One Week Ago Today

May 27, 2010~Thursday~1 week

Today, I played back all of the events that took place one week ago. I knew exactly what happened at which moment. (This is what I would do most Thursdays for several months...and Thursdays weren't the only days.) I was trying to heal physically, but when there was no baby in our home, I really had no excuse to just sit around. I tried to keep busy outside by pulling weeds. No matter what I did, I was going to cry...there was no “taking my mind off things” like I was already beginning to hear...so I figured that I could cry and accomplish some work outside. I spent a lot of time on the swing with Heather those first days, too.

I emailed a friend to wish her a “Happy Birthday” today. In April, I finally got around to telling her that I was expecting. We didn't talk very often, but we kept in touch. I said that Bob, Britt, and Maddy were in WI and that I was home with Heather feeding the animals and healing. (She didn't know about Grace yet.) I also wrote that every birthday celebrated now must be even more special after surviving cancer.

Cousin Jenny called at just the right time. The morning was difficult and she listened. She's living with a sister in heaven.

Later that day, the friend I emailed called and left a message because she was concerned by my message. I called her back and talked to her mom that night. I explained that we lost Grace and her mom told me that her cancer is back. She found this out around Mother's Day. When I heard this my heart just sank and I thought, “What am I crying for?”

May 28, Friday

Bob called from WI this morning to see how things were going. He talked a lot about our friends from St. Paul's and the condolences offered. So many of them have suffered losses and understand our pain. It sounded as though Bob was really enjoying his time in WI , and I was happy for him. But his tears stopped days ago. I couldn't control mine, and I'm alone in TN with no one to talk to.

Our pastor's wife called and said that she was bringing out a book for me to read called “When Your Baby Dies”. She already read an article in June's “Forward in Christ” that she said would help me. “I will...rejoice and be glad” is about a family who is living with their baby in heaven. It is truly amazing how this article came to us only 8 days after we experienced something similar. I contacted the magazine and asked how to get into contact with the mom this article was written about.

Later this afternoon, I needed to take Heather to the doctor. She had been feeling ill for a couple of days, and I didn't want to wait till after the weekend. I had already sent my maternity clothes with Bob to give back to my sister when he went to WI. I kept one small maternity top that would hopefully fit. I hated looking at myself in the mirror, because I still looked pregnant. I was afraid that someone would ask me when I was due. After taking a shower and getting dressed, I sat on the bed and cried. I didn't want to leave the house. I was able to drive because I hadn't taken any medication since yesterday.

I was relieved when we got to the doctor's office because there was only one car in the parking lot. When we checked in, I handed the receptionist my debit card. I immediately felt sick to my stomach when I pulled it out of my wallet. It has an Anne Gedde's picture on it with an infant covered with roses, and it's pink. (The color pink reminds me of Grace.) The receptionist commented on the card and showed the picture to another co-worker. I didn't mention what just happened to us only 8 days earlier. I was too afraid of what their reaction would or wouldn't be. When Heather and I sat in the waiting room, she noticed the baby in the car seat. I couldn't look at the baby and tears were running down my face. I was so profoundly sad inside, and no one knew about it. I wasn't sure if Heather was confused and wondered why they had a baby and we didn't. She just kept staring and pointing saying, “Mom, look at that baby.” After Heather's doctor visit, I asked the nurse practitioner how long it would take for my belly to go away. I told her about Grace and she gave me a hug. I told her that I thought I'd look pregnant forever, but it was only 8 days after. She was very sympathetic and said to give it 2 months. If I still had issues, there were other alternatives that could help.

After the appointment, we needed to go to Walmart to fill Heather's prescription for her ear infection. It was so difficult carrying this pain inside. While we waited for her prescription to be filled, we walked around the store. I was pretty sore from the C-section. I was still wearing nursing pads and leaking because my milk had come in only 4 days ago. Slowly, we walked through the store. Thankfully, Heather wasn't feeling well and willingly rode in the cart. I wouldn't have been able to chase her around the store if she walked. We saw my friend who came out early today. She was doing a little shopping. I held in all of my emotions, because I was so uncomfortable crying in front of anyone especially when I didn't see their tears. I told her how painfully engorged I was. Innocently she said, “Why don't you just pump?” I started to cry. She had no idea how desperately I wanted to, how many times in the last 4 days I thought about doing that very thing. I should be nursing my baby! The breast pump sits unused in our home.

May 29, Saturday

Bob was coming home today with Britt and Maddy. The last time I saw Britt was the first part of April.

I received a phone call in the morning by someone wanting to know how things were. I can't remember what we talked about, but I remember wanting to get off the phone several times during our conversation. Some people don't even try to help. (I'll say this several times throughout my journal... “Thankfully, they have no clue!”) I can't forget her comment about having more children. She said with a chuckle, “You're done then, right?” It was more of a statement, like I'd be an idiot to have more, especially at my age. I couldn't even answer her. I choked back tears and eventually said, “We can't have any more.” Sometimes this is still hard to believe. Then, she went on to say how she had her two kids in her 20's, and if she found out that she was pregnant now at 44, she'd cry and be so angry. I wanted to hang up.

Before we got off the phone she said one more thing that I'll never forget, “Well, you'll get past this hiccup and things will be o.k.” HICCUP? Hiccups are annoying and go away after a few minutes. (Almost 2 years later, I'm taken back to this conversation every time I hear a hiccup. I think of how I still have my hiccup and how I want to tell her that mine hasn't gone away.)

I was already learning that our well-meaning, yet miserable, comforters feel a need to say something...anything, but usually what falls out of their mouths when they open them is a whole bunch of stupid. There are some who just need to talk about anything but what you're going through. The "thoughtless chatter" (that's what Bob and I call it) is overwhelming at times and it just sounds like "Blah, blah, blah," to us.

We had a living room full of flowers and were still receiving cards in the mail. The flowers were dying, and I had a hard time looking at them because they were a sad reminder. We appreciated the kind thoughts that went along with the flowers; however, I'll never send flowers again to someone who lost a loved one. Flowers die.

Bob and the girls arrived home that evening. He showed me the benches from our families and a plaque that reads, “Those we have held in our arms for a little while, we hold in our hearts forever.” We would have liked it if the bench had a Scripture passage on it. What it says is absolutely how I feel. At that time, we needed some encouragement though.

“Our hearts still ache in sadness

And secret tears still flow.

What it meant to lose you

No one will ever know.”

 That night, I don't remember all that happened, but I know that there were many tears, we talked, and we held each other in bed.

The First Week

May 23, 2010 ~ Sunday...Day 3

We didn't go to church today. It would be the only service that we'd miss. I just got home from the hospital yesterday, and I didn't think that we would have been emotionally able to go. Many didn't even know what happened yet, and it would have been awkward seeing those wondering looks..."Wasn't she pregnant? Where's the baby?" (I remember getting a few of those looks a week or two later...very awkward.)

I finally called my mom in WI before she and dad left for early church. It would be the first time I talked to her since Grace died. I don't remember what we said.

One of our church elders and his family stopped over after church today. He had a very nice devotion for us. I can't remember a word of it. He is a very soft-spoken man. In many ways, he reminds me of my dad. When he spoke, his lips were quivering and I thought he was going to cry. I'll always remember that. 

Before eating lunch, we prayed. This had never been so difficult to do. Through tears, I forced myself to say, “Oh give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good.” I know that we should always thank Him, even for the tests He gives us...and He is good, I know that. But this was hard to say after losing Grace. After lunch, Pastor brought the flower arrangement from church that Bob dropped off the day before. He would be back later with his wife and would do a devotion then.

My milk came in the night before, so today I was very uncomfortable. I showered before our company came and cried the entire time. I had this post-pregnant body and nothing to show for it. I was engorged and in so much physical and emotional pain. My stomach still looked like I was at least 6 months pregnant. I didn't want to wear my maternity clothes, but I had no choice. Only 3 days had gone by.

Today, we also started receiving flowers. Bob's mom and her husband had a nice flower arrangement sent of pink, red, and white roses and carnations. After the 3rd or 4th deliveries, I was beginning to wonder when the florists were going to say "Congratulations!" I remember answering the door, smiling, and saying "Thank You." When the living room was so full of them though, it just took its toll on me...especially when they started to die, too. We didn't get flowers because we had a baby. We got flowers because our baby died, and that was hard to realize.

