Three years ago on October 1, I was happily pregnant with my third child. I had just announced our pregnancy, or was getting close to it, I can't remember the dates exactly. Old age, I guess. :)
The boys were thrilled to be big brothers. Alex and I wondered if we might have a little girl this time, but we felt that our sweet baby was probably a boy. I was shopping for a cute shirt to wear to my Tri Sigma Homecoming Event. I hadn't been back in years and looked forward to seeing all of my sisters again. The weather was just starting to turn--leaves, temperatures--yes, everything was lining up to be a beautiful fall.
And then came my 12.5 week in-depth ultrasound on October 21 where we learned of Jacob's "fatal diagnosis". He was diagnosed with Trisomy 13. And then the horrific news that no parent wants to hear hit us on October 25, 2010. Our baby's heart had stopped beating. Our son, whom we named Jacob Alexander, had died at exactly 13 weeks. It was a Monday.
What followed was a whirlwind of emotions. I felt tossed about in a storm that had taken me completely by surprise. Eventually and thankfully, the light shown again and I moved towards healing.
Three years later as I find myself drawn towards my Jacob and reflecting on what happened back then, I'm caught up in another storm. The weather is starting to turn. We can't wait to take the boys' outdoor fall photo shoot as I have every year since they were babies. We are lining up fall festivals to attend--one of our favorite pastimes in the fall! The boys can't wait for Halloween and keep changing their minds about what costumes they'll wear. And with October kicking off the National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, I'm excited to take this time to remember my sweet babies and to reach out to so many women who've lost too...through cards, supportive posts on facebook and prayer.
But there is this storm that I mentioned...this storm's winds are blurring everything that had been lining up to be yet another beautiful fall. I'm already fighting tears. And this one doesn't just affect me, it affects countless Americans. It is the Government Shutdown that just happened today.
Instead of seeing the colors of fall, right now the color I'm focused on mainly green...that is, cash. We have no idea if this shutdown, i.e. my husband's furlough, will last for several days, weeks, months? Will we get a paycheck next Friday? How much? Will he be paid retroactively? We don't know. No one knows.
So many unanswered questions remind me of how I felt three years ago...while these two storms are very different, in many ways they are the same. You are left struggling. You are left with so many questions---why? why did this have to happen? why me??? I remember asking the same thing when I lost Jacob. Why did we get pregnant if my eggs were so "old" that we were simply going to lose our precious child? How will I get through this? What do I do next?
Wow, I had no idea I'd be facing the same feelings three years later. I'm left wondering why our government can't "play nice"...why they continue to sacrifice us and so many families to prove their points...I'm left asking every "how" question in the book. How on EARTH will we get through this? How will we survive if money doesn't start coming back in? We just came off of the summer furlough...I mean, literally, we JUST CAME OFF of it. And now, this??
And lastly, what do I do next? My planning self wants to revamp our budget...trouble is, what do I budget? If there is potentially no money coming in, what do I budget? What? How? Why?
My friends, I wish so much that I had answers. I wish that I had them for me and for any one of you who are in a similar boat being tossed about right now. These storms suck. Yes, they just suck. I hate them.
But as I think back to the storm three years ago, I find myself holding on to one thing. I survived. I made it through. Somehow, with God's help, with His Steady Hand on my heart, I made it through. I found hope. I found joy. I found peace. I love remembering my Jacob. I love thinking about him. I love helping other baby loss moms now as they find themselves stumbling through this journey of loss.
I know God is with me. He is with my family during this storm. While I'm struggling with my planning self who desperately wants to find answers--to prepare for every 'what if' under the sun--I know I have to just give this all to God. I have to give Him every last piece of it.
Do I know how to do that? No. I will be honest. I don't. But I know it's what I am to do...somehow. I will keep praying. I will cry. I will know that my Father hears every pain in my heart. And that's enough. Somehow I know that's enough. I don't have to be perfect in my prayers. I don't have to quote the best Bible verses. I know He takes me as I am with all of my flaws and worried and with my over-dependency on myself...He takes me with all of my "what ifs" and panicking moments.
So tonight on Day 1 of the Government Shutdown I go to bed with those feelings on my heart. I want to close my eyes and drift into a peaceful sleep that only God can bring. I know He will guide our family through this storm. And, yes. October and all of the beautiful things in it aren't going anywhere. It is still a beautiful season that our family will enjoy as much as possible. It still will be full of candy corn, Kit Kats and Reese Cups. It will still be a chance for me to write about Jacob, to share his story and to remember all of those precious babies lost.
Tonight I pray for my blurry and weary eyes to be cleared so that I may see only the beauty this month. I want to see red and gold leaves. I want to see my children's faces erupt in laughter as they act out their Halloween costumed character (whoever they pick). I want to see Jacob's balloon launch high into the sky on his anniversary. And I trust God for the rest.
With much love for you my friends, however this month finds you...
Kim
Heart
Mommy's heart for Baby Jacob
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Thursday, October 20, 2011
One Year Ago--'A Mother's Journey' is created--October 21st--One Year Ago--"I'm Sorry" Changed My Life
Hi Friends. Well, so much for my great intentions with regards to my blog this month! :) What can I say? So many things I had planned for this month have changed as a result of unforeseen difficulties. I'm sure I'm not writing about anything new and we've all been there. I am sorry to those of you who have been checking my blog for updates, I really hadn't planned to be absent for so long. I hope you'll stay with me and forgive me for the delays!
The first thing I want to tell you is that I do plan to continue what I wanted to do on my blog this month into November. I have so many posts that I need to write about, more giveaways to do, etc. If there's one thing I've learned on this journey throughout the last year it's to allow myself to do what I need to do when I need to do it. If that means staying up late to write a blog post in order to express something that's on my heart, then I do it. If that means forgiving myself and allowing myself an "extension" so-to-speak for "Jacob's month" (October), well, then I am doing that now. There is so much in a journey like this that you simply cannot plan for. You never know when the grief may hit you harder...you never know when the struggle to conceive again may overwhelm you...you just never know.
Tonight though, I simply could not go to bed without writing. One year ago today was a pivotal day in my life. It was the day that this blog was born. As grateful as I am for the chance to write and to reach others, I'd give it all up if I could simply change one key thing from October 21, 2010. I would change the diagnosis of my sweet little baby to one of "everything is fine" rather than the two words every parent dreads hearing..."I'm sorry."
Where was I last year at this time? I remember being so excited to be nearing the end of my first trimester. I hate to complain but I'm human and I remember being cranky from time to time during those early months of my pregnancy (maybe I was cranky a lot, who knows!). If you've been keeping up with my blog since last year, you might remember me saying that everything stunk. Seriously! It did! I was so sensitive to smells. I could smell things that the average person couldn't. And, of course, every smell made me nauseous.
Last year at this time too I had just recently announced my pregnancy on Facebook and to family and friends. The congratulations were so joyous and I truly felt like everyone was sharing in our good news. I had even been lucky enough to have made it back to my school for Homecoming and to participate in a ceremony to dedicate my sorority's new house. I was so goofy back then. I knew I was showing a bit--guess I'll blame some of that on my previous two c-sections!--and wanted to find a cute top to wear when I saw my sisters--most that I hadn't seen in almost 20 years! I didn't want to look like I was wearing a tent, but wanted to wear something to show where I was still skinny and well, where I wasn't so skinny.
I picked out a new blue shirt and remember having a wonderful time that beautiful fall day and just 5 days prior to Oct. 21. Here is a photo from that very fun Saturday...a picture of me (wearing my blue shirt, little belly sticking out) with some of my dear sorority sisters. Those of us in the photo were some of our chapter's charter members who were able to attend. When did we colonize at Kent? Sometimes 1990 seems like just yesterday!
We were all so happy to see each other. I loved renewing old friendships and catching up. The day was so much fun--we all watched the Homecoming Parade, I showed Alex where I used to live, we had a great time touring our chapter's new home (seen behind us in picture above) and then we took the boys to tour the part of KSU where the May 4, 1970 shooting had occurred. I had never seen all of the tour spots as they were new to the school. It was such a beautiful fall day to spend on campus with the leaves turning gold and the black squirrels darting about.
And then. Everything beautiful about fall turned ugly just a few days later on Thursday, October 21. Here's just a sample from my very first blog post which I started that evening after my appointment at 12.5 weeks for an in-depth ultrasound:
With a sigh, he (the doctor) looked at me and started by saying, "We have some serious issues here. There are some severe problems." He went on to list things like: thickness behind the baby's neck, extra digits, a protrusion in the abdominal wall and a cleft lip. Never in my life could I have imagined hearing such things. He said that while we didn't know for 100% sure, chances were highly likely that my baby had Trisomy 13 or 18, but he was pretty sure it was Trisomy 13.
Suddenly the the genetic counselor's information and diagrams came flashing back in my head. I was thinking, "Wait a minute, isn't Trisomy 13 the most rare of the chromosomal abnormalities that a baby can have?" People sometimes say that time stops when they receive horrible news. I wish I could say that time did stop. I'd give anything if it just would have stopped. It didn't. It just kept ticking on with each second, each minute getting more and more unbelievable and awful with what the doctor told me.
