that baby a name, for a boy and for a girl depending on the gender. We had made space in our hearts. We had seen our boys as big brothers. We had seen one more grandchild in the arms of their Grandma and Amma. We had seen sleepless nights with a newborn. We had allowed the dream to take root. I also had felt pregnant. I was experiencing many symptoms similar to those of what I felt like when we got pregnant with the boys. I had been so sure that everything lining up so perfectly most likely meant that this dream would become our new reality. Yet it hasn’t. We have miscarried. My period has started and my stomach is cramping while my body is exhausted.
My heart feels crushed. This feels like a very abrupt ending of a chapter in a book. I will never have a pregnant bump again. I will never feel the flutter of movement in my belly again. I will never nurse another newborn. I will never hold the little hands of my toddler as they take their first steps. So many things that will never happen again. And just like that grief floods into my core, and I am rocked. In the last fifteen years of my life I feel like grief has become something I am familiar with. So many moments now that are filled with flowing tears and a breaking heart.
This is real. This is me in grief.
Nothing pretty about it. Tears, anguish, it’s all right there. Yet I won’t hide it. I can’t. I will continue sharing it because I have to find some purpose in it or else it feels like a waste.
I will never regret trying for our third baby. I will never regret dreaming, and giving our baby names. Yet I am not sure my heart will ever totally heal either. That’s what happens with infertility, it leaves a mark that changes you forever.
Tonight I will go to bed heavy with emotion. Knowing that tomorrow is a new day. My husbands warm body will lie next to me and provide a shoulder to cry on again. My beautiful boys will wake me up. The morning will come as it always does and I will once again make coffee. I will drink it like nothing has changed yet so much has. This is what grief, that old familiar friend does. It punctuates the absurdity of normal life while all the time you feel you are being pummeled by the pain and emotion of your new reality.
Then I will stop long enough to once again survey my life. Full with love and family. A husband I love and two unique sons to mother and nurture and my heart will swell. Grief will not have the last word, for life is still worth living.
For anyone else who has walked this path or is walking this path, my heart goes out to you. I hope you have time to heal and people to love and support you through it. May peace eventually come.
Here is a poem I wrote about this painful experience. Writing helps me process and again, if I can help even one more person through sharing then there can be some kind of purpose found in the pain.
With a single drop of blood,
the dream shatters,
into a million little pieces.
Face pale, eyes red.
In exhaustion it begins.
Nature takes it’s course,
My body cooperates
but not my soul.
I stare at the watery grave.
Clumps, red swirls, matter.
Gravity pulls you away.
With each flush, you disappear.
So crude an exit
for such a heavenly dream.
When I was in high school, I liked English. My teacher however made it very clear to me, on more than one occasion, that English did not like me. She held my paper up, covered in red marks, in front of both classes, and announced that I made the most mistakes in both her classes. It was a defining moment. From that point on, I became pretty insecure about my ability to write throughout high school.
Imagine my surprise then, when I tested out of the basic English composition class to move onto the next level when I arrived at college! It gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could actually write. Combine that spark with years of journaling, and I decided to ignore my high school teachers decision of my ability.
I did this when I started blogging for the community coffee shop I opened in Northern Ireland called The Press. I would share about the experiences in the coffee shop and announce our upcoming events. I LOVED IT! Writing had always been an outlet and at that point I started to find my own voice.
Fast forward a few years. Bryan and I decided to give IVF one last shot, no pun intended! I figured the easiest way to keep people informed of our progress was through my personal blog. I had only one or two entries at that point. I guess I also need to rewind and insert this little fact. Through the years that we struggled with infertility I also journaled. I used my writing as a way of processing my pain, as a way of praying, as a way of dealing with the grief I carried, but didn’t always want the world to know. I also didn’t want to consistently be “Debbie Downer” by always talking about the sadness I felt. This could be partly my personality or partly the lies we believe that people can’t handle our pain and suffering, I’m not really sure.
Anyway, back to what I was saying. Years before the blog started, Bryan and I had made a special trip to London to see Phantom of the Opera with the London cast. It was one of my bucket list items. It happened around my 30th birthday along with our first failed round of IVF. As we sat having dinner in a little Italian restaurant across from the theater, we decided that someday, when our family had finally arrived, by whatever means it came, that we would share our story in a book.
That moment has arrived. The Heart Wants What the Heart Wants is our story from my personal perspective. I allow you to crack open pages of my own journals, private pictures, sketches and my honest response to the struggle of infertility. I really hold nothing back. I am not trying to shock people, but I am trying to wake people up. This issue is painful. Painful for those struggling and painful for those who are watching someone struggle. 1 out of every 8 couples will deal with infertility now, 1 out of 8!!! Next time you are around that many couples, just look around because I would bet my own money that someone you know really well is struggling. It’s that real friends.
