What Might Have Been

After Caroline arrived, we had tossed the idea around of having a 4th child. Each of us at one point or another felt that a 4th was the way to go and each of us at one point or another felt that our family was complete with 3. We seemed to never be completely on the same page with this decision.

The method of birth control I was using was causing some unwanted side effects and I decided I was not going to take it anymore. This decision pretty much eliminated any type of hormonal birth control and I strongly suggested to Matthew that if he did not want any more children, he needed to take action. Otherwise, I was fine with seeing what might happen... for a little while (we are both getting older after all).

He scheduled his appointment. I had really mixed feelings about it, to be honest. I prayed that God would direct the decision and the action to be taken. Right before the appointment he canceled. He said he just couldn't do it. We continued on with life.

A few months went by and suddenly there was a positive pregnancy test. Within a week, it was clear this was not going to be a viable pregnancy. I didn't really grieve. It happened so quickly I had not even had time to wrap my head around it. We just moved right on. Matthew decided to make another appointment, but had to reschedule  because he was going to be traveling for work right after the date.

The next month I opened the refrigerator door one morning and smelled "that smell". A few more days went by and I was greeted with mild waves of "that feeling" every now and then. I figured the odds were small.... but I took one anyway. "+ Yes" was the answer I received on the digital test. Over the next few weeks I took about a million more. Seriously, I probably took 20 or more altogether. It appeared this was actually going to take. I was pregnant with our 4th child.

I had mixed feelings. I was nervous. I was afraid of how people would react. I was excited. I was happy. I was afraid.  We went to the doctor and there was a healthy heartbeat at 7 weeks. Everything looked great. But, still, I had this gnawing feeling. I was having trouble getting attached. I was almost in denial.

The weeks went by. I ordered my home doppler. I listened to the heartbeat. I felt terrible. I was SO tired. I went to bed right after Caroline most nights and sometimes I was so tired that I was nearly in tears by the time I put her to bed (at 7-7:30). Matthew wanted to start sharing the news, but I was nervous. We told just a very few people.

The weeks went by. I listened to the heartbeat. I grew more confident and my belly grew. I guess that happens when it's your 4th baby and your 7th pregnancy (8, if you count the previous month although that one would probably not have affected my size too much), and your youngest is less than 18 months old. I was beginning to wonder how long I could actually hide this. It was getting pretty obvious, but I knew people would be afraid to actually say anything.

Around 10 weeks, I started having spells of feeling a little better. I began to not be as tired. I had moments when I was not nauseous 24/7. I began to be able to eat a little more. I began to feel relief. I had almost made it. I began to grow more excited. It was almost time for the fun part. Time for me to breathe a sigh of relief, feel better, share the news, break out the maternity clothes. But, still, I had this little gnawing feeling. I worried and fretted over which 1st trimester tests to have done. Should we pay for the one that insurance didn't cover that would give us more complete information? Why? I knew it wouldn't change anything about how we decided to proceed, but for some reason I felt like I needed to know. More than with any other pregnancy. With every other one I either didn't worry about it all or I just had a brief passing worry. I told myself it was because I was older. My risk was higher and I was just worrying myself over nothing. Yet, at night I worried about carrying a baby to term or late into pregnancy with a fatal diagnosis. Could I be strong enough? What would it do to our family, to Matthew, to our children? I angrily pushed those thoughts away... why would I think about such a horrible thing? I continued to pray for this baby. I prayed this would be a healthy baby. I prayed his/her bones were growing healthy and strong and his/her heart was growing stronger and his/her brain was developing as it should.

Matthew's rescheduled appointment was coming up. I would be a little over 11 weeks. I asked him, how will you feel if you go through with this and something happens and we lose this baby? He answered, I will feel like we've been blessed with 3 wonderful children. I felt the same way. To be honest, the first trimester was SO hard this time. I don't even know why because I was less sick than I had been some other times, but maybe having a young child, maybe being 38, I don't know. I just knew I felt like I could not do this again. This was my last time. I think Matthew really felt like we were safe. He had been "letting it slip" to more and more people, even though I kept telling him not to. He was pressuring me to tell the older kids, dropping little hints, but I kept telling him not to. The night before his appointment I listened to the heartbeat. It was strong. 157. Perfect. The sound filled me with joy and peace and confidence.

The next day he went through with his appointment. It was Friday the 13th. That night, as he recovered, I was feeling a little superstitious, so even though I usually didn't listen every day, I got the doppler out. For the first time in 3 healthy pregnancies I could not find the heartbeat. All I could hear was my own. I searched for quite a while with no luck. I told myself baby had moved somewhere I couldn't find him/her. I told myself he/she was hiding behind the placenta. I put the doppler away. I tried again the next morning. Nothing. I searched the Internet and found countless stories of not finding it and everything being perfectly fine. I was not trained like a medical professional is and even they have trouble at this stage of pregnancy sometimes. My machine might not be the same quality. I might have an anterior placenta blocking baby. Baby might have turned with its spine out so that bone was blocking the doppler waves. Baby might have moved really low so that my bone was blocking. There were a million reasons. I told myself that was all it was. I prayed and tried to stay calm. My own dr had not been able to find Caroline's at 16 weeks after all and ultrasound showed that she was in fact turned with her spine out. But, a little voice whispered to me that I've always been able to find it. Always. Earlier than the Internet said I should be able to. Even on the morning of the day when the dr couldn't find Caroline's. But, I pushed that voice aside and told myself, "What are the odds? That I would lose another baby right on the cusp of the "safe" period? That I would lose another after hearing a healthy heartbeat, when your odds are supposed to drop to less than 5%? That I would lose this baby, when everything to this point had been perfect? That I would lose this baby when I just heard a perfect heartbeat on Thursday? That I would lose this baby on the exact same day that my husband took action to ensure that this baby would be the last? That I would lose this baby that we were not trying for and God blessed us with anyway? That this would happen to me again?" But, as the weekend wore on and I tried again and again... with a full bladder, with an empty bladder, with an empty stomach, with a full stomach, after drinking something cold, after drinking something sugary, in different positions and still all I heard was my own heartbeat, I began to think that the odds were not in my favor. A voice whispered to me that in situations like this, the odds are usually not in your favor. Still I tried to stay calm. I tried not to fear. I prayed. I told God I trusted His plan and I did. I begged God to just let me find that heartbeat to put my silly worry at ease. I told God I had faith, even when I couldn't find the heartbeat that He was protecting my baby, protecting me, had a plan for me, a plan not to harm me, a plan to give me hope and a future. I broke down in the car on the way home from dropping Chloe off at choir on Sunday and told my baby through my tears that I wanted to meet him/her on Earth, not in Heaven. I wanted to hold him/her. I wanted to know him/her. I wanted to see Caroline be a big sister. I begged my baby not to leave me. I begged God not to take my baby away. Then I wiped my tears and told God that I trusted Him.

I went to work on Monday. I told myself everything was ok. It was a week until my next appointment. Matthew urged me to call the dr. I told him they would not see me. They would be angry that I was using a home doppler against their advice. They would tell me that I was not trained to use it and that there were a million reasons I might be having trouble finding the heartbeat. They would tell me that they even have trouble finding it often in the 10-12 week range. They would tell me everything was probably fine. He told me not to even tell them about the doppler, just to say I was feeling anxious. I told him they were not going to bring me in for an expensive ultrasound just because I was feeling anxious. I think part of me felt like I didn't want to go because as long as I didn't there was still hope. There was still another chance for that to be the time I put the doppler to my belly and found it right away. And we would laugh about how silly I was for being so afraid. It was hard to stay calm and positive if I admitted I needed to call the dr. And yet I knew, with increasing certainty that my baby was gone. Somewhere in the middle of that brief breakdown in the car, even as I was begging my baby to stay, I knew he/she was gone. Somewhere in the middle of that brief breakdown, I said goodbye. Somewhere between, "please don't take my baby... and I trust you." I accepted that God did have a plan for me, a plan not to harm me, a plan to give me hope and a future... but it may not include my baby. It may include heartache and grief and tears, yes again, but joy would come in the morning. It may very well be a plan that I could not understand, but I would trust Him still. I think what finally convinced me to call is when Matthew said he told the people at work who were trying to reassure him that there were a whole bunch of reasons for not finding it, that he knew all of that, but I was always right about these things. That suddenly hit me. What was my heart telling me? My heart was telling me my baby was gone. And he was right, I was always right. I knew long before I should have every single time that I was pregnant. Even when the test said negative the first time with Evan, I knew. Although this was the 11th month in the row the test had said negative and I had no reason to think it was anything other than negative, I knew. I knew that I was losing my babies each time (except the first one), each time my head tried to convince my heart that it was wrong, but it was right. I knew when my babies were going to make it even when there was spotting and reason to be afraid. My head told my heart to be careful because I might be wrong and I might lose them, but my heart knew.  I knew when this baby's due date would be even though it didn't exactly line up with my last cycle. I knew my body. I knew my heart. I just knew. I desperately hoped I was wrong. Finally, on Tuesday morning I called the dr. The nurse was very kind and got me in that day. Matthew drove me to the appointment.

