2 years old

Birthdays are interesting celebrations.  We all grow and change a little bit every day, but it's on these big days of celebration that we can truly compare a year ago to now.  Unfortunately, we are not able to see you growing and changing as we would love to be doing.  So instead, I was thinking about how much your life has helped me to grow and change.

Two years ago, I was naive to the world of baby loss.  I knew of it, but I had no reason to think it would happen to me.  After 4 days of bed rest, things were looking promising.  Labor had stopped.  I was being sent to long-term bed rest.  I was in this for the long haul.  At 1:30, your daddy went home so your sister could take a nap.  My friend was coming to visit around 2:45.  At 2:35 p.m., I called her and told her my water just broke.  She went to our house to watch your sister which allowed daddy to come be with me.  You were born at 3:34 p.m., less than 30 minutes after daddy arrived.  In that moment, I was forever changed.  I became a mom of two babies.  I now had a son.  I was entering the NICU roller coaster.  I was no longer on bed rest.  And I had this teeny, tiny, little boy who had more fight, spunk, and spirit than any other person I knew.

One year ago, I thought I could create a joyous 1st birthday celebration.  I thought it would be a relatively normal day that I could add special elements to.  I expected to grieve, but I didn't expect to be debilitated by my emotions.  At that time, I was so fearful.  I was 26 weeks pregnant with your little sister and was terrified of losing her too.  I despised being pregnant because I should have been holding you in my arms.  If you were with us, the baby in my belly wouldn't be.  It was very difficult for me to work through.  And on top of all of that, we should have been having a day of celebration!  You were one!  One year ago was an incredibly painful reminder of all that should have been and all that we were missing.  

I was amazed at how different November 6th has been this year.  I devoted my day to you as much as I could.  I made no plans.  I chose to only do things I wanted to do and made sure all the necessary tasks were completed the day before.  This allowed me to pause whenever necessary and devote my mind and thoughts to you.   The biggest difference in me now versus a year or two ago is my compassion and understanding.  I have had two friends lose babies this year and I have been able to support them in a way I wouldn't have been capable of before.  I am more open to talking about you.  And although I hate that you're not with us, I've come to terms with your absence.  Unlike last year, this birthday was more than just motions.  We were able to have some elements of joyous celebration.

A very good friend of mine brought us meals for the entire day so that we wouldn't have to cook.  She also brought us a cake and candles to help us celebrate.  We began celebrating your birthday at the time of your birth, 3:34 p.m.  We lit your birthday candle for one minute and watched it in silence.  

After that, we bought your birthday balloon and went to your tree to release it.  Daddy and I wrote notes to you on your balloon while your sisters sent their love.    

The main plan for the day was to get you a build-a-bear.  When daddy and I were celebrating our 2nd anniversary, we went to build-a-bear and bought a teddy bear.  We named him Teddy Bi-year.  Years later, your older sister was born.  I wanted her to choose a build-a-bear on her 2nd birthday and add to the Bi-year family.  Once the time came, she chose a rabbit that she named Bunny Bi-year.  Today was your turn, and since you couldn't pick out a bear, I chose one for you.  Your big sister did all of the fun stuff for you.  I'm pretty sure she would have taken the lead even if you were here.  That's just how your sister is!  We picked out the Charlie Brown outfit for your bear, partly because it was cute, and partly because the new Peanuts Movie was released today.

After we got your bear, we ate dinner and then went to see the Peanuts Movie.  It was a really cute movie and daddy said he felt you would have really liked it.  I'm sure you would have.  Your big sister brought your bear into the movie and held it the whole time.  

As time goes on, she is becoming more comfortable talking about you.  She wanted to wear her "big sister" shirt today because (in her words) "then baby brother will know that I'm his big sister, too!"  Once she saw her dresses hanging in her closet, she changed her mind, but she wore her Case memory necklace in your honor.  She told her teacher that today was your birthday.  Her teacher's response was that she wished she had gotten a card.  Very, very sweet.   Later on while we were getting the bear, the build-a-bear worker asked if it was for her.  She told the woman that it was for our baby boy that is in heaven.  She also made up a birthday song that I overheard her singing for you today.

Birthday Song

     It's a baby boy in heaven.  Boy, boy, boy.

     It's a baby boy in heaven.  

     Everyone is getting ready to celebrate

     because it's his birthday.

   

After the movie, we came home for cake.  We sang to you and then each had a small piece.  Last year, your sister ate your piece.  This year, she was too full so we saved it and she will probably ask to eat it for breakfast.  We may let her.  