The doctor put his hand on my arm and said, "I'm very sorry." Again, more red flags went off in my head. It was almost like I had to pump him for the 'bottom line.' It was then that he told me that my baby had an 80% chance of not making it to term. It was difficult for me to form words at this point, but I asked, "So, are you saying I'm just waiting for my baby to die? That it's just a matter of when and how?" He said, "Yes."
I don't think any woman ever wants to use the words, 'baby' and 'die' in the same sentence. It should be illegal. It was almost surreal as I used the words. The doctor said I would more than likely miscarry. Again, more shock. Don't the statistics say that once you see the baby's heartbeat, once you reach the end of the first trimester, you have something like a 95% chance that everything is good and that you won't miscarry? What good are statistics like that? Again, I asked, "So, I'm waiting for my baby to die? Is that what you're saying?"
My mind raced ahead through the next 6 mos. Trick-or-Treating is next weekend. My mom's birthday is this weekend. Thanksgiving. My husband out of town for various November weekends. Christmas. Do I just continue to live my life waiting for this awful thing to happen to me? It could happen at any time. How? How do I do that? How do you continue to get bigger, wear maternity clothes and at a time when you should be getting things ready for the baby, instead prepare yourself for your baby's death?? How? How do I do that?
If you'd like to read more about the start of my journey, please feel free to read the rest of the post from October 21, 2010 by clicking on that link in the sidebar.
How fast things change. Here I had just announced my pregnancy right before my trip home to school, I had just seen my sorority sisters who were full of congratulating hugs and I came back to what I thought would be a fresh start into my second trimester only instead to be forced into a journey that I never asked to take.
Who does ask to go on this journey? Not many people would, I don't think. While I didn't choose this journey for myself and my family, I would not change a thing that's happened in the last year. Well, obviously if I could have had Jacob live, that's an easy one--of course I would have done that. But, aside from that, I do not have any regrets. For whatever reasons, God chose me for this journey and I am taking it one day at a time. In the early days of losing Jacob or on some bad days, I take it one minute of a time. That's all I can do and so far it's worked. I have no idea what the "end" of this journey will look like or even if there is one.
I think one thing that's helped me make it through the past year since receiving Jacob's fatal diagnosis and then losing him has been to not fight this journey. As much as I would have loved to have denied what was happening, to hide from it or to lash out at it constantly, what good would it do me?
I think back to Oct. 21, 2010 when I was so blunt in telling Sammy that his baby brother was going to die. In his caring way, he had told me, "The baby will be okay, Mommy. Don't cry." I wouldn't have it. I told him, "No, honey. The baby is very sick and is going to die." Sometimes I cringe when I think about my response. How could I have been so insensitive to my sweetheart Sammy? But then other times when I think about it I know I did it because I had to. I had to face this journey head on if I was going to make it through. Even my mom was in utter shock when I called her with the news in the car. Again, she tried to provide the ever supportive, "Well, I'm sure he'll be okay." I remember yelling and crying, "No! No, he won't, Mom! He is going to die!" I needed everyone around me to know the truth. I needed them to share the truth with me. Only in sharing in the truth about sweet Jacob would I or would any of us make it through...and make it through together.
From that day on, everyone was concerned and supportive. Well, most everyone. We'll leave that lie for now. Even my loving Sammy offered me hugs to catch my tears. I knew he loved his little brother too and together our family shared in the uncertainty that came with that dreaded doctor visit and Jacob's fatal diagnosis.
Of course I prayed for the opposite. I prayed constantly that God would show all of these doctors with their stupid statistics. That God would save my baby--that he would be a miracle baby and would live to be born and to be kissed in his mommy's arms. I dreamt about it too. How much I wanted to show them all that they were wrong! Jacob would live and be an example of God's wondrous saving power and love!
I knew in my heart though that God had a plan. I just didn't know my part in that plan. Would his plan include my son living for a bit longer? Much longer? To be born? To only live for a few months into his first year? I had no idea. It was like I was setting sail into an unknown sea where there was a tumultuous wave everywhere I looked. How would I make it through? I had no idea.
But I had to try. For the sake of my family--for Alex, for Sammy, for Benny...even for Jacob--I had to try to make it through that storm. I had to be strong.
All I can say is from October 21 on I started thinking about all of this. I didn't have answers but I was going to get them as soon as I could in order to regain some sort of control because when I left the doctor's office last year, I felt like I was caught up in a whirling tornado that was thrashing all over the place. I had so many questions. Scenarios in my head. Fears. Tears. Anger. Sadness. And what did I leave the doctor's office with? Pamphlets? Support groups? Anything to help me make sense out of what had just happened?
Nothing. For the most part, I left that awful place with nothing. I left only with three ultrasound pictures that I had to ask the technician for over and over--I still think that she wasn't going to do them because of Jacob's fatal condition. Did she really think that I didn't care to have them after hearing the news??? I also left with stupid printout that the genetic counselor ran to get for me when she saw me come out of the ultrasound room. I remember asking her if she had anything about Trisomy 13 so I could begin to educate myself on what was happening to my son. She said no but that she'd find something. Do you know what she gave me? A one-page sheet which was a technical summary of Trisomy 13. It's all she could find. You are a genetic counselor who grills people on their genetic family history and you don't even have packets of information assembled to hand to patients when they need the information? I couldn't even understand what she gave me. That's what I walked out of there with. More questions than answers and certainly no help from the doctor's office. So I was going to get the answers myself.
One question that I've yet to find an answer to is about the "odds" in pregnancy. What are the chances for a miscarriage/stillbirth/etc. The "1 in 4" at times seems to be conflicting with so many things that you read. To this day I find myself HATING statistics. I will never forget how after I had sat through an hour-long meeting with a genetic counselor answering every question under the sun that she told me, "Don't worry about all of this. You have a 98% chance everything is fine." This was just prior to my ultrasound. Ninety-eight percent. That's pretty good, huh?
Really??? How is it that I fell in the 2%? I guess someone has to, right? Unless I'm the "1 in 4?" And then of all things for my precious little one to have, it's one of the most rare chromosomal abnormalities? Well. Let's just say when someone now quotes statistics about how rare things are, I frequently react with sarcasm.
So. It's officially one year since I received the horrible news that my precious son wasn't going to make it. One whole year. One year of tears, of sadness, of anger, of confusion, of questions...and also one year of discovery, of learning, of reaching out, of helping others...and lastly, one year of love and of hope. I love my son. I love Jacob so much. I will never stop loving him nor will I stop talking about him. He was a gift from God and I treasure him daily. I never regret that we got pregnant. I carried my son for 13 weeks and I now treasure every one of those weeks.
October 21, 2010? A day of horrible sadness for sure. But also a day that I CHOOSE to remember something else. I CHOOSE to remember Jacob when he was alive and showing his mommy that he was very much ALIVE during the ultrasound. I CHOOSE to remember those moments with a smile on my face. Jacob was kicking. He was squirming. He was punching. He was opening and closing his mouth to practice for when he would breathe someday. I loved every minute of that part of my ultrasound! How I wish I had a video of it! That was the last time that I saw my sweet little baby alive. But it's not the last time that I will see him, for I will see him again. And I will kiss every squirmy inch of him when I do.
Much of this year has been about choices. I have learned that I must choose how I will react to things. Sure, some days I will cry because that's all I can do. Crying is the only choice sometimes...like on the day you find out that your baby probably will not survive. That's what I did last October 21. I cried. I panicked. I yelled. I moped. But other days when I can make that choice, I choose to be grateful for my baby, for the 13 weeks that we had with him and for the opportunity to see him so clearly that day.
October 21, 2010. Where were you on that day? I was at the very beginning of my journey and one that is common to so many, unfortunately. It's not just my journey. It is "A Mother's Journey"...full of loss, full of love and full of hope.
Thank you for sharing in this journey with me, my friends.
With love to my sweet little Jacob--Mommy remembers seeing you on October 21! I know you wanted me to see you. You wanted me to watch every movement you made--to laugh, to cry because I loved watching you so much. You were here, my sweet baby. Mommy loved seeing you and always will dream of the day when I can hold you in my arms.
Kim
*Special thanks to Small Bird Studio for the beautiful graphic about strength!
The first thing I want to tell you is that I do plan to continue what I wanted to do on my blog this month into November. I have so many posts that I need to write about, more giveaways to do, etc. If there's one thing I've learned on this journey throughout the last year it's to allow myself to do what I need to do when I need to do it. If that means staying up late to write a blog post in order to express something that's on my heart, then I do it. If that means forgiving myself and allowing myself an "extension" so-to-speak for "Jacob's month" (October), well, then I am doing that now. There is so much in a journey like this that you simply cannot plan for. You never know when the grief may hit you harder...you never know when the struggle to conceive again may overwhelm you...you just never know.
Tonight though, I simply could not go to bed without writing. One year ago today was a pivotal day in my life. It was the day that this blog was born. As grateful as I am for the chance to write and to reach others, I'd give it all up if I could simply change one key thing from October 21, 2010. I would change the diagnosis of my sweet little baby to one of "everything is fine" rather than the two words every parent dreads hearing..."I'm sorry."
