Dear Brady

My dear Brady,

Did you think I forgot you?  Here your brother and sister got letters, and you are probably wondering where your letter was!  Don't worry, I didn't forget you...I couldn't and wouldn't ever forget you!  You are the boy that made me a mom.  You are the one that first showed me the joys of being pregnant (and you had to work at that a little), and the strength of the unconditional love between a mother and her son.

I was pretty surprised when we found out you were on your way.  You see, we weren't married quite yet (gasp!)  And I was still just immature enough to worry about what people would think.  Never mind that I was an adult, working in a career which would support a family, your dad and I were engaged already...but for some reason I worried that people would judge us for being pregnant with you and not technically being married.  Looking back, it all seems so silly!  Once I got that notion out of my head, I was head over heels excited to be expecting you.  It's true, I grumbled as my pants got snug, and I got cranky when I couldn't have a green beer on St. Patty's Day, but you were the one that taught me that those aren't the things that really matter.  You showed me that the little things matter so much more.

I remember so clearly the first time I felt you move - I was on my way to Lincoln to get my haircut and I felt these bubbles in my stomach.  It took a couple minutes before I realized that they weren't bubbles, but your little hands and feet moving around!  And my favorite moments with you (while pregnant) were when I had to watch the door at school.  (This was before we had fancy buttons to let people in the locked doors!)  I would sit there for a half hour every morning, and that was our time.  That was your time to play, and let me know you were safe and happy. 

And when we found out you were coming, way too early, we were devastated.  I wasn't sure I wanted to see you, or hold you, or touch you.  I thought that might be too hard...or too weird.  Again, you taught me not to worry about anyone else.  As soon as the nurse placed you in my arms, I never wanted to let you go.  You were perfect...perfect little nose, perfect baby hands and toes...even the start of a red mohawk on the top of your head.  And although I held your perfect tiny body in my arms, I knew that you, my baby boy, were already in a better place.

Thank you, Brady, for teaching me what it really means to be a mom, and for showing me that not all moms hold their babies in their arms.  Thank you for living in my heart, and for watching over those of us still here on earth.  Thank you for welcoming your baby brother, Nana, and now your little sister.  Thank you for watching over them until we can join you.  We love you forever, and you will always be our perfect firstborn.

Love always and forever,
Mama and Daddy

Dear Henry

Dear Henry,

What do I say to you that hasn't already been said?? You may not have been with us nearly long enough, but your lessons and your legacy will live on, hopefully forever! Before I ever held you in my arms you taught me the value of patience, determination, and perseverance. And once you were here, you taught me to enjoy the little things...all the little things. In your passing, you taught me to find the sunshine in the sadness and to focus on what makes me happy. You may be the wisest teacher I've had, and you taught me these lessons in just over a year!

I loved every moment we had with you...from the flutters and kicks...to that month or so when you took up residence right under my ribs...to your first cry (which made us cry!)...to our outings and our snuggles at home. I loved changing every diaper (even the nasty blowouts!) and washing every bottle. No, seriously, I did enjoy all of that because it meant you were HERE and you were OURS.

You stole not only our hearts, but the hearts of everyone you met. Your mohawk, your smile, and your personality were infectious. And when you got sick, you just had that many more people thinking of and praying for you.

Of course we wish you were still here stealing hearts, especially ours. But we are so honored to have been chosen your parents...to have had the opportunity to know you and love you. And although you're gone, we won't ever stop loving you. We know you are partying it up with your older brother and baby sister, and that you are now busy stealing hearts in Heaven. We can't wait for the day we can once again hold you in our arms, but for now we are trying to carry out your mission...your monster's mission. We love you always and forever sweet boy.

Love you forever,

Mama and Daddy

Dear Baby Jelly Bean

Dear Sweet Baby Jelly Bean,

We didn't get much time to know you - we didn't even know if you were a boy or a girl (but we're both going with girl.)  Even so, we loved you from the minute we knew you were here.  I took about 10 pregnancy tests before I even believed it was true.  We had been waiting for so long, and we were so excited to know you were finally coming!  In fact, we were so excited we couldn't keep the news to ourselves.  We told your family, our friends and some coworkers...we wanted to shout the news to the world!

