Yesterday morning as I was getting ready, I found the pregnancy test that confirmed that I was pregnant with Adam clear back in early April. I don't know why I've saved it all these months. I didn't save my pregnancy tests with Vaughn and Mason. There had been several times when I'd happened upon it and thought about throwing it away, but every time I wasn't able to part with it.
But there it was in my hands, the two pink lines next to the word pregnant. I remembered the rush of emotions when those two pink lines showed up-- pure joy and excitement. Yes! We did it! Another baby! And then I was whipped back to the present moment. Alone. In my bathroom-- my deflated stomach, my sad heart, my baby gone. Gone. I cried and cried, and put the test in my little box of things to remember him by.
I've thought so much lately about how many other women have suffered losses-- and not just stillborns, but miscarriages, babies and children, and women who want so badly to have a family, but can't conceive. I feel so much more compassion and love for women who put their hearts in such a vulnerable position to become mothers. I feel like motherhood is so much more sacred than I have ever felt before.
On Thursday night I went to a support group at the hospital for other moms who have suffered similar losses. We all went around the table and told our sad stories. The girl sitting next to me lost her second son just weeks before she was to deliver him. They named him Mason. I thought about my second son Mason, and how sad it would be to not have my two boys playing together and running around all day. My heart ached for her. Another woman lost her third boy at twenty-four weeks. She almost died from bleeding so much and they ended up having to remove her uterus, and she needed several more surgeries afterward. Her son lived for fifty-one days before passing away. She was such a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart and even though I didn't know her I had the strongest desire to give her a big hug and tell her how sorry I was. She talked about how at night she lights a candle to remember him by. I thought it was a wonderful and simple way to remember a person so loved and missed, so Friday night and tonight I've done the same while sitting in my boys' room singing them to sleep.
This loss has been so humbling to me. It's stripped me of a layer of pride that I wasn't even aware was there. It has brought me to my knees and made me so much more aware of how little I know, how little I have control of, and how little is actually mine. I can only put one foot in front of the other and pray for guidance, for love, and for wisdom.
I hope that I can become the kind of woman that God wants me to be. I hope that something good can come from this. That I can carry that joy and excitement Adam's life brought to me from the moment that test confirmed his existence. That I can continue to learn and grow in the light his life has brought to me.
1.22.2012
1.17.2012
Vaughn was playing with our camera on Sunday and took this picture of Mason right before church.
What would I do without my little Mase man? Today Rick went back to work. For three weeks he's been home with me. Every time I've cried he's been right by my side loving me better. Every night when the responsibilities of motherhood just seem too overwhelming to me, he's jumped right in and done what I haven't been able to. He's been so sensitive and amazing and I love him more than I can explain.
I've been dreading this day, where everything is somehow supposed to return to "normal." Nothing feels normal. I've got this big gaping hole in my heart and I feel this huge void all around me-- empty arms, empty space in my room where Adam's bassinet sat just two weeks ago, empty hours that I was expecting to fill loving my baby. I don't know what to do with all this emptiness.
This morning Mason climbed into bed with me after Rick left and snuggled right next to me. After about ten minutes of snuggling he looked at me with his big brown eyes and said "Mom. Shaggy can eat two sandwiches!" Then just a moment later he said "Is it alright if I can play wif your haiw?" And he played with my hair for a minute, then wrapped his little arm around my neck, his forehead against mine, and just loved me for a minute, and somehow that made all the dread just melt away.
I'm so lucky to have Rick and my boys. They make everything better.
1.13.2012
Worth It
A few months ago one of my dearest friends gave birth to a beautiful little girl-- her first after four boys. The morning she delivered her husband called me and asked if I would like to come over and be part of the experience. I felt so excited and nervous because I had never seen anyone in labor or a baby being born, and I loved my friend so much and was excited that her little baby girl was finally coming. I remember kneeling by my bed and saying a quick prayer for her that everything would go well and that I could be helpful or comforting in some way.