After your sisters went to bed, daddy and I looked through your picture album together.  Then I wanted some time alone to go through your memory box.  That's when the tears started to flow.  Many days, losing you seems like such a distant memory: almost like you were from another lifetime.  But then there are days like today where losing you is still so raw.  I held each of the things in that box and wept for all that we lost.  My favorite object is the pacifier.  It was given to you fairly early on and it fell on the floor when I was holding you.  The nurse was going to throw it away but asked if I wanted it.  I felt it would be a sweet keepsake: your first pacifier!  It stayed on my dresser for months and then finally made it's way into your box.  I'm very glad I have it along with all of the other items given to me.   

I read a poem the other day from parents who just lost their precious baby girl.  It was very sweet and I want to share it with you.

They say there is a reason.  They say that time will heal.

But neither time nor reason can change the way I feel.

No one knows the heartache that lies behind my smile.

No one knows how many times I've broken down and cried.

I want to tell you something so there won't be any doubt.

You're so wonderful to think of, but so hard to be without.

                                                                                                                      - Allyson and Billy Nelson

Much love to you, sweet boy.  I loved you yesterday, I love you today, I will love you tomorrow, and will continue to love you for the rest of my days. 
   

Meaningful sunflowers

Have you ever received a gift that wasn't meaningful at the time, but grew to mean so much more?  When Case was born, a friend gave us a teddy bear with some flowers.  It was just a small bear at the time, Case's first stuffed animal.  We assumed it would be one of many, but it is the one and only.  His ashes are in a locket around the bear's neck.  The bear means so very much to me now.  

On Mother's Day, my daughter's preschool made gifts for the moms.  I imagine it was the same for every kid.  3 sunflower seeds planted, grown for a while, and brought home in a little cup.  I didn't put any thought in it at the time.  One of the sunflowers wasn't looking very good.  I knew it wasn't going to make it.  The other two looked identical.  I asked her where we should plant them and we picked a spot next to our back deck.  It gets full sun.  The flowers would do well there.  

We watered them daily.  Pretty soon, one flower began sprouting up and the other was struggling.  It needed a little more attention.  I had to add a brace to support it so it could stand upright.  It's been a month and a half now.  The bigger flower recently began to bloom.  The smaller one is just now beginning to grow the blossom.  And as I walked by the flowers the other day, it occurred to me that they were my kids.  These sunflowers tell my story of motherhood, and how interesting is that considering it was the same gift given to each mom?

I received three sprouts.  I held three babies in my body.

One of the sprouts didn't make it.  My sweet boy passed away.

Two of the sprouts kept growing.  My girls both made it to term.

One of the sprouts did fine without any help.  My oldest was term and we had no issues getting there.

The other sprout needed support to continue growing.  My youngest needed intervention but made it to term as well.

I was given three sunflowers.  Two are currently blooming in the garden.  

  

When a friend loses her baby...

This is the "year of the babies" among my friends.  When I lost Case, I was the only one pregnant in my mom's group.  Then I was the only one who had a preemie.  And shortly after, I was the only one to lose a baby.  It was an awful place to be in and I had no one to turn to.  It was foreign territory to all of the moms my age.  They were there for me in ways I can't even explain, but I was alone in my journey.  Everyone felt for me, but no one knew my pain.

It's been almost 18 months now.  Hard to believe my little guy would be 18 months!  Walking, saying words, getting in to everything...  In that time, most of the moms have become pregnant.  Most of us have had our babies.  But one mom has not.  

Yesterday, I was hit with the news that her baby had passed.  This friend has had a very difficult journey up to this point and I truly thought this would be her happy ending.  However, going in for a routine check up, they found no heartbeat.  An ultrasound revealed he had stopped growing a few weeks prior.  And so, her happy ending came to a crashing halt.  Her 22 week baby, 2 weeks from "viability day", was gone.  

I heard the news and I broke down.  How can this be?  How can someone ELSE lose a baby?  It hurts my heart when I hear of losses.  I think of all the precious lives lost and how difficult life going forward will be.  But this time was different.  Because this is a friend, I could feel her pain.  It made the emotions of losing Case come to the surface.  For the first time in a while, my loss was raw and I had no choice but to cry.  I could see our roles reversed, me weeping at her son's service versus when she was weeping at mine.  I can see her shedding tears behind the wheel of her car on every trip she takes during the next few weeks or months.  I can see her breaking down in the middle of the grocery store because she's reminded of her loss and it's still so fresh.  I know her pain.  And now, she knows mine.

