Today is a summer day like any other. Warm, a little on the cloudy side. Too cold for the pool, but perfect for playing outside in between short rain showers. A completely ordinary day.
And yet, today, June 23rd, isn't totally ordinary to me. Today is the day I was due with Baby #3. Our surprise Disney baby. Our baby who was born in our hearts, instead of in our arms, in December.
I've been sort of dreading and looking forward to today. For some reason it feels like there is some finality in the date. There are no more milestones that "would have been." A strange mix of sadness and closure.
I planned a down day with the kids. I wasn't sure what emotions I'd be feeling today. We've just been home, playing in the basement, doing laundry, "normal" stuff. They don't know today has any significance to me.
I woke up at 5am today, feeling the strongest flutters I've felt during this current pregnancy. Up to this point I'd been feeling small bubbles, but nothing definitive. This morning Baby Boy was doing a dance so wild it woke me up. I think he knows what today is. He's reminding me of the hope ahead. And maybe his new little baby soul just came from the place where Baby #3 is right now, and he is reminding me that my baby in Heaven is close to me today.
I pushed away the thought of today's date for most of the day. Even when a friend sent me a message asking how I was, I didn't even mention what day it was. She knew, of course, but didn't make me talk about it.
Then, a few hours later, the doorbell rang. A man with a bouquet of roses stood at the door. "Jenny?" he asked. Yes, that's me. I wondered who in the world would be sending me flowers.
I opened the card. That same friend, the one who gently messaged me earlier, had sent me the flowers. Her note had a Bible verse and the words, "still praying for you and your angel baby."
I burst into tears. Abby and Josh looked at me like I had 3 heads.
I think sometimes that we assume that a woman who has had a miscarriage just "needs to get pregnant again" to be ok. That somehow all the pain of the loss will be erased if another baby is on the way. I'm finding it doesn't quite work that way. Certainly being pregnant again has given me joy. But today is the day that I'm thinking about another baby I loved very much.
All it took was someone to acknowledge what this day means. To validate me and my angel baby. I think I needed that permission to grieve today. I didn't quite grasp how close to the surface my grief was today until I read that card and the tears just wouldn't stop. And I realize now that a part of me will always grieve that loss. And that's ok. And these flowers in front of me were exactly what I needed. Permission to be sad today and to remember my angel.
My friend who sent the flowers had been due a week after me. Her baby was just born a couple weeks ago, earlier than expected. We became close when we both found out we were pregnant at the same time. And with each milestone, even after I lost my baby, she has been a rock for me. I went to hold her new baby last week. It was the strangest feeling, holding this little life, created at almost the exact same time as the baby that I lost. He is beautiful, absolutely perfect. And holding him, I thought about what might have been. I thought about how I expected to be holding my own baby right now, this summer. And yet, as I held him I looked down at my growing belly, and I had a sense of peace. Peace that my baby is in Heaven, and we will meet again. And peace that this Baby Boy inside of me is part of my healing process. Peace that there is meaning behind my loss, value in the life gone too soon, and hope for joy ahead.
June 23rd. A day that will always be my "what might have been."
Thank you, my dear friend, for acknowledging me and Baby #3 today. And for reminding me that it is ok to grieve, even in the midst of the joy filled news of a new baby on the way.
Thursday, June 23, 2016
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Trusting God: Rainbows and Storms
It's been a few months since I blogged. There are a couple of reasons for my silence. First, I've just been living. In my last blog post I talked about grief, and how I was walking through grief in my own time. Something about that post set me free. I no longer felt like I had to pretend everything was fine, and instead could just be myself. Once that happened, I felt a burden lifted from me, and I began to see with new eyes, and my heart began to heal. I saw how much the Lord had done in me and through me because of my loss, and I felt a renewed sense of trust in His plan.
The second reason for my break from blogging is one that I have been waiting to share with you. In early April, just after my last blog post, I found out that Ben and I are expecting again. Our baby is due in early December, and if you've known me for any length of time, you probably will find that hysterical. Abby's birthday and my mom's birthday are both in December, about a week before Christmas. December in our house is a crazy time of year. Birthday parties, family gatherings, Christmas, end of year insanity. Not to mention a cold month to have a baby. I have sworn since Abby's birth that I would never, ever, have another December baby. That's why Josh was born in April ;)
But, I should have known. "Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails," Proverbs 19:21 tells us. In other words, good luck trying to tell God how it's going to be. And so here I am, expecting a new life in December.