My friend labored for hours, and it was very difficult for her. I was with her for the first bit and was amazed by her strength, but after a while when the contractions were really strong and difficult she only wanted her husband and midwife in the room.
There were two things that struck me the most about the experience-- first, that here was my friend experiencing so much pain, and the rest of the world was ticking on. It really felt to me like everything should stop for a little while for such a big moment. But it didn't. There were her older kids that I sat on the floor with and played games with. Lunch that we all needed to eat. Her youngest boy who needed his diaper changed and who needed to be put down for a nap. For everyone else, the necessities of life were moving us forward, but for her she was paused into this moment of pain and labor.
The second thing that struck me was that none of us could take her pain away from her. I don't think there was a person in that house that wouldn't have taken the pain away from her if we could. We all loved her, and wished she didn't have to suffer so much. Besides minimizing distractions, and trying to offer comfort though, the pain was something that she had to work through on her own.
After she gave birth I came up to the room (I ended up missing the actual delivery because I had run to Sonic to get her some pebble ice, not realizing she was so close to delivering) to see her beautiful baby girl lying on her stomach breathing. I got to see the chord being cut and was so happy for my friend. I remember my friend exclaiming sincerely "I don't ever want to do that again!" But not even thirty minutes later after they were all cleaned up, her new baby bundled up, they were lying in bed together and my friend was just beaming while looking at her new baby. I will never forget her looking at her and saying with equal sincerity "Oh, but it's so worth it though!"
I have been thinking about that experience through this last week. At first I was thinking how different our experiences were, but then I started to realize how many similarities there were too.
This same dear friend was there for me in the hospital when I was being wheeled out of the operating room. We missed each others actual deliveries-- hers because I had run off to Sonic, and mine because I was in an operating room, but we were both there for the moments afterward. When describing the hours afterward I think we have both used the words sacred to describe them. Yes her baby breathed and mine did not, but there was an equal amount of love in those rooms-- love from the family members and friends surrounding us, love for the babies we held, and love from the people beyond our view that I'm certain were attending us in those sacred moments.
In the days that followed Adam's death and birth I struggled so much with the intense physical and emotional pain and shock of what had just happened. I remember one night hobbling to the hospital bathroom, sick from medication and feeling so sad because I didn't have my baby. I remember thinking "I don't ever want to do this again," and in that moment I meant it. I didn't ever want to have to lay down on an operating table and be pumped up with medication and have my stomach cut open. I didn't ever want to expose my heart to the possibility of such a huge loss, and the heartache that I was experiencing.
Like I felt at my friends labor and birth, I know that others have felt so helpless with my pain. I've had so many people that have told me that they wish they could take some of the pain away from me. Though I can't claim that the pain is all mine-- this was a loss experienced by many around me-- the bulk of it is something that I am going to have to work through-- not alone exactly (I've already felt immense comfort from above), but nobody can say or do anything to change the situation. They can only help minimize distractions and offer comfort.
While we were in Utah I was lying in bed the night before the funeral, and I thought about my friend looking into her baby's eyes and saying "It was so worth it though!" I wondered if I had the possibility to crawl backward through these last ten months to the moment Rick and I decided that we wanted to try for another baby if I would. If I knew what the end result would be-- that just hours before I was expecting to hold my new healthy baby in my arms that his heart would suddenly stop beating, and instead I would hold his lifeless body in my arms and sob, and watch my husband and parents do the same, would I still make the decision to conceive?
I was surprised at how easily I was able to answer that question. Yes. I absolutely would. In a moment. For those ten months I fell in love with my baby boy. I got to see him kick his cute little legs on the ultra sound. For months and months I got to feel him move all around in my belly. Almost every night I used to take a warm bath in the evening and I used to just sing and sing to him, and sometimes even talk to him. It was my special time with him, and I'm so grateful now for it. At night I used to visit with Rick in bed about what I thought his personality was like. With all my children I feel like I've gotten a strong sense of what they were like while in my womb. I used to say that I thought Adam was so so sweet, and a little bit shy.
