I would venture to say that most moms have some moments in their life as moms that are their favorites. These are some of mine.
When they are sleeping.
Okay, I have more...let me think. Um....
Uh....
No, I'm just kidding. But that is towards the top of the list. Not just because while they are in dreamland there is no fighting, whining, begging, making a mess, making me crazy. But because they look young to me in their beds ensconced in their lovies and princess blankets, and I can fool myself into thinking that they are still little girls. They are going on 9 and 7 years old this year, and that is too close to 10. 10 sounds old to me....I know when they are 20, 10 will seem young and innocent. But from where I am sitting, ages 2 and 4 seems like just yesterday, and yet it seems so young. At 2 and 4 their days were filled with Dora and Elmo, art projects, toddler books and taking a bath for the 3rd time that day, because all they wanted to do was be in water and since they were contained and happy in the tub, sure, take another bath. They still thought I hung the moon at 2 and 4, and cried at the window when I left to go anywhere, even though we had been connected at the hip all day. They ate Cheerios and Goldfish for a snack and when they painted - which they loved - I had to strip them down to their unders because surely the paint would get everywhere. They played with pots, pans and stacked tupperware at my feet while I made dinner. Taylor required no less than 11 lullabies at night to calm down and stay in her bed, Bailey started drifting off after only 2 or 3. They were little.
Now they are big. But I'm not complaining, just remembering. Because they are older now, we have a lot of fun and life is certainly easier.
I digress. Some more favorite moments.
Going swimming.
Watching them figure out how to do something new, and seeing the pride and joy in their eyes for it.
Making cookies together.
Watching them play softball, they are so cute in their oversized team shirts. They look over at us and smile with missing teeth as they run the bases, and sometimes my little one will blow a kiss and it just makes me melt.
Watching them onstage when they sing for choir concerts at church or on Sunday morning.
Listening to them play together - when they're not fighting.
Seeing them hold hands, or protect each other.
Listening to them talk about their faith, and what it means to them.
Witnessing the people they are starting to become - tender, empathetic, strong girls who truly know how to love others.
These are just a few. I have to stop now, because Tatie is up and she doesn't like the sound of the keyboard clicking as I type.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
pure sweetness
It was one month ago our little one that wasn't to be, left me. I'm guessing this past month, and probably the month that I would have been due - November - will be the worst months, as far as grief. But it's really interesting something that I have learned about grief - it can be intertwined with the purest sweetness there is in this life.
When my dad died, my friends rallied around me. Unbeknownst to me, they made a schedule and took shifts checking on me, being with me. It was during this time of grief that my friendship with Kevin became deeper, more meaningful, more precious. He would lay with me on my bed - a top bunk in a dorm room no bigger than a closet - and just be with me as we watched movies or listened to music. Nothing physical ever happened, except sometimes some hand holding or I would lay my head on his chest - but the closeness I felt to him was special. It helped me, and it was pure sweetness intertwined with my grief.
With our baby loss, again friends rallied around me. Prayers, hugs, tears, cards, care packages, flowers, books, meals. We felt loved, we felt buoyed. It helped us get through it - there is no doubt about that and I don't know what I would have done without it. It has convinced me that in my lifetime, I must, I must be there for others in their times of need, as my dear ones were for me. It was pure sweetness.
This loss has also created a deeper closeness within my little family, especially within my relationship with Taylor. Tatie and I both took it the hardest I think, and we feel a kinship in that. We lay together a lot and talk about the baby, hold hands, sometimes pray, sometimes laugh with a tickle fight to break up the seriousness. Last week I had a particularly bad night. I had read them a book they have requested frequently, which was given to us by a good friend. It is a childrens' book about heaven, written from the perspective of a little boy who died and he says he actually went there and this is what he saw. I cried my way through it, I couldn't help it. It's a beautiful book and it paints such a lovely picture of what the future will bring for us, and what it is like for my little baby there now. I tucked in the girls and poured myself a big glass of wine and laid on the couch in the dark, crying. Tater came out and I hugged her and told her I was fine, go to bed honey. But then she asked if she could lay with me and listen to my heartbeat and I said yes...and she did and we both fell asleep. As I drifted off, smelling her freshly washed hair and touching her smooth forehead, I gave thanks for all I have, and I felt such peace. I was still sad, but I had joy, gratitude and love in my heart. Laying there with my daughter, the one who I used to pray would learn how to really love others and now her love was overflowing, was pure sweetness.
It's interesting to me how the heart can feel broken, and yet full of love at the same time. How is something broken yet full? Shattered but bursting? Maybe my heart isn't broken, maybe just torn...and there will always be a scar there. A jagged, noticeable scar that will make some people ask, "what is that from?" But more that, I hope my heart can continue to grow, continue to feel full with love for others. I want to honor my baby...that his or her life was important, not in vain. And that too, would be pure sweetness.
When my dad died, my friends rallied around me. Unbeknownst to me, they made a schedule and took shifts checking on me, being with me. It was during this time of grief that my friendship with Kevin became deeper, more meaningful, more precious. He would lay with me on my bed - a top bunk in a dorm room no bigger than a closet - and just be with me as we watched movies or listened to music. Nothing physical ever happened, except sometimes some hand holding or I would lay my head on his chest - but the closeness I felt to him was special. It helped me, and it was pure sweetness intertwined with my grief.
With our baby loss, again friends rallied around me. Prayers, hugs, tears, cards, care packages, flowers, books, meals. We felt loved, we felt buoyed. It helped us get through it - there is no doubt about that and I don't know what I would have done without it. It has convinced me that in my lifetime, I must, I must be there for others in their times of need, as my dear ones were for me. It was pure sweetness.
This loss has also created a deeper closeness within my little family, especially within my relationship with Taylor. Tatie and I both took it the hardest I think, and we feel a kinship in that. We lay together a lot and talk about the baby, hold hands, sometimes pray, sometimes laugh with a tickle fight to break up the seriousness. Last week I had a particularly bad night. I had read them a book they have requested frequently, which was given to us by a good friend. It is a childrens' book about heaven, written from the perspective of a little boy who died and he says he actually went there and this is what he saw. I cried my way through it, I couldn't help it. It's a beautiful book and it paints such a lovely picture of what the future will bring for us, and what it is like for my little baby there now. I tucked in the girls and poured myself a big glass of wine and laid on the couch in the dark, crying. Tater came out and I hugged her and told her I was fine, go to bed honey. But then she asked if she could lay with me and listen to my heartbeat and I said yes...and she did and we both fell asleep. As I drifted off, smelling her freshly washed hair and touching her smooth forehead, I gave thanks for all I have, and I felt such peace. I was still sad, but I had joy, gratitude and love in my heart. Laying there with my daughter, the one who I used to pray would learn how to really love others and now her love was overflowing, was pure sweetness.