They call a baby after loss a "rainbow baby." The rainbow, we know, is a symbol of hope and peace after a storm. This new baby, though it does not replace the one we lost, reminds us of the miracle of life and of hope for our future. I had hoped we would conceive again quickly, and every month that passed when I hadn't felt like a thousand months. I prayed hard, and the Lord said to me, "Do you trust me?" It wasn't until late March, when I finally relinquished my pain, and said, "God, however long this takes, whatever the plan, I trust You." It was just a few days after I prayed that that I found out we were pregnant again.
This pregnancy though, has been unlike any other I've ever experienced. With my first two babies, I can honestly say I took the entire experience for granted. Though I had small worries whether or not everything would be ok, I was blissfully unaware of the reality of loss, or of any serious problems with the baby. I would look forward to every ultrasound and appointment, excited to see the baby and hear the heartbeat.
This time, I know loss. I know the pain and heartache that follows the loss of a baby. Instead of joy and anticipation, all I felt for those first few weeks was dread. Dread that the worst would happen again. Dread that I'd have to go through miscarriage all over again. I told myself not to really believe I was pregnant until we saw the heartbeat. I remember calling my parents to share our news, and realizing in that moment that I wasn't telling them because I was excited. I was telling them so that they would know in case the worst happened again.
People around me that I shared the news with encouraged me to think positive. To hope for the best and realize the risks of another loss were microscopically small. It didn't help. You see, I already know that the worst case scenario can happen, and sometimes does. And it had already happened to me. So talking in terms of "risk" means little, because I was already in that small percentage, and now it is forever a part of me.
You see, once you lose a baby, you realize that sometimes really bad things happen. Sometimes you're that person in the 1% who gets the very worst news. It doesn't matter how good you are, kind you are, honest you are. The rain falls on both the righteous and the unrighteous. And life since my miscarriage has been learning how to live with the knowledge that there are no guarantees. Most of us can say we know that, but until you have lived it, you don't really know it.
I wanted to blog about the pregnancy right away, because I'd been so open about our loss. And because the anxiety that I was fighting every single day felt crushing at times. Almost as crushing as my grief. I am not one of those who necessarily subscribes to the "wait 12 weeks" mentality. For me, a baby is a baby, at 4 weeks or 12 weeks.
However, there is one little person in my life dearer to me than anyone in the world, and I wanted to protect her heart. My sweet 5 year old daughter had a hard time with our last loss, and I simply couldn't put her through that again until we had some assurance that things would be ok this time. So I made the decision to keep our pregnancy quiet until I had been through a few ultrasounds.
We had our first ultrasound at 6 weeks. The doctor let me come in early because she too has suffered miscarriage, and understood my anxiety. It was one of the hardest mornings of my life. I was reliving in vivid detail the last time, when she searched and searched, in vain, for a heartbeat.
This time, I went in prepared to hear the worst.
But this time, the worst didn't happen.
It didn't take long for the "whoosh whoosh whoosh" of the heartbeat to come loud through the speaker, and to see the flickering heart on the screen.
Our baby was alive. And growing well.
In that second, I felt relief. But it didn't last long. Ben seemed so happy, and all I felt was scared. Scared that now that I had seen a heartbeat, if we ended up losing this one, that I would really be undone. I couldn't even give myself 5 minutes to take in the happy news. We had told those close to us about our appointment, and the texts came in one after another. "Is everything good?" "Did you see a heartbeat?" I answered them all with pretended joy. "Yes! Baby looked great! Heartbeat was good!" Most said, "You must be so relieved!" I wish that was what I had felt.
Every single day of this pregnancy has been a wrestling match. My fears of loss want to steal my joy and hope. I want to believe that things will be good, and yet I'm so afraid of another loss. And the Lord keeps whispering, "Do you trust me?"
We had another ultrasound at 10 weeks. And again, I was a nervous wreck leading up to it. But again, the worst did not happen. I felt the Lord say, "Be strong and courageous. I am with you." The baby looked great and had a strong heartbeat. The doctor told us we were now in the "safe zone."
We went home that day and told Abby and Josh. Josh, being three, lifted up my shirt to "see" the baby, and seeing nothing, walked away, disappointed. But Abby, our baby-loving 5 year old was speechless with joy. She was so happy she almost cried. "A good seed Mommy!!!! It's really a good seed this time!!!!"
After that ultrasound, we made an appointment with the perinatal center. They handle all high risk pregnancies, as well as genetic screening. Since I have some medical conditions that require medication, and a history of preeclampsia, they wanted to see me at 13 weeks to establish that my arteries and blood vessels leading to the baby were working well. Since I had to go in for that anyway, they also took all the measurements that they would take if I had opted for early genetic screening.