The nurse who received me was not quite as kind to be honest, she acted a little annoyed by my presence and seemed confused about what I was doing there. She commented about my high blood pressure. I told her I was a little nervous. The Nurse Practitioner came in the office and asked what she could do to help today. Would hearing the heartbeat on the doppler help? Well, yes, it would, but I was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen. I looked her in the eye and told her I just needed to know either way. She tried to reassure me as she used the doppler (all those reasons why she might not hear it, you know). She told me she wasn't going to try for very long. No sense in worrying us any longer than necessary. Let's just go to the ultrasound and then we can say that this baby was a stinker right from the beginning, scaring his/her momma. I told her I hoped that was what we would say. But I knew.

I hoped, oh how I hoped, to be wrong. I hoped so much that the odds were in my favor this time. I wanted to be one of those people who have these scares, but everything works out ok. But I knew. As soon as I saw my sweet baby on the screen, it was confirmed. I was right. There was a perfect little baby. Lying on its side, facing us. Head, body, arms, legs, all perfect. But no heartbeat. The Nurse Practitioner put her hand on my leg. They zoomed in to get a really close look. Finally, she said, Amanda, I know you are seeing what we are seeing. I'm so sorry.

I didn't even cry. I would say I was in shock, but I really wasn't. I knew. Somewhere over the course of that weekend I had already said goodbye. I had already decided I was going to have to trust God's plan, even though it was probably not going to be what I wanted. Matthew was crying. This was his first time seeing a baby on the screen with no heartbeat. It is hard to describe how it feels to see what looks like a perfect baby that you could cradle in your arms there with no heartbeat.

The ultrasound tech took some measurements. "It must have happened very recently", she said. I replied, "It happened Friday." The Nurse Practitioner patted my leg, "You poor thing, had to wait all weekend", she said. I said, "Thank you for bringing me in. I was afraid you would not see me." She said, "We trust our mother's instincts. We listen to our mothers." How wise, I thought. A mother's instinct is a powerful thing. I noticed the ultrasound tech was measuring the nuchal fold (an indicator for chromosomal abnormalities), I didn't say anything. The Nurse Practitioner said, "I don't see anything right off that would indicate a reason. But, if you want they can do some testing." We both answered, that was not necessary. This was our last baby. There was no real reason to know why. The only thing we needed to know is that it was not to be. It was not God's plan. Now, we had to trust Him. The ultrasound tech quietly said, "the nuchal fold is large". The Nurse Practitioner said, "That is sometimes an indicator of a chromosomal abnormality, but we don't know for sure." But I knew. I think I had known all along. My sweet baby.

We went into an office. The Nurse Practitioner got a physician who could discuss and schedule a d&c for me. This was their suggestion, but I knew already it was what I wanted. I had been through this before. I knew what they would tell me miscarrying a baby at 12 weeks was like. And although a part of me had wished to go through the experience the first time. To feel the physical pain. To be able to hold my tiny baby in my palm. To bury my child. This time, I knew I couldn't do it.  I had babies at home I needed to care for. I had children old enough to know something was happening to their mommy. I had to go back to work to a school full of teachers and students who knew nothing about what was happening. Life had to go on. I couldn't afford to feel the pain. I couldn't afford to grieve. I couldn't afford to fall apart. t focused on the life that had to go on and pushed the thoughts away of the life that had gone. I asked them to schedule the D&C as soon as possible. Matthew and I left the office and he called or texted all of the people who he had told. I called my boss to explain why I would not be back to work for a few days and I called my parents and texted my best friend with the news and told her I didn't feel like talking. That is the complete list of people I had told. Life could go on and most people would not even know what had happened. I told myself I had made the right decision not telling people. It saved me from having to tell everyone what had happened. It saved me from the pity, the uncomfortableness, the comments from those who didn't quite know what to say. And yet....

It felt wrong. I felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. It was as if it had never been. It was as if the last few weeks had been a dream and nothing at all had changed in our lives. Except it had. But, I tried to pretend it had not. Practically no one had known. I would go on as if nothing had happened. Except it had. But, I wasn't ready to face it yet. We went and had nice lunch and then went home and spent the evening with our children. My D&C was the next day. I still had not cried. I was fine, I told everyone. I was doing just fine. I was ok. Really, I was. And I convinced myself I was. By the next day, I would not be pregnant anymore. I would never be pregnant again. And I was fine.

The next day was tough. I couldn't eat or drink anything and we weren't to go to the hospital until 12:00. I was still very nauseous, especially when I didn't eat. Finally, we arrived in the pre-op prep area. I was looking forward to my IV. Hoping it would help me feel a little better. The nurse was telling me what to put on, take off, etc, and I was only half listening, suddenly, as I headed into the bathroom to change into my gown, she said, "I'm so sorry for your loss." I walked into the bathroom and lost it. My loss. Here I was again. About to have my baby, my last baby removed from my body. I cried and then I suddenly brushed the tears off... I am fine, I told myself. Those were the first tears I had shed since I knew for sure my baby was gone. I got dressed came out and we chatted until time for my surgery. The surgery was uneventful, except for a little bleeding. Matthew stopped to get me something to eat and we went home to our children. Evan and Chloe were very concerned about what was happening and they were not accepting our vague answers. I went to bed, but we knew the next day we were probably going to have to tell them something.

The next morning as they got ready for school, Evan and Chloe kept pressuring us for information. Finally, I told them what had happened. They were both a little upset. They were also both really sweet to me. To be honest I felt... better... that they knew. Matthew and I watched movies all day together as I continued to recover from the anesthesia. I went back to work on Friday. I gradually told a few more people... my dad, my closest friends.. what had happened. Each time I spoke about it I felt a little better. Like a little bit of weight was lifted. Like my baby was a little more known. A little more real.

Somewhere over the weekend, it hit me. My baby was gone. I cried in private, but the tears came. Several times they came. My best friend texted me to see how I was doing. How to answer that question... I replied, "I have my moments. I just wish things could be different." And that pretty much sums it up the best way possible, I guess. I wish I were still pregnant, but I don't want to get pregnant again. I wish I could have a 4th baby, but only if he/she could be born near August 3. I wish my belly were still growing and I was sharing my happy news with all my friends and family. I wish I were wearing cute maternity clothes instead of trying to lose weight so I can fit in my regular clothes. I wish... things were different. I wish what I thought was God's plan was actually His plan for me, for our family, for our baby. I wish I could meet my baby on Earth instead of in Heaven. I'm sad.

And yet.... I am ok. I know God has a plan for me. It's hard to understand. I don't know why. I can't answer that. I will never be able to answer why he gave us our baby just to take it away. Maybe he spared us from something much more painful. How hard would it have been to hear in a few weeks that our perfect baby that we saw on the ultrasound screen moving and kicking away had a chromosomal disorder. One that he/she likely wouldn't survive or would be disabled with. How much harder would it have been to find out we had lost our baby months from now. To have to deliver my sleeping baby and hold him/her in my arms and say goodbye. To have to deliver my baby alive and hold him/her until Jesus called him/her home. To have to watch my baby suffer and struggle for life. To fight for my child. to care for my child, to worry who would care for him/her after I was gone. Perhaps God's plan for me was to spare me a greater hurt, to spare my family a greater hurt. I don't know. I will likely never know, but I trust Him. That is my faith.  I know he has plans for hope and a future for me, for our family, and that I will meet our baby someday. I have six precious souls waiting for me to meet in Heaven. I am so blessed with the three that I get to know and love here on Earth. Our family is perfect. It is complete. And yet... there is still the memory. There will always be the memory. Of what might have been.

"I was for just a moment, the mother of a child who lived and moved and meant so much if only for a while."