Where was I last year at this time? I remember being so excited to be nearing the end of my first trimester. I hate to complain but I'm human and I remember being cranky from time to time during those early months of my pregnancy (maybe I was cranky a lot, who knows!). If you've been keeping up with my blog since last year, you might remember me saying that everything stunk. Seriously! It did! I was so sensitive to smells. I could smell things that the average person couldn't. And, of course, every smell made me nauseous.
Last year at this time too I had just recently announced my pregnancy on Facebook and to family and friends. The congratulations were so joyous and I truly felt like everyone was sharing in our good news. I had even been lucky enough to have made it back to my school for Homecoming and to participate in a ceremony to dedicate my sorority's new house. I was so goofy back then. I knew I was showing a bit--guess I'll blame some of that on my previous two c-sections!--and wanted to find a cute top to wear when I saw my sisters--most that I hadn't seen in almost 20 years! I didn't want to look like I was wearing a tent, but wanted to wear something to show where I was still skinny and well, where I wasn't so skinny.
I picked out a new blue shirt and remember having a wonderful time that beautiful fall day and just 5 days prior to Oct. 21. Here is a photo from that very fun Saturday...a picture of me (wearing my blue shirt, little belly sticking out) with some of my dear sorority sisters. Those of us in the photo were some of our chapter's charter members who were able to attend. When did we colonize at Kent? Sometimes 1990 seems like just yesterday!
We were all so happy to see each other. I loved renewing old friendships and catching up. The day was so much fun--we all watched the Homecoming Parade, I showed Alex where I used to live, we had a great time touring our chapter's new home (seen behind us in picture above) and then we took the boys to tour the part of KSU where the May 4, 1970 shooting had occurred. I had never seen all of the tour spots as they were new to the school. It was such a beautiful fall day to spend on campus with the leaves turning gold and the black squirrels darting about.
And then. Everything beautiful about fall turned ugly just a few days later on Thursday, October 21. Here's just a sample from my very first blog post which I started that evening after my appointment at 12.5 weeks for an in-depth ultrasound:
With a sigh, he (the doctor) looked at me and started by saying, "We have some serious issues here. There are some severe problems." He went on to list things like: thickness behind the baby's neck, extra digits, a protrusion in the abdominal wall and a cleft lip. Never in my life could I have imagined hearing such things. He said that while we didn't know for 100% sure, chances were highly likely that my baby had Trisomy 13 or 18, but he was pretty sure it was Trisomy 13.
Suddenly the the genetic counselor's information and diagrams came flashing back in my head. I was thinking, "Wait a minute, isn't Trisomy 13 the most rare of the chromosomal abnormalities that a baby can have?" People sometimes say that time stops when they receive horrible news. I wish I could say that time did stop. I'd give anything if it just would have stopped. It didn't. It just kept ticking on with each second, each minute getting more and more unbelievable and awful with what the doctor told me.
The doctor put his hand on my arm and said, "I'm very sorry." Again, more red flags went off in my head. It was almost like I had to pump him for the 'bottom line.' It was then that he told me that my baby had an 80% chance of not making it to term. It was difficult for me to form words at this point, but I asked, "So, are you saying I'm just waiting for my baby to die? That it's just a matter of when and how?" He said, "Yes."
I don't think any woman ever wants to use the words, 'baby' and 'die' in the same sentence. It should be illegal. It was almost surreal as I used the words. The doctor said I would more than likely miscarry. Again, more shock. Don't the statistics say that once you see the baby's heartbeat, once you reach the end of the first trimester, you have something like a 95% chance that everything is good and that you won't miscarry? What good are statistics like that? Again, I asked, "So, I'm waiting for my baby to die? Is that what you're saying?"
My mind raced ahead through the next 6 mos. Trick-or-Treating is next weekend. My mom's birthday is this weekend. Thanksgiving. My husband out of town for various November weekends. Christmas. Do I just continue to live my life waiting for this awful thing to happen to me? It could happen at any time. How? How do I do that? How do you continue to get bigger, wear maternity clothes and at a time when you should be getting things ready for the baby, instead prepare yourself for your baby's death?? How? How do I do that?
If you'd like to read more about the start of my journey, please feel free to read the rest of the post from October 21, 2010 by clicking on that link in the sidebar.
How fast things change. Here I had just announced my pregnancy right before my trip home to school, I had just seen my sorority sisters who were full of congratulating hugs and I came back to what I thought would be a fresh start into my second trimester only instead to be forced into a journey that I never asked to take.
Who does ask to go on this journey? Not many people would, I don't think. While I didn't choose this journey for myself and my family, I would not change a thing that's happened in the last year. Well, obviously if I could have had Jacob live, that's an easy one--of course I would have done that. But, aside from that, I do not have any regrets. For whatever reasons, God chose me for this journey and I am taking it one day at a time. In the early days of losing Jacob or on some bad days, I take it one minute of a time. That's all I can do and so far it's worked. I have no idea what the "end" of this journey will look like or even if there is one.
I think one thing that's helped me make it through the past year since receiving Jacob's fatal diagnosis and then losing him has been to not fight this journey. As much as I would have loved to have denied what was happening, to hide from it or to lash out at it constantly, what good would it do me?
I think back to Oct. 21, 2010 when I was so blunt in telling Sammy that his baby brother was going to die. In his caring way, he had told me, "The baby will be okay, Mommy. Don't cry." I wouldn't have it. I told him, "No, honey. The baby is very sick and is going to die." Sometimes I cringe when I think about my response. How could I have been so insensitive to my sweetheart Sammy? But then other times when I think about it I know I did it because I had to. I had to face this journey head on if I was going to make it through. Even my mom was in utter shock when I called her with the news in the car. Again, she tried to provide the ever supportive, "Well, I'm sure he'll be okay." I remember yelling and crying, "No! No, he won't, Mom! He is going to die!" I needed everyone around me to know the truth. I needed them to share the truth with me. Only in sharing in the truth about sweet Jacob would I or would any of us make it through...and make it through together.
From that day on, everyone was concerned and supportive. Well, most everyone. We'll leave that lie for now. Even my loving Sammy offered me hugs to catch my tears. I knew he loved his little brother too and together our family shared in the uncertainty that came with that dreaded doctor visit and Jacob's fatal diagnosis.
Of course I prayed for the opposite. I prayed constantly that God would show all of these doctors with their stupid statistics. That God would save my baby--that he would be a miracle baby and would live to be born and to be kissed in his mommy's arms. I dreamt about it too. How much I wanted to show them all that they were wrong! Jacob would live and be an example of God's wondrous saving power and love!
I knew in my heart though that God had a plan. I just didn't know my part in that plan. Would his plan include my son living for a bit longer? Much longer? To be born? To only live for a few months into his first year? I had no idea. It was like I was setting sail into an unknown sea where there was a tumultuous wave everywhere I looked. How would I make it through? I had no idea.
But I had to try. For the sake of my family--for Alex, for Sammy, for Benny...even for Jacob--I had to try to make it through that storm. I had to be strong.
I tried to start planning for all of the "hows" and "what ifs" that very day. Do we go out of town for my mom's birthday? How do we celebrate mom's birthday with my brother and sister-in-law who also just announced they were pregnant? What happens if the baby dies while Alex is out of town? What if the baby makes it past 20 weeks only to die shortly after? Will I have a c-section? Will I be able to have more children? What if he made it to be born only to die immediately after he took his first breath? What if he only makes it a few days or weeks? How would I cope? How? How? How?
All I can say is from October 21 on I started thinking about all of this. I didn't have answers but I was going to get them as soon as I could in order to regain some sort of control because when I left the doctor's office last year, I felt like I was caught up in a whirling tornado that was thrashing all over the place. I had so many questions. Scenarios in my head. Fears. Tears. Anger. Sadness. And what did I leave the doctor's office with? Pamphlets? Support groups? Anything to help me make sense out of what had just happened?
Nothing. For the most part, I left that awful place with nothing. I left only with three ultrasound pictures that I had to ask the technician for over and over--I still think that she wasn't going to do them because of Jacob's fatal condition. Did she really think that I didn't care to have them after hearing the news??? I also left with stupid printout that the genetic counselor ran to get for me when she saw me come out of the ultrasound room. I remember asking her if she had anything about Trisomy 13 so I could begin to educate myself on what was happening to my son. She said no but that she'd find something. Do you know what she gave me? A one-page sheet which was a technical summary of Trisomy 13. It's all she could find. You are a genetic counselor who grills people on their genetic family history and you don't even have packets of information assembled to hand to patients when they need the information? I couldn't even understand what she gave me. That's what I walked out of there with. More questions than answers and certainly no help from the doctor's office. So I was going to get the answers myself.
One question that I've yet to find an answer to is about the "odds" in pregnancy. What are the chances for a miscarriage/stillbirth/etc. The "1 in 4" at times seems to be conflicting with so many things that you read. To this day I find myself HATING statistics. I will never forget how after I had sat through an hour-long meeting with a genetic counselor answering every question under the sun that she told me, "Don't worry about all of this. You have a 98% chance everything is fine." This was just prior to my ultrasound. Ninety-eight percent. That's pretty good, huh?
Really??? How is it that I fell in the 2%? I guess someone has to, right? Unless I'm the "1 in 4?" And then of all things for my precious little one to have, it's one of the most rare chromosomal abnormalities? Well. Let's just say when someone now quotes statistics about how rare things are, I frequently react with sarcasm.
