Isaiah Update

   I had an OB appointment this afternoon. By due date I am 25 weeks, 1 day pregnant today. I have felt an increase of anxiety as we are nearing that 26 week mark that glares like a flashing warning light. My wonderful OB had to run across the parking lot (literally) to deliver a patient's baby at the hospital and I was offered to be seen by her nurse practitioner rather than waiting for her return. I have only been in the care of my dr. and since it had been 4 weeks since I had seen her, seeing someone else was not an option. I elected to wait and was very glad I did. It was well after 5, but Dr. D wanted to do a sonogram (unscheduled, I think this was the 5th sono this pregnancy). Her sonographer had gone, so she did the sono herself. It was great! Wish she could do them every time! : )
    He is a growing, active little boy with a very healthy heart and brain. His measurements have him at 26 weeks today. My due date remains unchanged, but being right here in the same gestational period I was at the end of July is a nerve racking and exciting. The weeks have passed so quickly and it feels wonderful that everything is going well. I'll be going to the Dr. weekly for the next several weeks. 


   Isaiah is SO ACTIVE! He kicks and moves and stretches all sorts of ways all the time. I compare it to Lydia's activity and wonder if something was wrong with her (no, nothing medically abnormal was found). She did not move as much as he does. I've pondered if this is because he is a boy or has a different temperament/activity level. I was very aware of her movements because she was my first and I'm very aware of his movements because I am constantly on guard (that and he makes his presence known without question). Dwelling on it can lead me down the road of self-blame and what-ifs if I am not careful. I reassure myself with the fact that I did feel her move and kick until the worst day of my life and if she did move less frequently overal how was I to know when I had nothing else to compare it to (also, every dr.'s appt and sono showed no problem)? Ultimately, all of our lives are in God's hands nothing happens without Him allowing it. 


   I cannot entertain the thought of losing another child. I feel hopeful and anticipate things to go well with Isaiah. I just believe they will. But if things do not go how I expect, I am so thankful to have him every day and night he is moving in my womb. What a blessing! Two sweet children. And I can say with certainty that God is with us and sustains us through any event that may occur. 
   

You Bring Restoration

You take my mourning, turn it into dancing

You take my weeping, turn it into laughing

You take my mourning, turn it into dancing

You take my sadness, turn it into joy

You bring restoration...

We sang this song at church tonight. Some of my thoughts follow.

Mourning into dancing, weeping into laughing, sadness into joy...

At times statements like these seem impossible. Mourning doesn't seem to have a clear ending; though I laugh, I still weep; my sadness is present with the joy, for the present I experience both extremes. 

Yet one day my mourning will be turned completely into dancing, never to return and bring with it the familiar ache. One day my weeping will be turned to laughing and singing, and tears will no longer so easily fall. One day sadness will not darken my life, and joy never ending will fill it. He promises restoration, though complete restoration will not come until Christ returns. Hallelujah! O glorious day! 

A Name

Last week I visited Lydia's grave. The first thought that struck me when I looked down at her gravestone was I don't want her name here. 


You may plan, hope, expect your child's name to be on the school honor role, a sport's trophy, a piano recital, a valedictorian plaque, a diploma. And there are places you do not hope to find your child's name. This is definitely one of those places: a gravestone. I know death is inevitable (unless Christ returns before He calls us home), however, you don't expect to be the one seeing (picking out and writing) your child's gravestone. You don't expect to sit beside the stone marking their grave and weep. That should be left to your child's children and grandchildren. 


These were some of my thoughts as I sat in the grass, staring at my daughter's name. The questions became prayers. Why, God? Why is her name here instead of anywhere else? 


Immediately, the words to the song, "Before the Throne of God Above" came to my mind: 


My name is graven on His hand, my name is written on His heart 


I think I had already been crying up to this point, but this definitely brought on the tears. Immediately curious as to the Biblical reference from which the lyrics had come, I searched for these words in the Bible. The first verses I found came from the book of Isaiah. 

"Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth;

break forth, O mountains, into singing!

For the Lord has comforted his people

and will have compassion on his afflicted

But Zion said, 'The Lord has forsaken me; 

my Lord has forgotten me.'

'Can a woman forget her nursing child, 

that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb?

Even these may forget, 

yet I will not forget you.

Behold I have engraved you on the palms of my hands'"

Isaiah 49:13-16

I found this Scripture comforting. And it's location in the Bible significant. We have chosen the name Isaiah for our son. I have long liked the name; Isaiah is my favorite book in the Old Testament (perhaps the entire Bible). The name Isaiah means, "Yahweh is Salvation". Such a wonderful truth. 

A name is important. It's meaning, how it is used, how it is spoken, where it is found. My Lydia's name may be on a gravestone, but most importantly her name is written in the book of life of the Lamb who was slain. Graven on His hand, written on His heart. 

thankful

Christmas was incredibly difficult. I am glad it is over. Now the year is coming to an end, what a year! So many things happened this year...good and bad, beautiful moments and painful ones (sometimes simultaneously), laughter filled and tear filled, the ending of some friendships, the beginnings of new friendships and being part of another family.

Focusing on the blessings of 2010, I want to share the five things for which I am most thankful this year.

1. God's sustaining grace and provision in trials and sorrow.

2. My faithful, patient, kind husband with whom I look forward to spending the rest of my life.

3. Our precious daughter whom I will see again some day.

4. The family and new friends who have supported us with prayers, kindness, and love.

5. Our son growing and healthy inside me.

My favorite photos

I was really missing my baby today, so I thought I would post a few pictures.

Photos taken courtesy of Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

November 5th

     Today was Lydia's due date. 

November 5, 2010

Now the day has arrived and has brought with it strong emotions, questions, and longing. Would today have been today if she hadn't been (still)born in August? Is this what her day of birth would be? A very cold morning and a sunny, cool fall day? Would the talk on the morning news been the same? The smell of the air, the touch of the breeze? Or would it be different had my Lydia been born today?

Everything about today feels wrong. My daily morning walk with our two dogs should not have happened today. I should be lying in the hospital bed in labor or holding her in my arms. My body shows no outward sign that I was ever recently pregnant. I should be 30 pounds heavier, with a healthy round belly, ready to give birth to a healthy baby girl. Until this point I have been not only counting the weeks and days since losing Lydia, but also where I would be in my pregnancy. I have such a strange feeling today. Marked on the calendar as our first baby's due date since the moment my doctor gave it to me, yet everything has changed. Instead of counting weeks of pregnancy...now she should be here. Her crib should not be vacant! This house should not be silent! My arms should not be empty! My belly not flat. This week was to be one of excitement and anticipation for me, rather than filled with tears. Family should be here to celebrate her birth. 

I am very thankful for my husband today. Rather than leave to workout at 6:00, he stayed home and fixed us breakfast. He also gave me a "Mother's Love" necklace from James Avery. Very sweet. He took a couple hours off in the middle of his day as well. Together we went to visit the place where Lydia's body is buried. We sat together for a long time. I felt so hurt and sad and angry, I couldn't speak. My husband prayed for us, for which I was thankful as I felt like I could not. 


I miss my baby and grieve her loss especially today. I am trying to hold on right now, thought at times it all feels so dark and hopeless. I love you so much, Lydia Grace. I would do anything to have you here with me. I am trying to grieve with hope. 

"But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them, in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord." 

1 Thessalonians 4:13-17

Come, Lord Jesus. Amen.

Already October?