As that first doctor's appointment neared, our excitement grew (along with a bit of anxiety...with all we've been through that's just inevitable).  We couldn't wait to see your sweet heart beating, and to know that you were healthy and safe, growing inside mama.  Of course, as you know, that doctor's appointment didn't quite go that way, nor did the follow-ups.  However, you did give us the gift of seeing that tiny heart beat, and that is a gift that won't be forgotten.  We are devastated to have to let you go, to not have you in our arms, to say good-bye once again.

But no matter how sad we may be, our love for you has not diminished.  If anything, it continues to grow.  You are one strong baby, taking care of your mama and making sure she didn't have to go through any surgeries or medical procedures.  Following in your older brothers' footsteps, you sure know how to take care of us!  Although we never got to see your sweet face, hold your little hand, or hear your precious cry, you will live in our hearts until one day we meet again.  And until that day, we know your brothers will watch over you, as big brothers should!  Thank you for letting us know you, and for letting us love you.  (And even if it's your brothers keeping an eye on you, you can help keep them in line.  I mean...boys...)

We'll hold you in our hearts until we can hold you in our arms.  We love you sweet baby girl!

Love always and forever,
Mama and Daddy

Patience...

Patience hasn't always been one of my strongest virtues...I have never especially liked waiting, whether in line at the store, in traffic, or to get something I want.  I tend to be more of an instant gratification person than a wait and see if I still want it person.  Over the last few years, however, I have definitely become a more patient person.  Not necessarily by choice, rather by necessity.  Sure, I can still go out and get that iPad or camera I want, or I can grab a new book at the bookstore, but some of the things I want, I've had to wait...and wait...and wait.

Recently, I have been waiting for my body to complete this miscarriage so that I wouldn't have to have any medical intervention.  Let me tell you, this period of waiting has been BRUTAL!  Every day I'd wake up wondering if this would be the day...wondering why nothing was happening...worrying that all this waiting would be for nothing.  Last week at our appointment, that seemed to be the case.  The pregnancy was still there.  So waiting for our appointment this week was even tougher.  I was mentally preparing myself for surgery...assuming my body wasn't going to do what it needed to do.  I was worried not so much for my physical healing, but for my emotional healing.

However, these few weeks have taught me a lesson not only in patience, but in faith.  I went in today fully prepared to be in the hospital having surgery to remove whatever was left of the pregnancy.  But when we went to the doctor this morning, there was nothing to remove!  Everything looked great - there was no need for surgery or any further medical intervention.  To say we were relieved is a huge understatement...I felt like twenty pounds had been lifted from my shoulders. 

Tim and I are so grateful for the prayers and positive energy that has been sent our way the last few weeks.  It has been incredibly tough on both of us, and I know the road ahead will still be bumpy.  But for today we celebrated the "good" news, and can now truly begin the healing process.  To our little jelly bean, thank you for showing us that patience is worthwhile (even when it doesn't seem like it!), and for taking such good care of your mama.  It sure is crazy to think that these tiny babies of ours can teach us so much.  (And here are our faces of pure relief!)

Things that are good for my hurting soul...

I'm not going to lie or sugar coat...it has been a TOUGH weekend for me. Lots of randomly occurring tears...waiting for things that still aren't happening...more tears...feeling isolated and alone and sad and scared...not quite what I had in mind for my "me" weekend. (Although thank goodness I did have the time to let my emotions free.)

Thankfully, I'm feeling slightly more human this evening (for the time being at least.) Some of the things that have helped my hurting soul:

--My husband. He is with me every step of this crazy journey.  He lets me cry...lets me scream and wail...lets me be when I need space. He puts on movies and shows that make me smile and laugh, even if just temporarily. (Today was Deadpool...complete with a quote that has inspired a future blog post.) And he gets me coffee and other treats to lift my spirits.

--Some good friends who have let me vent, and who have validated my feelings. It's nice to know that no matter how alone I feel, I'm never truly alone. You ladies know who you are, and your willingness to listen helps more than you know!

--My sister...who reminds me that some of our craziness runs in the family! And my dad who already has me dreaming of escape to Colorado.

--My puppies. Earlier today I had one in my lap and one laying against me. The physical weight and warmth provided comfort, and the snuggles made me feel loved. Charlie especially has been keeping pretty close tabs on me...following me and snuggling me wherever I happen to end up.