As the week went on, we also received so many cards—not the joyful, congratulatory baby cards that we received after our other 3 pregnancies, but cards of sympathy and sincere condolences. Our living room had so many flowers in it. They were all beautiful, yet a painful reminder of losing our baby. A few days later, they died and in some ways it was a relief to throw them out. The personal messages included in the cards were heartfelt and sincere. They were meant to provide comfort, and in time they will. Each card made me cry, sometimes uncontrollably. It was nice to know that people were thinking of us, but I wanted the cards to stop coming so I wasn't constantly reminded about our baby that never came home with us. On days when there were no cards, I'd get upset because it seemed as though nobody cared and their lives got to go on like normal.

May 24, day #4 ~ Right away this morning we received a phone call saying that meals were prepared by some church friends and were going to be delivered...When would we like them? Bob answered this call, and I just shook my head. Are we supposed to be hungry? That was the one thing that I had planned for...Meals were already prepared in the freezer and the list of other meals that Bob and the girls could make was posted on the fridge. Meals are delivered to moms who bring babies home from the hospital. That gives the deliverer an excuse to see the new baby. I certainly didn't want to eat someone else's food and then feel as though I had to entertain them. (I'm sure that this isn't what I was expected to do, but remember that my mind wasn't in a good place.) Meals are also brought when someone dies and there's a funeral. Well, we already made the decision that we weren't going to have a funeral, and no one in our family was coming anyway, so we didn't need the food.

I've often felt that our refusal of the kind gesture of food was taken as "They don't want or need anything. They just want to be left alone." I realize that people want to "help" and doing something...anything...is their way of showing support. Again...we didn't know what to think or do. We heard so many times that "You're such private people." I took that as their poor excuse as to why no one ever said anything. Food brings comfort...nothing was going to make this better or easier for us...especially not food. What I needed then, and continue to need today, is to talk...to feel as though it's o.k. to talk about this...this crazy animal I call grief.

Bob and I went back down to the Vanderbilt clinic to have the staples removed this morning. It was a quiet and uncomfortable appointment. This day was particularly difficult because it was my 1^st time out. Bob had been great—very loving and supportive, but I felt so empty and alone. While sitting in the waiting room, I wondered how many others were suffering silently. 

The nurse took me into the exam room, and I didn't make conversation with her. I was still unable to control the tears and kept thinking that I should have a baby with me today. After all, that's why I have staples in my belly. I didn't know if she knew that we lost our baby. She never mentioned anything about it or asked how the baby was doing. She had me lie down on the table and turned her back to get things ready. Not a word was said. It felt like it took her forever before she started pulling out the staples. While her back was turned, I was wiping tears but turned them off as soon as she turned around. Maybe they're instructed to not say anything, but her acknowledgement would have been a relief in so many ways.

On Wednesday, May 26, Bob and Maddy drove to WI to attend Brittany's 8^th grade graduation service and to bring her home for the summer. I stayed home to heal and take care of our animals. A young friend spent the day with me which was nice, but what I really needed was to be left alone. I absolutely couldn't sit, because all I would do was think. I had her help me make jam just to kill some time. (Isn't that what everyone does after having a C-section?) When Heather wanted to play with her, I cleaned Maddy's and Heather's bedroom. We were going to have Grace sleep in their room, because the crib was still set up in there for Heather. I took the crib apart and put it in the garage. I also got rid of anything else that we were saving for our baby. 

Throughout the day whenever I wasn't around our friend, I cried. Our pastor's wife came that night to take her home. She brought her boys with her and I had a difficult time looking at them. The last time they saw me, I was still pregnant. I watched them a couple of days each week and would talk to them about my big belly. They would just giggle. Would they ask about the baby? I assumed that they were told not to. When they left, I felt relieved. It was excruciating to hold back the tears. When I didn't see tears from my friends, I felt that I couldn't cry either. I'm sure that they were having a difficult time holding theirs back, too. 

When Heather and I said prayers before bed, we said, “...and God bless Baby Grace.” We talked a little about heaven and Heather said that she thought Grace was playing with other little children. Of course, the tears were flowing when we were talking, and Heather said, “And dear God, please make my momma stop crying."

Before I went to bed, I checked on Heather. I just stood there and watched her sleeping peacefully. I was so thankful that God had already blessed us with 3 beautiful, healthy daughters, especially after seeing Grace hooked up to machines. She would have lived a life of suffering. I prayed that I'd never take them for granted again.

Feels Like...

Moments after Grace's birth...when I was in my own hospital room alone, even before Bob came back from the NICU to tell me that he named our daughter...I began to feel as though I was being punished for something I did. I think that this might be part of the reason that I couldn't call anyone to tell them that we had another daughter. After all, Bob already told me that she was going to die, and with the history of how my family dealt with “things” (Unheard of Decisions post), what would their reaction be? I was already afraid that once I told them, they'd quietly say, “OK...Well,we won't tell anyone. We'll act like this didn't happen.”

Wow! I finally said that “out loud”! I'm certain that no one actually thinks this way, but my mind was going so many different directions in those early moments, days, months, and even today. I began to assume what others would say or how they would react even before they knew about Grace. I don't want to blame this all on my childhood, but I do believe that it had/has a lot to do with how I dealt/deal with things.

This morning in my “quiet time” reading, I came to a passage that reassured me that we are not being punished for something that we did. I absolutely know that God doesn't punish us for our sins...that Jesus already wiped our slate clean when he suffered and died...but there are moments when I need to be reminded. There are moments when the pain of missing the life we imagined sharing with Grace is so bad that it feels like a punishment...it feels like anything but love.

In John 9:3, Jesus responds to the disciples when they asked why a man was born blind. They wondered who had sinned, the blind man or his parents. “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.”

At times, I try to look for the purpose in all of this...even in the sufferings of others. I want to find the answers to the questions. I want to be able to say, “Oh, that's why this happened.” I've also learned that we may never know what God's purpose is in allowing pain and sorrow into our lives. What I do know is that He is refining my faith. I remember six words my Godmother wrote in a card shortly after Grace died. She said, “Someday all will be made clear.” On that day, when we see Jesus face-to-face, I don't think that any of this will even matter. We will be experiencing true peace and joy with our Savior for eternity.

I'm pretty sure that most would say that my response to suffering hasn't been very God-pleasing. (Again...I'm assuming what others think.) At times, my silence might be mistaken for anger and jealousy. I'll be the first to admit that I've had those feelings and still do today...not all of the time, but they creep in. I am constantly processing things, learning how to react to well-meaning yet insensitive comments. The most common reaction that I continue to struggle with is the silence. The silence has been deafening.

I'm going to quote Nancy Guthrie who wrote “The One Year Book of Hope”. Nancy validates so many of my feelings. In the devotion “Displaying the Glory of God,” she says, “Instead of demanding that God explain himself and his purpose, you can decide to trust him, recognizing that your circumstances provide an unparalleled opportunity to glorify God just by trusting his purpose, even when you can't see his purpose.”

One of my favorite Bible passages comes from Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." This passage reassures me that God is in control. I don't need to try to find the answers...I only need to continue to trust.

What a privilege we have been given! It certainly feels like anything but a privilege. This definitely is not a punishment!

“...No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9

Going Home...May 22, 2010

May 22, 2010 Saturday

Today I would go home. I'm sure that I'd “feel much better” at home and recover more quickly. I was awake by 6 a.m. (It's not like I actually fell asleep), showered, and ready to go home by 8. I knew that Bob had some errands to run this morning and wouldn't be by to see me till noon.

He stopped by the florist and had them make a large flower arrangement with lots of pink flowers. He also wanted an angel to go along with the flowers. As soon as he walked into the store there it was...just what he had in mind. He got a card to go along with it and he wrote,

Dear Grace,

Our hearts may be sad, but we rejoice in the truth of God's love, knowing you are in heaven. We look forward to seeing you there.

Love,

Mom, Dad, Brittany, Madelyn, and Heather

He took the flowers over to church for Sunday's service. They were given out of thankfulness to God for the gift of our 4^th daughter and again out of thankfulness to God for taking her home to heaven. (Even today, I feel that empty pit in my stomach as I read this.)

When Bob carried the flowers into church, a member realized that we must have had our baby and congratulated him. Bob didn't say anything...I'm sure that he physically couldn't say anything without tears. He also dropped off almost 2,000 diapers and 5,000 diaper wipes at church for some new moms that would be able to use them. When Bob was on orders to help with Nashville's flood relief, someone hooked us up with diapers and wipes. He also gave the infant car seat back to our pastor. He already put the highchair in the garage.

