Any day now my fourth baby (is that possible?) will be born. No reason for an induction so I am waiting for labor to naturally begin. Another boy will be home from the hospital with us in the next 2 weeks. I will then have 3 children 3 and under to mother. Whew! I feel ready at times and overwhelmed at the prospect at other times.
Today I have been solving important problems such as which of my children is batman. My 3 1/2 year old son and 21 month old daughter are arguing which is batman. "I'm batman!"
"No! I'm batman!" "No, I'm batman!" "Batman's not a girl. There's only one batman. I'm batman!" Okay, I guess I didn't really solve that problem, but it's been the topic of debate this morning.
I've been on a cleaning and cooking frenzy. My freezer is as full as I can pack it with homemade meals for after baby is born. Every night I make sure the kitchen is spotless, the house picked up, and the table cleaned. I vacuum every day. Our house has never been maintained at this level of clean for this long a period of time. It's been nice.
12 days to my due date, but ready any time!
Lydia Grace
Our first child, Lydia Grace
Friday, February 13, 2015
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Lydia's Legacy
Many months of silence have passed, but I wanted to share this information for readers or anyone who may stumble across this seldom updated blog.
My husband and I have started a support group for couples who have lost a baby through miscarriage, stillbirth, or early infant loss. A year or so ago, we began discussing starting and leading such a group. At the time we were living in a big city knowing we would be leaving at a determined time (thankfully!), so our plans were to prayerfully start the group in the town where my husband secured his employment.
Here we are in a wonderful place in Texas; my husband enjoying his work, I am thankful to stay home with our son (now potty trained--woohoo!) and daughter. We have a supportive church family who immediately offered their help when we shared at our small group our calling from God to begin a support group for couples who have lost babies.
Sunday was our first meeting. We meet the first Sunday of each month in the afternoon at the location where we have our church service. (anyone out in Tom Green County who is interested...let me know.)
When I reflect back on the past 3 and a half years, I can only point to God who has brought us to this place. Whatever the "reason" for Lydia's death, He has made it for His glory. From my first visit to a support group in Dallas until now, I didn't think I would be leading such a group. Attending, yes, but not initiating a new group. And to be doing a ministry alongside my husband is even more a blessing.
My husband and I have started a support group for couples who have lost a baby through miscarriage, stillbirth, or early infant loss. A year or so ago, we began discussing starting and leading such a group. At the time we were living in a big city knowing we would be leaving at a determined time (thankfully!), so our plans were to prayerfully start the group in the town where my husband secured his employment.
Here we are in a wonderful place in Texas; my husband enjoying his work, I am thankful to stay home with our son (now potty trained--woohoo!) and daughter. We have a supportive church family who immediately offered their help when we shared at our small group our calling from God to begin a support group for couples who have lost babies.
Sunday was our first meeting. We meet the first Sunday of each month in the afternoon at the location where we have our church service. (anyone out in Tom Green County who is interested...let me know.)
When I reflect back on the past 3 and a half years, I can only point to God who has brought us to this place. Whatever the "reason" for Lydia's death, He has made it for His glory. From my first visit to a support group in Dallas until now, I didn't think I would be leading such a group. Attending, yes, but not initiating a new group. And to be doing a ministry alongside my husband is even more a blessing.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Friday, December 7, 2012
Our third baby
I am now going on 18 weeks of pregnancy, everything going smoothly. I am much less anxious this time around, though fear does grip me at times. I am much bigger now than in the above photo--additional 8 pounds will do that.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Friends make a difference
Yesterday one of the women in my MOPS small group invited a group of us into her home for a morning of talking, eating, and letting the kids play. Her warm hospitality, the fellowship with other stay at home moms, and Isaiah's enjoyment playing was such a blessing to me! We have visited both sets of in-laws, but this was the first time I have been welcomed in someone else's home here. The morning was enjoyable and as I drove away, for the first time since we have moved here I felt confident I will make it here. Good things can happen.
Invite someone into your home. You might not know how the simple kindness may be a huge blessing to them.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Publications!
I was pleased to see our daughter's birthday tribute in the MEND newsletter last month, page 4.