It's interesting to me how the heart can feel broken, and yet full of love at the same time. How is something broken yet full? Shattered but bursting? Maybe my heart isn't broken, maybe just torn...and there will always be a scar there. A jagged, noticeable scar that will make some people ask, "what is that from?" But more that, I hope my heart can continue to grow, continue to feel full with love for others. I want to honor my baby...that his or her life was important, not in vain. And that too, would be pure sweetness.
Friday, May 11, 2012
I Am Mom Enough
My facebook news feed has been lit up with mom bloggers I follow, ranting about the picture on the TIME magazine cover that comes out today - a woman standing with her four year old nursing off of one of her breasts. The magazine titled it, "Are You Mom Enough?". Women are outraged over the picture - especially the attachment parenting moms who nurse for an extended period of time, saying that once again, our country has poked fun of something that should be accepted as natural and healthy. More women are outraged over the question they ask. I'm not really outraged, I don't really care, but I thought in honor of Mother's Day, I would answer that question for them.
Being a mom is really hard. None of the details matter. If you have the "perfect" family of a boy and a girl, a husband that worships you and makes tons of money, a big house that you can afford and don't have to clean yourself, and all of the other "perfects" like a great school, helpful and friendly neighbors, supportive family, and a body that is none the worse for wear after pregnancy, childbirth, nursing and eating your kids leftover chicken nuggets...IT IS STILL HARD. Your kids will still fight with each other, your toddler will still want to sit on your lap when you pee, your baby will still cry when you hand him over to a sitter to get your hair done, your husband will still want affection from you even though you feel like all you have been doing all day is touching, loving, playing, hugging, kissing boo-boos, calming, swaying, bouncing, and rocking. You will still cry yourself to sleep at night wondering if you are ruining your children and your future grandchildren for life because you yelled, again, even though you prayed you wouldn't. You will still wonder if you have what it takes to raise them to be responsible, generous, loving individuals who can make it in this harsh world...and you will read stories of families that did everything "right" and they still have a son that's a mass murderer. This also, will keep you up at night, right along with the baby that likes to eat every few hours. And you will wonder why for decades there has been a phrase "sleep when the baby sleeps" because first, it seems the baby never sleeps and when he/she does, you are rushing around like a mad woman trying to do things like, I don't know, shower and poop. This mom prays that everything she can give her child, from the $1000 birthday parties to the love-notes in their lunchboxes, will be enough.
It is even harder for the mom who has none of the 'perfects' of the aforementioned mom. This mom is doing it alone, the dad got a free pass. Oh sure he's supposed to pay up, but he's no where to be found. This mom has to juggle child care while she works, and she owes much more than she makes. She knows she doesn't live in a safe town, she knows she feeds her kids cheap, processed junk...but the money she makes can't go to Whole Foods or Trader Joe's, it's got to go towards trying to keep a roof over their heads. This mom loses sleep wondering if her children will go to bed hungry again tomorrow night, or worrying if her babies are warm enough because they can't afford heat. This mom prays that her whispers of love in her children's ears, her promises of a better life soon, her hugs and kisses before she drops them off with a childcare worker she hopes she can trust...this mom prays that it will be enough.
What about the mothers that are mothers already in their hearts, but their bodies just can't seem to get pregnant, sustain a pregnancy. They are still mothers, will their baby ever come? These women are brave and strong, who do amazing things like go to the grocery store and watch as a mom disciplines her child harshly as he begs for a cookie. She thinks she'd never stop giving her son cookies, if she only could. Or how about rsvp-ing Yes to that baby shower invite of an old friend who used to say she never wanted kids, but the birth control didn't work and now she's having twins. This mom would give anything, and is trying everything, to be able to feel life grow inside of her and give birth to a baby that is lifted to her chest to nurse and thrive. She knows women visit abortion clinics every day and she wishes she could talk just one of them into having that baby, and giving it to her to love. She loses sleep each night thinking of all the unwanted babies in this world, and wondering why she can't seem to have any. This mom prays unceasingly that God will give her a baby, and she hopes that He thinks she is enough to give her one.
It is also hard, so hard, for the mothers who have lost a baby, or even many babies...their arms are empty and their hearts are broken. They wonder what they did wrong, they wonder if they are being punished. This mom wonders if her baby even knew how much he was loved, and wanted. This mom prays and hopes that God hears, and will tell her baby over and over again that he is missed, and loved, with every breath, every day. She cries herself to sleep, clutching the baby blanket that never held a baby, as she thinks of how old he or she would be, what would they have done that day together? Gone to the playground or the beach? Would her child have had brown eyes or blue, blonde hair or brown? This mom hopes that her belief that she will see her baby again in Heaven is enough to get her through this life.
No matter what kind of mom you are, it is not easy being a mother. Shame on you, Time magazine, for questioning us. We are far too busy questioning ourselves. We are far too busy questioning each other, when we should be affirming, supporting and loving each other. Indeed there are moms out there who don't do right by their children, and that is a tragedy. But I think the majority really are trying...but there is not a book out there that can tell us exactly what to do or say on any given day, because no one else lives our life, with our children. We are all unique, with different gifts and challenges.
Happy Mother's Day moms...you are enough.