--A good book. My brother-in-law got me stared on this Stephen King series (well...a few years ago...I'm a little slow!) and today that crazy world of his has allowed me to escape this crazy world of mine. (Trent, I'm on book five...slowly but surely I'm getting there!)

--My sunroom...my favorite place in the house (next to my bed at bedtime.) The sun is shining, the breeze is breezing through...the dogs are in and out...it's my own little piece of paradise.

I know there are more tough days to come, and that for awhile there will probably be more tough days than easy ones. But I also know that one day, the tough days will decrease in number and in intensity, and that I will feel good more than bad. In the meantime, I will lean on those who love me, I will escape to my happy places, and I'll let the tears flow as needed. 

Spent...

Spent...that's how I feel this morning.  I feel as though I have spent every little bit of my energy, and I have nothing in the bank.  I am physically and emotionally exhausted...I am anxious (waiting patiently is not my strong suit)...and I think most of all I am just sad.  I miss my boys, I am sad for our little jelly bean (as we are calling her for now), and my body is still processing what's going on (slowly, of course.)  I've been reading things that say you need to let the feelings come and go (or just come, for now)...you need to feel the feelings...and I know that's all good advice, but it's the feelings that have me feeling spent!

So, that's the bad news.  But, you know me, I have to find some glimmer of good.  And today I have several glimmers.  I get to meet my friends for coffee before school - two good things!  We used to meet every Friday morning, but then life, and babies, got in the way.  So this is a special treat.  And after school I get to spend some time with all of my favorite librarians and techs, followed by a special event with our support group.  Now, you might think, that all of that along with a full work day, seems like an awful lot of peopling for someone who likes her down time...and you're right.  But the good news on that front is that I have nothing on my calendar for the rest of the weekend...so I can just take care of ME!  And then, there are only four more wake-ups until a whole glorious summer of taking care of me.  So even though I am completely spent, and exhausted, and sad, there is a glimmer on the horizon, and I know I can make it that far, at least!

Fetal Demise

Fetal demise...that's what I saw jotted on the paperwork when we went in for a follow-up appointment with the doctor.  Fetal demise...perhaps two of my least favorite words.  When we had Brady, we got a certificate of fetal demise in the mail.  Not a death certificate, which would have indicated that he lived...that he existed...that he was.  No, we got a certificate of fetal demise, which seems to indicate that all we lost was a fetus...a bundle of cells...but not exactly a baby.

So now, we are awaiting the completion of this latest "fetal demise."  (And it's so crazy to me that there is nothing that distinguishes stillbirth from a miscarriage in medical lingo.  They are both losses, and both tragic in their own way, yet also so different.)  I am still doing okay, although I am definitely starting to feel more symptoms...physical and emotional.  We have a good plan in place with our doctor, which is also reassuring.  Although we would still love for nature to take its course, it is nice to know there is a plan if that is not the case.

To be honest, I would much rather go through childbirth ten times over than a miscarriage.  Sure, childbirth is A LOT of work...painful...and the recovery is certainly not instant.  But at the end of childbirth, you (usually) have a sweet new baby to snuggle and love.  Even at the end of childbirth with Brady, we got some time to snuggle and love him, even if we didn't get to take him home.  A miscarriage, on the other hand, is a decent amount of physical pain (for me, anyway), a LARGE amount of emotional pain, and you never get to see, snuggle, or love that "fetus" that is now in demise, which of course leads to more emotional pain.

I apologize, I'm not trying to be dramatic, or trying to get anyone to feel sorry for me.  I'm just being real...and right now my reality is a bit painful.  I also want to give a voice, a face, to this event called fetal demise...or miscarriage.  I don't need to be a poster child, but I want it to be okay to talk about...I want people who go through such a thing to have a voice and to find support as I have. I will never take for granted the love and support that has been shown to us, and I simply hope that some day I can pay that forward so someone else maybe feels just a little less alone.

Memories

Yesterday I said goodbye to my childhood home. First of all, I do realize that I'm lucky to have had full access to my childhood home (and its ample storage space!) all of these years...that's not something every thirty-something adult has. Second of all, I am thrilled for my dad and his move. I am excited for him to realize his dream, and I'm excited to have a beautiful new place to visit. Despite all of this (or perhaps because of all of this) saying goodbye was bittersweet.

