Time Stands Still

Life moves quickly here — with these four children who are growing so rapidly — their legs stretching in the sunshine and arms reaching to each end of the piano, singing songs to each other, chasing the dog, competing to see who can draw the best picture, running in circles around the couch, every Marvel character coming to life in the living room, splashing in the tub, curls bobbing, lashes making half moons on their cheeks as they finally start snoring gently, sweetly.

But for me, as Mama of these amazing creatures, in these moments where they are truly immersed in loving one another, time stands still. I breathe deeply and take it all in, praying I remember every giggle, every piggy back ride, every push on the swings and every golden smile.

Emotional Update

Obviously I haven’t really been keeping up with my blog.  I had hoped that it would be a great outlet for me during my loss-of-baby-mourning stages.  But how many creative ways are there to say “I’m still sad” or “I’m still crying”?  Not too many, I’m sure.  And this blog, which had once been a little bright spot in my day, in my week, quickly turned dim, as all I could do when I sat to write was either weep silently or scream my head off.

Today as I glanced at the calendar towards the week ahead, I saw “28″ written on tomorrow’s date.  28 weeks.  If I hadn’t lost the baby, I’d be 28 weeks along, coming into the home stretch, welcoming that third trimester with excitement.  I’d be in high prep-mode: writing a birth plan, getting in contact with my doula, washing those itty-bitty newborn cloth diapers I bought when I first found out I was pregnant, taking lots of baths, devouring books on natural birth/birthing choices (Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, Ina May Gaskin; The Thinking Woman’s Guide to Childbirth, Henci Goer; Pushed: the Painful Truth about Childbirth and Modern Maternity Care, Jennifer Block, just to name a few!), and prepping myself emotionally, pyschologically and spiritually to give my child the most gentle and meaningful birth I possibly could.  It’s so hard to believe that so much time has passed when I still feel like it was yesterday when we found out there was something wrong.  I do know that one reason why it’s still so painful is because that baby was supposed to be our last — number five — the last little one to complete our family and now the little void can no longer be filled by that child.

Some of us have been able to move on more than others — my oldest daughter and son don’t talk about it much anymore, but when my 3 year old daughter plays with her dolls, the Mama always loses a baby.  My husband sees the pain in my eyes when someone else we know shares their  news of a pregnancy (Yes, it’s exciting for you! But sad for all of those who have lost babies!  I wish I had been more aware of this when announcing my own previous pregnancies.)  – he sees the pain when we’re at the grocery store and there’s a mama rubbing her swollen belly.  I know our news didn’t effect a lot of people, mainly our families.  There were a lot of people we hoped would be there for us that simply weren’t, for reasons we may never know — it’s past now and the last thing I want to hear now is “Sorry I didn’t let you know then…” or ”I didn’t know what to say then…” – but there were also a lot of people who did carry us through.  God blessed us in the smiles of strangers, whose best wishes to us gave the most strength.

I think as I move forward in my emotional recovery, one of the best things I can remember is that the Lord gives and the Lord also takes away…blessed be the name of the Lord.  I do keep thinking of that a lot and it has helped tremendously.  The Lord deserves as much praise now in this time as He did when I first realized I was pregnant…the loss of my child doesn’t diminish the fact that He is good.  He is as much in the sadness when pregnancy ends as He is in the joy when it begins and I truly do believe that.

I don’t know what’s in store for us in the future.  Another baby?  I don’t know.  Maybe.  It’s hard to even think about that because in my mind I still should be pregnant, y’know?  I would love to say I know that God will again bless us – with that fifth baby — but I don’t know.  I’m trying to be okay with that, but mostly I just want to fully heal…to get past that little ache in my heart and the desire to punch the face of every pregnant woman I see.

…obviously I’m doing better if I can crack a joke like that! :o)

Also, I’m going to try to promise that this is my last post on the subject…at least for now.

Hello, world.