Fly

Celine Dion

Fly, fly little wing
Fly beyond imagining
The softest cloud, the whitest dove
Upon the wind of heaven's love
Past the planets and the stars
Leave this lonely world of ours
Escape the sorrow and the pain
And fly again

Fly, fly precious one
Your endless journey has begun
Take your gentle happiness
Far too beautiful for this
Cross over to the other shore
There is peace forevermore
But hold this memory bittersweet
Until we meet

Fly, fly do not fear
Don't waste a breath, don't shed a tear
Your heart is pure, your soul is free
Be on your way, don't wait for me
Above the universe you'll climb
On beyond the hands of time
The moon will rise, the sun will set
But I won't forget

Fly, fly little wing
Fly where only angels sing
Fly away, the time is right
Go now, find the light

Sweet baby, I wish I could have met you here on Earth. I wish I could have seen your beautiful face and smelled your sweet head and kissed your sweet lips. I wish things could have been different.

(Dated on the date we learned our angel was gone)

Awareness

Today is Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day. Coincidentally, I was thinking (for no apparent reason) about a particular aspect of my journey into pregnancy loss the other day. It is something that may seem kind of silly and I don't even know what made me think of it, but anyway here it goes. I was thinking about secrecy.

When I lost my first baby, my pregnancy was not a secret. I hadn't really planned on it being out in the open, but people just kind of kept finding out or guessing. Or one person would guess and it didn't feel right having that person know and not some others of the same closeness. So before I knew it, nearly everyone I knew or who knew me or who had ever known me knew I was pregnant. The problem with this is that while it might seem fine to casually mention your good news to the girl you went to elementary school with when you run into her at the oil-changing place (and in most cases it would be), it is not actually that easy to track this girl down (not to mention all the people she ran into) to tell them that you are no longer pregnant. And so, what ends up happening is that you run into all these people months and sometimes years later who are now confused because you are not as pregnant as they thought you would be or you do not have a new baby, etc. And you have to keep explaining it over and over again.

This stinks on many levels, but one of the things that I really hated about it is that as soon as you tell someone you've suffered a miscarriage the focus immediately shifts from the happy blessing of your baby to the tragic regret of your loss. I understand that is the normal reaction. If there is not at least some degree of sympathy, it would seem strange. People of course vary in their degree of understanding, sympathy, and empathy. Some do not see it as much more than a setback or disappointment and others see it as a true loss and that can be hard to deal with as well. But, even those who understand best, those who have been there themselves are going to focus on the loss of the situation and in the midst of the "I'm so sorrys", your baby is long forgotten.

I will never forget going to visit a friend of mine in the hospital about three weeks after my miscarriage. She had just had a baby and while I was there visiting she said that two of her other friends (who I had gone to college with, but was no longer close to) were coming by to see her as well. One was a few weeks further along in her pregnancy than I would have been. We had shared our good news with each other at our mutual friend's baby shower. So, when they arrived they immediately beginning talking about how she had found out she was having a boy. After the congratulations, she turned to me with an excited smile and asked if I knew what I was having. I will never, and I mean, never forget the way her face changed from pure joy to pure horror in a matter of seconds when I told her I had miscarried. It was a similar experience when I had to tell a friend from high school that I had miscarried when she called to tell me she was pregnant and due on the same day. I spent the entire conversation debating whether to tell her or not. But I was so afraid she would hear it from someone else and then not ever talk to me again because she would be too horrified. They feel awful for thinking they've added to your pain by being happy over their pregnancies and can't change the subject fast enough. But, you know, the part I hated about those conversations was knowing it would end that way. It didn't cause me pain to hear about their pregnancies. In fact, I enjoyed it. Because for just a moment it allowed me to remember that pregnancy is about joy and not about loss. But, I knew it couldn't last. I would have to tell them. And in a split second the joy would be sucked from the room and a thick cloud of discomfort and regret would settle back in. And my babies would be forgotten again.

Sometimes I longed to just be able to talk to someone about my babies. Not about my loss. Not about my d&c, or my physical pain, or my emotional pain. Or when we could try again. Or if we should try again. Or if they had figured out what was wrong. Tests and pathology. Specialists. Drugs. I just wanted to talk about my babies. I wanted to talk about how I'd felt when I learned I was pregnant. How exciting it was to see their little heartbeats. How thrilling to see two little heartbeats when I was carrying twins. How I'd imagined having 2 under 2. How I'd envisioned joint birthday parties for Evan and his sibling. My hopes. My dreams. My joy. I wanted to be part of the club again. The "happy pregnancy club".

When a person dies there are memories to be shared and laughed over and cried over, but these little beings never have the opportunities to impress memories on anyone other than their mothers. She alone knows what it felt to have that life growing inside, no matter how early. Of course other family members will have had hopes and dreams for these little ones as well and there will be memories of how the news was spread, etc. But, these are hardly ever brought up again. Even between many couples. It is as if these little angels never were. But, they were very real to their mothers. She felt that life, that energy, that excitement. She may have heard that fluttering heartbeat and some even felt those fluttering kicks. The only life these little ones ever know are inside their mothers' wombs. And it can be very lonely to carry that secret joy in the midst of your pain.

And so I decided after my first two experiences that I would not tell anyone that I was pregnant until very far along in my pregnancy. It is hard to know how to react when someone who has suffered multiple losses announces she is pregnant again. Happy? Well, of course, but everyone is naturally nervous as well. I knew my friends were secretly dreading my next announcement because they didn't want to face the announcements that always seemed to follow. I didn't want to face any of that. So, when I got pregnant with Chloe I decided to wait until I was 14 weeks along. That was my goal. I thought it would be so hard to wait to tell people.

But, I actually found it to be the opposite. I savored the little secret I was carrying around with me. I felt so connected to this little being that hardly anyone else even knew about. I had a Doppler at home and I listened to her little heartbeat and marveled at the fact that hardly anyone knew she was there. In fact, I began to feel very protective of my little secret. I began to fear telling people and their reactions. I didn't want any negativity spoken about her existence even in well-meant wishes for my health and well-being. So, 14 weeks came and went and although I shared the news with a few at that time. I really didn't make the news truly public until nearly 19 weeks. I already knew she was most likely going to be a girl and I was well-past needing maternity clothes. I can't imagine what people must have thought of my weight gain and horrible wardrobe:) As the weeks of my secret wore on I just couldn't imagine telling people. I couldn't imagine them possibly appreciating this miracle like I did. I was so afraid that I would be disappointed by their reactions to the news of her. And honestly, I was somewhat. Many people were nervous for me. Afraid to get too excited. Afraid to talk about the baby too much or really talk about the future. Even as far along as I was, to them the news was so new that they still felt unsure.

But I already knew her. I had the sound of her heart memorized. It pounded away in my dreams. I had felt her little flutters. I was scared to death of the future, don't get me wrong. I was terrified I would lose her. But, I already had a lifetime of memories with her. Her lifetime of memories. And they had brought me such joy, already. Just as it was with my other babies. And no matter what happened I was blessed to have been allowed to be a part of that little miracle of life, just like with my other babies. And I didn't have to worry about others not understanding or appreciating her life or grasping her importance in this world, because she was all mine. I would never undermine her existence or underestimate her impact. I knew she was everything. To me she was everything. Keeping that secret is actually one of the happiest memories of my pregnancy with Chloe. It is something special that only she and I shared together right from the start and I swear it is almost as if she became my girl at the beginning and stayed that way.

So, on this day, I ask you to be aware of the secrets that these mothers carry. Not just their secret pain, as it has been called for so long, but their secret joy. For both are too often forgotten. Don't just remember the losses that these mothers suffer, but remember the memory of life that they cherish as well. I promise you that they do.

"For A Moment"

I saw for just a moment, your little arms and legs.
The little blur they said was you, but now you've gone away.
I heard for just a moment, the beating of your heart.
The sound that held such promise, but soon it would depart.
I dreamt for just a moment, of the day I'd hold you tight.
I'd listen for your little breath, and rock you through the night.
I cried for just a moment, when they said that you had gone.
I laid alone in silence that seemed so very long.
I prayed for just a moment, that you would be reborn.
Into His arms you would come and forever would be warm.
I was for just a moment, the mother of a child.
Who moved and lived and meant so much, if only for a while.
In that single moment, when I finally said farewell.
I knew that we would meet again, when time will only tell.

An angel wrote a name in the book of life, with a sigh she closed the book and whispered, “Too Beautiful for Earth”.

The Prayer of Hannah

I'm sure most of you are familiar with the story of Hannah and Samuel. I became very familiar with this story during my brief struggle with infertility and then my multiple miscarriages. Although I had read the entire Bible cover to cover more than once by the time I was and adult, I had never really paid very much attention to this particular story. But, one day, at a baby shower during the year that we waited to conceive Evan, my aunt asked me if I had any news to share yet (don't you love that question?). I guess my crestfallen face when I told her no, let her know how I was feeling about it. She said, "Hang in there. I waited until I was so old that I thought we would never get Mendi (my cousin). I remember thinking I was just like Hannah in the Bible. But, it will happen." As soon as I got home, I looked up the story in the Bible. Here is the story from chapter one in I Samuel. I encourage you to read it for yourself, but now I want to paraphrase it.