With both Abby and Josh, I opted out of any genetic testing. I believe that any prenatal testing is completely a personal choice, and with the last two, I felt that as long as I was monitored with ultrasound, I didn't need additional screening. The screening tests for chromosomal abnormalities like Down Syndrome, and a few Trisomy syndromes that can cause potentially severe birth defects. I have friends who felt that they wanted to know as much as possible ahead of time to be prepared, so they opted in for the screening.
Today was my 13 week appointment. Again, I was a nervous wreck. Would the heartbeat still be there? Was the baby still alive? Those were the thoughts running through my mind this morning.
We went in for our ultrasound and the tech started working on all the measurements. Right away I saw the baby moving, and knew it was alive. In fact, it was putting on quite a show today, standing on it's head, doing flips, turning away from the probe and making it hard to get measurements! For the first time in this pregnancy, I allowed myself to believe that this baby would be ok, and the tears began to come.
Part of the ultrasound at 13 weeks measures something called "nuchal translucency." It is the amount of fluid behind the baby's neck. They use this measurement to help determine risk for chromosomal abnormalities. When you are above the "normal" threshold of fluid, the risk for the baby increases. I noticed the tech taking a lot of those measurements, but not making any comments about them. I've become very good at reading the facial expressions of people taking ultrasounds. I knew something was off.
The doctor came in and introduced himself, and said he was going to take a few measurements of his own. The baby was uncooperative and sick of having pictures taken, so he had to go off of the first tech's measurements. He explained that the fluid behind the neck was above the threshold of "normal," which meant we were at a higher risk of a chromosomal abnormality.
Time stopped. I felt like my heart stopped too.
I hadn't anticipated this. I had been so worried about a heartbeat that I never considered something else could be wrong.
The doctor started to talk about elevated risk of Down Syndrome, and the options for further testing. My world started to spin. I took a deep breath, and in that moment, I heard the familiar voice of the Holy Spirit. "Do you trust me?"
I listened to a sermon this Sunday on Pslam 139. The pastor said in that sermon, "What you fear the most, is the area in which you trust God the least."
"Do you trust me?"
I thought about what I'd been through in these last 6 months. The pain, grief, and loss, but also the healing, grace, and joy of bringing comfort to others. And as the doctor talked, I had my own conversation with the Lord.
"Lord, I trust you. No matter what happens, I trust you."
And I do. And trusting Him doesn't mean I trust that all will be 100% perfect, or easy, or what I imagined it to be. It means I know He has given me this child. He has chosen this child especially for Ben and I. He has chosen us to be this baby's parents. No matter what.
After talking through everything with the doctor, we have opted for some non invasive DNA testing. It will give us within 90% accuracy an answer as to whether or not our baby has Down Syndrome. That way, if it does, the doctors will be able to keep a closer eye on the baby as it develops. We will get the results in a week or two.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. I think it's really just the unknown that scares me more than anything else. But I am also joyful. Joyful that I saw a baby wriggling around on that screen today, waving and dancing and alive. My rainbow. Even though right now it still feels a bit like it's raining.
I do not know what tomorrow holds. But I know Who holds tomorrow. And I know He is the author of life. He gives, and takes away. He heals, comforts, and draws us in to himself.
The last time I was pregnant, I took pictures of the kids holding signs announcing the pregnancy. I never got to share those pictures. I've also learned in the months since my loss that those kinds of announcements can sometimes bring pain to people who have recently lost a baby, or who have been trying for a baby and haven't been able to conceive. I have learned a lot about compassion since my miscarriage.
I do want to share an announcement picture, because this baby is my rainbow. And I want to celebrate this little life. However, I want to be sensitive to those who may feel pain in seeing an announcement. I may not know who you are, but I want you to know, you matter, and your pain is seen. I pray that God meets you exactly where you need Him. Just as I pray that He meets me in this moment of anxiety and mixed emotions.
I thought about waiting until we had our test results to share our announcement. But, this baby is a gift and a miracle no matter what those test results show us.
Lord, I trust you. Imperfectly and sometimes only minute by minute, but I trust you.
So here is our joyful news:
The second reason for my break from blogging is one that I have been waiting to share with you. In early April, just after my last blog post, I found out that Ben and I are expecting again. Our baby is due in early December, and if you've known me for any length of time, you probably will find that hysterical. Abby's birthday and my mom's birthday are both in December, about a week before Christmas. December in our house is a crazy time of year. Birthday parties, family gatherings, Christmas, end of year insanity. Not to mention a cold month to have a baby. I have sworn since Abby's birth that I would never, ever, have another December baby. That's why Josh was born in April ;)
But, I should have known. "Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails," Proverbs 19:21 tells us. In other words, good luck trying to tell God how it's going to be. And so here I am, expecting a new life in December.