Being a mom is really hard. None of the details matter. If you have the "perfect" family of a boy and a girl, a husband that worships you and makes tons of money, a big house that you can afford and don't have to clean yourself, and all of the other "perfects" like a great school, helpful and friendly neighbors, supportive family, and a body that is none the worse for wear after pregnancy, childbirth, nursing and eating your kids leftover chicken nuggets...IT IS STILL HARD. Your kids will still fight with each other, your toddler will still want to sit on your lap when you pee, your baby will still cry when you hand him over to a sitter to get your hair done, your husband will still want affection from you even though you feel like all you have been doing all day is touching, loving, playing, hugging, kissing boo-boos, calming, swaying, bouncing, and rocking. You will still cry yourself to sleep at night wondering if you are ruining your children and your future grandchildren for life because you yelled, again, even though you prayed you wouldn't. You will still wonder if you have what it takes to raise them to be responsible, generous, loving individuals who can make it in this harsh world...and you will read stories of families that did everything "right" and they still have a son that's a mass murderer. This also, will keep you up at night, right along with the baby that likes to eat every few hours. And you will wonder why for decades there has been a phrase "sleep when the baby sleeps" because first, it seems the baby never sleeps and when he/she does, you are rushing around like a mad woman trying to do things like, I don't know, shower and poop. This mom prays that everything she can give her child, from the $1000 birthday parties to the love-notes in their lunchboxes, will be enough.
It is even harder for the mom who has none of the 'perfects' of the aforementioned mom. This mom is doing it alone, the dad got a free pass. Oh sure he's supposed to pay up, but he's no where to be found. This mom has to juggle child care while she works, and she owes much more than she makes. She knows she doesn't live in a safe town, she knows she feeds her kids cheap, processed junk...but the money she makes can't go to Whole Foods or Trader Joe's, it's got to go towards trying to keep a roof over their heads. This mom loses sleep wondering if her children will go to bed hungry again tomorrow night, or worrying if her babies are warm enough because they can't afford heat. This mom prays that her whispers of love in her children's ears, her promises of a better life soon, her hugs and kisses before she drops them off with a childcare worker she hopes she can trust...this mom prays that it will be enough.
What about the mothers that are mothers already in their hearts, but their bodies just can't seem to get pregnant, sustain a pregnancy. They are still mothers, will their baby ever come? These women are brave and strong, who do amazing things like go to the grocery store and watch as a mom disciplines her child harshly as he begs for a cookie. She thinks she'd never stop giving her son cookies, if she only could. Or how about rsvp-ing Yes to that baby shower invite of an old friend who used to say she never wanted kids, but the birth control didn't work and now she's having twins. This mom would give anything, and is trying everything, to be able to feel life grow inside of her and give birth to a baby that is lifted to her chest to nurse and thrive. She knows women visit abortion clinics every day and she wishes she could talk just one of them into having that baby, and giving it to her to love. She loses sleep each night thinking of all the unwanted babies in this world, and wondering why she can't seem to have any. This mom prays unceasingly that God will give her a baby, and she hopes that He thinks she is enough to give her one.
It is also hard, so hard, for the mothers who have lost a baby, or even many babies...their arms are empty and their hearts are broken. They wonder what they did wrong, they wonder if they are being punished. This mom wonders if her baby even knew how much he was loved, and wanted. This mom prays and hopes that God hears, and will tell her baby over and over again that he is missed, and loved, with every breath, every day. She cries herself to sleep, clutching the baby blanket that never held a baby, as she thinks of how old he or she would be, what would they have done that day together? Gone to the playground or the beach? Would her child have had brown eyes or blue, blonde hair or brown? This mom hopes that her belief that she will see her baby again in Heaven is enough to get her through this life.
No matter what kind of mom you are, it is not easy being a mother. Shame on you, Time magazine, for questioning us. We are far too busy questioning ourselves. We are far too busy questioning each other, when we should be affirming, supporting and loving each other. Indeed there are moms out there who don't do right by their children, and that is a tragedy. But I think the majority really are trying...but there is not a book out there that can tell us exactly what to do or say on any given day, because no one else lives our life, with our children. We are all unique, with different gifts and challenges.
Happy Mother's Day moms...you are enough.
 |
| These 2 precious girls, plus one in heaven, made me a mother. |
Friday, May 4, 2012
a how-we-are-doing kind of post, and telling the girls
Well, it's been 3 weeks since we learned our baby was an angel baby. It feels like 3 years and I'm not kidding. There have been hours of crying and grieving, but also an underlaying sense of gratitude within my family. Kevin and I have always been thankful to have our girls, but this loss has made their lives even more precious to us, even more miraculous. Not to say I still haven't yelled at them about their fighting or leaving clothes and toys all over the house! :)
Bailey is doing pretty well, although I have realized that how she handles sorrow is to make like it's not there most of the time. I'm not sure how I feel about that - on one hand, of course I totally get it, and I do it myself. I have a lot of memories/issues about a person/season in my life, and most of the time, I just really don't address it. I feel like it's done, there's nothing I can do about it and I don't want it to impact my life except to learn from it. On the other hand, I don't want her to repress emotions. So I ask her every few days hows she's doing and if she wants to talk about anything - and that's when she usually tells me something like a boy in her class defended her while another boy said she's the most annoying girl he's ever met. As a family, we pray every morning and when it's her turn she sometimes says something about the baby, sometimes she doesn't. A few times she has said something like, "I miss our baby" but then quickly goes on to something else.
Taylor is a totally different cat. (and if you know her, you know she'd love being called a cat, because she wishes she was one.) She talks about the baby a lot, and likes to lay with me and read the few childrens books I was given written from a child's perspective as they deal with miscarriage. She and I hold hands and cry, and she asks questions that I don't really have the answer to, and she asks them over and over. "Will we have another baby...Why was I born and this baby wasn't....Did this baby have brown eyes like me or blue and green like you...Will this baby be a baby in heaven or a kid I can play with..." Our talks sound stressful, but they're actually healing and peaceful...I can't explain it. But it does hurt me incredibly, knowing my girls have this life lesson, this sadness happen to them. Last week when I was babysitting, Taylor ended up coming home from school (after 5 minutes there) and being with me and the little guy, who's 2. We went to the playground and as the three of us held hands crossing the street, she whispered, "I have a great idea Mommy, let's pretend he's ours today, he's our baby." It's moments like that, where I feel my heart actually pinch and I mourn for my sweet Tatie and her tenderness, her wishes, her pain just stops me in my tracks.
When we told them, we picked them up from my in-laws and took them to Kevin's old church where they have a memorial garden that's beautiful, with a bench and a cross. We had called my in-laws and told them, but asked them to please not tell the girls. We wanted to do it, and we wanted to do it in a place where they wouldn't have to be again if they didn't want to. When the girls got in the car they asked where we were going, and what was going on, they were onto us. Thankfully, the church is only a few blocks away and we told them we wanted to talk and show them such a pretty church.