So. It's officially one year since I received the horrible news that my precious son wasn't going to make it. One whole year. One year of tears, of sadness, of anger, of confusion, of questions...and also one year of discovery, of learning, of reaching out, of helping others...and lastly, one year of love and of hope. I love my son. I love Jacob so much. I will never stop loving him nor will I stop talking about him. He was a gift from God and I treasure him daily. I never regret that we got pregnant. I carried my son for 13 weeks and I now treasure every one of those weeks.
October 21, 2010? A day of horrible sadness for sure. But also a day that I CHOOSE to remember something else. I CHOOSE to remember Jacob when he was alive and showing his mommy that he was very much ALIVE during the ultrasound. I CHOOSE to remember those moments with a smile on my face. Jacob was kicking. He was squirming. He was punching. He was opening and closing his mouth to practice for when he would breathe someday. I loved every minute of that part of my ultrasound! How I wish I had a video of it! That was the last time that I saw my sweet little baby alive. But it's not the last time that I will see him, for I will see him again. And I will kiss every squirmy inch of him when I do.
Much of this year has been about choices. I have learned that I must choose how I will react to things. Sure, some days I will cry because that's all I can do. Crying is the only choice sometimes...like on the day you find out that your baby probably will not survive. That's what I did last October 21. I cried. I panicked. I yelled. I moped. But other days when I can make that choice, I choose to be grateful for my baby, for the 13 weeks that we had with him and for the opportunity to see him so clearly that day.
October 21, 2010. Where were you on that day? I was at the very beginning of my journey and one that is common to so many, unfortunately. It's not just my journey. It is "A Mother's Journey"...full of loss, full of love and full of hope.
Thank you for sharing in this journey with me, my friends.
With love to my sweet little Jacob--Mommy remembers seeing you on October 21! I know you wanted me to see you. You wanted me to watch every movement you made--to laugh, to cry because I loved watching you so much. You were here, my sweet baby. Mommy loved seeing you and always will dream of the day when I can hold you in my arms.
Kim
*Special thanks to Small Bird Studio for the beautiful graphic about strength!
Monday, October 3, 2011
HEAL - A Walk to Remember...A Time of Shared Tears
October is finally here! For those of you who are familiar with the significance of this month, you may have already been planning your activities to remember your precious baby. For those of you who are new to the baby loss world, the month of October is a very special month for baby loss families. In 1988 President Ronald Reagan made October 15th National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support Day. The entire month of October is a time for us to reflect on our journey through loss and grief and a time to honor and remember all babies gone too soon. I look forward to sharing this special time of year with you.
For me October has extra special meaning. This is the month one year ago that we received Jacob's fatal diagnosis. It is is also the month that we lost him to Trisomy 13.
I plan on celebrating my love for my baby all month long and I hope you'll share in this journey with me...parts of it might be painful as we look back to where all of this began, and on the difficult times...but then other parts of it will be joyful as we see how far I've come--as far as so many mothers come who have endured this grief. I will also be sharing how much I've learned and how much love I still have for my son. I'd like to think that most of my blog this month will be joyful as that's all I feel for my son--joy and love--no regrets. The last year was definitely not something I planned, but it is something that I have grown from and something that I thank God for.
I hope you'll keep up with my blog this month and if you're not a follower, please add me! I will be unveiling a new blog look later in the month (so excited for that!) and I will be sharing some of the baby remembrance events that I am participating in and coordinating as well. If you are participating in baby remembrance events of your own, I'd love to hear about them and to share some of them here. Please leave a comment so I can reach you.
Because this month is so special to me, I also will be having some giveaways throughout the month. These are just a small way for me to thank you -- each of you for taking the time to read my blog, to follow it and for offering your supportive comments, thoughts and prayers throughout this past year. I cannot tell you how much it means to me. Look for my blog posts to be approximately 3-4 times per week during the month of October. Giveaways will be sprinkled throughout the month so keep an eye out! The very first one will be on Thursday, October 6 and will be a copy of Richard Paul Evan's book, The Christmas Box (read below for why I chose this book). If you don't have this book, it's a very inspirational read! Even if you have the book, consider entering anyway as it would make a great gift. Please just post a comment below this post to enter! I will randomly draw one name on Thursday at 11:30 PM EST.
I couldn't have asked for a more special way to kick off this month of remembrance. We participated in the HEAL Walk to Remember Sunday afternoon and this was our very first remembrance event to attend for Jacob. HEAL stands for Helping Endure A Loss and is sponsored by the Atrium Medical Center in Middletown, OH.
While the Walk to Remember was very emotional for all of us who attended, there was also much beauty and love blooming in the Children's Memorial Garden yesterday. You could feel it all around you. I have included several pictures of the event below and I hope you can feel the beauty that I saw and felt too. Even if you never lost a child, I think there is something that makes us all stronger by sharing in a remembrance ceremony like this.
We got to the Atrium Medical Center at about 1:40 PM on Sunday. I was feeling very anxious. While I was really excited to be doing this for my baby and with my family, I also felt nervous about arriving to the walk on time and getting signed in. The walk was to begin promptly at 2:00 PM and I was worried that we might arrive late, not get a balloon or other memento items. I know it sounds silly, but those things were important to me.
Once we found the event (after being on the wrong side of town) I dashed up to the event sign-in while Alex got the boys and stroller out of the car. I had plenty of time, of course, but still wanted to make sure I made it through all of the stations to do and get what I needed to.
The first station: Welcome
I am so proud to say that HEAL put on an amazing and wonderfully organized event. I know how much planning these events can take and you could tell from the very first step that you took into the event area of the parking lot that they didn't leave any details out. The first table you went to was clearly labeled, "Welcome". Here I received a beautiful program. I had no idea there would be that much structure so felt even more excited at what was to come in the ceremony. The women at this table directed me to the next table to get name tags.
The second station: Name tags
Well, here is where I lost it. A dark-haired woman wearing a beautiful baby photo button instructed me to fill out a name tag with Jacob's name and to wear it on my coat so everyone could see my son's name. I don't know if it was seeing her baby or perhaps just writing Jacob's name on a light blue name tag with a butterfly on it, but somehow right at that moment I couldn't speak. It was the type of tears that suddenly come out of nowhere to choke you while you talk.
I think I spit out that there were four of us so as the lady counted out four name tags in blue and green colors (since Jacob was a boy), I looked up at her and said, "I'm sorry. I was doing fine until I got here." I don't know...was it that she was so kind to get all blue and one green name tags since that's what I originally requested? Something so small and seemingly insignificant brought me to tears. Seeing Jacob's name followed by the heart that I drew on it, knowing that everyone would see my precious baby's name on our coats...well, I just couldn't stop the tears from coming. It was as if they had a mind of their own.
The lady took my hand and said, "It's okay. That's what we are here for today." I don't remember what else she said but she gave me two extra packs of Kleenex from a basket, our orange and yellow, "Free to fly" bracelets, and purple buttons with the same logo. I quickly scooped up my items and went to the next station.
Because my nametag wouldn't stick to my coat, I wore Jacob close to my heart...
The third station: Backpacks
Again, who would have known we would be given so much stuff today? Here I picked up a black and orange backpack with the HEAL and Walk to Remember logos. I didn't look inside right then but found handouts later that talked about their support groups as well as a Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony for our babies in December...oh, and more Kleenex!
The fourth station: Butterflies
I think I was still weepy at this point. I couldn't say anything to the women working behind the tables. The wind was blowing, gentle music played on a loudspeaker, and here I was writing with love and pride, "Jacob Alexander Villalva" on a lavender butterfly while tears continued to force themselves from my eyes. I love to write Jacob's name.
I think all of the women working this event knew what the mood might be. No one pushed you to talk, no one forced you to laugh or smile...there just seemed to be an invisible support net that you felt caught in from the moment you entered the registration area of the parking lot. Here was a safe place to be yourself and to let your emotions out if and whenever you needed to.
I looked towards the car and saw my hubby taking his time getting the boys extra coats and hats and then the stroller so I kept making my way through everything. It was starting to get more crowded as 2:00 approached.
The fifth station: Kids.
Wow. I cannot believe that this organization cared so much to plan goodie bags for kids! They were beyond generous! They had bags for kids 3 and under and 4 and up. Each bag was full of little toys, a pinwheel and animal crackers. It was so sweet to see that butterflies were a common toy item--butterflies are symbolic in the baby loss community and I thought it was so touching that they included this symbol for our children. Kids were also given rocks with butterflies on them--I took two and was told I could have the boys place them in the Memorial Garden or I could take them home. Well, no doubt about that! These rocks were coming home with me! I am going to have Sammy and Benny decorate each of them around the butterfly and then date it for this year. Can't wait to do that special craft with them.
The sixth station: Balloons.
Big purple and orange balloons with alternating colored ribbon were provided for our balloon release...and you didn't just get a balloon. You got to write your sweet baby's name on a card marked, "Precious Child". More tears. Yes, I kind of assumed that I would cry today but I didn't think they would give me so many opportunities and so early in the event! :) At this point though, I never know when it will hit me. My emotions are right there it seems, just waiting for a moment to escape. And of course, this month is probably just a tad extra heavy on emotions due to Jacob's angelversary approaching so I guess I need to be ready for it.