I loved and still love my baby boy. I got to hold him, to see what he looked like, to spend time with him. I wouldn't trade any of that, even though I'm suffering now. Even though I'm so sad, I would agree with my friend that it is so worth it. It really is.
My friend labored for hours, and it was very difficult for her. I was with her for the first bit and was amazed by her strength, but after a while when the contractions were really strong and difficult she only wanted her husband and midwife in the room.
There were two things that struck me the most about the experience-- first, that here was my friend experiencing so much pain, and the rest of the world was ticking on. It really felt to me like everything should stop for a little while for such a big moment. But it didn't. There were her older kids that I sat on the floor with and played games with. Lunch that we all needed to eat. Her youngest boy who needed his diaper changed and who needed to be put down for a nap. For everyone else, the necessities of life were moving us forward, but for her she was paused into this moment of pain and labor.
The second thing that struck me was that none of us could take her pain away from her. I don't think there was a person in that house that wouldn't have taken the pain away from her if we could. We all loved her, and wished she didn't have to suffer so much. Besides minimizing distractions, and trying to offer comfort though, the pain was something that she had to work through on her own.
After she gave birth I came up to the room (I ended up missing the actual delivery because I had run to Sonic to get her some pebble ice, not realizing she was so close to delivering) to see her beautiful baby girl lying on her stomach breathing. I got to see the chord being cut and was so happy for my friend. I remember my friend exclaiming sincerely "I don't ever want to do that again!" But not even thirty minutes later after they were all cleaned up, her new baby bundled up, they were lying in bed together and my friend was just beaming while looking at her new baby. I will never forget her looking at her and saying with equal sincerity "Oh, but it's so worth it though!"
I have been thinking about that experience through this last week. At first I was thinking how different our experiences were, but then I started to realize how many similarities there were too.
This same dear friend was there for me in the hospital when I was being wheeled out of the operating room. We missed each others actual deliveries-- hers because I had run off to Sonic, and mine because I was in an operating room, but we were both there for the moments afterward. When describing the hours afterward I think we have both used the words sacred to describe them. Yes her baby breathed and mine did not, but there was an equal amount of love in those rooms-- love from the family members and friends surrounding us, love for the babies we held, and love from the people beyond our view that I'm certain were attending us in those sacred moments.
In the days that followed Adam's death and birth I struggled so much with the intense physical and emotional pain and shock of what had just happened. I remember one night hobbling to the hospital bathroom, sick from medication and feeling so sad because I didn't have my baby. I remember thinking "I don't ever want to do this again," and in that moment I meant it. I didn't ever want to have to lay down on an operating table and be pumped up with medication and have my stomach cut open. I didn't ever want to expose my heart to the possibility of such a huge loss, and the heartache that I was experiencing.
Like I felt at my friends labor and birth, I know that others have felt so helpless with my pain. I've had so many people that have told me that they wish they could take some of the pain away from me. Though I can't claim that the pain is all mine-- this was a loss experienced by many around me-- the bulk of it is something that I am going to have to work through-- not alone exactly (I've already felt immense comfort from above), but nobody can say or do anything to change the situation. They can only help minimize distractions and offer comfort.
While we were in Utah I was lying in bed the night before the funeral, and I thought about my friend looking into her baby's eyes and saying "It was so worth it though!" I wondered if I had the possibility to crawl backward through these last ten months to the moment Rick and I decided that we wanted to try for another baby if I would. If I knew what the end result would be-- that just hours before I was expecting to hold my new healthy baby in my arms that his heart would suddenly stop beating, and instead I would hold his lifeless body in my arms and sob, and watch my husband and parents do the same, would I still make the decision to conceive?
I was surprised at how easily I was able to answer that question. Yes. I absolutely would. In a moment. For those ten months I fell in love with my baby boy. I got to see him kick his cute little legs on the ultra sound. For months and months I got to feel him move all around in my belly. Almost every night I used to take a warm bath in the evening and I used to just sing and sing to him, and sometimes even talk to him. It was my special time with him, and I'm so grateful now for it. At night I used to visit with Rick in bed about what I thought his personality was like. With all my children I feel like I've gotten a strong sense of what they were like while in my womb. I used to say that I thought Adam was so so sweet, and a little bit shy.