When we got there, I sat on the bench and held them, as Kevin stood and cried. They were saying, "what, what, Mommy? What Daddy?" and I just started weeping and said, "Girls, look at this cross. That cross is where Jesus died for us, he loves us so much!!! He loves us, remember that. He is always the same, no matter what happens, he loves us and he never changes." Then I said, "girls, our baby, it is an angel baby, I'm so sorry!! Our baby isn't going to come out of my tummy, it went back to heaven." They both said, "NO!" and buried themselves crying against me and we all just hugged each other and cried. They asked how I knew, and I told them the doctor took a picture inside my tummy and it showed our baby's heart had stopped, so it had to go back to Heaven. I said I don't know why, but God needed our baby back and I just couldn't stop saying I was sorry.
Throughout these last few weeks, I still feel so sorry. I do think something was wrong with the baby - from the beginning this pregnancy was different than my others, and the baby didn't grow date-wise as it should have been. By April 12, I should have been around 11 weeks along, based on when I probably got my last period in January (couldn't remember the date). But I was only 8 weeks, and they deduced that I just ovulated really late in my cycle, and conceived much later than the typical day 14 ovulation window that most women conceive in, give or take days. At the time I thought it was a miracle gift, and God just really wanted us to have this baby...it sounds bad to say that I don't think that now, but here we are, no gift. After I saw the heartbeat I was so comforted, statistically miscarriage goes way down...but I guess there was something wrong and the baby just couldn't survive. I feel like it was a big tease, and now we all feel a big letdown. And I keep wondering if I hadn't have been so stressed - taking on a new job, packing up my kitchen and everything on the floors to get work done to our house to sell, worrying about money - would the baby have been ok? If I didn't accidentally eat a turkey sandwich before they told me no uncooked lunchmeat? What was I doing at that exact moment when my baby's heart stopped? What made it stop?
All that to say, it makes me sound like I am not doing well. Actually I think I am. I started the new job, I love my redone house and have enjoyed cooking again in my new kitchen, I have gone out with friends and laughed. I tuck my girls in at night and tickle them silly and sing them to sleep. Kevin and I have gotten even closer and I soak up my time with him. I have gone out in public when all I feel like doing is being a hermit in my house and watching comedy movies...and that makes me feel brave and strong, because it almost feels impossible.
So lots of words, to say we are healing, we are loving, we are thankful but still sad.
Friday, April 20, 2012
part 3
In my previous post I tried to explain how in the beginning of the pregnancy we weren't sure what was going on because I wasn't measuring as far along I should have been based on my dates. On March 29, when we saw that the sac had grown and there was a heartbeat, my doctor assessed that I just must have conceived really late in my cycle, and everything was now "normal." The date that they gave me as when I would have probably conceived made sense, although to be honest with you, I couldn't remember :) But because I can't be on hormonal birth control like the pill/shot, etc, our method is this - first week of cycle and the week I am expecting my period are the live-it-up weeks, and the weeks in between are the we-have-to-be-careful weeks. It has worked since Tatie blessed us with her presence...
Anyway, I was so thankful God had chosen to create, and it just made me reflect on how He is so much in control. We had a due date of the week before Thanksgiving (Nov 16), and already we couldn't wait to find out if our little turkey was a boy or girl. As I said earlier, my lack of similar symptoms (read: vomiting/heaving several times a day and I never spotted) that I had with the girls made me think it was a boy, but part of me thought don't we just make girls? I envisioned that little one in my arms asleep as we sat around the table at Thanksgiving and cuddled up in a beautiful blanket, warm and cozy in a carrier at our feet for Christmas Eve church service. I was just so, so overwhelmed with gratefulness.
But...part of me knew I think. I never worried I would lose the girls. I just didn't, I don't know why. For years before marriage (and I married at 21, so we're talking teenage years!!) my greatest fear was that I would be infertile. Then, my babies came so easily (we never tried) so I just thought - everyone has their hardships in life, including me, but that wasn't one of them. I was so thankful for that!! I just never thought I would lose a baby. But with this one, every time I went to the bathroom I would check for any spotting, even though I had only spotted a few times. I would breathe a sigh of relief and think, "yes, stay in there little one, grow..." and I never thought like that when I was pregnant with the girls. Why was I so scared? I had a beautiful plaque I had found years ago at HomeGoods that said "God Bless This Baby" and I had been saving it to give to someone that would like it, it was kind of old-fashioned looking...I took it out and put it on my dresser and everytime I saw it I'd say a prayer of protection and thankfulness.
The week of spring break I was staying at my in-laws house because our home was having all of the flooring redone and the kitchen. On April 11, a Wednesday evening going into Thursday April 12, I had terrible cramping all night long along with spotting again. I hadn't spotted for a few weeks, and this time the spotting was a bit more and on the morning of the 12th, I saw red.
You never want to see red.
I called the doctor, but I really already knew. Our appointment was at 2pm and Kevin met me there. My MIL had the girls, thank God. My cramping was so bad but I was scared to take anything bc what if everything was okay, maybe my uterus was just really growing? Google said it was a possible reason for the cramping and spotting, but I knew.
Finally, FINALLY, the doctor comes in. I had waited for an hour and I thought Kevin was going to punch someone. I was curled on my side laying on the table crying when she came in, and she inserted the metal speculum (you guys know I'm not a big curser on my blog but what the fuck is up with that. Really, metal?! They can't invent something that can crank open the walls of your vagina that maybe is smooth and plastic?! A man is in charge of this by the way, no doubt. You think if a man had a vagina they wouldn't have found something better yet?! Someday, I hope my girls only see a picture of such a thing, and they think, "wow, it used to be so barbaric...thank goodness I don't have to have one of those things come anywhere near me").
I digress. It's my blog, I can if I want to.