We said goodbye to the place where we made so many memories...the place where we invented and spent many an hour playing "pull-down-your-pants" tag (sorry Leslie and Jamie!)...the place where we developed our Barbie soap operas (again, sorry Leslie and Jamie!)...the place where my sister lovingly and accidentally stabbed me in the foot with scissors (well, Jamie, you did!)...the place where we loved on our two terriers Buddy and Mac...the place where we got all dolled up for proms and homecomings...the place where we celebrated graduations, birthdays, and holidays...the place where I watched my sister say I do...the place where we said goodbye to Mom...the place we brought Henry to visit...and the place that has always been home. 

Although it's hard saying goodbye to a place that has been such an important place in our lives, we don't have to say goodbye to the memories. We will always have the stories to share, some of them with pictures to back it up (and others, thankfully, for which no pictures exist!) Sure, our memories of the physical space may fade, but our memories of the love that was shared never will. 

Miscarriage

Miscarriage...there, I said it.  It's one of those slightly taboo words...no one really wants to talk about it, acknowledge it, even though it occurs (statistically speaking) in one out of four pregnancies.  To be honest, I'm getting a little tired of always becoming a statistic...stillbirth occurs in about 1 in 160 pregnancies, each year about 15,000 children get diagnosed with cancer and of those just under 2,000 will die, and miscarriage occurs in one of four pregnancies.  I'm ready to be the statistic that falls into a healthy pregnancy, birth, childhood and beyond!

So, back to miscarriage.  Miscarriage is hard.  Like, I'm having just as hard of a time (in a different way) as I did with stillbirth and infant death due to cancer.  Here are some of the reasons I think miscarriage is so hard:

1.  It is a somewhat taboo topic.  We don't like to talk about it.  I'm not sure if that's because we don't want to think about it happening...if women who suffer a miscarriage feel ashamed...or if it happens so early in pregnancy that often the pregnancy isn't even known (or public) yet.  Regardless of why, women (and men!) who suffer a miscarriage often feel as though they can't talk about it and process it.

2.  While going through a miscarriage, a women still has all those pesky pregnancy hormones floating through her body.  She is first-trimester exhausted (and for me, end-of-school-year exhausted on top of it!), her emotions are already all over the place, she may still be coming off of some morning sickness and nausea.  I came to this realization when I noticed I was crying so much more now than after Henry died.  (And I also cried A LOT after Brady died.)  I think that's because of the extra hormones.  I was incredibly sad when Henry died, and I did cry (and still do), but not to the extent I have been lately.

3.  Your body is physically completing the miscarriage, which isn't exactly fun.  No details, but it just kind of adds to the misery.

4.  With all of these physical and emotional symptoms, you are also grieving.  You are grieving the loss of your hopes and dreams for this baby.  With a miscarriage, you never get to see or hold your baby, so all you have are those hopes and dreams.  There are no pictures, no mementos, nothing physical to hold on to.

I've said it before, and I will say it again (and again...and again.)  It doesn't matter when you lose a child, it is traumatic.  Losing a child to miscarriage means you have nothing to hold on to.  Losing a child to stillbirth means you (hopefully) got to hold and see your baby, but you had to leave the hospital without him or her.  Losing an infant means you got to know your baby, but there is a whole lifetime of missed memories.  Losing a child, or teen, or young adult, means you made some memories but are still wishing for more.  Losing an adult child means you have lots of memories, but now you are probably losing not only a child but a friend...and possibly a mother or father of grandchildren, or an aunt or uncle.  My heart goes out to ANYONE who has lost a child at ANY stage, from pregnancy through adulthood.  Your child is loved, and will be until you take your dying breath - my love for my children continues to grow even though they are not physically here with me.

The Little Engine that Could...n't

Tim and I had a conversation earlier today...we're both having a tough time lately, and it's really starting to wear on us.  Like our little engines that could have run out of gas...or that our little engines that could no longer care to make it up the hill (I may have used slightly more vulgar language than that)...or our little engines that could keep getting close to the top of the hill and realizing how far away the top really is.