Hannah was one of two wives of Elkana and while Elkana's other wife had children (and therefore Elkana had children) Hannah had none. Elkana went to sacrifice and worship the Lord every year and when he did, he would give portions of his sacrifice to his other wife and all of her children and he gave Hannah a double portion. The Bible says he gave Hannah a double portion because he loved her and the Lord had closed her womb. It also says that Hannah's rival (the other woman) would provoke her because she had no children until Hannah was in tears and could not eat or drink. (Can you believe women would be so cruel to one another?) And her husband would ask her, "Why are you weeping? Do I not mean more to you than 10 sons?"

I want to stop here for a moment and point some things out. This story in the Bible is so powerful to women who struggle with infertility because it touches on so many of the struggles that women face: the loneliness, the pain felt around other women with children, the lack of understanding from others who have not faced such pain, and even the lack of understanding from our own husbands. I don't know how many times during our miscarriages, Matthew wanted to stop trying. He just couldn't understand why I would want to keep going through it or why he and Evan were not enough for me.

Back to the story:

So, one year when they had gone to Shiloh to worship at the temple Hannah went and wept and prayed before the Lord with all of her heart. "O Lord Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant's misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life". In fact, she prayed so earnestly and deeply that the priest, Eli, thought she was drunk and chastised her for being drunk. But, when she explained that she was not drunk, but pouring out her soul to the Lord the priest blessed her saying, "Go in peace, and may the Lord grant you what you ask of Him."

I want to stop again and point something else out. Hannah's prayer is simple and it is pleading, bargaining even. It is basically the exact type of prayer that most of us think we shouldn't pray. We shouldn't beg for what we want or promise God something in return, right? Our prayers should be about praising him and trusting him and asking for forgiveness. Only then should we petition the Lord, right?

Well, it must have been good enough for the Lord, because the story says in time Hannah conceived and she gave birth to a son whom she named Samuel. When Elkana went up to offer the sacrifice to the Lord that year, Hannah did not go. She said she would go after he was weaned and then she would give her son to the Lord and he would live there all the days of his life.

This part of the story has always struck me a little. Whether Hannah waits until she weans her son purely because he needed her to survive or whether she just can't bare to let him go just yet is not quite clear. But, for whatever reason it strikes me that she waits and says, "I will keep him with me just a little longer." It is easy to make promises regarding our children before they are actually here in our arms. My child will never sleep in my bed. My child will never talk to me that way. My child will never watch tv. My child will never eat candy for breakfast. These of course, are silly examples, but you can imagine how Hannah must feel having promised her son to the Lord before he was there in her arms.

So, after Hannah weans Samuel, it says she takes him even as young as he was with her to Shiloh along with other sacrifices to Shiloh. She stands before the priest, Eli, and tells him she was the woman whom he saw praying. "I prayed for this child, and Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord."

This is one of the biblical basis for baby dedication. And of course, many of us dedicate our children to the Lord either publicly or privately. If we are Christians, we desire our children to serve the Lord and to have a relationship with Him and to live his life serving the Lord. We dedicate our children to the Lord and promise to try to raise them in Christian homes. In public dedication services, we usually have family and friends watch and often have celebrations afterward.

In the story of Samuel, Hannah actually gives Samuel to Eli to live at the temple and serve the Lord all of his life. I believe it was not uncommon for priests to be trained from childhood and in order to fulfill her vow to the Lord, she literally gives him to the Lord.

Now think about what that day of dedication would be like. Can you imagine taking your child most likely somewhere between 1 and 3 years old and leaving him to be raised by someone else and only being able to see him once a year? I can't.

In chapter 2, Hannah prays again. A prayer of jubilant praise and thanksgiving. She shares what God has done in her life with all who can hear. And they leave Samuel there with Eli. And the visit him once a year when they come to sacrifice and praise. And Samuel grows up in the favor of the Lord.


I prayed many many times during my struggles that if God would just give me a child, if he would just give me a chance to be a mother, just the opportunity to hold a precious baby in my arms that I would teach that child all about Him and raise him in a Christian home. But, never once did I promise I would literally give him back to Him. What if that were asked of you? Would you find the strength and courage to trust? Would you be able to find peace? I'd like to hope I could, but I'm honestly not sure. My mama bear gut instinct says, No Way! At least not without a fight. It would definitely be a struggle, that's for sure.


And when Evan was born, when Chloe was born, I prayed many heartfelt prayers of jubilant praise and thanksgiving. And I share my story as a testimony to how great and wonderful God is.

The reason I bring all this up, is because I was reading MckMama's blog this morning about Stellan and his upcoming surgery and her fear. And it made me think of this story. She is not without her own "Hannah-like" story as she was told her son would die when he was still in her womb. She found the strength at the time to put her trust and faith in the Lord and to turn her "unborn" son's life over to Him completely. And when he was born healthy, she told all who could hear how great her God is! She shouted it from the mountaintops, just like Hannah. But now, she is being asked to give him over once again. This time she's had a whole year with him in her arms. And now she is being asked to turn his very life completely over to God once more, and like I'm sure Hannah felt, she is struggling. I pray she will find the strength to fully give her son over the Lord once again and to trust his life completely with Him. And to know that when she lays his body on the bed for them to take him into surgery next week, that she is literally laying him in the arms of the Great Physician.

I also have two other friends, who I won't mention by name, facing somewhat scary and uncertain situations with their unborn babies. They are both strong Christians who have turned their babies over to God. But, please pray for God to help them to continue to find strength, peace, and hope as they await their babies. And please pray for healthy babies. Just like Hannah, sometimes we just have to beg.

Seasons

There is a time for everything, and a season for every purpose under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build up,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and time to gather them,
a time to embrace and time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
What does the worker gain from his toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-11

Thank you God for all of the seasons in my life and for having a purpose for our lives. You are almighty and all knowing and worthy of much praise. As I remember times in my life where I wept I thank you for all of the times that I laughed. For each time I have mourned, I thank you for the times I could dance. For each time I was torn, I thank you for the time to mend. Thank you for holding my hand and showing me the beauty in each season. I praise you for the gift of eternity you have given us and I trust you as I cannot fathom your works.

I praise you and thank you God that even though there is a time to die, there is also a time to be born.

Remembering my first precious angel born into Heaven today. Could it really have been three years?

And praising and thanking God for the two angels whose hands I hold today here on Earth.

The Doctors

Back when Matthew and I first got engaged, we thought we had it all planned out. I was in my last semester of college (student teaching) and he had two semesters until he graduated with his B.S. in Political Science. I was going to graduate, look for a job, substitute for a semester if I couldn't find one and he was going to apply to law school. From his GPA and L-SAT scores and all that, it looked like if we wanted to avoid paying for private law school tuition, we would be moving to Memphis. The thought of living in Memphis and starting my first teaching job in Memphis was a little scary to me, since I knew someone who went to college there and managed to have two cars stolen in the four years she was there. BUT, we were young and in love and the possibilities seemed endless. Matthew's long-term goal was a career in politics and to become the President of the United States (as many of you from college probably remember him very seriously telling everyone he met).

Well, somewhere during my semester of student teaching, Matthew began to have second-thoughts about law school and a career in law. He discussed these with me, and being the flexible person that I am I did not stress at all. Ok, just kidding, I'm a girl who has to have a plan, like all the time. If the original plan doesn't work out, I immediately sit down and think out what the new plan is. I am completely not a spontaneous person, at all. So, this change of plans threw me for a loop. And what he had decided he did want his career to be in threw me for an even bigger loop- education. I just did not see him as a teacher. I worried the income would not be enough for him. I worried it would not be a glamorous enough job for him. I didn't think he would like "working in the trenches", so to say. I didn't even really think he liked kids all that much, LOL. I did exactly what everyone had done to me when I declared in high school that I wanted to be a teacher (including my former teachers). I told him all of the bad parts of the career, all the reasons I didn't think he would like it, and basically told him I thought he was destined for greater things. But, he was adamant. And after a week or two, I began to come around. At least, teaching was familiar to me. We wouldn't have to go to Memphis and struggle while he completed four years of law school. I decided this would be ok.