This book took me almost two years to complete. Life happened in a not so kind way almost immediately after I had the full manuscript completed. My father was diagnosed with cancer. At times the book felt like a burden I couldn’t shake while dealing with the grief of watching my father deteriorate. Other times it felt like an escape and a lifeline. What definitely helped was writing. Writing has become a way of life for me. Thanks to authors like Shauna Niequist, Jen Hatmaker, Elizabeth Gilbert, and Brene′ Brown, I began to believe in the power of my own voice. I also had my husband and amazing family and friends cheering me on too!
So the other night, March 12th at 7 p.m. I had my very first book launch! I was overwhelmed to see so many lovely faces come. Some I hadn’t seen in years, and some I have only recently become friends with. It was a beautiful collection of people and I am so grateful for each person taking the time to come and support me in such a tangible way.
Now I have the privilege of promoting this much needed book. I get to share my story again and again with people. Validating each time that what I went through, what we went through, and maybe what you are going through will not be wasted if we let it help and guide others. Our pain truly can bring comfort to someone else’s suffering, if we will let it. It means standing with our hands open instead of with clenched fists.
“I would describe infertility as a process of purification. You go through the fire, but at the end you come out your truest self.” p. 51 The Heart Wants What the Heart Wants
What have you experienced by way of pain in your life? Are you willing to open that area up to even just one person? If so, I think you will find there is healing there. There is purpose in your pain there. There is also forward momentum that helps you leave the past in the past and move towards your future with hope and joy. Please share your story, the world needs it!
The big scan is coming up this Wednesday so we will find out for sure if it is two boys as they think it is. Very excited to see them for an extended period of time at the big scan and to see what they look like at this stage (more human than white blob:) ). This picture gives you an idea of what we are looking like at 20 weeks though. People keep saying the bump is growing everyday which I definitely feel. A wee prayer point though, please pray for the scar from the appendix that it will grow and stretch with the growth of these babies. Plus Bryan has only about 2 1/2 weeks left before he is home so I am delighted with that fact! I will also hopefully be going back to work after the 30th of May and seeing how long I can last. I have started collecting bits and pieces as well for the babies arrival and it feels nice to finally do something productive for them coming. Sitting and relaxing has been great but I have also gone into nesting mode, but don’t worry! I am not lifting/moving furniture as that will be Bryan’s job when he gets home. Now bring on Wednesday!!!!
It feels like the past few days have been pretty monumental. Bryan went in Thursday for his procedures and was a great sport through it all as you can see in the pic above. The doctors and nurses said Bryan was so much fun to have in, duh!! He ended up having 4 biopsies and they were able to get everything they needed (my husband is by far the toughest man I know and has endured more labour pains than any other man I have ever known!). Now he is 4 days into the recovery process and it is slow going. Thankfully he doesn’t have to fly till Friday. We are also so thankful that Bryan was put out for his procedure. Being under anaesthesia made it less traumatic than the first time.
Friday morning my Mom and I drove to Boise and it was my turn to go under. Anaesthesia is definitely the way to go for this kind of treatment. I didn’t feel a thing and don’t remember any of it, praise God! They were able to retrieve 20 eggs, 17 of those eggs were mature and out of the 17 eggs 15 fertilized and became embryos!!! We are over the moon with this outcome! Not all of the embryos will be good enough quality to transfer so this gives us a much better chance of having some strong embryos to use.
A little memory to share in the midst of all of this is when I got the call regarding the embryos. Friday night we had a slumber party for my Mom’s 70th birthday party. We were out at my oldest brother’s house, Brent and Trudy, when the call came Saturday morning. After I took the call I walked out and announced to many of my female family members the good news. Everyone screamed, we cried, there were hugs! Such a special memory to have and one that I am thankful for. Being with our families during this whole process has been such an incredible gift from God that we could not have planned.
So what next? Monday the clinic will call and let us know how many of the embryos look good enough to use. We will then go in for the transfer on Wednesday. My friend Kelly also arrives on Monday afternoon. Kelly is coming to be here for the transfer and to support us, so special! From Wednesday to the 10 day test mark feels like the hardest part. They transfer Wednesday, then we take a blood test 10 days later and during that time you just wait. You wait to feel any little thing, any hint that it has worked. You wait to start your period in a sign that it hasn’t worked, you wait in hope for the future all the while replaying the past. The line is hard to walk. We want to believe for the best and hope for that yet sometimes our past experience creeps in and reminds us of the previous hurt. So for this next season please pray for us. Pray the following:
Pray for at least 1 embryo that is good enough to transfer
Pray my womb is a safe and welcoming place for this potential new life to thrive and grow
Pray for Bryan’s continued recovery
Pray that we keep our eyes on Jesus and keep His perspective in all of this
Thank you for following our journey, for praying and partnering with us. We appreciate it so so so much!!!!!