I was alone and unsure of everything.  I wanted someone who understood.  I wished no one else understood because the pain was so deep.  I didn't know how people pulled through this type of agony.  Now I will no longer be alone in this.  We will both have someone who knows and understands.  We will both always be missing our sons. 

Rest in peace, little baby.  You are very loved.  

10 days...

On February 3rd, I gave birth to our rainbow baby.  I didn't know what to expect, but I knew it would be an emotional experience.  The L&D nurse knew we lost our son.  No one else in that room did.  

Labor Story:  39 weeks gestation
7:30 am.  Arrived at hospital.  My induction was set to begin at 8 but didn't.
9:50  They broke my water.  I didn't want any medications if it could be avoided because of             my previous c-section.  
11:30  There had been no change.  Contractions weren't all that strong, so I was told to take a            walk.
11:50  Got up to walk and couldn't.  Contractions were too strong.  I couldn't stand during                   them.
Around 1 pm, I got an epidural.  
Around 4 pm, I was fully dilated.  I began pushing.  
4:12 pm Eileen was born.

When I was told I was fully dilated and it was almost time to "have this baby", I broke down.  The tears wouldn't stop coming.  More doctors, nurses, random people, etc. came into the room probably expecting a very excited mom-to-be.  Instead, they saw me.  A woman who SHOULD be happy, but was instead crying buckets.  I can't even explain my emotions at the time.  

I was in shock in some ways.  I felt like I shouldn't be there.  Case should be here.  I shouldn't be pregnant.  I shouldn't be in labor.  Another baby that wasn't him shouldn't be coming into the world right now.  I felt fear because I was giving birth again.  The only other time I had been in that position, it was to have Case.  It was a time filled with fear, wondering if he was going to be okay and not having any power to stop him from being born.  I wanted to keep him inside.  My body was forcing him out.  I also feared so many other things, 90% of them completely unfounded.  I was afraid Eileen would be stillborn.  I was afraid of uterine rupture.  I was afraid of death, of leaving Hadley without a mom just because I wanted another child.  I was petrified.  But pregnancy has to end at some point.  It was a fast paced train heading for a brick wall.  The crash was going to happen.  There was no way for me to stop it.  

But pushing was short.  Thank goodness pushing was short.  3 pushes, and that little girl was born.  Same as her brother.  He was born after 3 pushes as well.  Physically, I could have done more.  Emotionally, I don't think I had it in me.  Then she cried.  And they placed her on my chest.  I had another birth experience, except this time was exactly as most women want it.  No surgery, no NICU, no preemie.  Just a mom and her full term, healthy baby.  In fact, a PERFECTLY healthy baby.  She got a 10/10 on her Apgar score which is incredibly rare.  I see it as God's answer to our prayers.  I prayed for a healthy baby and he said, "See!  I gave you a PERFECT one!"

But that's not really the point of today's post.  Eileen is 10 days old today.  Born February 3rd and today is February 13th.  Case only lived for 10 days.  Nov 6 through Nov 16.  10 days.  That's it.  Just 10 days.  

These 10 days with Eileen have been very different than the 10 days with Case.  So honestly, I haven't compared the time we've had with them.  But sitting here tonight, thinking about the end of day 10 with Case, it's hard not to merge today and November 16.  Day 10 with Case ended with me holding him as he took his very last breath.  Day 10 with Eileen is ending with us swaddling her and putting her to bed in her bassinet.  Although tomorrow isn't promised, we have every reason to believe we will get an 11th day with her.  

It's hard to believe that this is all the time we got with Case.  We loved him so very much but didn't know much about him.  We know that Eileen has blue eyes.  We never knew what color eyes Case had.  We know that Eileen likes white noise.  Case was never upset so we knew nothing of how to calm him.  We know that Eileen loves the attention she gets from big sister.  Case never got to meet his big sister.  But despite all the things we didn't know, we knew we loved him.  We knew he was our little boy.  We knew we wanted him to grow big and strong and come home soon.  We knew we wanted to get to know him.  We knew 10 days wasn't enough.  

I am grateful for this little girl.  I love that she's a combination of her older sister and older brother.  She has her brother's profile.  

But she also resembles her sister.  She is definitely her own person.  She's not a clone of her sister or her brother.  Yet, she reminds me of both of them at the same time.  It brings a mix of joy and sadness, but mostly joy.  