The piece I submitted for publication was printed in this month's newsletter on page 19.
The piece I submitted for publication was printed in this month's newsletter on page 19.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Odds & Ends
I attended the Houston chapter M.E.N.D. meeting on Thursday evening. I was nervous going, but when the meeting began I felt refreshed. I was able to exhale the emotional breath I had been holding. I’ve said it before, but I have never felt the instant connection with another the way I feel when in a group of women who have also lost babies.
On the tense drive to the meeting (Houston traffic and interstates are rough) I thought it interesting I am living down here where I was medically informed my daughter was dead. Have I shared that before?
I hadn’t felt Lydia move and knew something was wrong. I knew on Friday when I had waited all day to feel movement, but hadn’t. I couldn’t sleep that night. I read about stillbirth in one of the pregnancy books I had. I knew she was gone; I did not want my fears confirmed. My husband and I drove from north Texas down to Houston the following day. I was attentive to any possible movement in my womb the entire drive. Nothing.
When we arrived at my sister-in-law’s house, she and others convinced me to stop at the hospital to make sure all was fine. The next hours were terrible. As I lay in the triage room, monitors were placed across my rounded belly. No heartbeat heard. A sonographer was called. No movement. No heartbeat. I couldn’t look at my husband. The OB-GYN on weekend call came.
“As you know, it’s dead,” was his announcement.
“You’re young, you can have more kids,” the sonographer offered.
In the moment, I could say nothing. Now, I would love to go back and give them both a piece of my mind. My stomach still turns in a knot when I pass the hospital I heard the worst news of my life.
Another thing I have thought recently. My daughter was as much in this world as you or I. Yes, it was in my womb while she was living, but she was still present here. And her body did not magically flit from my womb to heaven. She did not disappear when her heart no longer beat. I was in labor for 16 hours and vaginally delivered her. Some of her pictures are posted here. It is important for others to understand she was very much on this earth. She is as real as your living child.
I want others to understand, but then again, I don’t want others to understand the loss. No one can understand unless they have also walked the road.
I submitted an article to be published in the M.E.N.D. bimonthly newsletter. I am excited! My husband is doing an outreach at a university about stillbirth and miscarriage. Those are two recent ways God is using our daughter’s life and death as a ministry to others. Two years ago I could not have said or believed it. By God’s grace, comfort, and healing we have journeyed to this place.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Second Birthday
My dear Liddybug,
Your birthday was not how I envisioned this year. We moved that day, planning to stop at Roselawn Memorial Park where your body is buried. Moving is stressful anytime--add 2 dogs, a toddler, and an 8 hour drive on the most emotionally challenging day of the year and it doesn't make for the most pleasant of birthday remembrances.
I had an arrangement of flowers to leave for you, but parched ground did not allow the stake to be pushed in the earth. I poured water to soften the ground, but to no avail. As always, August 1 is miserably hot.
We have moved, Lydia. Your physical body is buried in the town your daddy and I met and were married. It is the town where Daddy was baptized. The place you and your younger brother were born. I am homesick for that familiar, dear-to-my-heart place.
Big city life is not my cup of tea. I don't like the crowds or traffic. I feel I don't have room to breathe. I am grateful for the place God has provided for us to stay. I am learning to live in this unfamiliar place. We are here because God led us here after doors closed on the direction we thought we were gnoing. I will trust Him in this, too.
I selfishly wish you were here. I accept you will not live in this fallen world, praise the Lord for the hope in Him that together we will live in a new heaven and a new earth. Your time here is done. And what an impact that short time gas made. Forever I am changed.
As you dance in heaven in the presence of God, I sit on earth and cry. Not tears void of hope, but still tears of sorrow.
I miss you.
Happy 2 nd birthday, my beautiful daughter.
Love, Mama
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Hello, blog
I haven't written here in some time. I was thinking earlier today how it has almost been two years. Two years. It does not seem possible.
On Easter Sunday my husband, son and I went to Lydia's grave and found someone had placed an Easter egg on a stand at the head of her stone. It was a sweet, unexpected and intriguing gesture. Who put it there, we have no idea. It pleased me to see it. It is hard to think about not having her when I am consumed with carrying for Isaiah. I miss her more and less at the same time. I think I am still angry she isn't here. And only those who have or are walking this road understand.