Just a little extra pic so you have an idea of what the beginning of our family slumber parties look like!
Thank you everyone for your continued prayers, emails, text messages and encouraging verses that you have been passing on to us. We cannot imagine how much harder this process would be without each of you carrying us this way.
Yesterday we drove to Meridian for Bryan’s appointment with Dr Greer of IUI. After filling out what seemed like a mountain of paperwork we were taken in and met with the doctor. We went through our fertility history, he looked at Bryan’s sample records, gave him a health check and came to this conclusion: Bryan will be going in for another testicular biopsy this Thursday or Friday morning (taking as many sample tissues as they need till they arrive at the desired amount of sperm). The news was good news yet hard at the same time to hear. As we approached doing treatment again we did not want Bryan to have to endure another traumatic procedure. This news meant that once again he would have to go through something most men only have nightmares about. Yet it was good news because it meant that the doctor felt we could proceed with treatment. There is also a silver lining, Bryan will be put out this time unlike his first experience of being very awake and present. Now that we know Bryan has to have this procedure we were able to change his ticket back to Alaska. This has also brought about a positive spin within the whole journey. Bryan staying longer means that he will be here with me during egg retrieval (possibly happening this Friday or Saturday) and he will also be here for the transfer/implantation (most likely sometime next week).
I had another ultrasound and blood draw this morning. The staff have been so kind and helpful plus everything is looking good on my end. They were able to tell me that my uterine lining is at 8.5 which she said was perfect for right now. Upon examination they could see that I have potentially 13 eggs in the right ovary and 7 in the left. These eggs, once mature and ready for collection will be used to create the embryos. How many they use will be determined by the volume of sperm Dr Greer is able to collect.
Despite the fact that Bryan has to go through his procedure again we are feeling hopeful and optimistic. This time around we both will be under anesthesia for our procedures (me for both collection of the eggs and transfer). The simple fact that we will both fall asleep and wake up to things being done is a huge relief. Going through the procedures the first time fully awake was quite difficult. We are trying to keep our eyes up, focused on Jesus and the hope that He brings throughout all of this too. When we receive verses from people or songs we read/listen, soak and just thank God for His constant presence in a very unpredictable process.
As many of you know we had reached our target goal for the initial cost of our treatment. This goal was met by what has been committed, not necessarily by what we have received as we knew some people could not contribute till January after the holidays. Now however, with this additional procedure we will need additional funds. In total Bryan’s procedure is going to cost around $5000! I know, I can’t believe it either. So if you had thought about supporting us financially but hadn’t moved forward with it once we met our initial target, we would greatly appreciate you revisiting the thought. It is not fun to even write about this or be so direct but we have been blown away by everyone’s generosity and hearts for us, plus we know at the end of the day God is the one in charge of all the resources so He can help with this the way He has before.
The next few days are going to be exciting, nerve-racking and a continued roller coaster! Prayers are what we hope you continue to offer up on our behalf. Pray for the sample, pray for the egg retrieval, pray for the transfer and implantation. Each step of the way seems to only be made clear as we arrive to it that morning. There’s an old song we used to sing growing up ‘One day at a time, sweet Jesus, that’s all I’m asking from You’. It’s funny how some things from your childhood come back to bring you comfort and reassurance in your later years. That is exactly what this song has done for me. Jesus, one day at a time. Please help me be flexible, help me to actively trust you, help me to keep a good attitude today. I will pray this again tomorrow and the next day and the next.
We are back from the mountains of McCall, Idaho where we spent three nights in a beautiful home with my immediate family. This meant that for three days/nights we had fun! Our time included meals out, great coffees, games, puzzles, shaving my Dad’s beard as a family and much more. I am so thankful for the trip to McCall. It got our minds off of what lay ahead in this journey. It was relaxing and we were able to reconnect with my side of the family. One of my favourite memories of the trip though has to be sitting around the table working on a puzzle with Bryan. Our nieces and nephews gathered around the table as well and chatted flat out for at least 2 1/2 hours. One of our nephews was also renamed the ‘Man of a million voices’ by his big sister because of how much he talked that night. We laughed so hard and it felt so good! Lighthearted moments all together reminding me of the simple beauty that my family possesses. We are so thankful for each one of them!