And of course, I sat down and drew up a new plan for us. This one had to have several options because we had no idea where I might get a job and that was important. So, I applied for jobs from Cookeville to Bristol and everywhere in between. Matthew got information and applied to grad school at ETSU, UT, and Tennessee Tech. He took the necessary exams for all of those schools (so, Matthew has officially at one time in his life or another taken every exam required for grad school except the M-CAT). And we waited.... and waited... and waited. The waiting was so hard for me. We had no idea where we would be living, how we would support ourselves if I didn't get a job, where Matthew would go to school. When and if I got a job, I had a plan for each scenario to put into place, but the job thing was taking a long time to figure out. We got married in July and left for our honeymoon with still no idea about what we would be doing when we returned. On the way home from the airport after our honeymoon, in the middle of July, my mother-in-law told us that Bristol City Schools had called her while we were gone and I had a job if I wanted it. Did I want it? OF COURSE! I pulled Plan B (for Bristol) out of the file and we put it into action. Matthew began school at ETSU and even got a graduate assistantship and I started my first teaching job, teaching kindergarten at Fairmount Elementary. We rented a house in Johnson City and then later bought a condo in Bristol and settled into life. I drew up a long-term plan which involved me teaching at Fairmount, Matthew graduating and getting a job with BTCS as well (most likely at Vance Middle), us buying a house, starting a family, little kiddos would go to BTCS and we'd live happily ever after.

Then, Matthew graduated, he applied for jobs. He had his interview with BTCS (the place he had grown up, where his parents know people) and he got a letter saying that he was not going to be considered for a job. We were absolutely devastated and to this day we still don't understand what happened (but I have a suspicion that a higher power had a hand in it). BTCS is a very competitive school system (and well-paid), but Matthew was an AWESOME candidate, he felt his interview had gone well and he knew people. Apparently, God had another plan for us. Matthew wanted to leave the area. Without really even fully discussing it with me, he began to look for jobs back toward the Knoxville area. Before I knew it, he had applied, interviewed, and been hired to teach at FLMS in Loudon. Again, I let all of this roll right off my back in my usual manner (um, NOT). I had a job here. One that I really liked. It was a large paycut for me to move back to that area (like $7,000) and that was assuming that I got a job at all. I liked the tri-city area. I had friends here, a church that I loved, I liked being close to ETSU, I had become involved with my sorority as an advisor, I had joined a gym that I loved, I had a life here. I had a plan. At the same time, my parents had decided to build a new house. They offered us the option to buy their house at a good price. Matthew was thrilled with the idea. I, of course, was not as thrilled at first. I worried that if we moved there I would feel trapped and feel like we could not leave if we ever wanted to. I wasn't sure I was ready to move back home. But, like it or not, a new plan was being drawn up for me and digging my feet in was not going to stop the wheels that had started rolling on this one. Within a week of Matthew's job offer, he had also found me a job. He talked to his soon to be new principal and she talked to the principal of the elementary school next door and I was hired to teach second grade before I had even turned in my resignation to BTCS. Before I really had time to wipe the tears away after saying goodbye to my friends in Bristol, we were moved, living in the upstairs two bedrooms with our two German Shepards of my parents' house and working at new schools.

At first the adjustment was difficult, and I will say that even now, nearly six years later, there are aspects of our life that don't seem settled yet.. like the total absence of friends in our town that we socialize with or a church home that completely fits and that we are as active in as I'd like to be. But, as we've adjusted, we have found wonderful friends even if we have to drive a ways to see them and we have come to appreciate being very close to family. And time and again, different situations have shown us that we are right where we should be. For example, I wouldn't trade being able to see my grandmother on a near daily basis and having her know and develop a relationship with my son during the last years I had with her for anything. And time and time again, God has shown me either gently or not so gently that all of the plans I create mean nothing.... His plan is the only one that matters and His promises will be fulfilled for me in His time, not mine. And time and time again, I've discovered that when I accept His plan (whether willingly or begrudgingly) the blessings that follow are a hundred times greater than what I had imagined in my plan.

As you can probably tell, I don't like change. And times of great change are extremely stressful to me. I like to believe I am in control and when something happens that proves to me that I am not (and never really was), I don't handle it well. Trusting God during these times is something I struggle with, it might be my biggest obstacle in my faith. But, I am trying to do better. I found my "life verse" when I graduated high school. As you can imagine, high school graduation was a time of great turmoil in my life as well. I loved high school, loved my friends, loved my boyfriend (ha!), loved my family, my house, my dog, my town, my church (sound familiar?). I didn't want any of it to change. I bawled and cried all through graduation, it was like a funeral. My cousin, Lore and her family, gave me a coffee cup for graduation. I'm sure she felt like it was a nice graduation gift, but I doubt she had any idea what meaning it would take on in my life. The coffee cup was nice enough, royal blue (like my high school colors) with a gold graduation cap and with this verse on it:

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." Jeremiah 29:10

And it clicked. When I tearfully packed up my room to go to ETSU, I packed that cup. I kept that cup all through college and went back to the verse in times of uncertainty, heartache, or fear. I kept the cup after graduation in my old bedroom at my mom's house as I did an interim teaching assignment in the class from Hades and planned my wedding without knowing what would come next. I kept that cup in my classroom of my first teaching job as I struggled and wondered why on Earth I had ever decided to become a teacher. I moved that cup with me to my new classroom as I mourned the life I had left behind in Bristol. I looked at that cup month after month with a negative pregnancy test sitting in my garbage can. I stared at that cup on my desk when I returned to school for the first time after having Evan with my insides churning about leaving my sweet baby at daycare. I looked upon that cup with tear-filled eyes on my first morning back at school after I lost my baby and I stared at it (even though I couldn't see it) as I struggled to stop the tears during the Pledge of Allegiance and morning announcements, knowing that I had to get it under control and teach these kids. I looked at that cup with happiness, hope, and even fear each time I got pregnant. And I looked at that cup, desperate for hope, as the losses kept coming. I looked at that cup to calm my panic and fear when I found out I was carrying Chloe and with each week that passed, I looked at that cup with a greater sense of peace and gratitude. And when I packed up my room to prepare to take a year off, I left most stuff behind waiting on me, but not that cup. I brought it home and put it on my desk at home. And I looked upon that cup with joy when I brought Chloe home from the hospital and I thanked God for His plans for me and the fulfillment of His promise. Later, I looked at that cup with tears in my eyes again as I wondered how best to comfort a friend going through exactly the same thing I had been through, and I copied that verse into a card. And although, I wish it were not so, I know that there will be other times in my life that I will look upon that cup for hope and comfort and I know that He will provide it because "God can be trusted to keep His promises." Hebrews 10:23

So, what does any of this have to do with the title of this post? you ask me (don't you love how I just ramble on and on before ever coming to a point).... When we moved down here, Matthew decided to go back to school to get his Ed.S. degree in instructional leadership. Our school system was planning to build several new schools (which have still not been built) and he felt the opportunity for an administration job might come available and he wanted to be ready. I teased him about how he was going to be a student forever and he teased me that he would eventually get his Ph.D. and then I would have to call him Dr. T. I promised him I would never call him that. So, now that I am almost finished with my Masters degree, I have been looking at my options for the next step in my education. I wanted to see what the options were for PhD programs versus Ed.S degrees. So, I mentioned this to him. Immediately he said, "When you find out about that, I want to know what you find out!"

I said, "Why?... Are you thinking about working on your PhD?"

And he said, "I don't know..."

I said, "You're just afraid you'll have to call me doctor!"

And he burst out laughing! Neither of us are looking at working on our PhD right now, we've decided, but maybe someday.... The Drs. T___ does have a nice ring to it. Who knows what plan He has in store for me?

Happy Valentine's Day...

from a little sweetheart who is 8 months old today!

I also want to take this day to remember two other precious little angels. It was on Valentine's Day in 2007 that I looked at the ultrasound screen and then looked at my husband and sadly shook my head because I could already see that the two precious little heartbeats that we had seen the week before were now still. We had to say goodbye to two more babies. The last post I wrote on such a day was a hopeful and uplifting one and I hope by the time this one is done it will be as well, but my second miscarriage was very different than my first.