I miss attending M.E.N.D. meetings. I have not gone to one since around this time last year, I believe. Isaiah would now be fine without me for a couple hours, but my husband's busy schedule prevents my attendance to any support group. Support. It is what I need right now and feel in great lack.
***edited*** Thanks for the responses!
On Easter Sunday my husband, son and I went to Lydia's grave and found someone had placed an Easter egg on a stand at the head of her stone. It was a sweet, unexpected and intriguing gesture. Who put it there, we have no idea. It pleased me to see it. It is hard to think about not having her when I am consumed with carrying for Isaiah. I miss her more and less at the same time. I think I am still angry she isn't here. And only those who have or are walking this road understand.
I miss attending M.E.N.D. meetings. I have not gone to one since around this time last year, I believe. Isaiah would now be fine without me for a couple hours, but my husband's busy schedule prevents my attendance to any support group. Support. It is what I need right now and feel in great lack.
***edited*** Thanks for the responses!
Friday, January 27, 2012
I have never walked alone
Several weeks ago we sang this Matt Redman song in church. I felt it was my testimony since Lydia's stillbirth. I'm sure many others can relate to God's faithfulness in their lives. It brought tears to my eyes to sing this truth while reflecting on the events of the past year and a half.
Standing on this mountaintop
Looking just how far we've come
Knowing that for every step
You were with us
Kneeling on this battleground
Seeing just how much you've done
Knowing every victory
Was your power in us
Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Yes, our hearts can say
Never once
did we ever walk alone
Never once
did you leave us on our own
You are faithful
God, You are faithful
Kneeling on this battleground
Seeing just how much
you've done
Knowing every victory
was your power in us
Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Yes, our hearts can say
Never once
did we ever walk alone
Never once
did you leave us on our own
You are faithful
God, You are faithful
Carried by your constant grace
Held within your perfect peace
Never once
No we never walk alone
Every step
we are breathing in your grace
Evermore we'll be
breathing out Your praise
You are faithful
God, You are faithful
I have never walked alone. God is faithful.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Christmastime
I felt the need to feel close to my daughter this afternoon, so Isaiah and I visited her grave.
Sixteen months have passed.
Another couple was also in the baby section of Roselawn Memorial Park where Lydia is buried. They were also visiting their daughter's grave, stillborn 22 years ago today. Twenty-two years later and the mother stood weeping at her daughter's grave. It was like seeing myself in another 21 years.
My heart forever aches. Sixteen months is long enough to live with this. Can I have my daughter back? That's what I want for Christmas: both my children in my arms. I want to hear my little girl laugh. I want to hold her and kiss her and sing to her.
Yet it is another Christmas season without her here. Every Christmas for as long as I am living will be without her with me. My husband recently wrote and presented a paper concerning mother's who have had stillborn babies. In his research he read a study that found the loss of a child to be the most profound and deepest of grief, compared to the loss of a spouse, sibling or parent. I cannot personally testify that the grief is greater than with those other significant losses, but I can testify that is unimaginably painful.
Mixed feelings this Christmas. So very excited to share it with our son, but ever aware of the hole in my heart and in our family.
Sixteen months have passed.
Another couple was also in the baby section of Roselawn Memorial Park where Lydia is buried. They were also visiting their daughter's grave, stillborn 22 years ago today. Twenty-two years later and the mother stood weeping at her daughter's grave. It was like seeing myself in another 21 years.
My heart forever aches. Sixteen months is long enough to live with this. Can I have my daughter back? That's what I want for Christmas: both my children in my arms. I want to hear my little girl laugh. I want to hold her and kiss her and sing to her.
Yet it is another Christmas season without her here. Every Christmas for as long as I am living will be without her with me. My husband recently wrote and presented a paper concerning mother's who have had stillborn babies. In his research he read a study that found the loss of a child to be the most profound and deepest of grief, compared to the loss of a spouse, sibling or parent. I cannot personally testify that the grief is greater than with those other significant losses, but I can testify that is unimaginably painful.