After a long hiatus from the internet world, I’m back.  It was quite unintentional and the longer I went without having my computer, the more frustrated I became with not being able to be out in bloggy-land.   As a stay-at-home-Mama, I cherish the times when I have a few moments to write a blog post, or when I can be inspired by someone else’s.  It is where I go when I’m frustrated and need “just five minutes of quiet!”  So thanks to my parents, who replaced my dead laptop with a shiny new one!

My hope is that I can start writing regularly again, and soon — gotta get these wheels greased back up!

The End.

On Tuesday, which would have marked my 13th week of pregnancy, I had another ultrasound, which did not turn out well, and I had to have some bloodwork done.  I was a complete wreck after my appointment and Mom changed her flight (she was supposed to leave that night) to stay until this Monday in case we needed her help.  It’s a good thing she stayed, because I got my lab results back on Wednesday and found out they wanted me to have a D&C the following day because I was diagnosed as having an “incomplete” or “abnormal” miscarriage.  Like, it’s bad enough losing a baby, which included bleeding for four weeks anyway and being in the ER and all of that and then finding out your body can’t even handle it and finish the job… that totally sucked.   It shouldn’t really have surprised me, since my lady parts have almost always had some sort of “abnormal” diagnosis, but I was so hoping to come through this naturally and without having to have some invasive procedure.

Thankfully, the doctor that the midwives work with, Dr. Whitaker, is amazing and I absolutely felt comfortable with him.  I had a consult with him yesterday morning and then he scheduled me for surgery in the afternoon.  Seriously, the guy was so kind and really put both Brian and I at ease about the whole thing.  He was very encouraging and took great care of me.  I really have to say the level of care I have gotten through this whole ordeal has just been wonderful – from the nurses and midwives at the BC, to the nurses and doctors at Candler.

Coming home from the hospital, still a little groggy from the anesthetic and shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I felt different already.  Still sad, still hormonal, but I could tell things were already changing in my body.  It was hard to grieve and move past all of this when I was still in it – my brother in law and I talked about that a few days ago.  I couldn’t get past it emotionally because I was still in the process of actually miscarrying.  My doctor reiterated that yesterday — that I absolutely could not move on until I was finished — until I knew I was at The End.

Now I know I’m at The End.  I am still heartbroken, and always will be — but I know I will heal, and am thankful that it’s nearly over.  Being physically and emotionally fragile at the same time is so hard — it was for me, for my husband and for my children and we can now move on together as a family.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again — we are all so grateful to all of you who have prayed for us, or called, or sent cards or texts or emails.  I’ve been sad and hurt by people that I felt should have been along this journey with us, supporting us, but have not done so, but I’ve also been uplifted and comforted by people I never realized would care so much.  Losing this baby has been the worst experience of my life, but it has also brought me into contact with some pretty amazing people and I am thankful for that.

Tired.

This past Sunday I ended up in the ER for several hours due to massive bleeding.  I had believed the worst of the miscarriage was over, because I’d been bleeding for almost 3 weeks already and things seemed to be slowing down.  Sunday afternoon proved otherwise and I ended up spending the evening/wee hours of Monday morning in the ER being assessed.  A dear friend took care of me while in the ER and then drove me home after being discharged with a prescription for Vicodin and strict instructions for bed rest and to keep letting things happen naturally.  My Mama flew in Monday morning to take care of the kids and by Tuesday afternoon, I was feeling better physically.  Cut to yesterday afternoon and the shit hit the fan – thankfully it hit the fan while I was already at my follow-up appointment at my midwives’ office.  (I must say, I loved the people who took care of me in the ER, including my uncle, who’s a doctor there and was on the phone the whole time, making sure I was getting the care I needed, but I was very upset that the follow-up with the gynecologist I was supposed to have on Tuesday never happened, due to the fact that they never called me back until yesterday morning.  At 8am.  I make it a rule to never answer the phone while I’m still sleeping.)  Thankfully, everyone at the midwife group is incredibly kind and caring and they took care of me and I was even able to speak with their psychiatrist, which was wonderful, considering I was an emotional basket-case…

… and I still am.  I mean, I’m not crying all the time, but I am just sad and I am grieving and I need space and time to heal.  Since I had thought the worst was over, I felt like I had begun to heal, that things were going to be okay, and when I found out that I wasn’t through with all of this yet, I realized I felt like I was taking 5 steps back in the grieving/healing process and that was not okay with me.  Talking with Dr. Marsh yesterday was very helpful and I am so grateful that she was available to speak with me when I needed it the most… someone to just tell me that what I’m feeling is normal.