Our friend came to the house and spent the entire day with her girls and ours. She cut grass, pulled weeds, got dinner ready, etc. (As I read this over today, I have no words to say how much we appreciated that. I know that I completely overlooked those who helped or wanted to help. Again...things weren't being processed in my mind, yet.)

Back at the hospital, I just sat in the chair and cried all morning. I know that I mentioned in an earlier post how caring the doctors and nurses were on Thursday, Grace's birthday. Yesterday and today, I was never sure if anyone else knew that I had just lost a baby. No one ever said anything when they came into my room to check on me. It would have been so helpful if they would have just acknowledged that they knew. I assume that there was something on the door or wall outside of my room that made them aware of our situation...if only they would have said something though. I felt very uncomfortable, which is probably how the thoughts of being taken to the Psych Ward came in. (It was like we were all pretending that nothing happened.) Little did I know at that time, that this was only the beginning of the uncomfortable silence. 

I tried calling my sister. My side of the family still didn't know and 2 days had passed. When I called her home there was no answer, so I tried to leave a message. All I could get out was, “Hi...This is Wendy.” She called back later and after a few moments of tears, we were able to carry on a conversation. It made me feel better.

Around 11, some friends stopped in. They planned on spending the rest of the day with us. Our car was still parked at the clinic where we went on Thursday for the ultrasound. We drove separately because Bob was planning on going to work after the appointment. Our friend was going to drive our car home.

Bob was on his way to the hospital. While we waited for him, we made small talk and while they were there, I don't remember feeling sad. The pain killers were obviously working. I know that I didn't cry. After all, I hadn't left the hospital without our baby, yet. I wouldn't allow myself to cry...mostly because I was afraid to in front of others. I was seriously afraid that the Psych Department would be called in if I started to fall apart. (Remember, there was no logical thinking going on in my head.) After Bob arrived, we went to the cafeteria and had lunch. I was finally discharged around 4:30. I was wheeled out to the parking garage, climbed in our van that was purchased because we were outgrowing the car, and I cried all the way home. I kept thinking, "What just happened?" When I sit, all I do is think which makes me cry. Bob held my hand in the van and said that when I cry, he feels inadequate. (I think that what he meant is that he couldn't do anything to fix this, and that made him feel helpless.)

We stopped at Walmart to have my prescriptions filled. It seemed like everyone was pregnant and there were babies everywhere. It was so difficult walking around in so much emotional pain and no one had a clue what had just happened to us. I still looked like I was at least 6 months pregnant. I was dreading someone coming up to me and asking when our baby was due.

When we arrived home, I think I hugged Maddy and our friend. It was difficult to look at anyone. Supper was in the oven. A few days before, I had our groceries bought, meals planned, and some meals made up in the freezer. This was one of those meals. How the Lord provides! His plans were so different than mine. We sat on the couch, but I have no clue what was talked about. We had supper, talked for awhile with our friends, then everyone left. We all went to bed. All I remember is wanting to be close to Bob. We talked, kissed a lot, and held each other. I no longer felt as though I needed to “be strong”. In bed, in the darkness, there was no holding back.

The Day After...May 21, 2010

Bob made a Facebook posting shortly after Grace died. It read:

To all our friends and extended family,

It is with a joyful yet sad heart I pass along this message. On Thursday, May 20, @ 11:22 a.m., God blessed us with the birth of our 4^th daughter, Grace Elaine. Through His divine wisdom, He chose to take her home with Him @ 10:20 p.m. Although we don't always understand the why's and how's of life, God assures us He is here for us all. We rejoice in knowing that Grace was made a child of God through Holy Baptism before her passing and is living eternally with her heavenly Father.

Just before 8 a.m., one of the NICU nurses that spent the night with us, brought the moldings of Grace's feet and praying hands. I was amazed at how beautifully they turned out. The nurses and doctors had all been so wonderful through all of this. They showed so much care, compassion, empathy, and sympathy. One of Bob's friends, a fellow firefighter, stopped by after getting off shift and offered his condolences. For some reason, I could never cry when anyone came in the room. I felt as though I had to be strong for everyone. I kept saying things like, “She's in a better place.” “She would have lived a life of suffering.” “This was God's will, and we've accepted that.” This was all easy for me to say. I hadn't left the hospital without our baby, yet. I spent the rest of the morning alone in my hospital room. I didn't even think to call anyone.

Bob came with Heather just before lunch. Dr. B. (who sent us to the hospital the day before) stopped in and offered his condolences. He wanted to know the history of the pregnancy. I told him that back in December the doctor saw subtle signs of cysts on the brain, a small hole in the heart, etc. But I told him that we didn't have further testing done because it wouldn't have changed anything for us. He said that if we had testing done, they wouldn't have let me go this long. I didn't comment. I thought, “That's what you think.” I said that we knew of people that had testing done and were told that their baby had some issues. Thankfully, their baby was born perfectly healthy. We've also heard of those who have had testing done and the tests showed nothing, but their baby was born with difficulties. I wondered how many babies are aborted because of what tests show. Dr. B. said, “You should talk to more than 1 or 2 people.” Regardless, we weren't going to let the doctors play God.

Pastor H. came after lunch and gave a devotion. I don't remember any of his words. I just cried the entire time.

At about 2, Bob called “Ma” (our TN mom) and told her about Grace. She was going to come after work for a visit. Bob left at 3 so he could be home when Maddy got off the bus. All that she knew up until this time was that she had a baby sister. Maddy and Heather spent the night at our neighbor's home. We didn't tell her yesterday, because we didn't want her to be upset at school. (I can't believe that I was actually expecting her to go to school after hearing this news. There wasn't any logical thinking going on at this time.) I don't know how Bob told her, but Maddy's reaction was what we expected. She didn't say anything. Some time later, I asked her if she cried. She said that she cried one time in the shower. (Maddy is so much like me.)

After telling Maddy, Bob called up to WI to tell Britt. (She was living with my sister while attending a Lutheran grade school, finishing out 8^th grade.) He made sure that she was alone. He said that he couldn't get the words out and Britt was crying and hysterical. She wanted to come home, “Now!”

Bob, Maddy, and Heather arrived back at the hospital by 6 p.m. “Ma” was already visiting with me. They all went to the cafeteria for supper. When Maddy came back to the room, she looked at the moldings of her baby sister. She thought that Grace's hands and feet were actually in the plaster. I think that we also let her look at pictures of Grace.

Bob didn't call the family to tell them about Grace until after he told Brittany. He didn't want anyone to tell her before she heard it from him. Britt, Maddy, and Heather didn't get a chance to meet their baby sister. At the time, we felt this was the right decision. The tubes and machines keeping her small body alive may have been too difficult for them to see and understand. We will continue to include her in our lives. I always want the girls to remember that they have a sister who lives in heaven.

Bob took the girls home at around 8:30. Once they left, I remember feeling so alone and cried the rest of the night.

One year ago today (May 21, 2009) was Ascension at our church. During the service Heather became very ill. Her breathing was strange and she was very hot. We headed home right away, but on the way Bob noticed how terrible her breathing was so we headed to the ER. While he waited with her, I took Britt and Maddy home. By the time I got back to the hospital, Heather was already in a room lying lifeless on a bed. They gave her morphine, inserted a catheter, took blood, tried to start an IV several times as she screamed. I felt like I was going to pass out. There came a time when I was wondering if we should call our pastor. That's how sick she looked to me. They never found out was was wrong with her. Thankfully, we brought her home on May 22.

How life changed exactly one year later. We would leave the hospital without one of our daughters.

Canned Relish

Today, March 21, 2012, as I was making lunch, I was taken back to August of 2009...back when I still lived in my content world of oblivion. I continue to be caught completely off guard by the simplest things that trigger thoughts of Grace...almost 2 years later. Anything and everything takes me to that place.
I took down a jar of pickle relish that was dated 8/3/09. My mind went back to the summer of '09 when my sister and her family visited us in July. They just announced that they were expecting their 4^th child. We were all excited and immediately knew that we wanted another baby, too.

Within days, I began planning to can a bunch of veggies from our garden. I assumed that I was going to be busy with a baby next summer, so there might not be time to plant a big garden. Our shelves were and still are stocked with pickles, okra, tomatoes, and apple butter dated 8/09 to 1/10. The most difficult dates to come across came from our freezer. Heather and I froze strawberry jam (5/18/10)...only 2 days before Grace was born and died. The day before that we were out picking strawberries. I was even teased (lovingly, I'm sure) by the farm owners as I walked to their patch. I heard them say that they never had anyone deliver in one of their fields before. I just smiled my half-grin. (I had heard so many comments on my size by this time and just didn't acknowledge anyone anymore.)