Mixed feelings this Christmas. So very excited to share it with our son, but ever aware of the hole in my heart and in our family.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
A Favorite Quote
When a woman is pregnant people often say she is "expecting a child" or is "going to have a baby." Although said from force of habit, perhaps a change of language is in order, because a woman who is pregnant is not "expecting" a child, she already has one. The child exists, is living and growing in her womb. Nor is she about to bring the child "into the world," the child is already in the world. the mother's womb is as much in the world as the mother herself.
~Author unknown
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Lydia
Little Lydia,
I have been thinking about you often recently. Your little brother is growing and changing so quickly. I wonder what you would have been like at these various stages. Is your smile like his? I imagine you are full of smiles in heaven.
I wish I could breath in your scent the way I breath in his. I wish I could kiss your cheeks, your neck, your head, again. I wish I could hold you, rock you to sleep, sing to you. I treasure all these times with Isaiah, aching at the fact I never will experience it with you.
With your little brother here, I haven't been able to attend a M.E.N.D meeting where I can talk with other mommies who have precious babies in heaven, too. It feels kind of lonely, not having others who understand the hurt. Isaiah brings so much joy, but part of my heart will always be broken, missing. You brought us such joy, too, little daughter, so much love and joy that your parting is incredibly painful and unrelenting.
I miss you. Oh, how I miss you, sweet child! I wish I could have saved you. I would have done anything.
Do you see the whole picture from heaven? A greater picture than just the pain we feel and see on earth?
Do you dance with joy in heaven on streets of gold? Do you know your mommy loves you so much?
I do, Lydia. I miss you and love you. I think about you and sometimes get so angry you aren't here with your daddy, brother and me. I anxiously await meeting you again in heaven.
Until then, my daughter, you are in my heart always,
Mommy
I have been thinking about you often recently. Your little brother is growing and changing so quickly. I wonder what you would have been like at these various stages. Is your smile like his? I imagine you are full of smiles in heaven.
I wish I could breath in your scent the way I breath in his. I wish I could kiss your cheeks, your neck, your head, again. I wish I could hold you, rock you to sleep, sing to you. I treasure all these times with Isaiah, aching at the fact I never will experience it with you.
With your little brother here, I haven't been able to attend a M.E.N.D meeting where I can talk with other mommies who have precious babies in heaven, too. It feels kind of lonely, not having others who understand the hurt. Isaiah brings so much joy, but part of my heart will always be broken, missing. You brought us such joy, too, little daughter, so much love and joy that your parting is incredibly painful and unrelenting.
I miss you. Oh, how I miss you, sweet child! I wish I could have saved you. I would have done anything.
Do you see the whole picture from heaven? A greater picture than just the pain we feel and see on earth?
Do you dance with joy in heaven on streets of gold? Do you know your mommy loves you so much?
I do, Lydia. I miss you and love you. I think about you and sometimes get so angry you aren't here with your daddy, brother and me. I anxiously await meeting you again in heaven.
Until then, my daughter, you are in my heart always,
Mommy
Monday, August 1, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
One Year
August 1st is rapidly approaching.
Has it really been almost a year?
I miss her so much today. Holding my son, thinking how wonderful he is, my thoughts stray to my daughter. Life is so precious I desperately wish I had been given more time with her on earth.
I do not want her life to be only considered in tears, though. She brought joy to my husband and I. And in her brief life and in her death I have learned amazing truths this past year. A summary of these things follow.
God is faithful. He is good. In the lowest and darkest of places He is there. His grace is sufficient. After Lydia's heartbeat was not found, I felt I could not go through labor and delivery, a funeral, and life after that moment. Only by the strength and grace of God I have. Christ is with me in my suffering and pain, He loves me, and I have felt closer to Him in this valley than I ever have. In all things, God is good.
Heaven is real and more wonderful than we know. Death is not something I fear. Through this past year, my desire for things in this life has lessened and Christ's return has become more desired. In the past I have felt a greater tie to the things in this world. I wanted to go to heaven, I wanted Christ to return, but I still held on to things I wanted to do or accomplish or experience before that. I am not where I should be in this regard, but I now have such joyful anticipation for Christ's return. I am ready for Him to come; I am ready to meet my Redeemer face to face. I can think of nothing I want to do or accomplish or experience first. This past year God has been teaching me to live more in light of eternity with my sight on the things above.
