Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day

Today is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day. // Today I feel like I'm reliving a painful season that birthed this song in my life. // Even though I see the comfort that has come from it, the raw parts of my heart would never relive it. // If you are struggling through this today, my heart bleeds for you and I'm so sorry. 

A Quick Note to Pastors on Mother's Day

Dear Pastors, 

This weekend is a very special one for most of your congregation. But there may be a small (yet larger than you think) group of women who will sit in your pews and chairs, in silent pain. 

I've always seen Mother's day as a regular holiday everyone celebrates with moms and grams and over priced Marie Callendar's Pot Pie. Until last year. My husband and I struggled through two miscarriages and words like "sorrow, loss, or grief" don't even begin to cover it. But the insight that has come out of that season has been irreplaceable. 

From the Job Song, to women I've been able to meet and pray healing over and weep with and relate with, it has been a season, not of joy by any means, but of sweet and subtle redemption. That season has begun to redeem itself and for that I am grateful.

So why am I writing you?

Because as you stand on a platform and celebrate the amazing feat and journey of motherhood with the women attending your services, remember those who will never experience that, no matter how much they grasp for it.

No one should be ashamed of being a mother or celebrating mothers. That's just ridiculous. Motherhood is an amazing journey that changes the world. Life is life and it is worthy of celebration.

But please know, there will be women in the seats of your church services that may not show up because the emotional, physical, and even spiritual pain of this day will be too much.

And if they do, they deserve to be celebrated, even in prayer, as well. Your graciousness and love on them will mean the world. I promise. 

Sincerely,

Julianna Morlet, a mother of miscarriage

More on my experience through Mother's Day & Miscarriage :

- Seeing Mother's Day From the Other Side

- I Will Never Forget the Other Side of Motherhood

Life is Meant to be Celebrated & Death is Meant to be Mourned

In the same week, I've been excitedly waiting with a friend whose baby girl is over due and mourning with another whose baby will never walk this earth. 

Emotions are jumping back and forth, and it seems like it should feel wrong, going from gladness to sadness. But each circumstance is tragically separate and beautifully united. 

Life is life. And short or long, each life is meant to be celebrated and the loss of it is meant to be mourned. 

Just as there are no words to describe the overwhelm of childbirth, there are no words to describe the depth of pain and sorrow in the loss of a child. 

No two births are the same, yet they are equally beautiful.

No two miscarriages are either, yet they are equally tragic. 

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep." Romans 12:15

The Story Behind Job Song

Every song has a story. This is ours.

A young worship leader that Tyson raised up, now leads worship at our home church in Temecula, CA. He called early last week because he was coordinating a worship night with the high school youth group, they were doing Job Song and asked if we could make a video on the story behind it.

First of all, it is always an honor for us when youth play our songs.

With every song we write, we pray it would transcend culture and generational gaps, for the purpose of the Church worshipping as one voice. 

Second, it was a no brainer! Of course we would!

Some of you may know the story behind Job Song because you lived it with us, but I thought I'd share it with you here as well. - - -

I Will Never Forget the Other Side of Motherhood

I have resisted the idea of Mommy-Blogger. I once went to a conference, having no idea how deep and wide the Mommy Blogger identification went, I was bombarded  overwhelmed by them.  

But now, I am a mom. No getting around that. 

I think mom thoughts, like how if we have a girl she won't date til she's 32. 
I feel mom feelings, like how love is showing up in quantities I didn't know existed.
I see mom sights, like this adorable stroller I will kill for. 
And so on. 

But I will also never forget the other side. 

I will never forget what it feels like to read someone's pregnancy announcement and cry tears of joy and longing in the same flow. 

I will never forget what it feels like to see my ugly crying face in the bathroom mirror because my period came, once again. 

I will never forget what it feels like to want something so bad, that without it you're not sure who you will be.

I know what it feels like to be broken, physically, spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. 

I know what it feels like to be angry, at something completely out of your control. 

I know what it feels like to be hurt, by a God you've ascribed your whole life to.

But I also know what it feels like to have hope. Not just because I got pregnant, but because I was always a mother. Whether in 2012 or 20 years from now, by conception or adoption. 