So anyway, she cranked, it hurt like hell, and she saw the spotting. She didn't say what I wanted her to, which was "your cervix looks nice and closed" as I had heard my few other visits. She got the rolling prehistoric ultrasound cart, and said that she could see the sac, but it wasn't as big as it should be and couldn't see the heartbeat. I was crying already but it got worse, and Kevin cried too bless his heart. Then, because our insurance is a sweetheart (and we don't even have Obamacare yet!) we had to go to a different location (even though they have one right there) to get a higher tech ultrasound to confirm the loss. Our appointment wasn't until 5:30 but I was crying at check-in and the woman knew why I was there, and said she had been through this too and that I would be okay. I thought, no I won't, I'll never be okay again. Anyway, she said she'd try to get us in asap, and we were in about 15 minutes later, 4-something I guess. I was at a different u/s place this time, and so had a different tech. She didn't say a word, and told me my doctor would have to give me the results so I'd have to get back in the damn car and wait again at the office.
It was a lovely experience, going back and forth, in tremendous physical and emotional pain, crying in front of old people at the imaging center just getting a scan of their broken hip or whatever, and then in front of about 50 pregnant women at our dr office, who weren't finding out that day that their baby died, and thanking God they weren't me.
Back at the office our dr brought us to a consult room (aka "you will hear bad news here") and told us that the baby had died, it didn't have a heartbeat. Her words were really just a formality, bc I knew, but you still hold out a bit of hope I guess until you hear it for real, bc more tears started flowing, harder, and Kevin looked like someone stabbed his stomach. She then said the sac was low, and bc I was already in such pain my miscarriage was probably imminent and I could either go naturally or I could get a d&c. I chose to go natural - just meaning letting my body do it, bc I took a full dose of Advil and Percocet the minute the prescription was filled.
This was April 12, which I have not mentioned yet was Kevin's 33rd birthday. In the car after our appointment outside the CVS while Kevin was filling that Rx for me, I called 2 of my friends who knew I was going for that appointment and were praying for me. I told them I lost the baby, and they were both crying, and they let me yell and one of the things I said was, "tell me, doesn't it seem downright cruel of God, that He has taken our baby away and it is Kevin's BIRTHDAY?!" and she said, "yes, honey, yes it does seem cruel..." And it did.
We called our parents, which was one of the worst things I've ever done. But the worst was to come, telling our precious, innocent girls. That will have to be another post.
It is April 20 today, over a week since that has happened. Already I have felt comfort and healing, so although my emotions as I write this blog seem raw and angry - and they are - I have about a million emotions, that yes, encompass feelings like confusion, sadness, rage but also...acceptance, hope, and a lot, A LOT of love.
just didn't want you to think I was going to go all metal-speculum on someone and do some damage. I am okay, and our family is struggling but healing, already. We've already had some laughter again, and joy. Isn't that amazing, as a week ago, I wondered if for the rest of my life I would feel incomplete and sad.
I just wish I had my baby.
Anyway, I was so thankful God had chosen to create, and it just made me reflect on how He is so much in control. We had a due date of the week before Thanksgiving (Nov 16), and already we couldn't wait to find out if our little turkey was a boy or girl. As I said earlier, my lack of similar symptoms (read: vomiting/heaving several times a day and I never spotted) that I had with the girls made me think it was a boy, but part of me thought don't we just make girls? I envisioned that little one in my arms asleep as we sat around the table at Thanksgiving and cuddled up in a beautiful blanket, warm and cozy in a carrier at our feet for Christmas Eve church service. I was just so, so overwhelmed with gratefulness.
But...part of me knew I think. I never worried I would lose the girls. I just didn't, I don't know why. For years before marriage (and I married at 21, so we're talking teenage years!!) my greatest fear was that I would be infertile. Then, my babies came so easily (we never tried) so I just thought - everyone has their hardships in life, including me, but that wasn't one of them. I was so thankful for that!! I just never thought I would lose a baby. But with this one, every time I went to the bathroom I would check for any spotting, even though I had only spotted a few times. I would breathe a sigh of relief and think, "yes, stay in there little one, grow..." and I never thought like that when I was pregnant with the girls. Why was I so scared? I had a beautiful plaque I had found years ago at HomeGoods that said "God Bless This Baby" and I had been saving it to give to someone that would like it, it was kind of old-fashioned looking...I took it out and put it on my dresser and everytime I saw it I'd say a prayer of protection and thankfulness.
The week of spring break I was staying at my in-laws house because our home was having all of the flooring redone and the kitchen. On April 11, a Wednesday evening going into Thursday April 12, I had terrible cramping all night long along with spotting again. I hadn't spotted for a few weeks, and this time the spotting was a bit more and on the morning of the 12th, I saw red.
You never want to see red.
I called the doctor, but I really already knew. Our appointment was at 2pm and Kevin met me there. My MIL had the girls, thank God. My cramping was so bad but I was scared to take anything bc what if everything was okay, maybe my uterus was just really growing? Google said it was a possible reason for the cramping and spotting, but I knew.
Finally, FINALLY, the doctor comes in. I had waited for an hour and I thought Kevin was going to punch someone. I was curled on my side laying on the table crying when she came in, and she inserted the metal speculum (you guys know I'm not a big curser on my blog but what the fuck is up with that. Really, metal?! They can't invent something that can crank open the walls of your vagina that maybe is smooth and plastic?! A man is in charge of this by the way, no doubt. You think if a man had a vagina they wouldn't have found something better yet?! Someday, I hope my girls only see a picture of such a thing, and they think, "wow, it used to be so barbaric...thank goodness I don't have to have one of those things come anywhere near me").
I digress. It's my blog, I can if I want to.
So anyway, she cranked, it hurt like hell, and she saw the spotting. She didn't say what I wanted her to, which was "your cervix looks nice and closed" as I had heard my few other visits. She got the rolling prehistoric ultrasound cart, and said that she could see the sac, but it wasn't as big as it should be and couldn't see the heartbeat. I was crying already but it got worse, and Kevin cried too bless his heart. Then, because our insurance is a sweetheart (and we don't even have Obamacare yet!) we had to go to a different location (even though they have one right there) to get a higher tech ultrasound to confirm the loss. Our appointment wasn't until 5:30 but I was crying at check-in and the woman knew why I was there, and said she had been through this too and that I would be okay. I thought, no I won't, I'll never be okay again. Anyway, she said she'd try to get us in asap, and we were in about 15 minutes later, 4-something I guess. I was at a different u/s place this time, and so had a different tech. She didn't say a word, and told me my doctor would have to give me the results so I'd have to get back in the damn car and wait again at the office.
