Responding to grief

Emily Faith's feetI wrote this letter recently for a dear friend who is heading to the Philippines to train as a midwife and who asked for “read me when” letters. I had no intention of sharing it with anyone else at the time. But there are two reasons I’ve decided to do so:

  1. Last night I learned the shocking, kick-you-in-the-gut news that my friend, Betsey, was killed in a Marine helicopter crash.
  2. Today is the four-year anniversary of my dear niece, Emily Faith. Her life, and my subsequent grief, impacted my decision to become a midwife. When asked why I’m becoming a midwife it’s hard to answer because the motivation is tied to such deep emotions.

A lot of this letter is specifically tied to midwifery and infant loss, but I’ve bolded the portions that seem relevant in other contexts.

—————-

Dear friend,

The death of a baby is one of the greatest tragedies. So much potential wrapped up in that little life; all of the dreams and hopes that will never come to be. It seems completely unnatural for a sweet little child to leave this world without staying very long. The horror and grief I felt after Emily passed away was stronger than anything I’d experience before or since. It took my breath away and it may have been years before I felt like I was able to take a deep one again without being assuaged by grief.

Here are a few things I learned along the way:

  • Experiencing death changes you; it’s impossible to remain exactly the same in the face of grief. From my observations of other grieving people, there seems to be two options: to become softer or to become harder. I think in a 3rd world country where death will be more common in childbirth, where you are needing to become strong in order to survive in a profession like midwifery, and where you are far from your family, it will probably be easy to become harder. Not necessarily as an intentional choice, but it will be easy to slide into that to protect yourself from agony. But I urge you: in the pain and grief, intentionally choose softness. It seems like it will make you more vulnerable, and in the beginning it will probably feel that way. But in the long run it will make you stronger.
  • There is no way to avoid the pain. The more you avoid it, the bigger it becomes. Dive straight in. There is an end. Trust me, dear sister. I’ve been there and have found the other side. 

And sweet girl, I encourage you: don’t let it eat you up inside.

  • Take it to our Father. Talk to Him about how this death makes you question things. He is not put off by the reality of how you feel and what you’re thinking. He will reveal who He is to you and bring you Truth and comfort.
  • Share your pain with others.

I pray that through this experience you will be motivated to learn any skills you can to prevent similar death in the future. These emotions are powerful motivators and pouring grief into something that will have long-term impact honors that person’s live and allows their life to have a ripple effect in this world. 

But remember, there are things about this process that are completely outside our control or ability to influence. Learning to be comfortable being out of control and to trust in the sovereignty of God will be something that will bring you strength and comfort. Can you believe that I, of all people, am saying there is comfort in not being in control?

And don’t loose sight of the fact that being a midwife strongly decreases the chances of death. Women and babies will survive because of your presence. Don’t let this loss let you forget that you’re choosing to endure this pain to help prevent it for others in the future. That is beautiful, meaningful and self-less.

You will make it through this. 

Krista Joy

John 14:18 I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.

Medical insurance, pre-existing conditions and Obama care

When I went back to school to finish my Bachelor’s degree several years ago, my COBRA payment was somewhere around $450 per month. Due to a pre-existing condition I didn’t qualify for any less expensive options.

After graduation I worked as a freelancer. Taxes alone required saving approximately 50% of my income, which meant I had to bill $900 per month just to pay for medical insurance. As the work became harder to find the cost of medical insurance became a motivating reason to find permanent employment.

After three months at my new job my medical insurance kicked in! It was like getting a raise.

That’s when the mess began: I started to receive rejection statements on most of my claims. Each time I called I was given a different reason for the rejection (billing errors, pre-existing conditions, etc.). Each time my providers called they were given different reasons than what I was given. Meanwhile I was paying for all my health care out-of-pocket. After eight month we finally discovered the problem: my new insurance provider needed proof of continuous coverage. After multiple requests and “paperwork being lost in the mail” the paperwork was finally delivered!

So, when I decided to go back to school to get my Master’s I knew that continual medical insurance coverage was a deal breaker.

Being a die-hard “I pay my own way in this world” kind-of-person, it didn’t occur to me to apply for state coverage. Plus, when Obama care rolled out I remember reading countless articles with opposing views and first-hand accounts that left my mind reeling. In general it sounded like a crazy mess.

But then I found out that my employer’s COBRA was $650!

Feeling a little desperate, last weekend I spent a short amount of time filling out the application online. I received an error when trying to submit the application but they provided a number to call. When I called today I was connected to an incredibly friendly and helpful live person without spending any time on hold! He gave me specific instructions on what I needed to adjust. Within 5 minutes, and with a single click, I received confirmation that I qualified for Washington Apple Care.

I still can’t believe how easy it was. Granted, I’ve yet to experience what it’s like to actually use the insurance. But, I’m curious to see what happens next.

Why Midwifery?