I am someone's mother and you, all of you whose stories I've read and cried over... 

You are too. 

- - - - -

The Girl that Sings blog won't turn into mommy-dom, but I'll post updates, stories and topics of motherhood I'm wrestling through once a week on Thursdays if you care to enjoy~

We're Pregnant: Baby Mo is on the Way!

So, I can finally un-secret my Baby Pinterest Board.

Man Version of this Story:

We're pregnant. 

Woman Version of this Story:

On October 26, 2011 I wrote, 

Today makes 1 year of us trying for Baby Mo #1. And my period has come again... 2 weeks early. I am broken today. And a little lot angry at God. I know He loves me, but I feel so forgotten. A hopefully beneficial thing in all this is that ever since I told our story on the blog, so many women have come out of the wood-works with their own stories of heartache. I was so scared that if I told my world, it would make it all more real. I don't want it to be real. But, God is good. So I'll obey. Because I know He loves me. And He can take this silly girl's anger. --

The last year has been a whirlwind of awkward conversations, ugly cries, jaw-dropping stories from women I would have never guessed struggled with fertility, and little graces of hope. 

Exactly one year later (totally unplanned), October 26, 2012, I opened my journal and scribbled these words, 

I am 2 weeks late. Yet this time around, I have a greater peace. I have not won this battle, but I know, I know with all my heart God's way will outshine my way. Three weeks ago I gave up babies again. This time, with a promise. I told God that I was going to go full speed ahead in life. Between this church plant and the girls conference, heaven knows I can keep myself more than busy. I promised I would move forward if He would promise to give me a warning sign when He was going to allow us to become pregnant. That's all I wanted. I wanted time to slow down. --

Unbeknownst to either of us, a sweet (new) friend gave me that warning. She posted Isaiah 49:15-16 on my Facebook and said she couldn't stop thinking about me when she read it. 

It says, 

"Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you." (Isaiah 49:15-16)

I was afraid to read into it.

I couldn't be.

I JUST said I was going to move full speed ahead. 

Like three weeks ago.

So I wrote it down and moved on. 

Two days later, I was guest worship leading at a new church and was horribly nervous. So nervous, in fact, I threw up in the women's bathroom. That was strange. I don't think I've done that since 6th grade.

That afternoon I slept. For four hours. That's strange. I never nap. 

Ty left for a concert with some friends and I sat on the couch, sicker than a dog, clutching my stomach. There's no way. But I should take a test just in case. But there's no way. Seriously. 

I turned on the shower, dug out that Clear Blue box I'd been saving for a time such as this, and peed on that stupid little stick. All the while, coaching myself through the cyclically familiar grief I was about to relive. 

It's gonna be negative. It's so gonna be neg---

I saw it. It was clear as the sky is blue. That little sucker had a double line.

Without notice, my eyes flooded and my heart began pouring out praise and thanks to my God. I bawled, all alone, in my West Hollywood apartment, because once again, though He didn't have to, He gave me my heart's desire.

That night He reminded me of this: 

Julianna, I haven't changed. I didn't become more good. This isn't proof of my faithfulness, because you and I both know I was faithful before you even took that test. This is proof of my blessings. I. See. You. I. Will. Never. Forget. You. 

No, I replied. No You won't.

- - - - -

Many of you have walked this journey with us and want to say, from every fiber in our beings, thank you. You have cried with us, prayed over us and with us, emailed us words of immense encouragement, fed us dinners and caffeinated us with Starbucks, and we are forever grateful for each of you. 

This baby isn't just for us. He (yes we think it's a boy) is meant for so much more than to be a Morlet child. 

He is meant to show the world just who God is. He will have his own purpose, his own story and his own journey of faith. But in the meantime, we will share this gift with you. ~

Other Details: 

9 Weeks along / Due end of June-ish / Feeling amazingly nauseas / Craving cucumbers / Popping a tiny bit, but it's probably mostly gas. 