Back to the relish date 8/09...Little did we know that one year later we'd be planning Grace's memorial service on 8/8/10. After the initial shock wore off from May 20, we knew how important it was for us and for our family and friends to remember Grace, to acknowledge the gift of life our gracious Lord gave to her and blessed our family with.

Today, March 21, 2012, also brought me back to January 2010. Our Thrivent rep. (insurance man) was coming to our home today. The last time he saw us was Jan. '10 when I was pregnant. (I was wondering if he even remembered. Of course, we don't bring that subject up.) Five months later, we received an infant death benefit from Thrivent. I still wonder where the benefit is in infant death? I'll say this often, “We have a child who lives in heaven!” There is no greater benefit for a Christian...My clouded vision only wants that benefit to be for someone who has been blessed with a long life.

As our insurance man was getting ready to leave, he said that they had a little girl back in November. I asked what they named her, as I felt the stab in my heart. I only remember that her middle name is Hope. I love that name, too. We congratulated him, and I rejoiced silently because it continues to be difficult to hear of that joy. All I can remember about my birth experiences is watching Grace die. I don't remember the joy. I thanked him for coming out, shook his hand, and quickly went outside for some garden therapy. I am so thankful for the sure hope that we have of seeing our loved ones in heaven...and it continues to hurt.

Everyone's time of grace is different. God's timing is perfect! I trust that, and I continue to struggle...

I continue to be amazed at how anything and everything can cause my mind to spin...relish and our Thrivent rep. of all things!

Validated Feelings

It can be difficult for me to read the stories of others who have lost children. At times, I regret that we didn't do what someone else may have done. At times, I wish that we would have allowed our family and friends “in” right away. As time continues on, I do feel more at peace with the decisions we made in those early days...such unheard of decisions. We may have felt as though we were alone in the hospital room that day, but God was right there with us...He continues to carry us.

No two experiences are exactly alike. No one grieves in the same way. My husband and I are so different in our grief and that's o.k. It took me a long time to accept that. I couldn't figure out why he didn't feel the same way I did. How is he able to “put this on a shelf” when he needs to? I wish that I could do that. This doesn't mean that he loves Grace any less.

I continue to remind myself that the only thing that matters is that Grace lives in heaven. I don't even like to say that we lost a child. I'd rather tell people that we live with a child in heaven...not what we live without.

As I continue to read about the experiences of others who have lost children, I am relieved to learn that many, if not all, of my feelings and thoughts are validated. Others feel “this way”, too...to some extent. I'm not as crazy as I think. It appears that many who grieve are experiencing “normal” feelings (whatever “normal” means) that go along with suffering a loss.

Shortly after Grace died, I felt encouraged when I saw others cry who had lost children. I thought that I wasn't supposed to be sad because of the short time we got to spend with her. Many told me that they also felt as though their grief didn't match the amount of time they got to spend with their child. Many of these friends lost their babies before they were born.

I recently met a father who has survived his 15 yr. old son for 33 years. I met a mother who has survived her 7 yr. old son for 44 years. The love they have for their sons will live on until they see them again in heaven. They told me that not a single day passes that they don't think of or miss their sons.

We imagine sharing our entire lives with our children. Instead, Grace shared her entire life with us. We know, without a doubt, that she lives in heaven. We pray that our other children and loved ones never fall away so we can live with them forever, too.

Surviving Church

Today was another one of those Sundays that I was desperately fighting to stay seated in the front pew of church and not run out in tears. Since Grace died, many Sundays are this way. Why do we sit in the front pew? Because families with babies sit in the back. I refuse to do that, although that's exactly where I expected to be sitting these last 2 years.

Bob and I like to go to the early church service because there are fewer people and it's usually quiet. I like to say that it's more “worshipful” in early service. (That might be a new word.) Today was the exception and I was caught completely off guard when I walked through the doors. The hallway was filled with so many people and the “noise” overwhelmed me. I wondered what the occasion was. As I walked past “Grace's” picture hanging on the wall...a picture of Jesus holding an infant given by my parents in memory of Grace...I glanced over to see friends and family taking pictures of a baby. I thought, “There's going to be a baptism today.” The joy that this family is celebrating today, is the same bittersweet joy that takes me immediately back to the operating room on Grace's birthday.

Thankfully, this baby became a child of God through baptism today. I believe that we are all sinful from conception. The Bible says in Psalm 51:5 “Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me.”

Part of me felt angry that this family waited this long to have their son baptized. He was born the end of December. I don't want to judge them. I'm sure they had their reasons for waiting...maybe waiting until all of their family could witness it. I remembered back to our first 3 daughters' births. At that time, I was living in my content little world where everything seemed to be going according to my plans...my world where babies don't die. We had the girls baptized a couple of weeks after their births...when it was convenient for us and for the sponsors. So, who am I to judge?

I was rejoicing with this family this morning. I just couldn't show it through the tears running down my face and by my red, runny nose. I'm sure that I appear angry and jealous to others. No one ever asks why I cry. I don't give anyone the opportunity to ask anymore. I'll explain that later.

I watched as Pastor H. baptized him. The parents, sponsor, and pastor smiled. Thankfully, we were smiling, too, when our 3 older girls were baptized. We also had family and friends witness these special days with us. The girls received cards and gifts, and I'm pretty sure that we celebrated with a meal, too.

Since Grace died, those happy memories have a cloud hanging over them. As I watched this morning's baptism, I couldn't get the visions of Grace's baptism out of my head. As I was lying on my back, looking up at the white ceiling of the operating room, a nurse came over to me and said that Bob had baptized our daughter. He hadn't even named her yet. I hadn't even seen her. I didn't get to witness her baptism. We already knew before our baby was born that he or she would be baptized immediately after birth. Bob and I talked about that weeks before. I felt relief when the nurse told me this, but then I began to wonder, “Did Bob use water?” I didn't want to ask because the NICU team was in the room and everything was so serious and quiet. I didn't want to bother anyone. (Sounds crazy to say that today, but that's how I was feeling.) Bob said later that day, that he didn't want to ask them for water because “things were a little crazy in there”. Of course, they were. I just wasn't able to see it.

I also know that it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Grace came to church with us every Sunday for 9 months. She heard the Word and the Holy Spirit was already at work creating faith in her little heart. I absolutely believe this!

Moments later, they took Grace to the NICU and Bob said, “You know that she won't live.” That's what I see every time I've witnessed a baptism since Grace's. So, if I cry, let me cry. I'm o.k. I just continue to hurt...not all of the time, but more so on Sundays. We used to stay for Sunday School between services. This isn't always the case anymore. It usually depends on how high the emotions are running at the end of service.

This morning, we left immediately. I wasn't going to give anyone the chance to ask me if anything was wrong. To be very blunt, I wasn't going to allow anyone the chance to smile at me as they looked at my bloodshot, puffy eyes and red face and ask if Bob was working today, or ask how the garden is. Unfortunately, this is how most of my friends avoid my pain...smile and change the subject. The walls become a little higher with a little more distance added.

It really helps to write...

Thankfully, I did witness Grace's baptism about 3 hours before she died. We asked our pastor to baptize her while she was in the NICU. I can still see all of the tubes that were going into her and can hear the beeps of the machines that kept her alive. I watched our pastor baptize Grace with water as he said, "Grace Elaine...I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Then the 3 of us said the Lord's Prayer. We didn't have smiles on our faces, but we did have peace and joy in our hearts knowing that she was about to go home to live with her heavenly Father for eternity. I continue to look forward to experiencing true peace and joy in heaven. It can't be found here on earth.

There was no party. There were no cards or gifts. (I did find her a birth and baptism card a few weeks later.) These are all earthly, temporary things anyway. Grace received something even better on her baptismal day, which also happened to be her birthday. She received the gift of eternal life in heaven.

On our refrigerator hangs a cross that says, “Grace is a gift from God.” In our curio cabinet, each of our daughters has her own shelf of special things. On Grace's shelf, there is a pink cross that has her name on it. The top of the cross says, “God's Child”. That is who Grace is! 

Unheard of Decisions

It's difficult to take myself back to this day...a day that used to be filled with so many regrets...regrets that fill my head when I allow satan to step in and I don't trust God. I continue to remind myself that God was with us in those moments and continues to be with us today. He's carried us every step of the way and promises to always walk with us. God is faithful!