           

Rainbow Baby coming tomorrow?!?!?

This pregnancy has been tough, as I have mentioned before.  Yet through all of the trials, we managed to make it to term.  And not just to "early term", but official term!  I'll be 39 weeks pregnant tomorrow and they're going to induce labor in the morning.

The thoughts running through my head are mostly of me being terrified.  It has been a long, hard, and trying journey to add to our family.  Every effort has ended in heartache so it's hard to visualize this one ending in joy.  I'm trying to think positive though.  I really am.

Things are a lot different when you KNOW that your baby is coming the following day.  Every little thing that happened today, I was very aware that it was the last.  It was the last time I could lay with my daughter and take a nap with her.  Starting tomorrow, I'll have a baby to take care of too, so that nap will have to wait.  It was our last time sitting at the table with our family looking the way it does.  The kicks I'm feeling are the last ones I'll ever feel.  It's very strange to know that tomorrow, everything will change.  But at the same time, I'm not sure HOW things will change.  I'm hoping and praying that tomorrow will end in joy.  However, I'm all too aware of the tragic turn things can take and know too many families that have faced those tragedies.

So tonight, I soaked in every moment with our little girl.  I cuddled her until she fell asleep as I whispered to her how much I loved her and sang her lullabies.  After she was asleep, I prayed for a peaceful mind (only God knows the horrible situations I've been imagining) and for the ability to trust in his will and his greater purpose.  I selfishly want my will.  I want tomorrow to go very smoothly... so smoothly that the doctor will say he's never had an easier delivery.  I want to cry happy tears as I feel the breath of our sweet newborn on my cheek.  I want to feel the presence of our son in that room.  I feel like he's had a role in his little sister flourishing as she has and I want to thank him for being such a protective big brother.  Mostly, I just want tomorrow to be over so I can be done with it and on the other side.

I've been told that having a Rainbow Baby makes the grief of losing your baby surface again.  It has been right underneath the surface lately.  It is so strange that I had a baby at 38w5d, followed by a 28w boy, and then a 39w girl who very well may have stayed in longer if we weren't concerned about other factors.  So I spend a lot of time wondering why Case came so early.  I wonder why my girls cause gestational diabetes and want to stay put, while my boy gave me no health issues but my body couldn't hold him.  It's very strange and it's something I'll never have an answer to.  But when his little sister is born tomorrow, there will be so many things unspoken between Seth and I.  Words won't be needed.  We'll love our new little girl while mourning our sweet little boy.  I'll marvel at how big, strong, and healthy this baby is in comparison to the tiny little 2 lb 10 oz baby I gave birth to just over a year ago.  But I'll miss him so much.  I'll be sad that he's not with us while being grateful that she is.  It's going to be hard.  That much, I do know.

Tomorrow, we enter new territory.  I'll be a mother of three babies and will hopefully be bringing this one home to love and cherish just as we have done with her big sister.      

Preventative measures...

If anyone thinks pregnancy after a preemie is easy, they just don't know or understand.  Pregnancy after a loss or multiple losses is challenging too, in many other emotionally difficult ways.  It's been a long road and we're finally in the home stretch.

This pregnancy has not been easy.  It began with a fear of miscarriage, seeing as I had two before losing Case.  But then the morning sickness came, and it came on fast and strong.  I was feeling pretty crummy before hitting 5 weeks.  I don't know how I survived weeks 8-12, especially considering we moved 14 hours away during that time.  I spent my days in bed mostly, sleeping to avoid the nausea.  Every so often, I'd have a day of normalcy and would try to fit in 10 days worth of activity into one because I was so limited most days.  Around week 14, the sickness finally tapered off although I would (and still do) have random days of nausea.

Aside from the sickness, I was always on high alert.  I needed to be aware of contractions.  I needed to know what my body was doing at all times.  I started teaching again at 15 weeks along and I couldn't concentrate in meetings because I was so busy trying to read my body.  At 16 weeks, I had already been to the doctor 8 times.  Yes, 8.

16 weeks was when they began monitoring my cervix.  I had a pre-term labor "scare" at 15 weeks and was seen immediately.  The preterm high-risk doctors are very cautious which is exactly what I needed.  I was told everything seemed fine and to come back at 16 weeks for my first cervical length check.