We have tried for so long to be strong...positive...hopeful.  We thought that by focusing on the good in our lives we would have an easier time moving on.  And that has definitely been true to some extent.  We have had some very positive experiences, and created some very positive experiences as we have worked through our grief.  We are proud of the ways we have found to honor our boys, and our littlest baby as well.

But maybe we need to wallow in the grief from time to time.  Maybe there are times we need to let ourselves feel weak...let ourselves cry...let ourselves feel lost.  Perhaps by focusing almost exclusively on the positives, we are doing ourselves a disservice...and actually cheating ourselves out of some of the grieving.  Because yes, we should be grieving our latest loss, but I feel as though I'm at a lower point than with any of our previous losses.  That tells me that I'm not processing things, that I am pushing things down, and that this new loss is bringing much of that back up.

I'm not sure how exactly to go about processing all the icky stuff, but I know we have to try.  Luckily for me, I have a summer break coming up.  Unfortunately for Tim, that just means a boatload of more work for him.  Although right now we feel like our little engines just can't do it anymore, I know we'll get back on track.  But to do that, we have to be patient and gentle with ourselves. Please continue to keep us in your thoughts and prayers are we negotiate this new twist in our journey.

Happy Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day (just in case you hadn't heard...get that last minute card or bouquet if needed!) I have a lot of emotions going on today, and I know they will go up and down throughout the day. I also know that's okay. But for now, I want to wish a Happy Mother's Day to:

All the moms who have gone through pregnancy and childbirth to become mothers (whether that road was smooth or bumpy or full of detours)

All the moms who have become mothers through the wonder of adoption, and all the birth moms who made such an unselfish sacrifice for the well-being of their babies

All the single dads who have had to play the role of dad AND mom

All the grandmas, aunts, cousins, and friends who have stepped in to become mom, regardless of circumstance

All the teachers and school personnel who sometimes have to play the role of mom, since our students can't learn if they don't feel safe and have their basic needs met

All the women who yearn to be a mom, but for whom it hasn't happened yet (don't give up the faith-if you have a mother's heart, you will somehow and someday become a mom, I truly believe that!)

All the moms who have lost one or more of their children...even if you have surviving children they can't fill that hole in your heart

All the moms that have had to give up one or more of their children...you may still carry them in your heart

All the moms of fur babies...sure, they're not human babies, but if they are part of your family they ARE your babies

And to all the sons and daughters who have had to say goodbye to their moms. Sure, it's the circle of life, but it's never easy...

I'm sure I'm forgetting a group, and not on purpose. Motherhood is a huge job, and sometimes it takes a village! So I hope everyone who in any way, shape or form fills the role of mom can be appreciated on this day. I am beyond thankful for my mom, who put up with me and loved me regardless of my (many) faults. And I am also so blessed by my three miracles (and my husband!) that not only made me a mom, but molded me into a much better person. Much love to all!!

Feeling the Love

The news we received this week has been hard...kind of like a kick in the gut or a punch in the face (not that I know what either of those actually feel like...I just imagine that's what this feels like!)  We had been hoping and praying that this baby would be born healthy in December, and that she would bring joy to our family.  It's true that she didn't grow very big, and it's true that I won't have to go through childbirth.  It's also true that we won't get to hold her, or see her, or know her.  And that's what makes miscarriage hard.  Losing a child at any stage...early or late pregnancy, stillbirth, infant loss, child loss, adult child loss...it's hard and terrible and devastating.  And because we are losing a child (yes, a tiny one, but a child to us nonetheless), we are allowed to be sad, and cranky, and a little down in the dumps.  That's certainly where I've been living the last couple days.  That's okay.

But it's also okay for me to smile, and to laugh, and to go on with life.  Last night at our support group meeting, we had some laughs.  Sure, we had some tears too, but it was nice to be able to laugh with a group of people who truly understand.  This morning, I found myself in tears, because I didn't like any of my clothing options.  Seriously...am I two years old??  So I left for work, wiping the tears, pouting and sulking because this life just doesn't seem fair.  Which it isn't...but we've been told since we were little that life isn't fair.  It's how you respond to it that makes the difference.  And I have some amazing people that help me respond to this unfair life a little bit more...positively.  I walked in from morning duty (after yelling at student after student because I was...well...cranky) to a Starbucks treat left by an anonymous coworker.  That put a smile on my face.  Then one of my students came in with an adorable travel coffee mug, and told me Happy Mother's Day.  Smile, and a few tears after she left (happy tears...tears that I AM a mother, and that others see me as a mother.)