We had been cautiously excited when we learned we were pregnant again after my first miscarriage. We were a bundle of nerves when we went for the ultrasound at 6 weeks to see if there was a heartbeat. We were filled with relief when we saw one. Then my ultrasound tech asked me to try to go empty my bladder. My heart kind of leaped in my chest since the last time an ultrasound tech acted like this, something had been wrong. But, I had seen the heartbeat with my own eyes. She said it was just so early, she wanted to try to get in closer to get more accurate measurements. I bought it and tried, but I was unsuccessful. I have a very shy bladder and pregnant or not it cannot "perform" on demand. She tried again anyway and then she got a big smile. She said, "That's what I thought I saw." I said, "What?" and then she showed us. She said, "Right here is one little precious heartbeat, and over here is.... " and I think both of our mouths fell open... "another little precious heartbeat." I said, "TWINS?" and she said, "yes." I immediately started crying. My first thought was "God has given us back what was taken from us." I thanked Him again and again. We were over the moon! We had planned on waiting a little while to tell people, but we were so excited it was twins, we couldn't wait. We came home and called everyone and told everyone. I was a bit overwhelmed at the thought... wondering how we would care for them, how would I manage to breastfeed twins, would my pregnancy be ok since twins double the chance of a million complications that I was already at high risk for? But, I was not about to be unhappy about it, I was nervous, but absolutely thrilled! I figured if God had given them to us, He would bring us through whatever hurdles would come with it. They wanted us to come back a week later for another ultrasound and said since twins were a special case that we would likely be having lots of ultrasounds. When we went back the next week I was again a bundle of nerves. I won't go into detail, but the ultrasound tech was not as reassuring as the first one had been. I waited in agony for her to confirm two heartbeats as she asked me a million questions which made my mind think she was seeing the worst. But finally Matthew stepped over to where he could see the screen and nodded at me and mouthed, "I see two" while holding up two fingers. I began beaming. She determined that they were identical twins who were sharing the same gestational sac, but did have a membrane between them. The membrane was good news, but identical twins likely meant they were sharing one placenta which again increased the risk. But then came unsettling news. The babies had not grown at all since last week. The ultrasound tech and doctor tried to reassure me that the measurements might be off or I might be as far along as I thought. But I was positive about my dates and in my heart I knew something was wrong. The tech would not measure the heartrate which infuriated me. She said, a beating heart is all that mattered and we were told to come back next week. So the next week on Valentine's Day we went back to the same office we had been to two weeks before. At this office, they have a big screen in front of you, so you see it all. I felt pretty nervous when the same tech that had discovered my first miscarriage walked in, but I tried not to get carried away with superstition. As soon as she started, she was silent, but I could tell what she saw. I could see my two perfectly still little beans clear as day. And while I think Matthew tried to hope I was wrong, I knew the truth. Finally she told us the news and he broke down. I think that was one of the hardest things for me. He had not been with me for my first loss and to see him so devastated just broke my heart even more. I felt like such a failure.

I will admit that what followed were some dark times for me faith-wise. I just could not make sense of this. What purpose could there possibly be in this?

I became very scared that I would never have another baby. This had to be more than just coincidence. My doctor was going to run tests and I was terrified of what they would show. On the one hand, if they showed nothing I would be afraid to try again because what would prevent the same thing from happening again? On the other hand, if they found something wrong I knew for sure I had an increased chance of it happening again. And the worse was if they found a chromosomal problem with a likelihood of repeating... there was really nothing that could be done about that. And then we would have to decide whether to try again with that knowledge. I began to wonder if this were somehow my fault. I knew that I had not consciously done anything to cause this, but what if it were something wrong with me? Was I selfish to keep getting pregnant? Had I not waited long enough, was the timing wrong? Was it the blood pressure medicine they had given me? I became obsessed with finding possible causes and trying to treat them. I scoured the Internet (not always the most reliable source) for obscure causes that I could take to my doctor. I was so afraid and confused. I didn't know what was the right thing to do in anything. I agonized over every decision that concerned my health, pored over every test result. I was a constant ball of worry and it rarely occurred to me to pray as I worried and agonized and when I did pray, it was more of just a desperate plea of please let me be able to have another baby.

I became very angry. Why were all of these people who seemingly did not deserve to have children having them so easily and it was so hard for me? I twisted the words of people who loved me and projected my feelings onto them. For example, if someone told me that I had to trust God and have faith, my mind immediately thought ... was it because I didn't have enough faith that this happened? If people told me that maybe I should give it some time, I felt like they were saying that I had not waited long enough. I felt everyone was being critical of me. I felt like everyone was judging me. I began to withdraw from friends and family. If they did bring up the subject, I was very short with them. I felt people did not understand. I felt other people took their easy pregnancies for granted. I felt like a lightning rod because lightning had struck me twice. It felt like anytime someone else faced a worrisome situation it worked out, but not for me. Of course, I kept most of these feelings inside because I didn't like to hear what anyone had to say to me.

I began to feel very sorry for myself. Why was it so easy for some people and so difficult for me? Had I not already been through enough? Why had God allowed this to happen again? Why did He perform miracles for other people and not for me? When would my pain end? Me, me, me.

I then began to feel very guilty about my lack of faith and trust in God and that led to an all consuming fear that I would somehow be punished for all of these feelings. I was confused between the difference in turning it over to God and researching and trying to do things to prevent another miscarriage. I didn't know where the line was and I worried that by trying all these things, I was not putting my faith in God and that I would be punished for it. I began to feel guilty because I wanted more children and was not satisfied with the one perfect little boy that I had. Then I would worry that God would take Evan away from me to teach me to appreciate what I had. I began to worry that this was all a test of my faith, like Job, and that I was failing terribly and that I would surely be punished for this. I was scared to death every time I was away from Evan that I would never see him again. I would lay awake at night worrying about things that could possibly happen to him. The nurse that I had in recovery after my D&C recommended a book to me, The Christmas Box by Richard Paul Evans. I bought it, hoping that it would help me in some way. It was about a woman who lost her three year old daughter in a fire and how the memory and sadness stayed with her for the rest of her life until her death when she saw her again and was filled with joy. I'm still not sure why it is supposed to be comforting, but apparently it has helped many people who are grieving the loss of children. It launched me into a state of depression and anxiety. I was never happy. When I would watch Evan play, my feelings alternated between the deep sadness and fear that I would never have another child and the deep fear that I would somehow lose him as well. I finally decided that my feelings were not normal. I had not told anyone about them, but when I began to lay awake at night and think about what my son's funeral would be like I decided to see my doctor.

I broke down as I told his nurse about all of these feelings. When my doctor saw me, the first thing he did was assure me that my feelings were completely justified. He told me that in my mind, I had lost 3 of my children and what was to keep me from losing my son. I felt like he was the first person to justify my feelings that my miscarriages were the losses of actual children. And he told me something else. Something that you wouldn't always hear from a dr. Something that I knew somewhere deep down, but had forgotten along the way. He told me that first, God was not a punishing God. Bad things do not happen to people as punishment. And secondly, this was totally out of my hands and for the most part it was out of his hands, too. It was in God's hands. I began to cry when he said this (again) and I told him that that was what made this so very hard and scary for me. And then he said something that I have carried with me even though it is really so very simple.... he said, "sure, it is scary, you can look at it that way, but you can also look at it as a comfort. There is nothing you can do. It is in His hands, not yours. And His hands are bigger and more capable than any of ours. Try to let that be a comfort to you. Instead of trying to second guess every decision, know that the decision is not yours to make. What you do or don't do is not going to make the difference." And that is why I loved Dr. Jeffrey Brown. He prescribed some antidepressants for me. I took them for about two weeks, but really they made me feel numb and yawn all the time and I didn't like that feeling much better. My test results were back. The pathology report on the babies showed healthy female chromosomes, so we are still not positive if they had the right tissue or my tissue in the test. My blood work showed only one abnormality... one copy of the MTHFR gene which can cause issues with blood clots. But, it is thought that the heterogeneous version that I carried was not harmful. My doctor recommended I take a baby aspirin just in case. I researched on my own and decided to add extra folic acid, vitamin B12 and B6 to the mix. I became pregnant again and quickly and naturally miscarried. As soon as it became clear that I had indeed been pregnant and miscarried again my doctor referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist. Although, I was very upset about yet another miscarriage, I felt relief at being referred to the specialist. And because it would be several months before I could get in to see her we would have to wait several months before beginning to try again and that actually brought a big sense of relief to me. I felt like I could forget about it all for a while and try to focus on my family as it was.