My last post talked about Grace's birthday. That day, there was about an hour's worth of time we made so many decisions. (I had already made the decision to have my tubes tied about 2 hours before. A decision made while assuming we were bringing another baby home.) We were waiting to see Grace in the NICU. I couldn't go until the feeling came back to my legs. While we waited in my room, 4 NICU doctors and nurses came to let us know about Grace's condition. At this time, I was needing someone to step in and tell me exactly what to do. On a good day I'm indecisive. Today was not the day to be asking me to make any rational decisions. Bob and I were probably looking at each other wondering what the other was thinking. I was too afraid to ask him. We did what we thought was best in that moment.

As I just said, I wanted someone to come in and tell us what to do, but at the same time, I didn't want anyone coming in because I wouldn't allow myself to cry in front of others. Who would come anyway? Up to this point, we hadn't called anyone to let them know that Grace was born...no one! I assumed that no one would come anyway. Most of our family lived about 700 miles away. What could they do? Our family just isn't “that way”. We didn't even give them a chance.

I already began feeling that Grace never existed. I was thinking that everyone would feel as though we deserved this because we must have done something wrong and were being punished. (I absolutely know that God is not punishing us. Jesus already paid the price for our sins.) Again, my thoughts and feelings were so clouded at this point. Inside my head, I was thinking all kinds of crazy things. Remember, a couple of hours before this, I was excited because our baby was coming a couple of weeks early. The shock was setting in. I started “building walls” and putting distance between me and my family and friends. If a few people in my life felt a certain way, I guess that meant that everyone feels that way.

After the doctor told us of all the struggles that Grace was facing, we made the decision to unhook her from all machines. We don't feel as though we took matters into our own hands. We believe that God led us to come to this decision together. We didn't want her to live a life of suffering. I truly believe that God would have allowed her to live without machines if those were His plans for her.

We discussed how we were going to handle her body. When I thought about the word “funeral”, all I could envision was a casket being buried in a cemetery. I couldn't bear to have her buried knowing how many times we had moved in our (then) 18 years of marriage. Later on, I learned that Bob told himself that he'd never buy a casket for an infant. I'm not trying to be insensitive by saying that, because I know of some who have had to do this. None of us ever imagine surviving our child or children. The doctor told us that the hospital cremated bodies every 1-3 months. “OK, we'll have her cremated then?” (I still feel anxiety and sick to my stomach saying that.) Again, I was feeling as though she never existed. I was letting my childhood memories cloud my feelings of acknowledging that she was alive. Up to this point, she was still alive in the NICU, and it felt as though we were already “writing her off”. 

I grew up hearing such insensitive things from my family. These things contributed largely to my way of thinking when Grace was born. It angers me to this day that I let those influences cloud my judgment and decisions on such an unexpected day. I can remember hearing family members talking about others that suffered a miscarriage. It was usually followed by, “Well, they shouldn't have told everyone right away!” I could never understand that comment. Did it mean that if you don't wait at least 3 months to announce a pregnancy, the baby would die early? Did it mean that if you didn't tell anyone that you were expecting, then the baby died, that you couldn't say anything after that? You had to suffer in silence? Is that why so many seem so bitter? They've been through this and no one acknowledges their pain? 

I was also remembering one of the reactions we got after announcing that we were pregnant with our first child. Of course, Bob and I were excited and assumed that everyone else would be too. When we told one of the grandparents-to-be, we heard “Well, it's not my 1^st grandchild!” There was no excitement. So I thought “Why would a dead grandchild mean any more?” Why call anyone?

That was another reason why I felt that we shouldn't have a funeral. After all, we weren't bringing a baby home; therefore, she must not exist. I hate that I was thinking this way. Bob and I didn't discuss things alone. We were with doctors and nurses, and I assumed that answers were needed now. That's not how anyone meant to make us feel, but that's just how I understood things at that time. We didn't ask to be left alone so we could talk to one another. I probably wouldn't have been able to decide anything anyway. I'm sure that I wouldn't have told Bob how irrational my thoughts were. We just didn't know what to do.

Again...The only thing that matters is that Grace lives in heaven!

Up to this point, we still hadn't called anyone. Our children didn't even know that they had a new baby sister.

I think that funeral homes help families write up obituaries. We've never experienced anything like this before, thankfully, and we didn't know if we should even write one up for her. (Another huge regret...The only thing that matters is that Grace lives in heaven!) Remember my clouded thinking? We weren't bringing a baby home from the hospital; therefore, she didn't exist. Obituaries are only written for those who lived. Well, Grace lived! Her heart beat for the 9 months that I carried her inside of me and for 11 hours after she was born. Yes, she needed to be resuscitated, and she needed machines to help her breathe, but she lived. It's so hard to write this today, but it's necessary. I feel that I need to let my thoughts out, to say them “out loud” to someone.

I know that many may have wondered why we did or didn't do things a certain way. We did what we did under crazy, unexpected, unheard of circumstances. We went into the hospital to deliver a baby and bring him or her home. We expected to share our lives with her. In less than 4 hours after Grace's birth, we were making decisions on allowing her to live by artificial means, possible surgeries, a funeral, cremation, etc. We did what we thought was right at the time.

We also decided that day, Grace's birthday, to have a private memorial service in our home with our pastor and 3 living daughters. We would do this when we brought Grace's earthly remains home. Thankfully, after a little time had passed, those plans changed. I'll write about that another time.

Grace's Birthday ~ May 20, 2010

This might be way too much detail and information, but this is what I get to hold on to and remember...

May 20, 2010
On the morning of May 20, we took Heather to our neighbor's home by 6:30 a.m. Maddy (our then 5th grader) stayed home from school because we think that she had broken her toe two days before. She was still having a hard time walking on it. I told her that I'd take her to the doctor later that day after I got home from my appointment. Bob and I drove to Nashville separately, because he was going into work after the appointment. We arrived at the OB clinic in Nashville. As soon as we got out of our vehicles, I could tell that Bob was upset. We sat in traffic for awhile on the way down. Bob and driving in rush hour traffic just don't mix, so he was a bit testy.

I signed in and talked to a registration clerk. He said that my OB appointment was at 8 a.m. and my ultrasound was after 2 p.m. I let him know that when I called to confirm my appointment, I made it clear that my times were at 8 and 8:45. They finally agreed. Again...Bob was very testy. Then the clerk said that we owed $325 for our co-insurance. We don't appreciate surprises. I asked when it had to be paid. He said not to worry, it wasn't due until my 28^th week. I was already 36 ½ weeks.

We were eventually called back for the ultrasound. The technician talked to us throughout the ultrasound. Toward the end, I noticed how he was focusing on each hand. I saw how a finger was sticking up and it seemed bent. I didn't say anything. I think he finally said that that was interesting or a concern. Shortly after, he had Dr. B. come in. He is an OB doctor, but he wasn't the doctor I was seeing later on for my OB appointment. He was just reading and explaining my ultrasound.

Dr. B. was concerned from the start and proceeded to explain how the baby's heartbeat was only about 105 bpm. He said that I was carrying 5-15 times the amount of fluid I should have been. (That explained my excessive weight gain and constantly hard belly. Even more shocking for me to hear was that the baby was only measuring about 4 lbs. He said that the placenta wasn't carrying enough oxygen to the baby either.

I appreciated his directness. He said, “I know that I am just meeting you for the first time, but I'm sending you over to Vanderbilt and you'll be delivering this baby today.” I wasn't sure what to think. I was relieved to go 3 ½ weeks early, because I had been so uncomfortable since March. I was also quite anxious because we absolutely weren't prepared for this when we left the house. No bag was packed. No camera. No phone numbers.

Dr. B. called the OB department at Vanderbilt and talked to Dr. B. She would be delivering our baby. He explained everything to her that he had just told us and sent us on our way. He made sure to point out to Bob that I was not to drive and that he take me directly to the hospital. He said that Dr. B. would determine whether or not I'd need a C-section. I was dreading this, but I would do anything it took for our baby to be alright. Dr. B. said that if I needed to have a C-section, I should highly consider having “things taken care of.” I didn't respond. Did he suggest this because at my age this must have been an accidental pregnancy? Why would he make such a comment?