  I feel like I am waking up and realizing it is already October. Mid-October now. Where did the time go? Save the first few days of August, I remember nothing from August or September. I know we celebrated my youngest brother's birthday in September. Days just passed. I remember asking my husband at various times the day of the week and trying to remember what I had even done or eaten the day before (often unsuccessful without his reminders). Today is 3 weeks until what was Lydia's due date.
   Checking out of the hospital on August 1st some part of me was certain I was checking out of my life. Surely, when I was pushed out of the hospital in a wheelchair, my life would be done. Out the hospital doors and into heaven or at least somewhere other than where I had previously lived. Or into the life I had known before everything was shattered; I would be pregnant with Lydia and everything that had happened would be a terrible dream. Instead it was out the hospital doors into the oppressive heat of a Texas evening, trying to figure out the plans for our daughter's funeral. I guess I was going into a different life. A different or new 'normal'.
   We had so much support and care that first week. Most of our family are still very supportive. I have a wonderful sister-in-law, always ready to listen to me talk. Then there is the support from M.E.N.D. and new friendships I am forming. Old friends are mostly a different story. I won't speak for my husband, but I feel more abandoned by friends.  One friend whom I considered a close friend told me about a month after we lost Lydia that she wanted to be there for me during this time, to walk with me through my grief....I have not seen nor talked to her since that day six weeks ago (and not for lack of trying to reach her on my part). It feels like a very isolated time in my life. Sometimes that's good, sometimes it's not.
   Thankfully, God is not like us.  I've had days I've prayed almost constantly, days my prayers were only tears, days I could not pray at all. I've questioned and been angry. Yet God is faithful. I am so thankful it is not contingent on my own attitude or behaviors. I certainly have not always felt His presence, but He is there.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit."

Psalm 34:18

Little Miracle

   It was six weeks ago today we had Lydia's graveside service. I went to see her site this morning. It's a beautiful little spot. The service six weeks ago was so sweet. It was in the morning. Only close family had been invited. Our pastor gave a beautiful talk then a friend played his guitar and sang the song I had picked, Hillsong United's "You hold me now". I cannot recall much of what our pastor said. Some words of reassurance I can recall, but mostly I remember crying and aching and staring at disbelief at the little coffin before me holding my baby.
   She is buried in an infant section of the cemetery, which I really like. At first I hated going out there. It didn't seem real, it made me so angry, and for the first few weeks her stone hadn't arrived so all that marked her grave was a make-shift metal sign stuck into the ground. I didn't feel any sort of connection or closeness there. I felt, and really still do, closer to Lydia while at home. At home is where I was pregnant and would talk to her during the day, feel her kicks, decorated her room, etc.
   Now I am able to go to Lydia's site and it not be as negative as a place as it was. I enjoy it in the morning stillness. I pray and talk to her.

  "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end; 

they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."

Lamentations 3:22-23

   I frequently think on the day she was stillborn. It may sound very strange, but part of me wants that day again. Not all the emotional pain and exhaustion, I do not want to relive that specifically (as if I don't relive some part of that daily). But I want to hold my little girl again. And looking back there are things I wish we would have done. I am satisfied; we did do many things that I am so happy about. Talking to other women who have experienced stillbirth, they have other regrets. I am so glad we took photos with our own cameras and had them professionally taken. I'm glad we saw her and held her. I wish it could have been for longer, but I don't think it would ever have been long enough. 

   What I had really been regretting was not taking anything of hers. We have her hand prints and foot prints. She is buried in the little dress we had for her and wrapped in a pink blanket. I have felt almost a panic in the regret that I did not save anything she had worn or the blanket wrapped around her. We were given a nice keepsake box from the hospital with her prints, the hospital arm bands, some little knit hats, a book, etc. I had looked through that several times, but none of the little hats were the one she had worn. 

   Then on Sunday night I went through the box again and saw the bonnet-style hat that went with the little dress she had worn. We have pictures with her in that little hat. I was so excited and so relieved. I know it is so simple, but it means so much to me. I do not ever remember seeing it in the box. I have looked through it so many times, have looked through it with the hope that something in there would have been something she had worn. My husband cannot recall if it was in there before or not either. Maybe it had been there, but I am saying it is a little miracle.