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.

1st birthday

The only clues I was given about how this day would feel were from others who have gone through it.  I thought today was going to be difficult, but I was not prepared for how hard it truly was.  I cannot believe that is has been an entire year since you were born.  How has it been 12 months since you came so quickly into this world?   How have 355 days passed since I last saw you or held you?

I've been told the anticipation of your birthday would be worse than the day itself.  That was definitely not the case for me.  I hoped it would be a normal day where we celebrated the day you entered our lives.  We tried to make that the focus.  But a birthday... a day that's supposed to be filled with joy, friends, cake, and presents, was instead filled with tears of all that is not.  I missed you so very much today.

Around 11 pm last night, the sadness hit.  I went to sleep holding your bear close to my heart.  I woke up in the arms of your daddy and a few tears were shed before my head ever left the pillow.  More tears fell during every transition of the day.  It's days like this that make me hate the routine of life.  I had to buy groceries.  I had to get gas.  I had to cook.  I had to clean up after dinner.  I wish the world would just stop once in a while.  My world came to a screeching halt last November 16 when you passed away.  I don't think I did anything for days.  I honestly don't remember.  I will plan ahead in years to come so that your birthday will always be a day of stillness and serenity.  Although the day was filled with much sadness and many tears, I was and am very grateful for a day where my mind was completely devoted to you and my love for you.  It's not often that I allow myself to grieve, so it was nice to be able to do that today.

As I said previously, we planned for today to be a celebration of your life.  The first thing I did was post this on facebook.  I posted it shortly after midnight.

"A year ago today, this tiny boy entered my life. I am forever changed from the short time I got to know and love him. Although I only had 10 short days with him, he redefined who I am and gave me a new outlook on life. Today, I'm wishing my son a Happy 1st Birthday in heaven.

If you would like to wish him a Happy Birthday, one way to do that would be to light a candle in his honor and post the picture in the comments on this post.

This has been a very challenging year full of many new twists and turns. I really appreciate all of your love and support."

The number of "likes" and comments of candles touched us so very much.  It is wonderful to be reminded that other people love you and remember you.  You were born at 3:35 pm, so I lit your cupcake candle and posted my own picture at that time.

Your sister wanted to bake you a cake (rather than buy one in the store) so we made a cake for you.  She chose strawberry icing which, ironically, is the same flavor she had on her first birthday cake.  I thought that was very sweet for you to have the same, so your cake was pink.  At least you got blue accents!

We went to the store and bought you a balloon.  The plan was to release it today but the weather wasn't very cooperative.  We may release your balloon tomorrow, but in the meantime, your sister is happy to keep it here  :)  

For dinner, we had one of daddy's favorite dishes.  Daddy set a place for you (first time he's done that and it definitely brought some more tears) and your sister brought your balloon out for you.  We placed your cupcake candle in front of your spot as well.  

After dinner, we lit your birthday candle and sang to you.  Thank goodness your sister was singing so enthusiastically because daddy and I could barely get through the song.  She blew out the candle for you and we served the first piece to a plate set aside for you.  

As we were eating our cake, your sister asked what we were going to do with your piece.  I thought about it and told her I bet you'd want to share it with your two sisters, so we split your piece in half.  She had one half and your baby sister (courtesy of me) had the other.  The baby started kicking around right after her little piece was eaten, so I know she enjoyed it.  

After dinner, we looked at your pictures.  Such happy times in the beginning of that book, and such a sad ending.  I closed the album before we got to your "Now I lay me down to sleep" pictures because I didn't think daddy could handle seeing those pictures tonight.  

After that, daddy got your bear (with your ashes in the locket around its neck) and planned to take it with him to a football game.  He felt like he would have taken you if you were here, so he wanted to do what he could to include you tonight.  He put it in his pocket and left for the game.  Your sister told daddy that your bear couldn't see the game from in there so she took the bear out and let it watch the game with her.  

She made sure your bear could see very well.  All in all, it was a very sad day but it was nice to have a day set aside to honor you.  

We all love you very much, William "Case" Caswell!  Happy 1st birthday, sweetheart,      

Eleven Month Birthday

Where has the time gone?  How is it possible that you would be nearly a year old right now?  I simply cannot imagine how different life would be if you were here.  I'm a party planner.  Your first birthday theme was already in the works well before your birth.  You'd be having a Hungry Caterpillar Birthday.  I already had the design for your shirt.  Your sister was going to wear a coordinating dress.  I was going to make cupcakes with green icing to look like the caterpillar from the book.  I'd be somewhat panicked at this point, making sure everything would be ready for your birthday which is a month away from today.  

But none of that is happening.  Instead, I'm planning how to honor you a month from today.  I bought a cupcake candle which I will light at the time of your birth.  3:34 pm.  We are purchasing a memory tree to be planted in your honor.  It will be nice to be able to visit a place that is meant just for you.  We had planned to possibly spread your ashes on your birthday, but perhaps we will keep waiting.  I can't imagine letting go of the only part of you still on this earth.  It has to be done at some point.  I'm just not sure if I'm ready yet.  I would rather be planning a party instead.

It is starting to become Fall now.  I was showing quite a bit at this point last year.  We went to pumpkin festivals, fall festivals, and did lots of fun Halloween activities.  October was the last full month of your life, while you were still tucked safely inside.  I vividly remember October.  It was such a joyous time.  We were filled with such excitement about you being able to enjoy all of the fall festivities with us the following year.  We went trick-or-treating on October 31st.  Your sister had a blast!  I don't remember November 1st.  November 2nd, I started having contractions.  That night, we went to the hospital and found out how close to birth you were.  It all happened so fast.  Everything changed so fast.  

This fall is nothing like last fall.  The leaves falling off the trees make me sad.  Every day is feeling a little melancholy.  Your little sister, who is 22 weeks gestation tomorrow, is bringing a little sweetness to our lives.  All the memories of you is bringing some sadness too.  Life is such a strange paradox.  A year ago, I was blissfully unaware of the tragedy that would soon strike.  I lived in a naive little pregnancy bubble.  I no longer live there.  I no longer understand "coasting through pregnancy" nor will I ever be ignorantly blissful again.  

I am mostly the same person I have always been.  Losing you made me more aware of how many losses there are.  It has also made me more thankful for every minute I have with your big and little sister, as well as allowing me to be more compassionate towards others.  If any good has come from losing you, it's the impact you had on me.  

I keep thinking ahead to what Nov. 6 - Nov. 16 will be like this year.  Last year, Nov. 6 was such a joyous but fear-filled day.  You were born 12 weeks early, but you came out screaming.  You were breathing without help pretty soon after birth.  We got to see your sweet face and touch your soft hair and tiny hands.  The next 10 days were mostly ups; we were so deeply in love with you.  I wonder how that will be next month.  November 6 - 16.  It will pass in the blink of an eye, just like it did last year.  But this year will be sad.  Happy memories, but sad that they stopped so soon.  

I hope you're having a nice time up in heaven.  I don't know if they celebrate birthdays up there.  Maybe they celebrate "entry days".  Regardless, we'll be thinking of you down here, little guy.

Love you.