On the way to the hospital, I called our neighbor and told her that “we are having a baby today, and I'm not kidding.” I said that Bob would be by later to get Heather and asked if she'd check on Maddy later that day. Bob called the fire department to say that he needed to be put on FMLA now. I really can't remember any of our conversation in the car, if there even was any. I do remember Bob saying, “There will be no more babies. I'm not going through this again.” I said that if I needed to have a C-section, I'd consider getting my tubes tied. From the time we started seeing doctors and announcing our wonderful news of another pregnancy, we were so frustrated with the negative comments.

“So was this a surprise?”
“You're how old?”
“Better you than me.”
“So this was an accident.” (Not a question, but a statement.)
“Maybe this time you'll get a boy.”
“Oh! So you're trying for a boy.” (We weren't trying for a boy. We just wanted another baby.)

We wanted to have another baby. I'm sure that Bob would have loved a son, and I would have loved to give him one. I didn't care what we had. I just wanted to have another baby. I wanted Heather to hold her baby brother or sister and have the experience of being a big sister.

around 10 a.m.

When we arrived at Labor and Delivery, I said, “I guess we're having a baby today.” They were expecting us and took us back to a delivery room. I changed and nurses and a doctor started my IV and put a heart monitor on me. They had a difficult time finding the baby's heartbeat. Finally, they realized that it was so close to mine that it was hard to tell which was the baby's. It was only reading in the 80's. Because the heart rate was so low, I would be having a C-section. They were concerned about doing it right away, because I had eaten one small bite of a banana on the way to the hospital. They said that I could aspirate on it, so they were going to have me wait. The heartbeat must have slowed even more, because I was suddenly being wheeled to the O.R. Bob stayed back to get scrubs on and would be with me when I was prepped.

At this time, I was beginning to feel anxious. C-section? I really didn't want one. What if I felt it? Once in the O.R., they had me sit on the bed. The anesthesiologist gave me a spinal. It didn't hurt much at all. The most uncomfortable part was bending over while sitting on the bed. My belly was so big and hard, that I couldn't bend very far. After a couple of minutes, I was numb. The doctor apologized and said they couldn't wait for Bob to get in the room. As they cut me, Bob came in. He sat beside me and just as he sat down, I could hear all of the fluid rushing out. It was like a tidal wave on the drape that hung in front of me. Bob said that it was everywhere and came back as far as his feet. The baby was out at 11:22 a.m. The doctor warned us and said that a team from the NICU was going to be bursting through the door any second. At this time, I was just looking at the ceiling—not thinking about anything. Sometimes I'd close my eyes for awhile, but I'd open them again so the nurses knew I was conscious. Bob didn't want to sit anymore and stood up. He must have realized that the baby wasn't breathing. I couldn't see anything. I didn't realize when the baby was out. The doctors and nurses were very quiet. The only words that I heard were, “Wow!” and “Watch out! Be careful!” They were referring to all of the fluid that was in me. They didn't want anyone to slip because it was everywhere. 

The NICU team saw that Bob was looking over at them, and they let him come over to watch. I don't even know how much time had gone by when I finally realized how quiet it was. “Why wasn't there any crying?” I started focusing on what the NICU team was saying. I heard the words, “she,” a few times. “I guess we have a girl,” I thought to myself. No one ever told me. Then I heard them say, “1 and 0.” Those were her Apgar scores. I still wasn't putting all of this together realizing how serious things were. A nurse eventually came over and said that Bob had baptized her. I nodded my head and felt relieved. 

Before I went into surgery, I told the doctor that I'd consider having my tubes tied. She said that she'd ask me again in the O.R. Once the baby was delivered, the doctor asked if I still wanted my tubes tied. She said that I needed to be sure because it was irreversible. I remember screaming inside, “No!” and with my eyes closed, I shook my head, “Yes!” It hadn't even registered with me that she wasn't breathing and would die. I can't live with always saying, “If only I knew...” What's done is done.

I felt relieved that Bob had baptized her. The seriousness of her condition was still unknown to me. I couldn't see anything. I couldn't feel any emotion. I had no clue. A nurse brought our baby over to me. She was very small and wrapped in a blanket. I only saw her face for about 5 seconds. They said that she weighed 2 ½ lbs. Again...shock! Eventually, they took her to the NICU, and Bob went with them. Before he left, he very matter-of-factly stated, “You know that she won't live.” I think that I was surprised and possibly said, “Really?”

I was taken to my room after surgery. Bob came to my room after some time. He said that he named our baby, Grace. I smiled and thought, “What a perfect name for her!” We never found out what the sex of our babies was. If we had known that Grace was going to be a girl, we more than likely would have picked out a different name. So, this is another reason for not finding out. We always loved the surprise. At some point Bob explained that Grace wasn't breathing when she was born. He watched them do chest compressions on her. They tried 3 times to intubate her. In the O.R. the NICU doctor was talking about Trisomy 18. He saw some signs that indicated this. Trisomy 18 is fatal.

The next thing I remember was calling the NICU to see how Grace was. The nurse said that she was stabilized. At about 3:30 p.m. a team of doctors from the NICU came to talk to us. A doctor told us of all the struggles Grace was facing. Her esophagus and trachea were not attached. She couldn't swallow or breathe on her own. She was so small because she couldn't swallow and that's part of the reason I filled up with so much fluid. Anything in her stomach would go into her lungs. She wasn't making any platelets and would just bleed. They mentioned something about spots on her eyes. I'm not sure if those were cataracts or if maybe she was blind. Her fists were also clenched. I noticed Bob wiping his eyes while the doctor talked. I still had no emotions.

Grace was on a ventilator, and she had a feeding tube going into her stomach. The doctors explained different surgeries that could be done that would stretch her esophagus and trachea so they could be attached. More than likely, she would never survive such a surgery. It's a difficult surgery for a healthy baby. 

Bob and I both agreed that we wouldn't want her to live by artificial means. That's when my tears finally came. When I was able to get into a wheelchair, I'd be able to go see her. We still hadn't called anyone. Bob called Pastor B. and he said that he'd be able to come around 6 p.m.

After 5:30, I was finally able to feel my legs and could go to the NICU. When we arrived, Pastor B. had just gotten there, too. I had no idea what to expect and was hoping that Bob and I could see her alone for a few moments. When we got into her room, she was hooked up to several machines with tubes going into her body everywhere, including her head. It was very difficult to see her like this. We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Pastor gave a devotion. He, too, baptized her. The only reason for this was that in the O.R. Bob didn't use water. He only spoke the words. He didn't want to ask for water because things were rather hectic at the time. It wasn't necessary for Pastor to baptize her, but it eased my mind. I felt as though I had taken this special moment away from Bob, but I still feel that Bob baptized Grace. I wish I could have seen that. Bob also said that he wasn't sure if they had her heart beating yet when he baptized her. (This wouldn't have mattered either. Grace came to church with us for 9 months and heard God's Word. The Holy Spirit was already at work in her.) So, Pastor eased both of our minds and I witnessed her baptism, too.

After Pastor left, we were able to hold Grace for as long as we wanted while she was still alive. The doctor had told us that once she was taken off the machines, they didn't know how long she'd live. It could be minutes, hours, days, or weeks. I prayed that she would go quickly.

The hospital had a camera that they let us use. We got pictures of her with both of us holding her. We kissed her head, said "We'll see you in heaven," and at 10 p.m. she was taken off the machines. Grace continued to breathe and we continued to hold her. At about 10:15, I noticed that it had been over a minute or two since I had seen her chest move. I handed her to Bob and said, “I think she's done.” Bob held her for a few more moments, laid her on her bed and had the doctors come in. They pronounced her at 10:20 p.m. She lived for 11 hours.

For the next 2 ½ hours, we made her foot and hand prints, moldings of her feet and praying hands. We bathed her, dressed her, and took a few more pictures. The nurses were wonderful, but there was a moment that one nurse was beginning to have a little too much fun it seemed. As she was putting Grace's foot in the plaster, she was talking to Grace. It just got weird. Then it got to a point where we started feeling uncomfortable and wondered, “What are we doing to her?” She wasn't some doll or toy. We decided that it was time to say, “Good-bye,” and we left. We left the NICU without our baby.

Bob took me back to my room, we hugged, and he went home. I only slept 2 hours that night. It was all very surreal.

At this time, the only person that we had called was our pastor. We had a daughter going to school in WI and living with my sister. We wanted to wait to tell anyone because we wanted her to hear it from us first.

The Calm Before the Storm

"The Beginning of my Grace Journals" post talked about the months before May, doctors' visits, and ultrasounds. Our final ultrasound left us with the most hope if I can recall correctly. We prepared to have our baby at Vanderbilt just to be safe. Our next appointment would be May 20 to schedule our baby's birthday.