From Faux Peace to All-Surpassing Peace

Lately I've been indirectly fearful. I'd like to call it smart, trusting, or even okay with whatever happens. But now I see it for what it is: faux (or fake) peace. I think we all experience some degree of faux peace at different points in our life. 


This time, I am afraid that if I ask God for what I want or what I think I need, and He says No, then I won't trust Him anymore. I'm afraid I'll loose faith, which isn't super big right now as it is. In fact, it's about the size of a mustard seed (aka: just enough). 


It's easier for me to let Him assume His rightly placed position as the Sovereign Creator of Heaven and Earth and do whatever He wants. Right now, it's easier for me to have no say in the matter I am begging for. It's easier to be the empty vessel by which He does His will.


But that's not what He wants. 


He wants relationship. 
He wants partnership.
He wants struggle and brokenness to become undeniably beautiful by burning away the dross and muck. 
He wants the Church to be built by witnessing and praying and weeping and laughing with one another. 
He wants us to ask Him, together, so that our circumstances do not effect just us, as individuals, but all of us, as a community. 


There's a story in Daniel 3 about three men who trusted God with their lives and He let them go to their impending death by way of a burning hot furnace. They had refused to disclaim God as the only object of their worship and they were to be punished for that stark decision. 


We'll start reading in Daniel 3:19-29 (MSG)

Nebuchadnezzar, his face purple with anger, cut off Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. He ordered the furnace fired up seven times hotter than usual. He ordered some strong men from the army to tie them up, hands and feet, and throw them into the roaring furnace. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, bound hand and foot, fully dressed from head to toe, were pitched into the roaring fire. Because the king was in such a hurry and the furnace was so hot, flames from the furnace killed the men who carried Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego to it, while the fire raged around Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

Suddenly King Nebuchadnezzar jumped up in alarm and said, "Didn't we throw three men, bound hand and foot, into the fire?"

"That's right, O king," they said.

"But look!" he said. "I see four men, walking around freely in the fire, completely unharmed! And the fourth man looks like a son of the gods!"

Nebuchadnezzar went to the door of the roaring furnace and called in, "Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, servants of the High God, come out here!"

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego walked out of the fire.

All the important people, the government leaders and king's counselors, gathered around to examine them and discovered that the fire hadn't so much as touched the three men—not a hair singed, not a scorch mark on their clothes, not even the smell of fire on them!

Nebuchadnezzar said, "Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego! He sent his angel and rescued his servants who trusted in him! They ignored the king's orders and laid their bodies on the line rather than serve or worship any god but their own.

"Therefore I issue this decree: Anyone anywhere, of any race, color, or creed, who says anything against the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego will be ripped to pieces, limb from limb, and their houses torn down. There has never been a god who can pull off a rescue like this."

The faith that was developed in those three men was put to the test and proved to be a life-changing experience for everyone around them. The testing of their faith wasn't for them. I'm sure their faith and trust in God grew radically. I mean, they survived the inside of a furnace that killed men from the outside. But they already had confidence in who God was before they passed the test. This wasn't for them. 


I am quickly realizing that what we are going through right now, it isn't for us. Sometimes I know that, and don't care. It hurts too much. Other times, like this morning, I know that and weep while seeing another woman weep because she too, is feeling the same sorrow. And it's those times that remind me just how much I love my God. 


It's in those time my faux peace is exposed and I desperately cling to His word for strength and real, all-surpassing peace.


I end with my journal entry from May 7, 2012:


Talk to me God. Teach me. Show me what you are doing. Guide me and give me peace. I want that all surpassing peace you promise in Philippians. Please. When we do conceive, I pray in faith, God I want the circumstances to bring honor and glory to You. I want, like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego to have a faith so strong and a story so rich with Your presence that it causes people, like king Nebudchadnezzer, to have life changing encounters with You. If we're going to do this, we might as well do it big eh? 


I know many of my prayers are *misguided. I pray for comfort instead of character. I pray for an easy way out instead of the strength to make it through. I pray for no pain, when the result would be no gain. I pray that You would keep me out of the pits and away from the lions. But if you answered every one of those prayers, it would rob me of my greatest opportunities. 


Amen. 