So sure, I'm sad...and yes, that's okay.  But yes, I'm also smiling...and that too is okay.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  It's the simple things that make someone's day.  A smile...a hug...a "how are you doing?" that you truly mean.  And we have the best people around us for that.  I have people that will let me talk about icky things like death, miscarriage, grief, and they don't even give me weird awkward looks.  I want everyone to know, that no matter how happy or sad I'm feeling on any given day, I do not take that support for granted.  Thank you for letting me be sad, and thank you for helping me to pick myself back up.  <3

Heartbreak...

We went back to the doctor today, and when they did the ultrasound the baby no longer had a heartbeat.  We decided to head home, and let nature take its course.  We are, of course, heartbroken, but there are some positives that have come out of this experience:

1.  We were able to get pregnant, and we got to see our little peanut's heartbeat!  That is one of those experiences that no matter how stressful the circumstances remind us of how precious life is.

2.  We got to work with a wonderful doctor.  We have loved ALL of the doctors we've worked with through our pregnancies.  This one has been so compassionate, and goes above and beyond to make sure we are taken care of.

3.  We have an army of love and support surrounding us.  As life goes on, sometimes we wonder how many people still follow our journey.  We have no concerns about that anymore, that's for sure!

4.  My health has not and most likely will not be affected, nor will our ability to get pregnant again.  This is just (statistically speaking, not emotionally) one out of every four pregnancies that end in miscarriage for unknown genetic reasons. 

5.  I like to think that this peanut will join her (for some reason we just assumed she was a she!) brothers in Heaven, and they of course will welcome her with open arms.  When the three of them decide the time is right, they will send their newest sibling our way.

We are incredibly sad today, and that's okay.  We will probably be sad for a bit of time, and that's okay too.  But we also know that we are strong, and that we will come through this experience stronger than ever!  We, of course, would appreciate any thoughts and prayers sent our way for strength and healing.  Thank you for ALL of the support already sent our way...we are beyond blessed.

Time

I've written about time before...but it's been on my mind again lately. Time is such a funny thing. Sometimes, we wish time would fly...at the beginning of a work day or week, the days leading up to a much anticipated vacation or event such as a wedding or birth or graduation (for the graduate anyway, not always the parents!), the last few weeks of school, during stressful events such as moving. We often we could just fast-forward to the event, to the end. Yet other times we wish time would slow down or even stop...over the weekend or days off, while actually on vacation, leading up to graduation for the moms and dads and throughout our children's lives (they grow so fast!), when having to say goodbye to a loved one, summer days (for teachers, often parents wish those summer days would go a little faster!), as days home with a new baby dwindle.

I guess what has brought this topic up for me again at this point is all the posts about babies (and kids...and teens...and young adults) growing too fast, and parents wishing these babies, kids, teens, and young adults would stop growing. Before I continue, I am not judging these parents...not even a little bit!! I'm just sharing my perspective. As a bereaved mother, as a grieving parent, I would give anything to watch my child grow. Even when Henry was here, I specifically remember thinking as he grew that I missed when he was tinier. But at the same time, I never wished for him to stop growing. Every time I thought I wished him tinier, I realized that then I would miss all that he was discovering and learning. I know had he continued to grow, I eventually would miss those baby moments, and those toddler moments, and those innocent childhood moments. But I could never wish him to stop, because I would never want to miss the discovery moments, the a-ha moments, the learning moments. And now that he is not here, I would give just about anything to be cherishing each moment with him.

What I have taken from all of this is that no matter what, time moves on. Sometimes it seems to move slowly and other times it seems to race by. We can't control time, nor the speed at which it moves. However, we can control what we do with our time. We can cherish the moment we are in, and try not to wish it away by wishing time would slow down or speed up. We can appreciate where we are each day, what we have in life, and what we hope to achieve in that day. As humans, we will always miss what has passed, and we will always look forward to what lies in the future. The important thing is not to miss our present because we are focused on the past or the future. And thankfully (for me at least) I have memories to keep my past with me, and hopes to keep my future bright.