I fought the wind to tie Jacob's card, marked "Jacob--Mommy loves you!", onto the balloon ribbon. Once I secured my card to the ribbon, I wrapped the ribbon around my fingers tightly so it wouldn't blow away. Again, it probably sounds silly, but I felt that I just couldn't lose my balloon. Even when Alex brought Sam back from the bathroom (you probably could have guessed that!), and we were looping the other 3 balloons on to the stroller, I had a death grip on all 4 strings. The wind was pulling so hard and every once in awhile you'd see a balloon fly away. It wasn't long before I felt my left hand cramping but I didn't mind, as long as I didn't lose my balloons.
Our Walk to Remember...Jacob
Finally it was time to start our walk. I gave Alex my camera since my left hand was busy with the balloons. He did a great job capturing the setting and us starting our walk. We started in the middle of the group so had a lot of open space around us. Then we caught up to the mass of people ahead of us, while another large clump trailed slowly behind us. I didn't realize it until I saw the photo below, but I guess my emotions were quite easy to read just by looking at me.
We walked along a sidewalk that lined the curvy road. To our right was the hospital. To our left was a field, woods...simply nature. It was a beautiful walk with the blue sky above and green around us. It was only a 1/4 of a mile walk so it went pretty quick. We didn't say much on this walk. I don't think I could have talked if I had to.
As we walked up the hill, I saw an event photographer take our picture. I wondered what we said to him as we approached...what stories did our faces tell? Could he see a mother's loss and longing to hold her son? Could he see innocence on the boys'? Could he see a quiet uncertainty on my husband's?
We came to the Children's Memorial Garden and found a spot on the grass since the circular bricked area in the middle was already full. Alex guessed that there were probably about 200 people there. Two hundred people came to remember their children on this cold, blustery day. I saw grandparents looking like children themselves as they held the brightly colored balloons. I saw little kids posing by memorial plates for their lost brother or sister. I saw young couples--childless and clinging to each other. I saw people like us. Some families wore shirts to honor their loving children. Others wore photo buttons. All of us proudly wore our baby's name tags. I wished I would have had time to ask about each name that I saw. I'm sure everyone would have shared a beautiful story about their child.
The Ceremony
The coordinator opened with a few comments about how we were all connected on this journey through grief. We are a family. Last year when Jacob died, I would have never thought that I would be joining another family and yet...I have. We have. We belong to the baby loss community now. We are forever a part of this very special group of people who have lost a child...a child gone too soon.
The coordinator then prepared to read the list of names from the butterflies that we filled out earlier. She spoke lovingly of her son, Mark, who passed away 19 years ago. "Even though it's been 19 years, my heart still leaps with joy when someone says Mark's name out loud. I will never hear his name at a football game. Or at his graduation." I will write more about this in a later blog post, but for those of you who have not lost a child, hearing your child's name said aloud is a treasure that long echoes in our ears and our hearts.
As she read each name from the pastel butterflies, another volunteer stapled them to the orange ribbons that were blowing on a wreath. When Sammy heard the name, 'Jacob', he said, "Mommy, that's Jacob!" I said that that was a Jacob...but not our Jacob yet. I counted one family had lost 5 babies. A couple lost 4. Some lost three and many lost 2. My heart breaks for them. One volunteer we met later had three baby girl names on her name tag. She told me there were triplets and she lost them at 20 weeks and only had minutes with them alive. She now has twins. :)
Finally our Jacob's name was read and our last name mispronounced. :) Alex and I just smiled at each other.
After the reading of the names, it was time to let the tears flow once more. A soloist sang the song, "Precious Child" by Karen Taylor-Good and I don't think I was the only one wiping my face. This song has been one of my favorite songs since I found this community. If you have never heard the words to this song, or if you are in the mood for a good cry, click on the link at the very bottom of this post and watch the video. The words speak so gently to your heart.
The Balloon Release
After the song, we were instructed to walk up to the next garden in more of a clearing so the balloons would launch more freely and not get caught in trees. A few had already popped or blown off but HEAL was so prepared that they had volunteers with more balloons so you wouldn't feel left out.
We made our way to the inner part of the garden circle this time and stood on the bricks. Alex worked on untangling our balloons and I kept hoping my loose one wouldn't blow off that close to our release. We untangled mine first. Then Sammy's. Then his and Benny's which had twisted together.
The song, "Somewhere Out There" was played and everyone turned slowly around to face the outside of the circle towards the open sky--almost as if on cue. As I turned, I saw the balloons going into the air from behind me. The wind took each one of them up into the open sky, far from any trees or buildings. I felt the string that I had held so tightly around my fingers loosen...and I let Jacob's balloon fly away to join those of his angel friends. I was so happy to catch a picture of it--it's the orange one in the middle of the picture, (closest to the camera) and you can see the tag hanging from it. :)
Sammy let his go (the orange one in the bottom right corner of the picture above) and finally Alex and Benny. Again, I was able to get a picture of their late release as their purple balloons followed the rest of the already far into the sky. Not only could I hear the timeless melody still playing, and cameras clicking, but also sniffles from all around. We all watched the orange and purple balloons dot the clouds in the beautiful blue sky and dance in the breeze. They all flew off in the same direction--together.
I heard a sniffle to my right--it was Alex. My dear, sweet husband who for so long has held his emotion in, let it out freely during the balloon release. We leaned on each other which of course made me sob some more. I longed for my baby to bundle up in the cold. I wished he was riding in the stroller with a cute little blankie wrapped around him tight. I know I haven't talked a lot about my husband's way of dealing with grief in this past year but have truly respected how we have shared our grief together and yet in very different ways. Seeing him moved that much during the balloon release...well, it's hard to hold it together when you see your husband cry. I was so grateful that he could spending time with his son in this way. For just those few moments, everything stopped around us--schedules slowed down, there was nothing else for either of us to do but to mourn, remember and love our baby.
I blew several kisses to Jacob, waved and gave him my "heart". Sammy and Daddy gave Jacob hearts and we then made our way back to the Children's Garden for pictures.
It's hard to explain the emotion that you see and feel at an event like this. Tears? Sure. Many eyes were red and many cheeks were streaked with eye liner. Many sunglasses hid the depths of pain their owners felt. Many words go unspoken but a hug can between two moms can capture it all--just like the woman at the name tag table who took my hand earlier. I couldn't say much, but looking into her eyes through my hazy tear-filled ones, I knew she knew and felt what I felt. That was enough.
But back in the garden after the balloon release, there were also feelings of love and hope that were shared amongst all of us. I think everyone felt a little bit lighter. No pun intended referring to the balloons, but it's as if the balloons lifted some of our sorrow and let it fly free and far away from our souls. Our love soared to our children and then, I think our grief went too. I think many of us felt a sense of peace settle in after being part of such a beautiful ceremony. Families took pictures of their child's marker or of their kids placing the butterfly rocks in the garden. Others photographed the wreath of names like we were about to do.
I went up to the wreath and remembered that Jacob's butterfly was lavender. Something about the softness of that color spoke to me today and so I wrote on that one instead of looking for a blue one. Because the wind was so strong, it was difficult to pin down the ribbons and to see some of the names which were twisting all around. I'm smiling as I write this because you know what? The very first lavender butterfly I flipped around was my Jacob's. :) There is some significance here and I had a similar event happen years ago when I lost my grandparents' graves in the snow. But, that's another story.
I held his butterfly in my hands and kissed it, just as if I would have held and kissed him had he been alive today.
Alex and I sat next to Jacob's butterfly...together. There was just something so special to me about sharing these moments with my husband. I was also so grateful that we didn't rush our time there. We took our time looking at the memorials, the baby angel statues and the Angel of Hope statue which graces the center of the garden. I didn't know it until today but the Angel of Hope statue came out of a plea from parents nation-wide after reading Richard Paul Evans' A Christmas Box book several years ago. There are 90 Angel of Hope statues across the country and that Evans finally commissioned. We are lucky to have one here!
Below are just a few of the other baby stones that I loved.
We walked back along the curvy road and I too one more picture of the crowd who remained to enjoy the Children's Garden.
When we reached the parking lot, I saw that only one table remained now. All of the brightly colored balloons were gone. All of the families with their baby's names on their coats had left. The event was over. I think many of us came today with heavy feelings of sorrow on our hearts. I know I was looking forward to this day but I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotion that hit me when I got there. I'm sure I wasn't the only one. But I think we left a part of our grief there...it went high up into the clouds with our balloons. Will there be more grief and tears in the future? Yep, most definitely. Does this journey ever have an end where you don't feel some level of sadness? No, I don't think so. I have learned that this journey will continue until I reach my Jacob someday in Heaven and all along it I will face days of great joy and others of sorrow that will pop out at me when I am least expecting it. Some tears I will be happy to shed and others I won't.
No matter what, I am clinging to one thing on this journey. It's what's gotten me this far in the last year and what I know I will need as I walk on my journey...hope. Looking forward to spending this month with you, to sharing our tears, our joy, and of course, our hope.
With love to my precious Jacob...
Kim :)
Don't forget to check out the link to "Precious Child" and to post a comment for the book!