Are you living in faux peace? Do you long for the all surpassing peace? It's okay, me too. Email me or post your prayer request in the comments below.

(*Portion of journal paraphrased from this book)

Seeing Mother's Day from the Other Side

--- Today, in honor of this year's Mother's Day and my current season of life, I am intentionally bringing light to the many women who are going through the battle of loss or infertility. Just as a somber reminder that we are more common than we realize. I did ask my mother's blessing to replace my usual gushing of her with today's post. You can read about how much I adore and love my mother here, here, and here. ---

There is a large degree of hopelessness in infertility, one of waiting and constant disappointment, and it is often isolating. 

Last night, after church, I was packing up my things in a side room and my friend Marcy came bursting through the wooden door. "I've been looking for you," she said. "Well, here I am!" I replied with a smile. She held out her hand and in it were two roses. One white and one pink. "These are for you, because you're a mommy twice." I was definitely caught off guard, 1) because I forgot we give out roses for mothers on Mother's Day and 2) because she remembered me. 

I gave her an almost-too-tight-hug, said thank you, and she whisked away. I stared at my roses and was overcome with emotions equally split between sadness for my reality and gratitude for my friend. 

I know my story is 1/10 of the length and pain some women have grieved and lost. I have a lot to learn when it comes to this new journey of my life, but if there's one thing that has kept me moderately sane it is this: It is fact, the one thing God has done over and over and over again in the bible is opening the barren women's womb. 

Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Samson's Mother, Hannah, the Shunamite woman, and Elizabeth. (Mical, Kind David's wife, was the only recorded barren woman who we know for sure did not conceive. She will be getting her own blogpost soon.) 

In all these instances, there are moments in the stories when the women lost hope. They gave up. They got to a place where they accepted their reality of being childless, though their longings never wavered. Even through the black and white lettering, I can sense the intensity of their emotions and imagine the weariness in their voices. Probably because I've been there. There's no way that is possible. I can't have babies. I've tried, you can hear them saying. 

But God saw them. He saw them in their weariness and He loved them. To some He gave the miracle of children and to others, He didn't. But to all of them, He showed them who He was amidst their pain and sorrow.

And in all circumstances, they saw God and they worshipped Him. Probably not bubbly and excitedly. No, it was more likely to be through the tears of ugly crying, but they worshipped Him nonetheless. 

I don't know what your Mother's day holds and what your past ones mean to you, but I know the brokenhearted mother (or mothers to be), are often unmentioned. Not maliciously or intentionally, of course. But as one of them, I wanted remind us that wherever we are today, the Jehovah God, He sees me and He sees you. He knows our names, He knows our pain and He sees us right where we're at. That is a promise.

And, if you are a mother, who has been sovereignly blessed with children, pray for your sweet sisters who are broken hearted today, remember them, and enjoy your sweet (and sometimes crazy) children to the fullest. 

Happy Mother's day friends. ~

Reads that have inspired me:

+"I became a mother the day I held my head high and walked into the reproductive endocrinologist’s office for the first time, putting my dreams into someone else’s hands." -Erin

+ "I would cry out and sometimes scream out to God, what was wrong with me that He wouldn't entrust me with a child?? And then came Weiland. If we did not miscarry, we would not have Weiland. If our fertility treatments were successful, we would not have Weiland. I am in love with this little boy." -Elizabeth

+ "Doing good was the only way I found to go from a sobbing mess on the floor to a strong, confident standing baby loss mother. And, honestly, part of me is forever going to be that sobbing mess on the floor. But I’m a better person because my daughter was here. I want to make the world a better place, too." -Kristine

Dear Season, Please End Soon

This line came from a wearisome moment I tweeted out yesterday. Sometimes you're just ready to move on from the heartache you know? I'm there and ready for it to move on. ~ 

"Have you not known or heard that Yahweh, the everlasting God and Creator of all the earth, does not faint or ever become weary? Indeed, His understanding is inexhaustible! He gives strength to the weak, and power to those who have no might. Even the youth will faint and be weary, and utterly fail; but those who wait on Yahweh will receive new strength. They will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run, and not become weary, they will walk, and not faint!" (Isaiah 40:28-31)

The Poison of Indifference

Indifferent is a dangerous state of being. It means one's feelings are becoming numb. It represents lack of interest or having no particular interest; unconcerned. One just is. It is often mistaken for acceptance, denial, or tolerance, but it's much much shadier than that. 