It was a lovely experience, going back and forth, in tremendous physical and emotional pain, crying in front of old people at the imaging center just getting a scan of their broken hip or whatever, and then in front of about 50 pregnant women at our dr office, who weren't finding out that day that their baby died, and thanking God they weren't me.
Back at the office our dr brought us to a consult room (aka "you will hear bad news here") and told us that the baby had died, it didn't have a heartbeat. Her words were really just a formality, bc I knew, but you still hold out a bit of hope I guess until you hear it for real, bc more tears started flowing, harder, and Kevin looked like someone stabbed his stomach. She then said the sac was low, and bc I was already in such pain my miscarriage was probably imminent and I could either go naturally or I could get a d&c. I chose to go natural - just meaning letting my body do it, bc I took a full dose of Advil and Percocet the minute the prescription was filled.
This was April 12, which I have not mentioned yet was Kevin's 33rd birthday. In the car after our appointment outside the CVS while Kevin was filling that Rx for me, I called 2 of my friends who knew I was going for that appointment and were praying for me. I told them I lost the baby, and they were both crying, and they let me yell and one of the things I said was, "tell me, doesn't it seem downright cruel of God, that He has taken our baby away and it is Kevin's BIRTHDAY?!" and she said, "yes, honey, yes it does seem cruel..." And it did.
We called our parents, which was one of the worst things I've ever done. But the worst was to come, telling our precious, innocent girls. That will have to be another post.
It is April 20 today, over a week since that has happened. Already I have felt comfort and healing, so although my emotions as I write this blog seem raw and angry - and they are - I have about a million emotions, that yes, encompass feelings like confusion, sadness, rage but also...acceptance, hope, and a lot, A LOT of love.
just didn't want you to think I was going to go all metal-speculum on someone and do some damage. I am okay, and our family is struggling but healing, already. We've already had some laughter again, and joy. Isn't that amazing, as a week ago, I wondered if for the rest of my life I would feel incomplete and sad.
I just wish I had my baby.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
part 2
So I left off at March 8, a Thursday evening when we found out we were expecting. Overnight, shock and fear gave way to excitement, thankfulness and joy. I wasn't thinking about what if the baby had CF or some other special need, although yes that was in the back of my mind of course off and on, but really I was thinking about having another chance. Another opportunity to hold a precious, sweet baby that smelled like Johnson's baby shampoo. Another chance to nurse - and of course this time I wouldn't give the baby a bottle at all...well, not unless I was really tired and we had some free formula laying around :) Another opportunity to be the only one in the world that can comfort your baby...and even though you're tired, it gives you a little surge of pride that there is one person who wants you the most of all. Another chance to hear those baby gurgles and first "mama." Another chance to get it right.
So the next day I made an appointment at my doctor's office. They scheduled me for 2 weeks out, and I wondered how I would last that long. We told my mom that day, bc I can't keep anything from her, and a few days later when Kevin's parents got back from a trip, we told them and my brother and sister in law. Everyone was shocked and happy, and we were on cloud 9, especially the girls. A little piece of me was starting to say uh-oh though...because I didn't feel horribly sick like I did with the girls, and I had felt ill with them right away. I would joke that I conceived and threw up on my way to the bathroom. So I would think, maybe it's a boy and that's why it's different...and thinking of maybe having a boy excited me for Kevin. I love girls, and would have loved another, but the thought of Kevin getting to have a little fella made me smile just thinking about it. But we held back telling many people, because even though by then I had taken maybe 6 positive pregnancy tests, I just wanted to see or hear the little heartbeat first, make it real. Not throwing up made it seem unreal, since being sick characterized my 2 prior pregnancies. The few people we did tell were so ecstatic for us that it was hard to not shout it from the rooftops. And of course although we asked the girls to keep a secret, we knew they couldn't help but "accidentally" tell once in awhile, especially at school.
So a week went by and I called the dr and asked to have the appointment moved up because I was worried about the pregnancy. I did feel really tired, nauseous, and if you are a woman that's been pregnant, you understand when I say my boobs felt like they were run over by a truck. But something, something, wasn't right. And a few times I spotted, very light and a pink color never red, but I never spotted with the girls. So off I went to the dr.
The first question they ask, which I knew they would, is when was your last period. Hmm. I remember when my period was the month before last, bc it was Christmas week and I had toslip squeeze into a Spanx and dress for my brother-in-law's wedding and who could forget that wonderful Christmas present of your period during all that. But I couldn't remember when it was in late January, so I guesstimated, and that's when things got not-fun. They did an internal scan and couldn't see a sac, which bc I should've been 6-7 weeks by then, should have shown at least. So I had to make an appointment to get a higer tech ultrasound done.
I did, and they found a sac. I had my blood checked and then rechecked, and while my HCG did go up over 48 hours, from 7000 to 10200, it didn't fully double. I had a bad feeling about that, although they said that many women take up to 4 days to fully double, bc with the girls my HCG was so hight that in fact with Taylor they had me come in for a scan to check for more babies hiding out in there. But again, I thought maybe it's a boy this time, and I'm 7 years older so perhaps it's just going to be a different pregnancy. We still weren't telling most people and I felt like we were in limbo...living out our daily lives yet thinking about this precious baby nonstop, and just wanting to see that heartbeat.
A few weeks later, on Thursday March 29, I had the appointment where we hoped to see growth and hopefully a heartbeat. In the car before going in to my appointment, I prayed...which was hard to do because I knew God already knew the outcome, and I wasn't sure how I was going to feel about Him if I didn't get the answer I wanted. My beliefs tell me to praise even in the pit...and I thought, if I end up in the pit how can I praise? I've praised after the pit, but in? But I did pray...I prayed for life, and I prayed that God would help my heart if I received bad news. I wrote on the back of a grocery list the words from Hebrews 13:8, a verse I love that brings me considerable comfort - Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever. I put it on my dashboard so it would be the first thing I saw getting back in the car after the appointment.