It was during that time that I slowly began to emerge from my depression. Everything in our lives had pretty much been on hold during all this time. I decided to go on with our lives. I began to focus on Evan. I came to peace with the fact that he might indeed be my only child and I began to feel ok about it. I began to appreciate our lives. I decided to go back to school and work on my Masters. I began to truly process what my doctor had said. And I began to truly pray again. Not just desperate pleas to protect my child or to take away my sadness, but specific prayers. I began to seek God's guidance instead of trying to control it all myself. I realized that it did not matter what I did, I would never be able to control this. I slowly, slowly began to turn it over to God. And I began to feel a burden lifted that I cannot describe. I had no real reason to be hopeful or to feel better. If anything I had reason to feel worse, but I didn't. I felt infinitely better. And when I saw the specialist, I prayed before I went that God would grant her wisdom. And He did and He also turned her into an angel who was so calming and reassuring to me. She diagnosed me before ever really laying eyes on me and after she did, everything made so much more sense. For the first time, I felt like we knew what the problem was and that the treatment would help. Things got better and better from there. I can't say that there were not numerous times when I was a scared and nervous wreck during my pregnancy with Chloe. I wish I could tell you I turned all that over to God and never worried or second guessed anything, but that would just not be true. But what I can tell you is that when I began to worry or second guess, or panic, I remembered to pray. And I tried to the best of my ability to seek God in those times and He sustained me. And He fulfilled his promise to me and He gave me hope and future.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. Romans 8:18

What's On My Tree Wednesday

Wow! The Christmas rush has hit, does anyone else feel this way? It seems every time I turn around there is something else I need to be doing or somewhere else to go. I haven't even had a chance to get a post ready for What's on My Tree Wednesday... but since I did take a picture of this ornament while playing around with the aperture on my new camera yesterday, that's right, I said new camera. I'll tell you all about that later. By the way, I have no idea how to work my new camera and so the aperture thing didn't do me a bit of good, but I did get a picture of an ornament that is on my tree, so here you go...
This is my little angel ornament from Christmas 2006 in memory of my first little angel. I love it, it makes me smile every time I look at it. I'm sure you can tell, but the angel is holding a little swaddled baby and it says, "Always Remembered" at the bottom of the ornament. Right after my loss, I saw a Precious Moments figurine that was a mother placing her baby in an angel's arms and it said "Mommy's love goes with you." I don't collect figurines or have any Precious Moments so I didn't get it. But it touched me so much. I actually looked it up online and printed out a picture of it and put it in my memory box. When I saw this ornament, it reminded me of that. Now when I place it on my tree, it reminds me that my babies are being cared for by angels and that someday I'll see them again.


In other news, yes, I said I got a new camera. It is not a DSLR, but I'm very happy with it (at least, I'm sure I will be when I learn to use it). Basically I can do everything with it that I could do with a DSLR (or so the lovely saleslady at Best Buy says), but it does not have interchangeable lenses. It does however have a 20x zoom and since I would most likely only get the one extra lens that is for increased zooming anyway, I decided to go with this one. This decision also came after the DSLR that I had gone after which was on sale at a great price at Circuit City was sold out and after the salesperson at Staples (who had the next lowest priced one) told me it was "more camera than I needed" (apparently they don't work off commission there). At first the guy at Staples made me mad, but then I started playing around with one and I couldn't figure anything out and since I am just coming from a very simple, point and shoot, I decided he might just be right. And, as Matthew pointed out, after I get good with this camera I could upgrade in 5 years or so when the kids start getting into sports and such and I have more need for one (and we have more budget for one). And then the technology will probably have changed, too, and I can get a better one than is on the market now. And of course the fact that this was one was less than half the price of the other one didn't hurt any. So, I got a new camera and now I have no idea how to use it. I've been slowly practicing, but so far, I've not been super happy with anything I've taken. I'm very critical and I was ready to throw it out the window yesterday when I could not get the darn thing to take a decent picture for our Christmas cards. I think I finally got it, but it still is not what I really wanted. I'm sure I'll get the hang of it eventually, though.


And why, you might ask, did I decide to spend such money on myself for Christmas? Well, three reasons really. First, and most importantly, Matthew agreed to it :). Secondly, Matthew has had 2 new TVs in the past 3 or 4 years and I decided I deserved a big technology purchase. And thirdly, I will be going back to work part time in Jan. so I felt we could afford to splurge a little.


Yes, that's right, I briefly mentioned that I was offered an ideal part time, temporary job in another post. Well, it's official and I'll be starting at the Tennessee Technology Center on Jan. 6 as an adjunct professor in Technology Foundations. I'll be working 3 days a week for about 7 hours a day, my parents will keep my kiddos, and my work is about 5 minutes (or less) from my house and my parents' house. I'm working through June 30, which will give me a little break before going back to my real job and they are paying me very well. I wasn't looking for a job at all. It kind of just fell in my lap. My parents used to work there, before retiring, and when my stepdad was out there a couple of weeks ago, they mentioned they were looking for someone and asked about me. Since, we are not rolling in dough and everything seemed so perfect, I felt that God was kind of nudging me. I just couldn't turn it down. I have some mixed feelings about leaving Chloe. Actually mixed is not really the word... I feel tears build every time I think of it. I'm going to miss her so much! But I know she will be well cared for and it'll be fine. It's only about 20 hours a week. A little break will be good for me. She will be better adjusted in the fall when I go back to work full time. (Can you hear my internal dialogue, here? I'm trying to convince myself).


Well, that's the big news in our family right now. I have some great video of Chloe that I have GOT to post... her reaction to her fave song, so cute; her "attack yell" when she imitates Evan; and playing peek-a-boo. But I'm not sure it will get done before Christmas or not. I guess that's just the way the holidays go!

In Remembrance of Life

Two years ago today I went to a regular doctor's appointment when I was 12 weeks pregnant with what was to be our second child. I was going to have the nuchal fold translucency test, which is a first trimester screening test that my doctor's office offers to all patients. It is basically an ultrasound that measures the thickness of the skin fold at the back of the baby's neck and combines that measurement with a bloodtest and other factors such as your age to determine the percentage of risk that your baby might be born with Down syndrome or one of the Trisomy disorders. It is an optional test, but since I'm the type of person who needs as much information as possible (and because it means I will get another ultrasound) I always opt for the test. I was not at all nervous. I went by myself because Matthew didn't feel he could miss work and this being the second baby and all we didn't see the need for him to be at every appointment. I had kind of wanted him to go, just so he could see the ultrasound, but I was not worried at all. I had had a little spotting early on, around 8 weeks, but we had gone for an ultrasound that week and had seen a healthy baby with a healthy heartbeat and the spotting had immediately stopped. I had been sick as a dog for the last 12 weeks and they say that is a good sign. I was now at 12 weeks, which I thought was the magic number, and I felt confident. In fact, I was elated while driving to the dr. on a gorgeous fall morning. I was just struck by how HAPPY with my life I was. It was a feeling that I never had again when on my way to a dr. visit while pregnant.

They called me back for my ultrasound and I was so excited to see my little baby. I knew that he/she would look like a baby now instead of like an alien. Although, still tiny, it's little body would be perfectly formed and I would get to see it swimming around in my uterus. I couldn't wait. When she started the ultrasound, I got an uneasy feeling. I remembered from this ultrasound with Evan that as soon as they started, I saw his whole body. But, this time it was like the tech had it zoomed in so close that I couldn't tell what she was looking at. Also, she had been all chatty and friendly and after saying "Here we go" and after placing the wand on my belly she had not said another word. I watched her face as she studied the screen and moved the wand all over my abdomen. I was definitely starting to worry, but I was too afraid to ask any questions. Then, she said, I just can't see exactly what I need to, so I'd like to do a vaginal ultrasound. I didn't even ask any questions then as I went to undress, but I knew that this was not normal. They had no trouble seeing what they needed to with Evan and I was only 11 weeks along with him. I tried to convince myself that it was because I was heavier now than I had been with Evan, but I prayed for strength as I undressed. When I went back out and she started the other ultrasound I saw my little baby on the screen. It was lying very still on it's back on the bottom of my uterus, but Evan had looked the same way. He had been sleeping. The tech had had to poke my tummy to wake him up. But this tech did not poke. Finally, I gathered all my courage and said, "Is something wrong?" She said, "I'm sorry, I wanted to get a closer look to be sure, but I don't see a heartbeat." She showed me on the screen where they should be able to see it and then she took some measurements. I studied the image of my perfect baby through my tears on the screen. He/she was perfectly formed. Head, abdomen, arms, legs, all perfect. I was too shaken up to even ask for a picture, but later I wished I had (some may think that's strange), but regardless the image is ingrained in my mind.

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. Psalm 139:13-16

Finally, she left the room for me to get dressed. I immediately broke down and then just as immediately I began to pray. A calm and understanding came over me. It was ok to be sad, but I knew God was with me. He knew my pain. And although I could not understand, I knew this was part of God's plan for me, for my baby. I was sad, grieving, but I was also filled with a peace and I was calmed.