Indifference is the silent killer of all things good. 


Indifference is poison in my body. It is slowly killing whatever raw emotion I have left. My heart has gone from excitement to disappointment, disappointment to hope, hope to anger, and recently anger to indifference. I'm trying hard to grasp onto what is good, noble, true and lovely. But my world has gone from color to various shades of grey one too many times. 


Where there was once longing, there is a gaping hole whose yearning to be filled has ceased. It is complacent being wide open, exposed and unfulfilled. 


It is in times like these I cling to these words: 

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.

I don't feel them, but they are truth none the less. So in this state of complacency, this dangerous phase of indifference, I will seek, with all my heart, the wisdom that can only come from God. Otherwise, this thing is going to kill me, and that just can't happen. 


Are you experiencing or have you experienced the poison of indifference? 
How do you keep yourself from giving in? 

Part 4 // In Every Season

**If you're just joining us, please read the intro and Part 1 & 2 & 3 to this story. Trust me. haha.
-Intro//In Every Season
-Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3

I'm afraid God won't let me have a baby. I use to be sad, but now I'm just frustrated and angry. I know my anger is a sign that I'm not trusting Him, but I know He sees my heart. He sees my hurt and I know He's ok with me being angry at Him for the time being because, well, He's God. Patience and love and kindness and understanding are who He is. 


He's my God. And my love for Him and knowledge of His power far outweighs my fears.
I know He sees me. I know He hears me and I know He loves me. Oh how He loves me. I know He has been planning these very moments since the beginning of time.


So today I will cry and tomorrow I will wake up and do it all over again, knowing that my God loves me too much to let me suffer in vain. There's a lot I don't know and there's a lot I can't know. But what I do know is that He always has a purpose, despite the fog of pain and sorrow. 


There is something beautiful coming. More beautiful than I could ever dream. That much is true. And I'll be reminded of that, every 33 days. 

~ ~ ~

Be encouraged dear friends, your fears and sorrow and worry is normal, but don't let it overbear you. Our God is much greater. He is much stronger. He is much higher than any other. Our God is healer and so awesome in power. He's our God.


Love,
JM

Part 3 // In Every Season

**If you're just joining us, please read the intro and Part 1 & 2 to this story. Trust me. haha.
-Intro//In Every Season
-Part 1 & Part 2

Infertility is such a depressing word. My heart still flinches a bit when I see it because it makes me feel so inadequate. What does that word mean anyways? Does it mean can't have kids or might not be able to or we're not sure but let's run some more tests. 


This is all new to me so I'm trying to piece the vocabulary puzzle together as we go. In our story so far, infertility means the loss of something, whether that is an actual baby or the ability to have one.  


Since May, I have cried on and off, mourning what my body won't give me. Not the kind of crying you see in the movies with her makeup still on and just a couple of shed tears. No, this has been a season of compulsive, ugly crying. I've had my share of binge eating and not eating at all and thought for sure Ty was going to take me to counseling. Poor guy. He's trying so hard. And he's doing such a good job. On Tuesday when it was for sure we weren't pregnant again this month, he brought home Oreos because he knew it would make me smile, even if for a split second. 


Though he see the effects of it all, he cannot wrap his arms or head tight enough around what my body is feeling. Mostly because there is no sane way I can explain everything to him. Most of the conversations have gone like this: 


[Me sobbing] "I don't know why...I thought...we did everything we were supposed to...my body...I know God's in control...I just feel...I don't know why...I'm still crying..." 


What I was trying to say was that I know in my head that my God is in control. 
I'm not afraid of never having a family. I know we are going to adopt children whether we can have our own or not. But I am afraid that God isn't going to let me experience the miracle of life growing inside of me. I am afraid that the one thing I have asked of God persistently since high school, He might not let me have. 