Since the last blog post we have been into the clinic numerous times. Our first appointment included my baseline ultrasound, my uterine wash, my blood draw and Bryan’s first sample. Everything on my end looked healthy and good. Even though we have been through this before there are still things that catch you off guard. For example, my ultrasound was quite uncomfortable. I know this is true of any internal exam but the reality of how many more exams I will have before all is said and done is not a fun thought. The most difficult obstacle however has been Bryan’s samples. The first sample produced only 1 sperm that was worth freezing. Since then he has given two more samples and is now scheduled to see a eurologist as it looks like he may have to have another biopsy or possibly a more invasive procedure. Of course we knew this was always a possibility but we were strongly hoping for a different experience this time.
I have also started my injections which is the picture posted above. The first time I was quite nervous and was shaking. Bryan is a bit squeamish with the shots and he kept having to look away while capturing this in photos. I am in again tomorrow morning for an ultrasound that will show how my ovaries are responding to the treatment thus far. To be completely honest, I am not even thinking about that. I am thinking about Bryan’s evaluation on Monday with the other doctor to determine what they can do to help us continue with our treatment plan. From here on out the next few weeks will most likely be a blur of doctor’s appointments, procedures and I am sure a roller coast of emotions.
As we have processed the past few days and bad news regarding Bryan’s sample, our hearts have been heavy. I will not lie and say that we have not felt the impact of this. We have been sad, felt deflated and defeated. We have questioned God asking if not one part of this could be remotely easy? Yet our faith is not shaken; we hope in God not the treatment. The other morning I found myself once again singing Matt Redman’s song ‘Never Once’. The words ring true:
Never once have we ever walked alone,
never once did You leave us on our own.
You are faithful, God you are faithful.
Right now this where we are at. We are living life in the midst of our stormy hearts. We are enjoying the times with my family as they are rare and precious. We had our annual Carpenter gyoza making session on the 1st January and it was a blast! We ate till we felt ill and played games that made us laugh till we almost cried. We have moments of grief, frustration and emptiness mingled with moments of feeling full to overflowing. This is life. One of my favourite authors puts it this way…life is bittersweet. Yes it is.
Please keep praying for us and with us. Pray that we do not lose hope. Pray for the doctors and their ability to help us. Pray that we can move forward with our treatment. Thank you for your prayers already and long may they continue.
Christmas has come and gone, special memories were made in Alaska with the Chuds which I am sure will last a lifetime. They include incredible food, sledding down the family hills, releasing lit lanterns into the night sky, praying, singing and a lot of laughing. We cannot begin to express the deep gratitude in our hearts for every stage of this time back in the states. Each place, each family member and each friend have helped to create an album of moments that we will treasure. As Alaska came to a close we said our goodbyes and yes, there were tears. A sweet mental picture that we have is our nephew and niece sitting up in their beds as we exited to the garage to leave, both of their faces beaming with smiles, priceless!
We flew all through the night to land in Boise, Idaho this morning at 10am. We were greeted by my Papa at the airport. Thank you God that he came through his open-heart surgery so well and is on the road to recovery. He is getting stronger each day and is even sporting a very Mumford-esque beard right now! After a bit of sleep we celebrated Christmas with my parents which was very sweet and reminiscient of my growing up years. We will be heading up to McCall tomorrow afternoon for a few days in the mountains with the Carpenter clan and we are looking forward to seeing everyone again.
Tomorrow is our first in-house meeting at the clinic. Up until this point we have been doing everything by phone. I must admit, I am relieved that we will be seeing these helpful and kind people face to face. I think both of us are at the point of actually feeling excited to get the treatment underway. Much of the reason we are even able to feel excited is this: We have reached our financial target for the treatment cost!!!!!! We can’t fully express how overwhelmed, thankful and humbled we are. Bryan and I are stunned at your generosity. Although there are unforeseen costs that may occur, the stress of the financial burden has been lifted. That fact combined with the amount of prayer coming our way has prepared our hearts, minds and hopefully bodies to begin the treatment once again. So thank you!!!
We have started taking antibiotics but tomorrow begins procedures and injection instructions. Bryan gives his sample, I have an ultrasound, we sign the rest of the papers and then… let it begin. Oh man, that is a scary/exciting thought. Our appointment is at 8:30am so if you are up, have read this by then please pray for the following:
Everything to go smoothly
Once again, thank you for your extreme generosity towards us both by prayer and financial support! I wish I could hold each of your faces in my hands, look you in the eyes and say thank you in person. Although I am pretty sure it would take me years to do that and I would cry my way through most of it.
Abba, thank You for bringing us to this point. Thank You for Your provision through Your children. We are humbled, astonished and overjoyed at the many miraculous ways in which You move on behalf of Your children. We once again lay this dream at Your feet, our lives are Yours. Walk with us tomorrow and in the coming weeks. Amen.