As you do not know the way the spirit comes to the bones in the womb of a woman with child, so you do not know the work of God who makes everything. Ecclesiastes 11:5

As I finished the appointment and headed to my car to call Matthew I was struck by a gratitude that I had been able to have my baby with me for as long as I had and for the happiness that child had brought me in those weeks. When Matthew arrived to get me, he said "It's strange how you can miss someone that you never even knew." I understood what he meant, but I didn't feel that way. I felt like I had known that little life. It was part of me and had etched its place in my heart already. And that is what this post is really about.. a celebration of life.

I remember exactly what I was doing when I found out this little one was on its way. It was August and it was hot. I was sitting on the back steps watching Evan play and all of a sudden I felt nauseous. It was a familiar feeling. Morning sickness is a kind of sickness that is unique. Hmmm, I thought. I went inside and looked at the calendar... hmmm. Evan and I were getting ready to head to Wal-Mart for our weekly grocery trip. I didn't say anything to Matthew. When we got to Wal-Mart I went and bought a pregnancy test first thing and then drug my 15 month old child into the public restroom to take it! It turned positive immediately! I couldn't believe it!! I was SO happy. I immediately began thanking God. It had been a struggle to get pregnant with Evan and I couldn't believe our good fortune. I was ecstatic! I got myself together and went back into the store and got a buggy to shop. I went straight to the baby section and looked for a fun way to break the news to Matthew. This is what we came up with. When we got home Evan gave him a present and this is what was inside:

A few weeks later we got to get our first glimpse of our new baby. I was 8 weeks pregnant and everything looked just perfect:

The ultrasound tech wrote "baby praying" on this picture.

We found out that baby bean was due May 16. Evan's birthday is May 24. At first, I was a little disappointed because they would have to share birthdays and such, but the more I thought about it, the more excited I became. If it were a boy, he could wear all of Evan's old clothes. I envisioned common birthday themes. They would be almost exactly 2 years apart. I figured they would be the best of friends! I was a little intimidated by the fact that we would most likely still have two in diapers and the thoughts of a 2 year old and newborn, but I was up for the challenge and I was so excited about it!

This baby made sure I knew he/she was there. I was VERY sick. Even sicker than I was with Evan. For several weeks, I was throwing up 7-8 times per day and when I wasn't throwing up, I felt like it! Teaching 5th graders during this time was challenging. For one thing, um, it was hot and not all 5th graders understand the importance of deodorant (or bathing daily) yet. Yuck! My nose was on overdrive, but I welcomed the sickness because it made me feel "pregnant" and I thought it was a good sign that things were going well.

Around October, I ordered our annual Christmas ornaments. Since we've been married, we've been getting a special ornament or ornaments each year. When we decorate our tree, it is so fun to look back on all of them and remember. This is the one I ordered for us for that year.

Of course, after I lost the baby, I put that ornament in my memory box and I ordered another ornament. A beautiful angel, and had "Always Remembered" written on it. Later I added another ornament for my other three babies and they now hang on our tree each year. Strangely, it does not make me sad when I pull them out, it makes me feel happy... to remember.

I felt like I began showing really early with this baby. My pants were getting tight by about 10 weeks. Since I already had a big box of maternity clothes, I thought, why make myself suffer? I dug out the maternity pants. I did wear them with normal tops so that hopefully people couldn't tell what I was wearing. But I couldn't wait to have an obvious pregnant belly. I couldn't wait to feel the little kicks. I was so excited that my first trimester was almost over. I thought I would be feeling better soon and that the fun was really about to begin. This was on Halloween, the night before my ultrasound. Baby belly?

Our baby was only with us for a short time, but we had hopes and dreams for him/her from the moment we found out about his/her existence. We were filled with joy, excitement, hope, and anticipation from the moment we learned of his/her existence. It was different than with Evan. It was not new. Being pregnant felt familiar and safe. I felt relaxed. I felt confident. It was a feeling I had never felt before and never will again. I look back on that time and those feelings with great happiness and with envy. The feelings I had during my pregnancy with that baby I know I will never have again, unfortunately. The baby was very wanted. The baby was very loved. And the baby brought us a world of happiness in just the 8 short weeks that we knew it. We know that it was not God's will for us to know our baby in life, but we know we will know it in Heaven one day. I have no idea what that meeting will be like. I can't fathom how we will know each other in Heaven, but I believe we will.

These are a few verses that helped me in my grief:

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. ... Romans 5:1-21

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. Romans 8:18

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Matthew 5:4

For we walk by faith, not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:7

"For A Moment"
I saw for just a moment, your little arms and legs.

The little blur they said was you, but now you've gone away.

I heard for just a moment, the beating of your heart.

The sound that held such promise, but soon it would depart.

I dreamt for just a moment, of the day I'd hold you tight.

I'd listen for your little breath, and rock you through the night.

I cried for just a moment, when they said that you had gone.

I laid alone in silence that seemed so very long.

I prayed for just a moment, that you would be reborn.

Into His arms you would come and forever would be warm.

I was for just a moment, the mother of a child.

Who moved and lived and meant so much, if only for a while.

In that single moment, when I finally said farewell.

I knew that we would meet again, when time will only tell.

An angel wrote a name in the book of life, with a sigh she closed the book and whispered, “Too Beautiful for Earth”.

So it is not the will of my Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish. Matthew 18:14

Bring the Rain

I sat down last night after putting the kids to bed to do some of my schoolwork (I'm currently getting my Masters degree and I was crazy to do it right now!). Anyway, I cannot sit down at the computer without checking to see if anyone had updated their blogs yet, honestly, my fingers just click on it, I can't help it. Of course some had, so that started it. I will admit that I have become kind of obsessed with blogs lately. I love to read about what other people are doing. My dad and I have always enjoyed "people watching", like just sitting on a bench in a crowded place and observing the people that go by and this is another way to do that. My dad was looking at our blog one day and he said, you have a section called "Friends and Family", but none of those people are the friends I've heard you talk the most about. That's because my very closest five friends didn't have a blog at the time. Amanda finally jumped on the blog bandwagon, but I'm still waiting for the others (hint, hint!). Anyway, I explained to him that these were people I work with or used to work with (who are also some of my closest friends), people I went to high school with that I "found", and even some old acquaintances that I'd lost touch with that I "found" through others' blogs. For a long time, I felt kind of funny, like I was spying (or lurking as they say in the online world) when I would discover someone's blog by a link from someone elses'. I would go to their blog from my "friend's" blog, but it got to where I just couldn't keep up with where to find everyone's, LOL. Then I realized that lots of people read other people's blogs, even people they don't know at all. So, my friends list has grown and even though I don't talk to many of the people on the list on a regular basis anymore, I still consider them to be friends and I'm interested in learning about all the good things in their lives. But, last night I came across a couple of blogs (while reading the blogs of people I don't know) that really touched me. I don't know these people so I didn't feel right posting them under "friends", but I wanted to post them on my site for two reasons: 1) So that I can easily keep up with them and read them and 2) So that other people who read my blog might be inspired by them, comforted by them, and/or will pray for them. So you will see a new heading on my blog called "Other Blogs". The two blogs I've listed there, I've listed because they were meaningful to me.

So, after stumbling across the Bring the Rain blog, I ended up staying up until 12:30 reading it and did not get any homework done at all. I actually have looked at that blog before and I thought, really nice blog, pretty layout, author is a good writer, but didn't notice what it is really about. Last night, the first post was about The National Day of Remembrance for Pregnancy and Infant Loss (October 15). Of course this was dear to my heart due to the three miscarriages I have had. Then it hit me what this blog really was about and I went back and read from the beginning. What an amazing woman this mother is! Her faith is unbelievable and so inspirational. On her post about October 15, she asked for people to post a comment if they had lost a baby and she had over 2000 comments as of this morning! That is heart stopping. I know in my own circle of family and friends many have been touched by this heartbreak. So, I just wanted to explain where this blog came from and that I do not know this person, but I am inspired by her.

A couple of my close friends have suffered losses since mine. At the time of my losses I couldn't figure out God's purpose in them, but now I know that if nothing else, they have made me a more compassionate person. The reach and scope of the Bring the Rain blog is a testament that every person has a purpose from God, no matter how brief their presence on Earth may be and that is a comfort to me. After reading the blog, I went into my bedroom and just stood and stared at my baby girl sleeping soundly. I ended up picking her up (I know, I know, never disturb a sleeping baby and she did open her eyes and look at me like what are you doing? But she went right back to sleep) and just laying her in the bed with me. I laid there for about an hour just watching her sleep, listening to her breathe, and smelling her baby smell and thanking God over and over again for bringing me through my storm and placing her in my arms.