God is the giver of life. He makes babies. He decides how long each person lives. The life He gives, no matter the amount of time here on earth, is a gift. It is a precious blessing.
Trials, pain, and suffering can strengthen or dissolve relationships. I have experienced both this year. I am most grateful that it has strengthened my marriage. I have a closer bond and deeper relationship with my husband now.
Lastly, I am learning how to respond and interact with others in their pain and suffering. God "comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."
(2 Corinthians 1:4)
Has it really been almost a year?
I miss her so much today. Holding my son, thinking how wonderful he is, my thoughts stray to my daughter. Life is so precious I desperately wish I had been given more time with her on earth.
I do not want her life to be only considered in tears, though. She brought joy to my husband and I. And in her brief life and in her death I have learned amazing truths this past year. A summary of these things follow.
God is faithful. He is good. In the lowest and darkest of places He is there. His grace is sufficient. After Lydia's heartbeat was not found, I felt I could not go through labor and delivery, a funeral, and life after that moment. Only by the strength and grace of God I have. Christ is with me in my suffering and pain, He loves me, and I have felt closer to Him in this valley than I ever have. In all things, God is good.
Heaven is real and more wonderful than we know. Death is not something I fear. Through this past year, my desire for things in this life has lessened and Christ's return has become more desired. In the past I have felt a greater tie to the things in this world. I wanted to go to heaven, I wanted Christ to return, but I still held on to things I wanted to do or accomplish or experience before that. I am not where I should be in this regard, but I now have such joyful anticipation for Christ's return. I am ready for Him to come; I am ready to meet my Redeemer face to face. I can think of nothing I want to do or accomplish or experience first. This past year God has been teaching me to live more in light of eternity with my sight on the things above.
God is the giver of life. He makes babies. He decides how long each person lives. The life He gives, no matter the amount of time here on earth, is a gift. It is a precious blessing.
Trials, pain, and suffering can strengthen or dissolve relationships. I have experienced both this year. I am most grateful that it has strengthened my marriage. I have a closer bond and deeper relationship with my husband now.
Lastly, I am learning how to respond and interact with others in their pain and suffering. God "comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."
(2 Corinthians 1:4)
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Blessing of our Baby
I have had good intentions on writing a joyful post regarding the birth of our son, Isaiah. However, my free moments are typically spent in something other than blogging; namely, sleeping, eating, cleaning/doing laundry. Although the fact I've lost all my pregnancy weight in two weeks time and the chaotic state of our house suggest sleep is the activity of choice when presented with an opportunity. Though sleep probably is not accurate, more like "cat naps" between constant breastfeeding (ready to eat every hour and a half to two hours during the day?) and other duties.
The brief story:
My husband and I arrived at the hospital just before 7 a.m. on Thursday, June 9. The pitocin was started around 8 a.m. My labor progressed quickly throughout the morning and, following an epidural, my water was broken by my OB around lunch time. The pitocin was stopped and my body naturally continued in labor.
My mother, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, niece, brother, and great aunt were there for most of the day, waiting for Isaiah's arrival.
Isaiah Drew was born at 8:08p.m. that evening. He weighed 7 pounds 9 ounces (I guessed he would be that exact weight earlier that day!!), measured 20 3/4 inches long and is perfect. It was beautiful to hear him cry, watch him move and stretch wide-eyed.
We were able to leave the hospital Saturday morning. It has been wonderful having him at home. He is so precious and sweet, a very good-natured and laid back baby. I am so thankful for him!
The brief story:
My husband and I arrived at the hospital just before 7 a.m. on Thursday, June 9. The pitocin was started around 8 a.m. My labor progressed quickly throughout the morning and, following an epidural, my water was broken by my OB around lunch time. The pitocin was stopped and my body naturally continued in labor.
My mother, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, niece, brother, and great aunt were there for most of the day, waiting for Isaiah's arrival.