Here is the link to "Precious Child"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3c_U0ctrJDo&feature=feedf
For me October has extra special meaning. This is the month one year ago that we received Jacob's fatal diagnosis. It is is also the month that we lost him to Trisomy 13.
I plan on celebrating my love for my baby all month long and I hope you'll share in this journey with me...parts of it might be painful as we look back to where all of this began, and on the difficult times...but then other parts of it will be joyful as we see how far I've come--as far as so many mothers come who have endured this grief. I will also be sharing how much I've learned and how much love I still have for my son. I'd like to think that most of my blog this month will be joyful as that's all I feel for my son--joy and love--no regrets. The last year was definitely not something I planned, but it is something that I have grown from and something that I thank God for.
I hope you'll keep up with my blog this month and if you're not a follower, please add me! I will be unveiling a new blog look later in the month (so excited for that!) and I will be sharing some of the baby remembrance events that I am participating in and coordinating as well. If you are participating in baby remembrance events of your own, I'd love to hear about them and to share some of them here. Please leave a comment so I can reach you.
Because this month is so special to me, I also will be having some giveaways throughout the month. These are just a small way for me to thank you -- each of you for taking the time to read my blog, to follow it and for offering your supportive comments, thoughts and prayers throughout this past year. I cannot tell you how much it means to me. Look for my blog posts to be approximately 3-4 times per week during the month of October. Giveaways will be sprinkled throughout the month so keep an eye out! The very first one will be on Thursday, October 6 and will be a copy of Richard Paul Evan's book, The Christmas Box (read below for why I chose this book). If you don't have this book, it's a very inspirational read! Even if you have the book, consider entering anyway as it would make a great gift. Please just post a comment below this post to enter! I will randomly draw one name on Thursday at 11:30 PM EST.
I couldn't have asked for a more special way to kick off this month of remembrance. We participated in the HEAL Walk to Remember Sunday afternoon and this was our very first remembrance event to attend for Jacob. HEAL stands for Helping Endure A Loss and is sponsored by the Atrium Medical Center in Middletown, OH.
While the Walk to Remember was very emotional for all of us who attended, there was also much beauty and love blooming in the Children's Memorial Garden yesterday. You could feel it all around you. I have included several pictures of the event below and I hope you can feel the beauty that I saw and felt too. Even if you never lost a child, I think there is something that makes us all stronger by sharing in a remembrance ceremony like this.
We got to the Atrium Medical Center at about 1:40 PM on Sunday. I was feeling very anxious. While I was really excited to be doing this for my baby and with my family, I also felt nervous about arriving to the walk on time and getting signed in. The walk was to begin promptly at 2:00 PM and I was worried that we might arrive late, not get a balloon or other memento items. I know it sounds silly, but those things were important to me.
Once we found the event (after being on the wrong side of town) I dashed up to the event sign-in while Alex got the boys and stroller out of the car. I had plenty of time, of course, but still wanted to make sure I made it through all of the stations to do and get what I needed to.
I am so proud to say that HEAL put on an amazing and wonderfully organized event. I know how much planning these events can take and you could tell from the very first step that you took into the event area of the parking lot that they didn't leave any details out. The first table you went to was clearly labeled, "Welcome". Here I received a beautiful program. I had no idea there would be that much structure so felt even more excited at what was to come in the ceremony. The women at this table directed me to the next table to get name tags.
The second station: Name tags
Well, here is where I lost it. A dark-haired woman wearing a beautiful baby photo button instructed me to fill out a name tag with Jacob's name and to wear it on my coat so everyone could see my son's name. I don't know if it was seeing her baby or perhaps just writing Jacob's name on a light blue name tag with a butterfly on it, but somehow right at that moment I couldn't speak. It was the type of tears that suddenly come out of nowhere to choke you while you talk.
I think I spit out that there were four of us so as the lady counted out four name tags in blue and green colors (since Jacob was a boy), I looked up at her and said, "I'm sorry. I was doing fine until I got here." I don't know...was it that she was so kind to get all blue and one green name tags since that's what I originally requested? Something so small and seemingly insignificant brought me to tears. Seeing Jacob's name followed by the heart that I drew on it, knowing that everyone would see my precious baby's name on our coats...well, I just couldn't stop the tears from coming. It was as if they had a mind of their own.
The lady took my hand and said, "It's okay. That's what we are here for today." I don't remember what else she said but she gave me two extra packs of Kleenex from a basket, our orange and yellow, "Free to fly" bracelets, and purple buttons with the same logo. I quickly scooped up my items and went to the next station.
Because my nametag wouldn't stick to my coat, I wore Jacob close to my heart...
The third station: Backpacks
Again, who would have known we would be given so much stuff today? Here I picked up a black and orange backpack with the HEAL and Walk to Remember logos. I didn't look inside right then but found handouts later that talked about their support groups as well as a Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony for our babies in December...oh, and more Kleenex!
The fourth station: Butterflies
I think I was still weepy at this point. I couldn't say anything to the women working behind the tables. The wind was blowing, gentle music played on a loudspeaker, and here I was writing with love and pride, "Jacob Alexander Villalva" on a lavender butterfly while tears continued to force themselves from my eyes. I love to write Jacob's name.
I think all of the women working this event knew what the mood might be. No one pushed you to talk, no one forced you to laugh or smile...there just seemed to be an invisible support net that you felt caught in from the moment you entered the registration area of the parking lot. Here was a safe place to be yourself and to let your emotions out if and whenever you needed to.
I looked towards the car and saw my hubby taking his time getting the boys extra coats and hats and then the stroller so I kept making my way through everything. It was starting to get more crowded as 2:00 approached.
The fifth station: Kids.
Wow. I cannot believe that this organization cared so much to plan goodie bags for kids! They were beyond generous! They had bags for kids 3 and under and 4 and up. Each bag was full of little toys, a pinwheel and animal crackers. It was so sweet to see that butterflies were a common toy item--butterflies are symbolic in the baby loss community and I thought it was so touching that they included this symbol for our children. Kids were also given rocks with butterflies on them--I took two and was told I could have the boys place them in the Memorial Garden or I could take them home. Well, no doubt about that! These rocks were coming home with me! I am going to have Sammy and Benny decorate each of them around the butterfly and then date it for this year. Can't wait to do that special craft with them.
The sixth station: Balloons.
Big purple and orange balloons with alternating colored ribbon were provided for our balloon release...and you didn't just get a balloon. You got to write your sweet baby's name on a card marked, "Precious Child". More tears. Yes, I kind of assumed that I would cry today but I didn't think they would give me so many opportunities and so early in the event! :) At this point though, I never know when it will hit me. My emotions are right there it seems, just waiting for a moment to escape. And of course, this month is probably just a tad extra heavy on emotions due to Jacob's angelversary approaching so I guess I need to be ready for it.
I fought the wind to tie Jacob's card, marked "Jacob--Mommy loves you!", onto the balloon ribbon. Once I secured my card to the ribbon, I wrapped the ribbon around my fingers tightly so it wouldn't blow away. Again, it probably sounds silly, but I felt that I just couldn't lose my balloon. Even when Alex brought Sam back from the bathroom (you probably could have guessed that!), and we were looping the other 3 balloons on to the stroller, I had a death grip on all 4 strings. The wind was pulling so hard and every once in awhile you'd see a balloon fly away. It wasn't long before I felt my left hand cramping but I didn't mind, as long as I didn't lose my balloons.
Our Walk to Remember...Jacob
Finally it was time to start our walk. I gave Alex my camera since my left hand was busy with the balloons. He did a great job capturing the setting and us starting our walk. We started in the middle of the group so had a lot of open space around us. Then we caught up to the mass of people ahead of us, while another large clump trailed slowly behind us. I didn't realize it until I saw the photo below, but I guess my emotions were quite easy to read just by looking at me.
As we walked up the hill, I saw an event photographer take our picture. I wondered what we said to him as we approached...what stories did our faces tell? Could he see a mother's loss and longing to hold her son? Could he see innocence on the boys'? Could he see a quiet uncertainty on my husband's?
We came to the Children's Memorial Garden and found a spot on the grass since the circular bricked area in the middle was already full. Alex guessed that there were probably about 200 people there. Two hundred people came to remember their children on this cold, blustery day. I saw grandparents looking like children themselves as they held the brightly colored balloons. I saw little kids posing by memorial plates for their lost brother or sister. I saw young couples--childless and clinging to each other. I saw people like us. Some families wore shirts to honor their loving children. Others wore photo buttons. All of us proudly wore our baby's name tags. I wished I would have had time to ask about each name that I saw. I'm sure everyone would have shared a beautiful story about their child.
The Ceremony
The coordinator opened with a few comments about how we were all connected on this journey through grief. We are a family. Last year when Jacob died, I would have never thought that I would be joining another family and yet...I have. We have. We belong to the baby loss community now. We are forever a part of this very special group of people who have lost a child...a child gone too soon.
The coordinator then prepared to read the list of names from the butterflies that we filled out earlier. She spoke lovingly of her son, Mark, who passed away 19 years ago. "Even though it's been 19 years, my heart still leaps with joy when someone says Mark's name out loud. I will never hear his name at a football game. Or at his graduation." I will write more about this in a later blog post, but for those of you who have not lost a child, hearing your child's name said aloud is a treasure that long echoes in our ears and our hearts.