I’ve had a nagging feeling that something was coming; that I wanted, no needed, to do something different with my life. I’ve been counting the days until the big 3-0; reflecting on the future and the past. During my 20’s I discovered so many things that I’m passionate about. Many of these revolve around being empathic, strengthening others, distributing information/knowledge, being an advocate, and making a long-term impact.

And the question this year was this: am I living the life I want to live? Am I doing was I was made to do?

Some days the answer was yes. Some days the answer was sort of. Some days the answer was absolutely not. But overall the scale was leaning toward no.

——

If you know me well, you’ve heard the story of my brother’s birth. How my parents couldn’t have additional children but my sister and I prayed for a brother and God delivered. It’s an experience that forever stamped my heart with the knowledge of God.

What I’ve probably never told you is that I have vivid memories of going to the midwife with my mom, watching as her stomach was measured, listening to his beating heart, and looking at picture books full of pregnant bellies and babies growing in utero. I remember watching his birth and falling in love with that sweet little baby boy.

I’ve been fascinated with pregnant bellies and newborn babies ever since.

I have countless pictures of me holding babies. Newborns are my favorite! I’ve asked endless questions to my Mom friends about pregnancy, birth and parenting. I’ve read so many articles on these topics that Google and Amazon think I have children! And I still want to learn more.

There’s something magical and powerful about the creation of life that I just can’t get enough of.

——

And unexpectedly, on a day I can’t even pinpoint, these two seemingly unconnected things collided.

That’s when I realized that I. COULD. DO. THIS.

I could spend my life supporting Moms and delivering babies.

I reached out to a midwife I know. Over coffee and her pregnant belly she talked about what drew her to midwifery, about the challenges of the lifestyle she leads, how this process has made her a strong woman, how every labor teachers her something new and just how difficult it was to combine a full course load and 24/7 internship for three years.

As I listened I had my answer: when fully faced with just how difficult the road would be all I could think is THIS IS WHAT I WANT.

And so I leapt. Towards the unknown; towards the pain; towards the joy.

Blank contracts and the faithfulness of God

Wesley Covenant Prayer:

 

I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, thou art mine, and I am thine.
So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven.
Amen.
 

 

This prayer represents a commitment I made as a teenager to do whatever/go wherever God prompted me to do/go. I call this my “blank contract” and wear a simple ring as a reminder.

 

I love listening to music by Laura Story. Her song, You Are Love, is one of my favorites:

 

You are justice for every oppression
You’re forgiveness for every confession
You are beauty, goodness, blessing
You are love

 

You are healing for every sickness
You are power in every weakness
You are mighty, holy, faithful,
You are love

 

O God of the Heavens
You descended from your throne
Gave Your Son for our ransom
And by this all men will know that You are love.

 

We were thirsty, you gave us water
We were orphans, now you are our Father
We were desperate, hungry, seeking
You are love

 

Everlasting, Never ending
All consuming, You are love

 

I love how this song is the parallel to the prayer above: one is about being willing to go into any circumstance, the other is about how God is exactly what is needed in every situation.

 

Almost every time I read this prayer or hear this song tears come to my eyes because

 

  • I am reminded of the faithfulness of God. He has carried me through the rough times and strengthened me during the plentiful times.
  • I am reminded that complete and utter surrender to Him is totally worth it. I have no regrets about living based on a “blank contract” with the Creator of the universe.

A voice cries out

I wrote this initial part of a blog in October 2012:

I’ve thought about blogging for years. In 2008, I was asked to write a guest blog for Renee Fisher, and I loved it. I wanted to do more of it. But something always got in the way.

That something was the belief that what I had to say really didn’t matter.

I have a lot of things I want to say. But I honestly believe that no one wants to hear them.

This belief permeates my personal life. Almost no one in my professional life would believe that this is a reality for me. At work I have a lot of opinions and I am not afraid to express them. But in my personal life I hold back. When I share my thoughts, especially in a group, I edit everything I say and am plagued by insecurities and doubts.

I really just wanted to hide. To guard all my thoughts and opinions and ideas.

Last Wednesday someone allowed God to speak through them. And this is what I heard: I have a voice. It was given to me by God. He has been honing it. It’s time to be put to use. I have a calling to use my voice to honor Christ.

“A voice cries out… prepare the way of the Lord.” Matthew 3:3

“They…cried out: ‘Hosanna! ‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!'” John 12:12-13

“The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles.” Psalm 34:7

On Easter Sunday I went to a prayer and worship service at a House of Prayer I’d never been to before. I sat in the back by myself. A few minutes into the service a man came over and asked if he could pray for me. He asked if I wanted prayer for something specific or just as the Spirit led. I’ve had some really incredible experiences with prayer in the past when people knew nothing about me, so I’m always excited to say “yes” to an opportunity like this. As this man started praying for me, scriptures that God has using to minister to my heart over the years poured out of his mouth. He hit on about eight different topics that God and I have been dialoging about and one of them hit this topic head on:

God created me exactly as I am. He has given me a story and has worked amazingly in my life. He has given me a voice and has called me to use it. To share my experiences, my thoughts, my ideas and most incredibly, His story. How sweet to look at the blog I stopped writing because I didn’t want to be so vulnerable and see how God has circled around and given me the confidence and security to speak up.