Also incredibly grateful for those who have continued to pray for us; for my Mama being here to take care of us; for the cards, emails and texts people have sent; for the generosity and kindness of my friends & family who have gone through this with me;  and for the amazing medical care I have received.  Not so grateful for the Vicodin, which I now realize is not the drug of choice for me as it has been giving me migraines, but certainly thankful for all of the ice cream I have consumed lately.

Other than being emotionally worn-out and the occasional crazy physical process of all of this, I’m doing as well as can be expected.  Sad, but happy to be surrounded by my sweet children who are more than happy to give cuddles and love and watch movies and read with me.  Hurt, but know someday I won’t hurt as much.

Mama is here until Tuesday night and so my hope is that my body continues to do what needs to be done and that by the time she leaves I will be on my way to a full recovery… physically and emotionally.  Praying that’s the case.

Finding Healing

I still cry a little bit every day over losing our precious little one.  Obviously I’m still heartbroken about it and it doesn’t help that I am still feeling the physical effects of the miscarriage.  Tuesday was 2 weeks to the day I found out what had/was/would be happening and let’s just say it was not a good day.   Like any excited mama-to-be  I had marked off my weeks on the calendar and the fact that there are 29 weeks marked on it that I have yet to stare at and mourn really just suck.

(I know – get a new calendar, right?)

Finding healing after a miscarriage is hard.  Although I know that nothing I did contributed to it, I think playing the “blame game” is probably a common occurance for women who have lost a child.  I was told the reason for my type of miscarriage is usually attributed to the baby having something like Trisomy 16 or 22.   I actually think knowing that helps a little bit, in some strange way.

I am definitely not over this, but having a strong support system has helped in so many ways.  My husband is a ROCK.  There is no other word to describe how amazing he has been these past few weeks.  He’s grieving, too – but he is solid and strong and taken care of everything for us.  My mom and my sister are only a phone call away (which is too far!) and friends have been checking in on me.  I find myself sharing my experience with strangers and they have brought me so much comfort.  Knowing I am not alone is sad – for those who have also suffered – but it brings me relief.  I know many have been praying for us, and it’s obvious that has also had a powerful effect (other wise I would be in my bed, sucking my thumb and existing solely on Cinnamon Toast Crunch and chocolate-filled croissants).

So yes, I’m still sad, and especially when I see a woman resting her hand on her sweet belly, or my eyes stray to the tiny newborn cloth diapers I had already purchased (I put them away today, finally), but then I look at my four happy, healthy children, who fill my heart with so much love and light and I know that I am healing.

My Mother.

To say that I love my mother is quite an understatement.  Although she has 5 (gorgeous, hugely successful and hilarious, I might add) children that all love her to pieces, I always say that no one loves my mother like I do and I stand by that.  I mean, as far as I know, I’m the only one of us that calls our mother no less than 3 times a day.

My mother has been my biggest supporter since the moment she first knew of my existence.   She could have had a wonderful career in the medical field and yet she chose to stay home to raise us and school us and show us what sacrifice and love was all about.   She guided us as we learned, explored, created and enjoyed our childhoods.

She is super-intelligent, creative, funny, beautiful, with the greenest thumb you’ll ever find and on top of being the world’s-best-mother, she also gets to take home the trophy for world’s-best-grandmother to her 16 (!) grandchildren.

Happy, happy birthday, my sweet Mama!