I was immediately relieved that I had the same ultrasound tech as before, because I really liked her. During the scan, I didn't look, I closed my eyes and just breathed. When she said, "look..." I knew. I knew!!! And there, there it was, what I wanted so desperately to see, that little flutter that says, "I'm here Mommy, I'm growing!!" And I just started bawling. I told her how we had told the girls - in preparation in case we received bad news and we didn't want to shock them - that some babies that start in mommies tummies, are called back to heaven. The girls then had been praying that our baby wouldn't end up an angelbaby, but a baby for us to have here. When they would pray that, my heart would just...long for the fulfillment of their prayers. I would think, "hear them God, please don't disappoint such precious, innocent little girls..." I was so thankful, so joyful...I felt incredible.
After the scan, I opened the door to see Kevin pacing through another door (they don't let husbands in, a bad rule if you ask me) and I gave him the thumbs up sign. When I got to him I said, "hurry, let's get outside" because I could tell he wanted the details but I knew I'd lose it again. We got outside and I jumped on him and was crying again, so joyful for our unexpected baby gift from God, that was here and growing and living. We called our parents and I got back in my van and saw the verse. I said a prayer of thankfulness that I didn't need to cling to that verse as a lifeline. I drove home singing to music and laughing out loud, like a kid amped on sugar.
That was March 29. We had a lot of fun sharing our good news that weekend with everyone, and that was really special. We talked about names, we made plans to prep our house to sell and move to a bigger home, we talked about our life as a family of five. That joy followed us until April 12, also a Thursday, 2 weeks later when instead of singing out of joy as I did 2 weeks earlier, I wept with such an intense pain that my face actually felt broken. Along with my heart.
more later.
So the next day I made an appointment at my doctor's office. They scheduled me for 2 weeks out, and I wondered how I would last that long. We told my mom that day, bc I can't keep anything from her, and a few days later when Kevin's parents got back from a trip, we told them and my brother and sister in law. Everyone was shocked and happy, and we were on cloud 9, especially the girls. A little piece of me was starting to say uh-oh though...because I didn't feel horribly sick like I did with the girls, and I had felt ill with them right away. I would joke that I conceived and threw up on my way to the bathroom. So I would think, maybe it's a boy and that's why it's different...and thinking of maybe having a boy excited me for Kevin. I love girls, and would have loved another, but the thought of Kevin getting to have a little fella made me smile just thinking about it. But we held back telling many people, because even though by then I had taken maybe 6 positive pregnancy tests, I just wanted to see or hear the little heartbeat first, make it real. Not throwing up made it seem unreal, since being sick characterized my 2 prior pregnancies. The few people we did tell were so ecstatic for us that it was hard to not shout it from the rooftops. And of course although we asked the girls to keep a secret, we knew they couldn't help but "accidentally" tell once in awhile, especially at school.
So a week went by and I called the dr and asked to have the appointment moved up because I was worried about the pregnancy. I did feel really tired, nauseous, and if you are a woman that's been pregnant, you understand when I say my boobs felt like they were run over by a truck. But something, something, wasn't right. And a few times I spotted, very light and a pink color never red, but I never spotted with the girls. So off I went to the dr.
The first question they ask, which I knew they would, is when was your last period. Hmm. I remember when my period was the month before last, bc it was Christmas week and I had to
I did, and they found a sac. I had my blood checked and then rechecked, and while my HCG did go up over 48 hours, from 7000 to 10200, it didn't fully double. I had a bad feeling about that, although they said that many women take up to 4 days to fully double, bc with the girls my HCG was so hight that in fact with Taylor they had me come in for a scan to check for more babies hiding out in there. But again, I thought maybe it's a boy this time, and I'm 7 years older so perhaps it's just going to be a different pregnancy. We still weren't telling most people and I felt like we were in limbo...living out our daily lives yet thinking about this precious baby nonstop, and just wanting to see that heartbeat.
A few weeks later, on Thursday March 29, I had the appointment where we hoped to see growth and hopefully a heartbeat. In the car before going in to my appointment, I prayed...which was hard to do because I knew God already knew the outcome, and I wasn't sure how I was going to feel about Him if I didn't get the answer I wanted. My beliefs tell me to praise even in the pit...and I thought, if I end up in the pit how can I praise? I've praised after the pit, but in? But I did pray...I prayed for life, and I prayed that God would help my heart if I received bad news. I wrote on the back of a grocery list the words from Hebrews 13:8, a verse I love that brings me considerable comfort - Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever. I put it on my dashboard so it would be the first thing I saw getting back in the car after the appointment.
I was immediately relieved that I had the same ultrasound tech as before, because I really liked her. During the scan, I didn't look, I closed my eyes and just breathed. When she said, "look..." I knew. I knew!!! And there, there it was, what I wanted so desperately to see, that little flutter that says, "I'm here Mommy, I'm growing!!" And I just started bawling. I told her how we had told the girls - in preparation in case we received bad news and we didn't want to shock them - that some babies that start in mommies tummies, are called back to heaven. The girls then had been praying that our baby wouldn't end up an angelbaby, but a baby for us to have here. When they would pray that, my heart would just...long for the fulfillment of their prayers. I would think, "hear them God, please don't disappoint such precious, innocent little girls..." I was so thankful, so joyful...I felt incredible.
After the scan, I opened the door to see Kevin pacing through another door (they don't let husbands in, a bad rule if you ask me) and I gave him the thumbs up sign. When I got to him I said, "hurry, let's get outside" because I could tell he wanted the details but I knew I'd lose it again. We got outside and I jumped on him and was crying again, so joyful for our unexpected baby gift from God, that was here and growing and living. We called our parents and I got back in my van and saw the verse. I said a prayer of thankfulness that I didn't need to cling to that verse as a lifeline. I drove home singing to music and laughing out loud, like a kid amped on sugar.
That was March 29. We had a lot of fun sharing our good news that weekend with everyone, and that was really special. We talked about names, we made plans to prep our house to sell and move to a bigger home, we talked about our life as a family of five. That joy followed us until April 12, also a Thursday, 2 weeks later when instead of singing out of joy as I did 2 weeks earlier, I wept with such an intense pain that my face actually felt broken. Along with my heart.
more later.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
from the beginning, part 1
I haven't written about our surprise baby on the blog, so I thought I would tell the story today - more for me than anyone else. I'll start at the beginning and probably do it in a few parts - bc it will be too long for you the reader, and too intense and emotional for me the writer.