I am afraid He'll say No.
And I don't want Him to say no. 


To be continued.

Part 2 // In Every Season

**If you're just joining us, please read the intro and Part 1 to this story. Trust me. haha.
-Intro//In Every Season
-Part 1

I was afraid for October to come so quickly. I felt like I was doing everything right. I changed my diet, I calculated cycles, cut out most of my caffeine in take and started working out. Tried to sleep more. But I had this nagging feeling that October would come and go with no sign of pregnancy. So I tried to stop thinking about it. That's what everyone was telling me, right? 


There's always those who have every good intention of being helpful and hopeful. They say things like, you know it took me a year to have my first, or I've heard once you stop trying, it happens, or just try and stop thinking about it and relax. My response is always appreciative and optimistic because I know they are as much at loss for words in this awkward conversation as I am. 


But everything in me wants to hold their faces in my cupped hands or kneel before them and beg, Tell me how. 
Tell me how to relax and stop dwelling on it. 
Tell me how to not let it consume my every waking moment. 
Tell me how to not interpret every stomach ache and twitch and temperature rise. 
Show me how to not weep and cry and sob every 33 days. 
Tell me how to not curse my inadequate body or my genetics. 
I'll do it. I promise. Someone please just tell me how. 


But they don't know either. 
Even the precious couples that have been through this war. They just survived. There was no rhyme or reason. They just did. And we will too.  


To be continued.

Part 1 // In Every Season

**If you're just joining us, please read the intro to this story. Trust me. haha. Intro//In Every Season**

October is a celebration month for me. 
For the past 5 years I've started my tradition of listening to Christmas music, October 1st because it gives me a good solid 3 months to get it all in. 
October is also the 5 year mark for my baby sister to be cancer free! Not actually a baby anymore, this girl is the most beautiful miracle of my life. Her life is proof to me that God's will is way more perfect than my own.


And I've needed that reminder this October.


This October marked one year of trying for Baby Mo #1. 
Month after month of negative tests or that dreaded monthly mess, the tears and sobbing have become uncontrollable. My heart has never been so broken before. To me, it's different than the heart break after a relationship break-up because it happens every 33 days, as if on an ungodly timer.


Every 33 days my broken heart gets smashed just one more time.
Every 33 days my hope builds just high enough to feel like I get thrown from the Eiffel Tower.
Every 33 days I lay on the bathroom floor, grasping my stomach, begging God to let this one stick. Just. This. One.


In May, I went to the Dr. to make sure everything was ok, expecting her to say something like, "Everything looks good, just keep trying sweetie." But instead I got, "Your hormone levels are out of balance and it looks like you may be having chemical miscarriages." [Definition: An egg that fertilizes but never attaches to the wall of your uterus.] At first, I was confused, not really understanding what she was telling me, and then I wished I could turn back time and run out of that office before those words could ever spring from her mouth. The rest of the appointment all I heard was, "Try til October...do some tests...see a specialist...anything else I can do for you?" 


No. There's nothing else thank you.


I never thought I'd be the same. I thought my body would never recover, that my heart had long left my chest, and my mind would never function on normal again.


To be continued.

In Every Season...

Hello friends. 
There has been something brewing in my heart and my life that I've been wrestling over to make public for a long time. It's a story. It's a sad story with a happy ending yet to come. It's a story I vowed to God that if He wanted me to, I would tell the world about. 


This isn't a story I wanted to tell. It took me a while to even write it down because then it would make it real. I don't want it to be real. But I know there is someone out there that needs to hear it. And since I am a big believer in people telling their stories for the encouragement of others, I will tell mine.


This isn't a pity party. I often say that broken people can seldom relate with someone who isn't currently broken. Broken people relate with other broken people, so that's what this is. I really wanted to wait til I was on the other side of this messy part of my life, but I know that's not the best state to be in to communicate the emotion, desperation, and yet the hope I have. 


In every season, God is still God and I have a reason to sing, I have a reason to worship.


Over the next couple days I will be adding to the story because it's much too big and emotional for me to put it all in one post. It will total 5 parts. 


Part 1 will post tonight. 


Love,
JM