They call a baby after loss a "rainbow baby." The rainbow, we know, is a symbol of hope and peace after a storm. This new baby, though it does not replace the one we lost, reminds us of the miracle of life and of hope for our future. I had hoped we would conceive again quickly, and every month that passed when I hadn't felt like a thousand months. I prayed hard, and the Lord said to me, "Do you trust me?" It wasn't until late March, when I finally relinquished my pain, and said, "God, however long this takes, whatever the plan, I trust You." It was just a few days after I prayed that that I found out we were pregnant again.
This pregnancy though, has been unlike any other I've ever experienced. With my first two babies, I can honestly say I took the entire experience for granted. Though I had small worries whether or not everything would be ok, I was blissfully unaware of the reality of loss, or of any serious problems with the baby. I would look forward to every ultrasound and appointment, excited to see the baby and hear the heartbeat.
This time, I know loss. I know the pain and heartache that follows the loss of a baby. Instead of joy and anticipation, all I felt for those first few weeks was dread. Dread that the worst would happen again. Dread that I'd have to go through miscarriage all over again. I told myself not to really believe I was pregnant until we saw the heartbeat. I remember calling my parents to share our news, and realizing in that moment that I wasn't telling them because I was excited. I was telling them so that they would know in case the worst happened again.
People around me that I shared the news with encouraged me to think positive. To hope for the best and realize the risks of another loss were microscopically small. It didn't help. You see, I already know that the worst case scenario can happen, and sometimes does. And it had already happened to me. So talking in terms of "risk" means little, because I was already in that small percentage, and now it is forever a part of me.
You see, once you lose a baby, you realize that sometimes really bad things happen. Sometimes you're that person in the 1% who gets the very worst news. It doesn't matter how good you are, kind you are, honest you are. The rain falls on both the righteous and the unrighteous. And life since my miscarriage has been learning how to live with the knowledge that there are no guarantees. Most of us can say we know that, but until you have lived it, you don't really know it.
I wanted to blog about the pregnancy right away, because I'd been so open about our loss. And because the anxiety that I was fighting every single day felt crushing at times. Almost as crushing as my grief. I am not one of those who necessarily subscribes to the "wait 12 weeks" mentality. For me, a baby is a baby, at 4 weeks or 12 weeks.
However, there is one little person in my life dearer to me than anyone in the world, and I wanted to protect her heart. My sweet 5 year old daughter had a hard time with our last loss, and I simply couldn't put her through that again until we had some assurance that things would be ok this time. So I made the decision to keep our pregnancy quiet until I had been through a few ultrasounds.
We had our first ultrasound at 6 weeks. The doctor let me come in early because she too has suffered miscarriage, and understood my anxiety. It was one of the hardest mornings of my life. I was reliving in vivid detail the last time, when she searched and searched, in vain, for a heartbeat.
This time, I went in prepared to hear the worst.
But this time, the worst didn't happen.
It didn't take long for the "whoosh whoosh whoosh" of the heartbeat to come loud through the speaker, and to see the flickering heart on the screen.
Our baby was alive. And growing well.
In that second, I felt relief. But it didn't last long. Ben seemed so happy, and all I felt was scared. Scared that now that I had seen a heartbeat, if we ended up losing this one, that I would really be undone. I couldn't even give myself 5 minutes to take in the happy news. We had told those close to us about our appointment, and the texts came in one after another. "Is everything good?" "Did you see a heartbeat?" I answered them all with pretended joy. "Yes! Baby looked great! Heartbeat was good!" Most said, "You must be so relieved!" I wish that was what I had felt.
Every single day of this pregnancy has been a wrestling match. My fears of loss want to steal my joy and hope. I want to believe that things will be good, and yet I'm so afraid of another loss. And the Lord keeps whispering, "Do you trust me?"
We had another ultrasound at 10 weeks. And again, I was a nervous wreck leading up to it. But again, the worst did not happen. I felt the Lord say, "Be strong and courageous. I am with you." The baby looked great and had a strong heartbeat. The doctor told us we were now in the "safe zone."
We went home that day and told Abby and Josh. Josh, being three, lifted up my shirt to "see" the baby, and seeing nothing, walked away, disappointed. But Abby, our baby-loving 5 year old was speechless with joy. She was so happy she almost cried. "A good seed Mommy!!!! It's really a good seed this time!!!!"