At the beginning of March, I took a pregnancy test. We hadn't been trying - the opposite of trying - but I was late and had a day of not feeling right. It was negative. Kevin and I did a happy dance and I told him I felt like we dodged a bullet, and it showed me I didn't want to go back to the beginning, I didn't want to worry about the health of this child, I didn't want to move, I was ready to work more outside the home, (and actually have money!!) etc. Kevin has been more than willing for years to get a V, but I was the hold-out, saying we are young, let's wait until I'm 35. In the meantime, we'll try to not get pregnant but if God wants the opportunity to create in us, who are we to stop Him.
But the rush of emotions - happy, thankful emotions - seeing the test was negative showed me (or so I thought) that I didn't want to have another, we just couldn't. Shouldn't.
Truth be told, there was the absolute faintest hint of a positive test line, but in my mind I told myself that's the shadow of the line that would appear for someone who's actually pregnant. But we were safe, life would continue as normal. Normal, safe. Those 2 things felt good to me.
So I waited for my period, which seemed to be on hiatus. The following week, I woke up one night feeling nauseous, but figured it was because I had babysat for a family that just had a stomach bug. But a friend on fb asking if I was pregnant, so I thought, ok I'll take another test.
Positive.
My heart starting beating out of my chest. I had bought the kind for dummies, so it actually said 'Pregnant' on it. I paced my tiny bathroom, and knew I couldn't keep a secret from Kevin for 2 seconds, so I asked him to come out on the deck with me. We had just had dinner out there, so he thought I just wanted to keep talking. Poor men, they don't know what's about to hit them half the time.
I showed him the test and started crying. He jumped up and started pulling his hair, talking about being the sole breadwinner for 8 more years, we'd have to get a bigger house, where would the baby sleep...what if this baby had CF or a sensory disorder or worse? How would we pay for college for 2 kids much less 3?! He was panicking, and all I kept crying (for Kevin but also apparently all of our neighbors to hear...oh well) that God doesn't make mistakes, and He wanted us to have this baby. We hugged before going back inside to our girls, and he said it would all be okay, but I didn't believe him. His eyes were full of the emotions I felt.
We tucked in the girls, who had found out what we were talking about, and needless to say they were over the moon. Ecstatic. Joyful. And their emotions were starting to rub off on me.
Kevin took a long run, and I joked about checking to make sure he didn't take his wallet and keys to assure he'd come back. But it wasn't really a joke - I wondered what this would do to my marriage in the long run. How much stress would it add, financially, emotionally, physically - especially if this child had special needs. I enjoy my marriage, and I love having time with Kevin. I wondered how different that would look, and if we could hack it. I wondered if he would resent me, since I was the one who said no to having permanent birth control.
He came back, and I was laying on our bed. He told me to get up, and he gave me the biggest, best hug. He made me look at him - I was crying again - and his eyes had changed from fear, to joy. He had a big smile and said, "We can do it again. It will be wonderful and we can do it. I'm excited." I asked him what he smoked on his run, but I was so thankful for his acceptance and joy, and we talked for a long time about the future that night. I didn't sleep a wink.
That was our first night knowing our littlest one was with us. March 8, 2012. I'll write more later.
At the beginning of March, I took a pregnancy test. We hadn't been trying - the opposite of trying - but I was late and had a day of not feeling right. It was negative. Kevin and I did a happy dance and I told him I felt like we dodged a bullet, and it showed me I didn't want to go back to the beginning, I didn't want to worry about the health of this child, I didn't want to move, I was ready to work more outside the home, (and actually have money!!) etc. Kevin has been more than willing for years to get a V, but I was the hold-out, saying we are young, let's wait until I'm 35. In the meantime, we'll try to not get pregnant but if God wants the opportunity to create in us, who are we to stop Him.
But the rush of emotions - happy, thankful emotions - seeing the test was negative showed me (or so I thought) that I didn't want to have another, we just couldn't. Shouldn't.
Truth be told, there was the absolute faintest hint of a positive test line, but in my mind I told myself that's the shadow of the line that would appear for someone who's actually pregnant. But we were safe, life would continue as normal. Normal, safe. Those 2 things felt good to me.
So I waited for my period, which seemed to be on hiatus. The following week, I woke up one night feeling nauseous, but figured it was because I had babysat for a family that just had a stomach bug. But a friend on fb asking if I was pregnant, so I thought, ok I'll take another test.
Positive.
My heart starting beating out of my chest. I had bought the kind for dummies, so it actually said 'Pregnant' on it. I paced my tiny bathroom, and knew I couldn't keep a secret from Kevin for 2 seconds, so I asked him to come out on the deck with me. We had just had dinner out there, so he thought I just wanted to keep talking. Poor men, they don't know what's about to hit them half the time.
I showed him the test and started crying. He jumped up and started pulling his hair, talking about being the sole breadwinner for 8 more years, we'd have to get a bigger house, where would the baby sleep...what if this baby had CF or a sensory disorder or worse? How would we pay for college for 2 kids much less 3?! He was panicking, and all I kept crying (for Kevin but also apparently all of our neighbors to hear...oh well) that God doesn't make mistakes, and He wanted us to have this baby. We hugged before going back inside to our girls, and he said it would all be okay, but I didn't believe him. His eyes were full of the emotions I felt.
We tucked in the girls, who had found out what we were talking about, and needless to say they were over the moon. Ecstatic. Joyful. And their emotions were starting to rub off on me.
Kevin took a long run, and I joked about checking to make sure he didn't take his wallet and keys to assure he'd come back. But it wasn't really a joke - I wondered what this would do to my marriage in the long run. How much stress would it add, financially, emotionally, physically - especially if this child had special needs. I enjoy my marriage, and I love having time with Kevin. I wondered how different that would look, and if we could hack it. I wondered if he would resent me, since I was the one who said no to having permanent birth control.
He came back, and I was laying on our bed. He told me to get up, and he gave me the biggest, best hug. He made me look at him - I was crying again - and his eyes had changed from fear, to joy. He had a big smile and said, "We can do it again. It will be wonderful and we can do it. I'm excited." I asked him what he smoked on his run, but I was so thankful for his acceptance and joy, and we talked for a long time about the future that night. I didn't sleep a wink.
That was our first night knowing our littlest one was with us. March 8, 2012. I'll write more later.
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