Overcoming roadblocks

I’m an independent, let me “do it myself” and “I’ll make it happen” kind of person. I tend to intuitively “get” what needs to get done and identify the most efficient way to get there. So when I hit an impediment that I can’t get around I get stuck. Really stuck. Like when there’s a scratch on a DVD and the same 5 seconds keep playing over and over. And just like scratches on my favorite movie it always seems to happen at the worst moment.

I affectionately refer to this as “breaking my brain.” Something short circuits and I can’t get it back on track. And I don’t handle the frustration well.

In the last few months I had an aha moment and realized that there are there is only one way out of this: ask for help. For me, asking for help is the equivalent of admitting that I’m a complete and utter failure. It seems like something that should be reserved for when the sky really is falling.

I also have to admit that the first draft of this blog included nothing about my extreme phobia of asking for help. It was going to be a nice, sweet “here’s the three types of roadblocks I typically hit on projects… and how to solve them.” The problem was that the first three words in all three roadblocks is “I need help with…” and, well, talking about asking for help without talking about the elephant in my living room seems a little ridiculous. So hopefully you won’t judge me too much for having an independent streak a mile wide!

Now that I’ve made my confession, I realize that the best solution for the three roadblocks I encounter is the most simple yet difficult thing: admit I can’t do it myself and ask someone else to help me.

So… without any more ado, here’s the thee types of roadblocks that throw me for a loop:

  1. I need help to get something from someone else (clarification, decisions, deliverables, approval, etc.).
  2. I need help getting a different perspective or attitude on a situation.
  3. I need help developing or improving a skill.

I honestly can’t think a single impediment from the last 7 years that doesn’t fit into one of these buckets.

Is there a three step solution for solving them? No. But now I’m finding that the more I attempt to get the words “I need help” out of my mouth the closer I get to actually saying it.

Giving out of poverty

What is it like to give everything you have left? Have I ever truly done that?

I’ve been asking myself this question for a few days. And not really about money but about my time and energy because that is the “currency” that I really value and when it’s running low I conserve instead of give.

This question started out with watching a video a friend posted on Facebook: All I Can Say by David Crowder Band. Something about these three lines have stuck with me: “And this is all that I can say right now / And this is all I have to give / that’s my everything.”

That triggered thoughts of the parable of the Widow’s Mite. This woman was commended by Jesus in Mark 21:41-44 and Luke 21:1-4 for giving the last cents that she owned while those around her gave out of their surplus.

In my opinion, giving out of surplus feels way better (and by better what I really mean is comfortable) than giving out of poverty. I know that God has called me to live sacrificially instead of comfortably. But gosh it’s hard.

 

Two steps to making decisions on projects

In project management decision-making is inevitable. In fact, I have come to think that project management is primarily about making sure the necessary decisions get made at the right point in time.

Recent my co-worker Nathan R Elson, wrote a blog about the decision parallax. (I’ll be the first to admit I had to look up the word parallax!) I really dig the practical aspect of understanding how to make a decision that helps short circuits procrastination and allows forward movement.

Question 1: Ask will the project be derailed if I don’t have an answer to this right now? This determines priority and urgency. Failure to answer this question correctly can mean that you’ll either get stuck because there are too many decisions to make OR that something on the project will be “blowing up” soon.

  • If the answer is yes, the first decision has been made! You’ve decided to decide. Proceed to question 2.
  • If the answer is no, the first decision has been made! You don’t need to decide right now. Because I use a modified version of GTD (Getting Things Done) I ask myself another question (question 1a): will I need to address this at some point? If not, I disregard it unless it comes up again. If yes, I proceed to question 2.

Question 2: Ask can/may I make this decision? This determine whether I am allowed to and whether I have the information necessary to make an effective decision.

If I previously answered question 1 with “yes, my project will be derailed if I don’t get an answer right now”, then the answer to question 2 prompts these actions:

  • “Yes, I can make this decision” = make it and move forward without procrastinating.
  • “I’m allowed to but I don’t have enough information” = seek out the input that is missing and then make the decision and move forward without procrastinating.
  • “I don’t know if I’m allowed to make this decision” = ask someone who has the authority to decide whether I can make the decision or not. This is different from asking them to make the decision. Don’t procrastinate on asking them.
    Some people I know rarely landing here because they prefer to “ask for forgiveness later”. I default to thinking I don’t have permission, so I include this option for “ask for permission first” people like me.
  • “No, I’m not allowed to make this decision” = ask the person who can make the decision to make a decision and follow-up until you get one.