Isaiah Drew was born at 8:08p.m. that evening. He weighed 7 pounds 9 ounces (I guessed he would be that exact weight earlier that day!!), measured 20 3/4 inches long and is perfect. It was beautiful to hear him cry, watch him move and stretch wide-eyed.
We were able to leave the hospital Saturday morning. It has been wonderful having him at home. He is so precious and sweet, a very good-natured and laid back baby. I am so thankful for him!
 |
| less than 24 hours old |
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Induction Anticipation
As I feared, sleep eludes me tonight. Not that sleep has come easily or lasted through the night in the last few weeks, but I was hoping to get some rest tonight. Joyful anticipation and an uncomfortably pregnant body keep me awake. In six hours (probably less by the time I finish this post) I will be checking into the hospital for my induction.
The last eight weeks of pregnancy have s-l-o-w-l-y passed. They have definitely been the most difficult. I am glad this part of the journey is coming to a close. Over 100 injections, numerous doctor's appointments and sonograms, many prayers and fears, and three visits to the hospital later: it is time. With a gestational age of 38 weeks, 2 days, Isaiah will be born.
I am not anxious about the labor, I've done that before and have no qualms about getting an epidural to relieve pain. I am ready to get these contractions going so I can hold this little one in my arms. I anticipate feeling relief along with all the other emotions I will feel. Relief that he is outside of my womb where I can hold him, see him, hear him cry, watch him breathe and move.
I am one excited mama tonight!
The last eight weeks of pregnancy have s-l-o-w-l-y passed. They have definitely been the most difficult. I am glad this part of the journey is coming to a close. Over 100 injections, numerous doctor's appointments and sonograms, many prayers and fears, and three visits to the hospital later: it is time. With a gestational age of 38 weeks, 2 days, Isaiah will be born.
I am not anxious about the labor, I've done that before and have no qualms about getting an epidural to relieve pain. I am ready to get these contractions going so I can hold this little one in my arms. I anticipate feeling relief along with all the other emotions I will feel. Relief that he is outside of my womb where I can hold him, see him, hear him cry, watch him breathe and move.
I am one excited mama tonight!
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Baby Shower Blessing
A baby shower for my little Isaiah came to pass a few weeks ago! My sister-in-law did an incredible job putting it all together in a week.
Fun game we played.
It was a great afternoon with friends and family. The shower was meaningful and special to me.
Having a baby shower is such a normal thing for mothers to enjoy and I am very thankful I was able to have one for our little boy.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Answering that dreaded question
"Is this your first?"
I am asked that question almost everywhere I go.
And my answer is different, even in the same day.
It is not a simple questions for us mothers who have lost little ones in this way.
Everyone is always excited about pregnancy and babies and are so enthusiastic in their questions, especially over a first child. But it is the question I dread.
Today, following this question, I gave two different responses. To the first woman who asked today, I said, "yes", indicating this is my first child. I immediately regretted my response, feeling guilt, apologizing internally to my daughter, considering going back and telling the stranger that this was not my first baby, my first baby is already in heaven.
Later today when asked the same question, I said, "no, it's our second". In that conversation, it was sufficient and no further questions were asked. No need to explain. A response that left me with no guilt.
However, the line of questioning does not typically stop at that point. The following questions usually involve a question about whether my first is a boy or girl, or the child's age. One woman asked if my first was excited about the new baby and I said yes. (is that considered a lie? with such joy in heaven, isn't she joyful?) Other questions force explanations and my response then also varies.
I have tried the response, "My first is in heaven", both to the initial question about my pregnancy being with my first as well as to the subsequent questions that all to frequently follow. It makes for some awkward situations where the questioner looks quite uncomfortable and drops the topic or leaves the conversation entirely. Sometimes an apology comes with the look of horror, but not always. I think it just shocks most people.
I've tried a direct, "my first was stillborn" and it brings the same awkwardness and end to the conversation. I think I have yet to meet someone who responds in any other way.
Either I have guilt for saying "yes, this one is my first" or it is a conversation ender for me to say, "no, I lost my first." My husband consistently answers "no, this is my second", but he has never been asked the follow-up questions. Then there is my mother who sees and verbally acknowledges Isaiah as her first and only grandchild, but that is another topic entirely.