As she read each name from the pastel butterflies, another volunteer stapled them to the orange ribbons that were blowing on a wreath. When Sammy heard the name, 'Jacob', he said, "Mommy, that's Jacob!" I said that that was a Jacob...but not our Jacob yet. I counted one family had lost 5 babies. A couple lost 4. Some lost three and many lost 2. My heart breaks for them. One volunteer we met later had three baby girl names on her name tag. She told me there were triplets and she lost them at 20 weeks and only had minutes with them alive. She now has twins. :)
Finally our Jacob's name was read and our last name mispronounced. :) Alex and I just smiled at each other.
After the reading of the names, it was time to let the tears flow once more. A soloist sang the song, "Precious Child" by Karen Taylor-Good and I don't think I was the only one wiping my face. This song has been one of my favorite songs since I found this community. If you have never heard the words to this song, or if you are in the mood for a good cry, click on the link at the very bottom of this post and watch the video. The words speak so gently to your heart.
The Balloon Release
After the song, we were instructed to walk up to the next garden in more of a clearing so the balloons would launch more freely and not get caught in trees. A few had already popped or blown off but HEAL was so prepared that they had volunteers with more balloons so you wouldn't feel left out.
We made our way to the inner part of the garden circle this time and stood on the bricks. Alex worked on untangling our balloons and I kept hoping my loose one wouldn't blow off that close to our release. We untangled mine first. Then Sammy's. Then his and Benny's which had twisted together.
The song, "Somewhere Out There" was played and everyone turned slowly around to face the outside of the circle towards the open sky--almost as if on cue. As I turned, I saw the balloons going into the air from behind me. The wind took each one of them up into the open sky, far from any trees or buildings. I felt the string that I had held so tightly around my fingers loosen...and I let Jacob's balloon fly away to join those of his angel friends. I was so happy to catch a picture of it--it's the orange one in the middle of the picture, (closest to the camera) and you can see the tag hanging from it. :)
Sammy let his go (the orange one in the bottom right corner of the picture above) and finally Alex and Benny. Again, I was able to get a picture of their late release as their purple balloons followed the rest of the already far into the sky. Not only could I hear the timeless melody still playing, and cameras clicking, but also sniffles from all around. We all watched the orange and purple balloons dot the clouds in the beautiful blue sky and dance in the breeze. They all flew off in the same direction--together.
I heard a sniffle to my right--it was Alex. My dear, sweet husband who for so long has held his emotion in, let it out freely during the balloon release. We leaned on each other which of course made me sob some more. I longed for my baby to bundle up in the cold. I wished he was riding in the stroller with a cute little blankie wrapped around him tight. I know I haven't talked a lot about my husband's way of dealing with grief in this past year but have truly respected how we have shared our grief together and yet in very different ways. Seeing him moved that much during the balloon release...well, it's hard to hold it together when you see your husband cry. I was so grateful that he could spending time with his son in this way. For just those few moments, everything stopped around us--schedules slowed down, there was nothing else for either of us to do but to mourn, remember and love our baby.
I blew several kisses to Jacob, waved and gave him my "heart". Sammy and Daddy gave Jacob hearts and we then made our way back to the Children's Garden for pictures.
It's hard to explain the emotion that you see and feel at an event like this. Tears? Sure. Many eyes were red and many cheeks were streaked with eye liner. Many sunglasses hid the depths of pain their owners felt. Many words go unspoken but a hug can between two moms can capture it all--just like the woman at the name tag table who took my hand earlier. I couldn't say much, but looking into her eyes through my hazy tear-filled ones, I knew she knew and felt what I felt. That was enough.
But back in the garden after the balloon release, there were also feelings of love and hope that were shared amongst all of us. I think everyone felt a little bit lighter. No pun intended referring to the balloons, but it's as if the balloons lifted some of our sorrow and let it fly free and far away from our souls. Our love soared to our children and then, I think our grief went too. I think many of us felt a sense of peace settle in after being part of such a beautiful ceremony. Families took pictures of their child's marker or of their kids placing the butterfly rocks in the garden. Others photographed the wreath of names like we were about to do.
I went up to the wreath and remembered that Jacob's butterfly was lavender. Something about the softness of that color spoke to me today and so I wrote on that one instead of looking for a blue one. Because the wind was so strong, it was difficult to pin down the ribbons and to see some of the names which were twisting all around. I'm smiling as I write this because you know what? The very first lavender butterfly I flipped around was my Jacob's. :) There is some significance here and I had a similar event happen years ago when I lost my grandparents' graves in the snow. But, that's another story.
I held his butterfly in my hands and kissed it, just as if I would have held and kissed him had he been alive today.
We walked back along the curvy road and I too one more picture of the crowd who remained to enjoy the Children's Garden.
No matter what, I am clinging to one thing on this journey. It's what's gotten me this far in the last year and what I know I will need as I walk on my journey...hope. Looking forward to spending this month with you, to sharing our tears, our joy, and of course, our hope.
With love to my precious Jacob...
Kim :)
Don't forget to check out the link to "Precious Child" and to post a comment for the book!
Here is the link to "Precious Child"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3c_U0ctrJDo&feature=feedf
Monday, September 12, 2011
Time is Running Out -- part 1
Last Friday.
I gave Sam my standard hug and "I love you!" before letting him take that first big step up onto the school bus. The bus driver gave me a cheery "Have a good weekend!" and a smile and I stepped back to look for my baby in the first-seat window. He smiled at me, waved and gave me a 'heart'--our hand-shaped gesture of love. I returned the gesture by blowing a kiss, waving and giving him my 'heart'.
Only as the bus started to slowly roll away did I see the little girl who always sits behind Sammy. She waved at me too. And she curled her fingers into a heart-shape against the glass. My smile widened and I waved more for her.
After watching the bus go around the corner, I turned to walk back up the driveway. And it was then that the tears started flowing. I'd held them in since this morning and during the last few days of uncertainty but now they weren't taking no for an answer. Seeing that little girl wave and give me a 'heart' was just too much. Why on today of all days had this little girl chosen to wave and share with me such a loving gesture that Sammy & I do for each other? She'd never before done this. I don't even know who she is.
I went back into the house and crawled into bed with my younger son to take a nap. I sobbed as I thought about her sweet gesture and about the little girl we would probably never have.
This last round of fertility treatments was probably the hardest on me. Not only physically, but also emotionally as well. For the first time ever, I actually thought I might be pregnant. I didn't just hope I might be, I actually thought I was based on what I had been feeling as far as physical symptoms. Turns out it was all fake--well, real in that the symptoms were real but fake in that they were caused by the stupid shots and not by an actual pregnancy.
Three or four weeks ago. When this cycle started I was feeling optimistic just like I normally did. I knew that things could go one way or another but was hopeful that perhaps this time since we were trying IUI, we might just sway things in the positive direction a bit. So I took my Femara on Days 3-7. I went into the RE's office to have my ultrasound done on day 9. This was pretty early for me since I normally go in on day 10 but with day 10 being a Sunday we went in early in the hopes of not missing my ovulation.
My day 9 ultrasound showed that the follicles weren't ready to trigger yet. Even though they told me this was normal, I was a bit worried. I always ovulated early. The nurse scheduled me for a second ultrasound on Monday, I think it was. This time when I went in the follicles were closer to the size they needed to be. I was told to do my trigger shot on Tuesday night and that our IUI would be Thursday morning.
Just in case it might help, we had been trying on our own off and on throughout the weekend and then even on their suggested schedule of Tuesday night. I don't think I slept at all Wednesday evening. I had no idea of what to expect for the procedure. It cracks me up now to think about how nervous I was for something so simple but when you are in the dark about something it can be pretty frightening to think about.
Thursday, about two or three weeks ago. Alex's part went well. I guess that's how you word it? :) He went in early that morning, did his thing and came back to get us. My procedure was supposed to be at 9:45 but they didn't get to me until almost 10:15! I was trying not to panic about the time seeing as how my son was supposed to catch his bus at 11:49!
The doctor came in with the nurse and they had me sign paperwork--this is me, that's my hubby's sperm, yup, yup. Then my RE, whom I very rarely see and have much conversation with, asked me to look at the number on the form. I read it aloud as he asked me to. Well, that number was my hubby's sperm count. Apparently it was not just good but off the charts good! My RE said that they very rarely see someone what that many sperm. I laughed and said I'd have to tell my husband he did well. We all joked for a few minutes and I ended with, "Well, it's too bad this can't help me any." My RE said, "Well, actually it can. Sometimes when we have one partner who is deficient (that would be me), if the other has something like this, it might just help make up for the deficiency."
Wow. That was the first GOOD news I had ever heard come out of my RE's mouth. He was the same guy who painted that awfully gloomy picture of black for us back in March. Now even if my hubby's super sperm (that's what I've dubbed it) give me even a half of a half of a half of a percent increase in our chances, well, I'll take it. I take all of the good news I can in this journey.