If I previously answered question 1 with “no, my project won’t derail if I don’t get an answer now” and question 1a with “yes, I’ll need to address this at some point in the future”, then the answer to question 2 prompts these actions:

  • “Yes, I can make this decision” = I put it on my to do list with a due date so I don’t have to think about it until my system reminds me.
  • “I don’t know,” “I don’t have enough information” or “No, I can’t make this decision”: I add this to my list of follow-up items for an individual person.
decisionflowandgtd

Decision-making flow chart + my version of the GTD system.

To do lists

Yes, I have an epic list of future items that will need to be decided. I use Wunderlist to keep them organized.

Follow-up Items

There are decision makers that I always have a long list of items for. Over time I’ve worked out a system that works for me and for the individual decisions makers. For example:

  • With my boss, every week we have an hour meeting. Beforehand I send him my complete list of open items (with high priority ones highlighted) along with my weekly update. This list is probably 2-4 pages long and we’ve worked out a system that allows us to get through most of them in 30-40 minutes.
  • With directors and executives, I schedule 15 or 30 minute working meetings whenever items on their list get urgent enough to need their input. I rarely send them my entire list of open items.

Confessions from failure

To wrap up my reflection on my short time in the Army, here’s a short piece I wrote a few years ago:

Reminders

There are many things that remind me
Of the failure in my past.
The smell of gunpowder in the air
which follows
the crack, crack, burst of the rifle.
The burning in my lungs and thighs
after a long distance run.
The rough, gravelly concrete beneath my palms
with the strenuous rhythm of push-up and down.
The off kilter of concrete
slabs beneath my back
as my stomach muscles contract
Lifting chest to knees.
The sound of angry voices
crude language on their lips.
The screeching voices echoing
“Failure, failure. You will never be
anything more.”

***

For several years after my discharge from the Army I wrestled with the sting of failure. It started with a wrongly diagnosed sprained ankle. I was treated for an invisible fracture, told to walk until it showed up on the X-ray. Because it was sprained, the pain went away after a few days and I continued to run and jump. But within a few hours, the pain returned but too late to go to the Doctor. Without a trip to the Dr I had to train and we were severely punished because one man did something stupid. I spent an entire Sunday afternoon doing squat thrusts (some people call them burpees) using only my opposite leg and ended up with a knee injury. From there the injuries collected: resulting in damage to both hips, both knees and that initial ankle. I training injured for 7 weeks and then the day came: the final PT test. I passed the push ups and sit-ups with no problem and then failed the 2-mile run by 3 seconds. I remember collapsing in defeat after that failure. A few days later I tried again and once again failed the 2-mile run by 3 seconds. A few days later I gave up trying and failed again by more than a minute. I told them I wanted to go home. To get permission to be discharged I had to meet one-on-one with the Captain. He told me that it cost the military $50,000 to get me to this point in training and because they spent that $50,000 on me instead of on resources for another Private out in the sandbox, he was dead. It was my fault another private was dead and here I was quitting. I was a failure.

Those words haunted me for a long while. I do not believe them now. And I no longer feel like my discharge represents a failure. Did I fail? Yes. Was it a failure? No. It was the right path for me. The five years I would have spent in the military would have radically changed who I am and how I see the world. I am thankful. Thankful for the injuries. Thankful for those 3 seconds. I don’t feel thankful for that Captain, but he was only doing his job to the best of his ability. I think I’ll pray for him tonight.

I’m thankful for the experience. I’m not sure I could explain why. But I am.

How about you? What experiences are you thankful for?

The one thing that never fails… emergencies

In Army basic training, drill sergeants launch CS gas (AKA tear gas, pepper spray) grenades into formations of recruits. There is a set procedure:

  • close your eyes
  • hold your breath
  • pull down your glasses (if applicable). If you’re wondering: they stay around your neck because of the geek strap!
  • open gas mask pocket
  • pull it out
  • put it to your face (it’s already prepped for quick use)
  • pull the straps over your head
  • tighten
  • blow out
  • breath in to test the seal.

The whole process should take less than 30 seconds. We practiced over and over before the first test.

I have a good memory for procedures, but I still panicked the first time the CS gas hit my face. It burns so badly. If you open your eyes you can’t see because of the tears. You can’t breath because your lungs and throat feel on fire. More snot pours out of your nose in a few seconds than you thought humanly possible.

8 years and I still can vividly remember it.

Sometimes when an emergency project hits and people begin to run around like crazy, I can see the cloud of CS smoke drifting away from a formation. And as it clears I can see the one thing that never failed: at least one person freaking out. No gas mask. Weapon abandoned. Arms flapping in the air. Tears pouring down their face and dripping to their knees.

And you know what? It puts it all into perspective.