I loved and still love my baby boy. I got to hold him, to see what he looked like, to spend time with him. I wouldn't trade any of that, even though I'm suffering now. Even though I'm so sad, I would agree with my friend that it is so worth it. It really is.
1.07.2012
Mourning
Today I went into the mortuary with my Mom and two of my sisters-in-law and brought the clothes, hat, and booties that my sweet baby Adam will wear to be buried in, and got to see him and say goodbye to him for the last time. It is the hardest thing I have ever done. My whole body and soul ached and longed to be able to hold my baby. I wanted him to open his eyes. To breath. And to be able to tell him how much I loved him, and how sorry I am that I won't get to be his Mom here in this life. There he was-- so sweet and beautiful wearing the clothes that we planned to bless him in. My little Adam.
Oh, how my heart aches.
Tonight I packed my bag so that we can make the trip to bury our baby. It is the same bag that I packed a week ago in preparation to go to the hospital the next morning to get a c-section. I felt him move all night, and even felt him move on the car ride to the hospital. The day before I had a non-stress test, and he passed with flying colors. It wasn't until they hooked me up to the monitor, in preparation for the surgery, that we found out he was gone.
It is too difficult to describe right now the hours that followed that moment. Some day I might be able to process those memories, and maybe even share some of them, but they are still too raw-- too sacred.
On Friday night, when I was released from the hospital I came home and sat in my chair and picked up my scriptures. They opened up exactly to St. Matthew, chapter 11. I read through the chapter, and there in the last three versus, was a message that I believe was God speaking directly to my heart:
Even though my heart aches, it is also full of love. For my friends, and especially for my family. My love for Rick and my boys and each of my family members has grown in ways that I never knew it could in this past week. There are no other people that I would choose to walk through this life with.
I know that I have a Heavenly Father and that He loves me. That He loves my baby. He has promised me that if will only come unto him that he will ease my burden and make it lighter. I am so grateful for that. I'm grateful that I can be with my family forever, and that someday I will get to see Adam again.
I wanted to share the music that has brought me so much comfort these past few days from the Messiah. It is such a beautiful piece of music.
Oh, how my heart aches.
Tonight I packed my bag so that we can make the trip to bury our baby. It is the same bag that I packed a week ago in preparation to go to the hospital the next morning to get a c-section. I felt him move all night, and even felt him move on the car ride to the hospital. The day before I had a non-stress test, and he passed with flying colors. It wasn't until they hooked me up to the monitor, in preparation for the surgery, that we found out he was gone.
It is too difficult to describe right now the hours that followed that moment. Some day I might be able to process those memories, and maybe even share some of them, but they are still too raw-- too sacred.
On Friday night, when I was released from the hospital I came home and sat in my chair and picked up my scriptures. They opened up exactly to St. Matthew, chapter 11. I read through the chapter, and there in the last three versus, was a message that I believe was God speaking directly to my heart:
29 Take my ayoke upon you, and blearn of me; for I am cmeekand dlowly in eheart: and ye shall find frest unto your souls.
Never has any verse of scripture given me such comfort and hope. I lay for hours thinking about these versus, and what exactly it means to come unto Him and to take His yoke upon me. I remembered singing these versus of scripture in the Messiah as a solo. I love the music from that movement.Even though my heart aches, it is also full of love. For my friends, and especially for my family. My love for Rick and my boys and each of my family members has grown in ways that I never knew it could in this past week. There are no other people that I would choose to walk through this life with.
I know that I have a Heavenly Father and that He loves me. That He loves my baby. He has promised me that if will only come unto him that he will ease my burden and make it lighter. I am so grateful for that. I'm grateful that I can be with my family forever, and that someday I will get to see Adam again.