Ten months later and I am inconsistent in responding and struggle with the question. Maybe I always will. But what feels best to me is stating how things are and letting that person feel what they feel. They may feel uncomfortable, but they don't live with it daily. It might not make new friends, but so be it. Maybe one day my honesty will allow someone else to be open about the same thing.
I am asked that question almost everywhere I go.
And my answer is different, even in the same day.
It is not a simple questions for us mothers who have lost little ones in this way.
Everyone is always excited about pregnancy and babies and are so enthusiastic in their questions, especially over a first child. But it is the question I dread.
Today, following this question, I gave two different responses. To the first woman who asked today, I said, "yes", indicating this is my first child. I immediately regretted my response, feeling guilt, apologizing internally to my daughter, considering going back and telling the stranger that this was not my first baby, my first baby is already in heaven.
Later today when asked the same question, I said, "no, it's our second". In that conversation, it was sufficient and no further questions were asked. No need to explain. A response that left me with no guilt.
However, the line of questioning does not typically stop at that point. The following questions usually involve a question about whether my first is a boy or girl, or the child's age. One woman asked if my first was excited about the new baby and I said yes. (is that considered a lie? with such joy in heaven, isn't she joyful?) Other questions force explanations and my response then also varies.
I have tried the response, "My first is in heaven", both to the initial question about my pregnancy being with my first as well as to the subsequent questions that all to frequently follow. It makes for some awkward situations where the questioner looks quite uncomfortable and drops the topic or leaves the conversation entirely. Sometimes an apology comes with the look of horror, but not always. I think it just shocks most people.
I've tried a direct, "my first was stillborn" and it brings the same awkwardness and end to the conversation. I think I have yet to meet someone who responds in any other way.
Either I have guilt for saying "yes, this one is my first" or it is a conversation ender for me to say, "no, I lost my first." My husband consistently answers "no, this is my second", but he has never been asked the follow-up questions. Then there is my mother who sees and verbally acknowledges Isaiah as her first and only grandchild, but that is another topic entirely.
Ten months later and I am inconsistent in responding and struggle with the question. Maybe I always will. But what feels best to me is stating how things are and letting that person feel what they feel. They may feel uncomfortable, but they don't live with it daily. It might not make new friends, but so be it. Maybe one day my honesty will allow someone else to be open about the same thing.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Baby Showers and Mother's Day
BABY SHOWER
Yesterday was the date of my baby shower that has been postponed. This is the second baby shower planned for me and my baby that has not come to pass. Lydia went to heaven before her baby shower on earth and this time the shower was cancelled/postponed due to the events of last weekend. We had to make a decision on whether or not we should have the shower and based on how I was feeling at the hospital, a shower was not something I felt I was ready to enjoy.
I will admit I threw a little pity party on Friday.
I complained to my husband tirelessly about how it was not fair that this was my second missed baby shower, how I will never get to enjoy a baby shower, and how I had many expectations of how my baby shower would be. He got to the point that he said he would plan and throw a baby shower for me himself if that is what needed to happen. I tried to gain some perspective on the issue. A shower of sorts is still in the works for after Isaiah's arrival. Yet it sounded so fun to have it in anticipation of his arrival, so I feel a little cheated of this traditional part of pregnancy that many women take for granted.
MOTHER'S DAY
This is the second Mother's Day in a row that I am pregnant. I should have a baby to proudly take with me to visit my mother today. I'm praying next Mother's Day will look differently.
It's funny how Mother's Day is about our mothers, but when you've lost a baby all you can think about is the baby you lost on Mother's Day: your role as a mother to a little one in heaven.
My husband and others have been very thoughtful in wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. Maybe since I am at home with my husband and pups, this holiday does not seem as sorrowful. We did not go to church or see family, I think that helped to not face all of that (as if I have much choice at the moment).
Today I celebrate being a mother to one baby in heaven and another very close to entering the world.
My husband and others have been very thoughtful in wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. Maybe since I am at home with my husband and pups, this holiday does not seem as sorrowful. We did not go to church or see family, I think that helped to not face all of that (as if I have much choice at the moment).
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| First Mother's Day with Isaiah |
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