Week of May 9, 2010

The next few days were spent planting the garden. I at least wanted to get everything in before I went in. I also started planning meals for when I would be gone. I was anticipating a hospital stay in the NICU with the baby. It was difficult not knowing if we'd be in the hospital for a while. If we were, for how long? Having the meals planned out and the freezer full of food was one less thing to worry about. 

On Sunday, May 16, we had a fundraiser potluck at church for a family who lost their home in the flood. (Much of the state was affected by a devastating flood the first weekend of May.) Pastor told me that we needed to have our baby by June 13^th, so we could have a baptism that day. The theme for the church service on the 13^th would be Baptism. I just gave him a half-grin and said, “We'll see.” Bob and I already decided back in February that Bob would baptize the baby as soon as he or she was born. June 13^th also was our due date.

Monday, May 17, I went strawberry picking with our (then) 3 year old daughter. I wanted to get our yearly supply of jam in the freezer before the baby came. The family at the strawberry farm was joking with me that I might have this baby out in the field. I still had 2 ½ weeks to go, but I looked as though I was ready to burst. Knowing how uncomfortable I felt, I just smiled at their comments. We had fun picking. Our daughter ate most of her berries. The fields were very wet and extremely slimy and slippery due to all of the rain we had. The flooding was the first weekend of May, and many places were still recovering.

On Tuesday, May 18^th, we made strawberry jam.

On May 19, I picked up a couple of last minute things for the hospital just in case I went in early. I got some slip-on shoes and capris for the hospital. I wanted something comfortable to lounge around in if our stay was going to be lengthy. I stopped at Food Lion to get more sugar, because I wanted to make one more batch of jam. When I got to the checkout, the cashier said, “Shoot girl. You havin' twins? You huge!” My heart just sank. I gave her my half-grin and shook my head, “No.” Then she asked, “When you due?” As I was taking my groceries to leave, I said, “In a couple of weeks.” The bagger laughed as I left and said, “I don't think she'll even make it to the car.”

As I pulled into the driveway, I stopped to say, “Hi,” to our neighbor. She was taking her dog for a walk. I hadn't talked to her since last October. I told her that we were having a baby in a couple of weeks. I can't remember any more of our conversation. That night, I remember being excited about our new OB appointment and ultrasound with the Vanderbilt doctors tomorrow. I was anxious to see which day they would schedule us to come in to induce me.

I planted some more of the garden. I used a pillow to kneel on and could barely get up once I was down.

As I look back today, 22 months later, I see so many signs of things that should have told me to let my doctor know. Nothing would have changed the outcome. God was already at work even before conception.

Why Now?

Why write now after so much time has gone by? So much time to whom? “Time” is a word that has a completely different meaning to me now. It seems to fly by, yet it also continues to feel as though it stands still. Pretty much all day, every day, my mind is going. I continue to have conversations in my head with people that I haven't really talked to since Grace died. We talked before that, but none of us knew what to say after our lives changed. I don't remember feeling anger or jealousy in the beginning, but as time continues to pass, I feel more of that. 

I absolutely know that we are not being punished by God, but it feels as though we are. I know that God allows struggles and crosses into our lives to refine our faith and draw us closer to Him. I know that we are all sinful and this pain is a consequence of our sins. One of my questions has been, “Really, Lord? Did it have to be this? Couldn't something else have been used to draw me closer to you?” Thankfully, He knows what's best. Thankfully, He continues to shower His blessings on us every day. It doesn't always feel as though He's right here with us carrying us through every moment of every day, but we know that He's here. I've often said that I just wish I could see Him sitting right next to me...but I continue to trust. God is faithful!

There are moments when I judge others and think that they're the ones that should have had to watch their baby die...not us. We wanted to share our lives with another child. There are others who struggle with another child. This wasn't an unplanned pregnancy...only the outcome was unexpected.  My thoughts and feelings can be pretty horrible, at times. I have to remind myself that I don't deserve anything good from God. Thankfully, because of His grace ~ His undeserved love ~ He doesn't see my unworthiness. I also remind myself that this isn't about me, it's about what Jesus did for me. If anyone knows the pain of losing a child, it's God. He sacrificed His only Son. He watched His Son suffer and die for me.

I have some pretty high walls built up around me. They were so easy to build...so difficult to tear down. I pray that sharing my thoughts “out loud” will help me to heal even more. Time does help with some things, but it can also make things more difficult.

Over a year ago, our pastor shared a very familiar Bible passage with me. “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24 He reminded me to be thankful for today and try not to look back. Our other pastor's family gave us a picture that has this passage on it, and it hangs in our kitchen. They gave it to us for Grace's first birthday in heaven. We look forward to the day that we get to live with all of our loved ones who have gone before us, home to heaven.

The Beginning of my Grace Journals

Twelve days after our lives changed, I began writing in a journal. I encourage everyone to do this. I was so afraid that I was going to forget the details of my last pregnancy...

written on June 1, 2010...

I write this in hopes that I can someday help someone who experiences the pain and sadness we are feeling after the loss of our daughter, Grace Elaine, shortly after her birth. My thoughts might be very random and in no certain order. My emotions are on such a roller coaster ride. One minute I feel fine ~ the next, I can't stop crying. Today is Day 12 of our loss. Just saying it makes my cry. In 12 more days our 4^th child was due.

We decided last July that we wanted to have another baby, Lord willing. My sister and her family visited for a week and while they were here, she announced that they were expecting their 4^th child. I was excited for them and congratulated her. After I told my husband, I think we just knew that we wanted another baby, too. So for the next couple of months we had fun trying to make a baby.

We already were blessed with 3 beautiful, healthy daughters. All three pregnancies were uneventful. I had the typical nausea the 1^st few months, weight gain anywhere from 25-30 pounds, one ultrasound with each pregnancy, and normal labor and deliveries lasting about 8 hours. All 3 were induced, because I was anywhere from 2 to 10 days overdue with them. We never wanted to know the sex of our babies. We always loved that surprise ~ although I was convinced that our third daughter was a boy. I think that not finding out the sex of our children has played a huge part in naming our 4^th daughter.

We found out in October that we were pregnant. My husband was the one that picked up a pregnancy test, and we took it together. I can remember how excited we were. From that day, we began to fantasize about a life with another baby.

I had my first OB appointment in mid-November. With our 2^nd and 3^rd pregnancies, we had a wonderful doctor while we were living in WI. When we moved to The South, I didn't know who to go to for care. I didn't want to ask any of my friends because I wanted to wait until after our 3^rd month to tell everyone. I heard that Dr. M. was good and that is who I chose for my doctor.

My first visit left me frustrated. The nurse took me into the bathroom and said, “Let me get this straight. You're 39 and you're pregnant?” Next, she took me into the exam room and her next question was, “Do you plan on keeping this baby?” Saying this now, knowing the outcome, makes me sad and even angry. My answer to this was, “Yes, I'm even married, and this was a planned pregnancy.” I wanted to walk out of the room at this point. Dr. M seemed nice but kept on pointing out my age and all the risks associated with this pregnancy now. I never heard of AMA (Advanced Maternal Age) until this point. She wanted me to have genetic testing along with other blood tests to see if the baby had any "issues". I refused because the results wouldn't have changed anything for us. God created this baby for us. Dr. M. also was sending me to Nashville for a special ultrasound because of my age. So, from the beginning, I felt as though I was labeled.

With my last pregnancy, I was 36 and my WI doctor had never mentioned anything about my age. He treated me as a healthy patient who had no complications with previous pregnancies. Here, Dr. M. looked at my age and immediately labeled me as high risk. (Today, I do understand the extra precautions and concerns for a woman who is over 35. I also know that the creation of a life is in God's hands, and no matter what a woman's age is, He is in control. At this time, I was still living in my content world of complete oblivion where everything goes according to our plans.)

We shared our news with our family on December 20 when we were in WI. At 18 weeks, on January 12, we had our 1^st ultrasound. Our 1^st ultrasound tech. couldn't get the baby to settle down to get all of her pictures, so she had another one come in. She didn't have much luck either, but after a long time ~ or what seemed like a long time because of the silence~ she got her pictures and had Dr. M-L come in. She observed for a while, too...in silence. We went into her office and she asked if we knew why we were there. I said that it was because I was old. She seemed to agree then pulled out a chart and started talking about genes and chromosomes. My husband and I listened to this in silence, not even looking at one another, but together we were wondering, “Why is she telling us this?” 