I wanted to share the music that has brought me so much comfort these past few days from the Messiah. It is such a beautiful piece of music.
12.24.2011
Birthday Girl
Yesterday was my 34th Birthday. It was a perfect birthday. I woke up and Rick and the boys surprised me with a new waffle maker, and then made me some delicious waffles with yogurt, berries, bananas, and nuts on top. Then my parents, who are in town spoiled me with new dishes that I've been wanting.
I got a couple of packages from close friends, and lots of birthday wishes and calls from everyone, and it made me feel so loved.
In the morning, my parents took the boys to the park while Rick and I went to my baby appointment. We got to listen to his heartbeat while they were doing the non-stress test, and he was very active, and is doing very well. We were both assured that at some point, when the baby is ready, my body will kick into active labor, but for now he's doing great which makes me happy. Afterward Rick and I browsed through World Market, and picked up a few last minute items. It was fun to just stroll through the store without the kids and visit and laugh together.
In the afternoon, Rick braved Costco with Vaughn (it was-- not surprisingly-- a nightmare) while I got to cuddle up with Mase and take a long nap.
Then in the evening we made a really yummy dinner of taco salad, with fresh guacamole and salsa and all the fixings. For desert, Rick made me my very favorite cake, German chocolate, and it was SOOOO good.
Then I took a hot bath and got to visit with my family for a while, and then I read and went to bed early. I know none of this sounds terribly exciting, but when everyone asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday my answer was pretty much: "Nothing. I want to sit and do nothing at all for my birthday." Rick and I had a nice date the night before, and we've been having so much fun with my parents in town and Christmas approaching, that I just wanted to relax and enjoy a day at home.
We're so excited for Christmas to come tomorrow. I've really taken it easy this Christmas, and it's made it one of the most enjoyable that I can remember. I've had the gifts and everything ready for weeks, and really haven't put any pressure on myself for things like sending cards and neighbor gifts. I figure that everyone who cares will forgive me this year. :-) The boys and I have done some spontaneous and fun Christmas activities-- but only when it's been convenient, or when it's their idea, which has made it really fun. It's been a really simple Christmas, and I've loved it.
I hope that you all are enjoying your holidays too. Merry Christmas!
I got a couple of packages from close friends, and lots of birthday wishes and calls from everyone, and it made me feel so loved.
In the morning, my parents took the boys to the park while Rick and I went to my baby appointment. We got to listen to his heartbeat while they were doing the non-stress test, and he was very active, and is doing very well. We were both assured that at some point, when the baby is ready, my body will kick into active labor, but for now he's doing great which makes me happy. Afterward Rick and I browsed through World Market, and picked up a few last minute items. It was fun to just stroll through the store without the kids and visit and laugh together.
In the afternoon, Rick braved Costco with Vaughn (it was-- not surprisingly-- a nightmare) while I got to cuddle up with Mase and take a long nap.
Then in the evening we made a really yummy dinner of taco salad, with fresh guacamole and salsa and all the fixings. For desert, Rick made me my very favorite cake, German chocolate, and it was SOOOO good.
Then I took a hot bath and got to visit with my family for a while, and then I read and went to bed early. I know none of this sounds terribly exciting, but when everyone asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday my answer was pretty much: "Nothing. I want to sit and do nothing at all for my birthday." Rick and I had a nice date the night before, and we've been having so much fun with my parents in town and Christmas approaching, that I just wanted to relax and enjoy a day at home.
We're so excited for Christmas to come tomorrow. I've really taken it easy this Christmas, and it's made it one of the most enjoyable that I can remember. I've had the gifts and everything ready for weeks, and really haven't put any pressure on myself for things like sending cards and neighbor gifts. I figure that everyone who cares will forgive me this year. :-) The boys and I have done some spontaneous and fun Christmas activities-- but only when it's been convenient, or when it's their idea, which has made it really fun. It's been a really simple Christmas, and I've loved it.
I hope that you all are enjoying your holidays too. Merry Christmas!
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