After that ultrasound, we made an appointment with the perinatal center. They handle all high risk pregnancies, as well as genetic screening. Since I have some medical conditions that require medication, and a history of preeclampsia, they wanted to see me at 13 weeks to establish that my arteries and blood vessels leading to the baby were working well. Since I had to go in for that anyway, they also took all the measurements that they would take if I had opted for early genetic screening.
With both Abby and Josh, I opted out of any genetic testing. I believe that any prenatal testing is completely a personal choice, and with the last two, I felt that as long as I was monitored with ultrasound, I didn't need additional screening. The screening tests for chromosomal abnormalities like Down Syndrome, and a few Trisomy syndromes that can cause potentially severe birth defects. I have friends who felt that they wanted to know as much as possible ahead of time to be prepared, so they opted in for the screening.
Today was my 13 week appointment. Again, I was a nervous wreck. Would the heartbeat still be there? Was the baby still alive? Those were the thoughts running through my mind this morning.
We went in for our ultrasound and the tech started working on all the measurements. Right away I saw the baby moving, and knew it was alive. In fact, it was putting on quite a show today, standing on it's head, doing flips, turning away from the probe and making it hard to get measurements! For the first time in this pregnancy, I allowed myself to believe that this baby would be ok, and the tears began to come.
Part of the ultrasound at 13 weeks measures something called "nuchal translucency." It is the amount of fluid behind the baby's neck. They use this measurement to help determine risk for chromosomal abnormalities. When you are above the "normal" threshold of fluid, the risk for the baby increases. I noticed the tech taking a lot of those measurements, but not making any comments about them. I've become very good at reading the facial expressions of people taking ultrasounds. I knew something was off.
The doctor came in and introduced himself, and said he was going to take a few measurements of his own. The baby was uncooperative and sick of having pictures taken, so he had to go off of the first tech's measurements. He explained that the fluid behind the neck was above the threshold of "normal," which meant we were at a higher risk of a chromosomal abnormality.
Time stopped. I felt like my heart stopped too.
I hadn't anticipated this. I had been so worried about a heartbeat that I never considered something else could be wrong.
The doctor started to talk about elevated risk of Down Syndrome, and the options for further testing. My world started to spin. I took a deep breath, and in that moment, I heard the familiar voice of the Holy Spirit. "Do you trust me?"
I listened to a sermon this Sunday on Pslam 139. The pastor said in that sermon, "What you fear the most, is the area in which you trust God the least."
"Do you trust me?"
I thought about what I'd been through in these last 6 months. The pain, grief, and loss, but also the healing, grace, and joy of bringing comfort to others. And as the doctor talked, I had my own conversation with the Lord.
"Lord, I trust you. No matter what happens, I trust you."
And I do. And trusting Him doesn't mean I trust that all will be 100% perfect, or easy, or what I imagined it to be. It means I know He has given me this child. He has chosen this child especially for Ben and I. He has chosen us to be this baby's parents. No matter what.
After talking through everything with the doctor, we have opted for some non invasive DNA testing. It will give us within 90% accuracy an answer as to whether or not our baby has Down Syndrome. That way, if it does, the doctors will be able to keep a closer eye on the baby as it develops. We will get the results in a week or two.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. I think it's really just the unknown that scares me more than anything else. But I am also joyful. Joyful that I saw a baby wriggling around on that screen today, waving and dancing and alive. My rainbow. Even though right now it still feels a bit like it's raining.
I do not know what tomorrow holds. But I know Who holds tomorrow. And I know He is the author of life. He gives, and takes away. He heals, comforts, and draws us in to himself.
The last time I was pregnant, I took pictures of the kids holding signs announcing the pregnancy. I never got to share those pictures. I've also learned in the months since my loss that those kinds of announcements can sometimes bring pain to people who have recently lost a baby, or who have been trying for a baby and haven't been able to conceive. I have learned a lot about compassion since my miscarriage.
I do want to share an announcement picture, because this baby is my rainbow. And I want to celebrate this little life. However, I want to be sensitive to those who may feel pain in seeing an announcement. I may not know who you are, but I want you to know, you matter, and your pain is seen. I pray that God meets you exactly where you need Him. Just as I pray that He meets me in this moment of anxiety and mixed emotions.
I thought about waiting until we had our test results to share our announcement. But, this baby is a gift and a miracle no matter what those test results show us.
Lord, I trust you. Imperfectly and sometimes only minute by minute, but I trust you.
So here is our joyful news:
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