She said that she saw subtle signs (she used “subtle” at least 50 times) of fluid sacs on the brain (choroid plexus cysts), a hole in the heart, clenched fists, and chin and nose measurements all relating to Trisomy 13, 18, or 21. She couldn't be certain unless I went through further testing. We, again, refused any tests because the results wouldn't change anything for us. We went home very disheartened and very frustrated at how the doctor delivered this news to us.

A second ultrasound was done at the same clinic by Dr. F. on January 28. My husband left for Haiti with his guard unit this day, and I went alone to the appointment. Another long, silent ultrasound was performed by the tech, then by the doctor. I didn't see any of this ultrasound because the monitor was never turned on, and I just laid on my back looking at the ceiling. He said, “Well, there's definitely something wrong with the heart, and this along with everything else the baby has...” Again, amnio was recommended, and I asked what good would it do? Nothing could be done to correct any “issues”. He said the testing would be for management purposes. If the baby had Down's (Trisomy 21), they would have a team standing by to help the baby. If the baby had Trisomy 18, they wouldn't bother.  Those were his words. I said that they should treat the pregnancy as though there might be some challenges. 

I left my ultrasound alone and frustrated. I began to pray that we would accept whatever God's will was for our baby and for us. I also prayed that the doctors were wrong. I actually told God to "bring it on." I told only a few friends that we were pregnant, the rest eventually realized in February and March. I rarely talked about the pregnancy to anyone. When asked, “How are you feeling?” My answer was always, “Great! How are you feeling?” I just tried to avoid the questions. “What are you having?” "Either a boy or a girl," I would answer. It would drive people crazy that we didn't find out. Then they'd usually say, “Well, as long as it's healthy, it doesn't matter.” I always thought, “Well, the baby might not be healthy.” I kept pretending that everything was fine, because I didn't want to go into detail with anyone. I just kept praying that we, especially my husband, would accept God's will...healthy or with special needs...we'd love and care for this baby. At this time, I also began to pray for a baby with Down's Syndrome...our alternative was fatal.

I read a devotion while my husband was in Haiti, shortly after the 2^nd ultrasound. It brought me a lot of comfort at that time. It said, “God is the creator of all things. Everything that is exists with His knowledge and by His creation.” It also included the Bible passage from Romans 8:28, “In all things God works for the good of those who love him.” God created this baby for us...healthy or with challenges. He knows exactly what His plans are for us and He will see us through.

Thankfully, my husband came home from Haiti after 2 weeks. He wasn't scheduled to come home until the end of June...after our baby was due. Dr. M. tried to see me every 2 weeks since the 1^st time I saw her. The 2^nd visit she said that my BP was too high. It was 128 over 80 something. “Come back next week. If it's still high, I'll put you on BP medication.” (120 over 80 used to be a great BP.) I was convinced that my doctor felt I was just too old to be having a baby. I definitely developed an attitude with this doctor. I was always pleasant with her, but I never wanted to be in her office.

After another visit, she said that she was scheduling a fetal/echo ultrasound with Vanderbilt. Instead of calling me to tell me when the appointment was, she wanted me to come in for an office visit. I canceled appointments so that I was seeing her only once a month. I was beginning to think that she was trying to collect as much money from our insurance as she could. I felt absolutely no bond with her. I just wanted to get in and get out as quickly as I could. In hind sight, it would have been so easy to just go to a different doctor. I'll never know why I didn't do that. I know now that I'll make sure my daughters have a caring doctor if they are blessed with a husband and pregnancies.

In March, we saw Dr. K. She did a fetal/echo ultrasound and focused on the heart. She said that there was a hole about 4 mm. But it didn't concern her. She also said the baby had a VSD (ventricular septal defect). The left side was smaller and the right measured large. She had a much better way of delivering this news to us. She could have told us anything...She had a wonderful "bedside manner". We were now more optimistic. She wanted us to come back in another 6 weeks to see if there were any changes.

Back in February on the 27^th, My husband and I talked about the baby and how we felt as though we shouldn't have decided to have another child. We definitely wanted another baby but were made to feel by most doctors that we shouldn't. It felt as though our joy was completely taken from this pregnancy. The comments made by friends were also frustrating. “So this was an accident!” or “Was this a surprise?” No, we planned this, but what if we didn't? What if it was a surprise?  (Nothing is a surprise with God.) Does that mean that if the baby was miscarried, born still, or died after birth, we wouldn't hurt so much? I just don't understand the questions people ask. Why can't they say, “Congratulations!” This same morning while we were in bed talking about our baby, my husband said that he didn't know what he would do if anything happened to him or her. I told him that God would help us through this. He created this baby for us, and we would need to pray for acceptance of His will. We held each other and cried. I also said that I wouldn't get pregnant again.

The end of March, we went to WI for our oldest daughter's confirmation. She was attending a Lutheran grade school for her 8th grade year while living with my sister. Our daughter begged us to let her go to school there, because she didn't care for the public schools here. At that time, I can remember feeling very uncomfortable and having a right sided pain under my ribs when I sat. My belly felt so big. It was always hard. Mom was certain that I was having twins. Many commented on my size. Each Sunday in church I'd hear, “You are huge. You look like you're going to burst.” This started around 29 weeks.

At my March 31^st appointment, I was measuring 2 weeks bigger than I should have. I was 29 weeks measuring 31. My weight was up, too. Dr. M. listened to the heart and said it sounded great. She never told me the baby's heart rates or my BP. I was beginning to wonder if she even knew how to figure what the heart rate was. I was always left in the dark. As for my size, she said that I should “lay off the carbs”. I never felt like I was eating much more than normal. I also figured that since I hadn't had a problem taking the weight off with the other three, I wouldn't have a problem with this one.

The middle of April (13^th) I had the glucose test. A couple of days later (15^th) at my appointment, Dr. M. said the results were great. I was still measuring 2 weeks ahead of schedule. I was getting a little excited thinking that I'd be delivering early for once. My next appointment was in 2 weeks on April 30. Everything still seemed o.k. ~ still measuring big and again not knowing the baby's heart rate or my BP.

On May 4^th, we went back for our 4^th ultrasound with Dr. K. She said that the hole in the baby's heart was about 5 mm. now. The left ventricle still measured small. The right ventricle measured large. She couldn't get a good view of the aorta. She said there could be possible narrowing and if this were the case, medicine might correct it. She couldn't give us a definite answer, so we'd have to wait until the baby was born. We began to plan for a possibly longer hospital stay and even toured the NICU that day. Dr. K. wanted us to deliver at Vanderbilt just to be safe. We were still hopeful. We were happy to be having my care transferred to Vanderbilt. At this ultrasound, I asked Dr. K. how the baby was measuring. She said that all the measurements were consistent with a baby that was 34 weeks. So everything was good. This same weekend I planted corn and beans. I was very uncomfortable.

On May 11 at 35 weeks, I had my final visit with Dr. M. She said that my weight had spiked up pretty high. I think that it came close to 180 lbs. I started out at 125. When she measured me, I said, “Let me guess, I'm measuring at 38 today.” She said, “You actually are.” She also checked my cervix, but I wasn't dilated. She heard the heartbeat and said it sounded good. In my opinion, she never listened long enough to get an actual heart rate. I also had a non-stress test done that day. It took the nurse 15-20 minutes to find a heartbeat that measured on the monitor. She commented on how hard my belly was. She asked if I was having a contraction. I said, “No, it's always this hard.” She had to have Dr. M. come in to find the heartbeat. After about 30 minutes she said that everything looked fine. She wanted me to come back in 3 days for another NST. She also wanted me to come in the following week (May 18) for an ultrasound. A “biophysical” she called it. So suddenly, she was equipped to do an ultrasound? I canceled the NST and ultrasound. I only wanted to be seen at Vanderbilt.

I absolutely realize now that I should have been more involved with my own care. There are so many things that I should have shared with my doctor. Nothing would have changed the outcome, though. Our daughter was conceived with a fatal chromosome defect. Of course, there continue to be the "If onlys". I continue to tell myself that if the doctors would have told me, without a doubt, that our baby was going to die, I never would have believed them. I do wish that I took better care of her while I carried her, though. I wouldn't have been planting strawberries or vegetables just days before she was born. I would have taken more pictures of her while she grew inside of me. I also realize that satan fills my head with regrets and he has definitely been working overtime on me for the last couple of years.