For those of you who don't know, a woman's cervix should be between 3 and 4 cm while she's pregnant.  If it's 2.5cm or less, the risk of preterm labor is much higher.  They began checks at 16 weeks and my cervix was 2.5cm.  It was on the line of being okay or being very risky.  I was petrified and knew my 15 week scare was real.  I did have contractions then.  They did shorten my cervix.  A plan was put in place.  I would begin taking progesterone (vaginal cream) nightly.  For the record, I had been on progesterone since before knowing I conceived.  I simply switched that night to the new form.

The typical plan is to check cervical length every other week.  My doctor wanted me to come every week.  We met in the middle and I came in about every 10 days.  For weeks, nothing changed.  I had another labor scare at 18 weeks.  That was the day this baby's name was decided.  I knew she could be born that day.  I knew she would die if she was born that early.  I knew I wanted her to have a name while she was still healthy and alive inside where she belonged.  I cried the entire drive to the hospital.  I prayed for her to be okay.  I promised her I'd do everything I could to keep her safe.  I meant it.  At the hospital, the monitors picked up my contractions but they were minor.  Another cervical check was done.  It wasn't changing so our girl was safe.  I was so very grateful.

But as I said in the beginning, everything about a pregnancy after a preemie or a loss is just hard.  Every moment of happiness is counterbalanced with a feeling of guilt or sadness.  This little girl is 1 year and 10 days behind her brother.  That means every milestone, pregnancy wise, is 10 days behind his.  The anniversary of Case's death happened on the day I turned 28 weeks with this little baby.  I cannot explain how hard it was to mourn our 28 week preemie's death on the day I turned 28 weeks with his sister.  I spent his birthday feeling guilty for not being able to focus on him due to being distracted by the life in my belly.  I spend most of my pregnancy-focused moments feeling sad that so much was/is being done for this little girl to live, yet nothing was done for him.  It's because we didn't know.  My mind is aware of that.  My heart feels like I've let him down.

Then the toughest thing...  this baby wouldn't be here if he was.  It's plain and simple.  I don't see that thought ever fading.  It makes me miss him all the more.  It makes me feel like this baby has some greater purpose.  Case died so she'd be here.  How is she going to help/change the world?  Then again, maybe she's just going to be normal, but she'll change our world forever.

And so tomorrow.  It's a big day.  It's the day the cerclage will be removed.  The one thing keeping this baby in will be gone, and then we wait.  It could be hours.  It could be days.  It could be weeks.  But we know for sure that she'll be here soon.  We know our efforts have paid off.  The doctors appointments (43 last time I counted) and Labor & Delivery visits (2 so far) have helped us keep our sanity.   Having this life inside has helped balance our grief with a sense of hope.  It hasn't been easy.  Far from it actually.  I've moved forward, one day at a time, and had to let go.  I've had to let go of my fears, sense of control, desire to have things the way I want them.  I've had to let go of me.  The other half of that is "Let God".  I had no other choice.  Our baby's life was never in my hands or in my control.  All I could do was be thankful for every day she was still safely inside.


My life has been controlled by pregnancy and this chapter is almost done.  I look back at our timeline and it's been a very challenging one.  We started trying for our second child in June of 2012.  We got pregnant in October, miscarried in November, conceived again in December, miscarried in February, conceived Case in May, had him in November, started trying again in March of 2014, and conceived again in May.  I've been pregnant for 18 of the last 28 months.  That is insane.  I have been tested for disorders.  I have been found to have disorders.  I have been taking 9-11 pills a day for the last 18 months of my life (I intend to burn my pillbox in a bonfire in the very near future).  But today is kind of the end.  Today, preventative measures stop.  This little girl is "baked" and would do great if born right now.  Tomorrow, I become a "normal pregnant woman" again.  And you know what?  That's beyond comprehension.  After everything we've been through, we'll enter normalcy.

So tonight, I took my last magnesium pill, ever.  No more preventing contractions.  I took my last dose of crinone.  No more preventing cervical changes.  Tomorrow, the stitch comes out.  No more surgical intervention to keep my body from getting ready for birth.  I will likely be uncomfortable.  But after tomorrow, I can act like a normal person again.  I won't need to rest on my back as soon as I get home.  I can go on a walk if I want to (imagine that!).  If I have contractions, it will mean it's baby time as opposed to the fear that has been prevalent for the past 4 months.  It basically means the stress is lifted.  I did it.  The goal is in sight.  I did all I could and this little girl is nearly term!  I sure wish I could back in time and do all these things for our little boy, too.   The sacred dance of grief and joy.