So. The procedure ended up being relatively painless to which I was grateful. The nurse had said I may feel my uterus contracting or something like that and period-like cramping. Nope. Didn't feel a thing! My cervix wasn't tipped or anything--it was in a perfect position which made the doc's job even easier. The worst part was probably the speculum but we all know how much fun that is anyway. After a few minutes I was handed a timer and told to lie flat for 7 minutes. Wow. That was it.
Luckily we made it home in time for Sammy to catch his bus and this was the first time Daddy was there to see him off too. For the rest of the day I felt fine and was thankful that the procedure had been so painless and easy to move forward from.
That night I went to my folk dance group and danced for 3.5 hours! I loved it. It was truly like I needed to be there. The music just carried me away and allowed me to stop thinking of dates and times and schedules--pills, shots, intercourse. I could just be in the moment.
With the first two weeks of my cycle out of the way I felt like a lot of pressure had been lifted. What I was into now was the "tww" which stands for "two week wait." For those of you not in the baby loss community, did you even think of all of the acronyms that are out there? The "tww" is just one of many! So here I was in the my two week wait and I actually felt better knowing that I had done everything I could at that point and that again, it was in God's hands. I felt a lot of relief.
Tuesday following my IUI. That Tuesday, about 5-6 days later, I had some strong crampy feelings. My first thought was that my period was going to be coming soon. Again I called my RE and they said what they told me the previous month, based on the timing, it could be early PMS or possibly implantation cramping. Wouldn't you know that I had to go look that up again? I keep telling myself to stay off of the computer. Stop looking up pregnancy symptoms. But no, I had to go yet again and found out that implantation can occur as early as 5-6 days past ovulation all the way up to 12 days past. Wow. So I was in that ballpark for my pain. Hmm.
That was the last symptom that I felt. No spotting which I had had before. No other ideas that my period was coming. And so the hope slowly began to build.
One week ago. As I entered into my final week of the "tww" I kept trying not to think about my test date. I also noticed that I was developing more strange symptoms that are totally unlike me. Remember last cycle where I was about flattened by the fatigue? Turns out that was caused by my second shot--since it's the pregnancy hormone, it causes actual symptoms of pregnancy--like extreme fatigue.
Not only was I feeling extreme fatigue this time but also stomach troubles. Lots of gas. Not like you care to know that but boy, it didn't matter what I ate, it was not settling well in my tummy. I just figured my stomach was out of whack about something and tried not to think about it.
Tuesday, one week ago. That Tuesday of my 4th week I developed a new symptom that REALLY threw me. Heartburn. I had to go look up those symptoms because to tell the truth, I really wasn't sure that's what it was. I normally never have heartburn/acid reflux/whatever and only got it when I was pregnant with all of my boys. Upon reading of how heartburn is triggered in early pregnancy by the pregnancy hormone and other hormones loosening some flap between your stomach and esophagus, I thought--well, that makes sense. Huh.
The heartburn settled down a bit but my nauseous feelings continued off and on for the next few days. I had to have my pregnancy test pushed back all the way to last Friday instead of Wednesday. I caught their error and called them and they realized they had scheduled my test too early. Last time it took forever for me to get the hcg shot out of my body so I had to be re-tested. They were trying to avoid that this time.
The other significant thing about that Tuesday was that it was day 26 of my cycle. My cycles are typically 25 days long and I should have gotten my period that day for sure...or even earlier. But, no period. Hmm. Home pregnancy test was positive although I knew that I was still within the 10-day window of my second shot and that I was picking up the hcg. That's okay. I figured I'd keep testing until it went negative...or perhaps stayed positive.
Wednesday, just last week. The day my dreams started to fall. Spotting that evening. I remember saying, "Oh God, no! Please no!" as I stared at the toilet paper. It was just a faint pinkish-tannish but I knew in my gut what it meant. My period was coming. Another brand of home testing showed a negative. Another major punch in the gut. That night I had to buy my original brand of test. Even though I knew my period was coming, I was desperately holding on to hope that maybe it wasn't. The original test was back to positive. Talk about a yo-yo of emotions building in the past few days.
This day had to have been the worst that I have felt since losing Jacob last October. After I got the negative test and the slight spotting, I went and sat at the dining room table. I just stared out of the window for a few minutes. I didn't have much more time but took just a few minutes to do nothing. It felt almost like a death. I really thought, not for sure, but thought that I might just actually be pregnant and all of those bizzare symptoms that I had felt might actually be do to a pregnancy.
Then I felt stupid. I felt like I had been suckered in by this whole thing and that I fell prey to it. I hated feeling like that. I wanted to be stronger than that.
Thursday, just last week and one day from official test day. More spotting that night. Home test still showing a faint positive line. Tried to prepare myself for the official news. I felt it. I knew Wednesday that things weren't good. The nurse said some women bleed all throughout their pregnancy and it's normal. I knew and hoped that if I was pregnant, I would fear what the bleeding would mean. Either way, it wasn't looking good in my mind.
I also had to call my nurse today to figure out what on earth to do...if my period started and when, or if it didn't. Their phones don't open until 8:30 and my appointment was scheduled for then. It's all timing.
Last Friday morning. No "flow" yet. I had been told to come in if I didn't have flow (heavy bleeding) or to call and reschedule for an ultrasound if I did. The nurse drawing my blood told me my period should have started by now. I was like, Geez, please don't get my hopes up any more. It's coming. It's probably coming today.
Ready for another yo-yo? One of my regular nurses came into talk with me for some reason after the other nurse did my blood draw. First she scolded me for taking home tests when I knew the hcg would still be in my system from the shot. I have no clue why she did this because it's not like I was whining or worrying or even said anything about it. I thought, "What do you care?" I was actually very matter-of-fact in knowing my period was coming. I was simply reporting to them what I had found because they asked if I tested at home. Duh.
My nurse even clarified that perhaps the shot hcg went out of my system (hence the faint positive line) and then my own would build back up and that home tests might pick this up if they were sensitive enough to indeed pick it up. Apparently the one test I used is awesome and super sensitive. Good to know. Maybe.
And then my nurse did something awful. She crushed my dreams. Stomped all over them. Left them in pieces there in the blood draw room. If the cramping, spotting, impending period news and negative pregnancy test weren't all enough to throw at me on top of the last week of building hope and actually feeling pregnant, she thought she'd hit me with a lot more.
She started counting how many rounds of this treatment plan I'd been doing and said that I would have to take this next round off and meet with the doctor to discuss my options at this point. She leaned on the counter and said, "We're fighting that low AMH score with you. You just aren't making a lot of eggs and that signifies diminished ovarian reserve." No kidding, really?? Do you think I've forgotten how abysmal my scores are?? Must you remind me?? And on a day like today??? She went through the one option of injectables if the doc would go that route but said she just didn't know.
So I leave the RE's office feeling more crampy and more down than ever. I truly felt like my nurse's little speech was more of a getting ready to "kick me to the curb" speech than anything else. I know my options are limited. Oh sure, there's maybe IVF which we can't afford. And who could forget egg donation? Sure. I have $20K in my pocket right now for that. Yup.
I fought tears as I went back to the car to relay all of this to Alex. He suggested we start looking for another doc to work with. A second opinion. The sky over me was getting more and more gloomy. It was so hard getting Sammy ready for school. He noticed my mood and asked, "What's wrong, Mommy?" I sat on the driveway with him waiting for the bus and told him I was sad because the doctor said it was hard for me to have a baby. He said, "Oh," and hugged me. Just the other day he was talking about where we'd put his baby's sister's car seat in the car. Out of the blue.
And then the bus came. Sammy and I gave our 'hearts' to each other...and then the little dark-haired girl in the seat behind him made that special shape that my sons and I share. Why had she chosen this day of all of days to do the same gesture to some other little boy's mommy? It was too much. It was as if seeing her do that shoved the pain of not ever having another baby, let alone a little girl, even deeper into my heart. And that's when I cried. Finally. After all week of holding back, I cried for the lost that I felt thinking I had been pregnant. And I cried for the lack of another chance--for the extinguishing of hope.
To be continued....
Kim
I gave Sam my standard hug and "I love you!" before letting him take that first big step up onto the school bus. The bus driver gave me a cheery "Have a good weekend!" and a smile and I stepped back to look for my baby in the first-seat window. He smiled at me, waved and gave me a 'heart'--our hand-shaped gesture of love. I returned the gesture by blowing a kiss, waving and giving him my 'heart'.
Only as the bus started to slowly roll away did I see the little girl who always sits behind Sammy. She waved at me too. And she curled her fingers into a heart-shape against the glass. My smile widened and I waved more for her.
After watching the bus go around the corner, I turned to walk back up the driveway. And it was then that the tears started flowing. I'd held them in since this morning and during the last few days of uncertainty but now they weren't taking no for an answer. Seeing that little girl wave and give me a 'heart' was just too much. Why on today of all days had this little girl chosen to wave and share with me such a loving gesture that Sammy & I do for each other? She'd never before done this. I don't even know who she is.
I went back into the house and crawled into bed with my younger son to take a nap. I sobbed as I thought about her sweet gesture and about the little girl we would probably never have.
This last round of fertility treatments was probably the hardest on me. Not only physically, but also emotionally as well. For the first time ever, I actually thought I might be pregnant. I didn't just hope I might be, I actually thought I was based on what I had been feeling as far as physical symptoms. Turns out it was all fake--well, real in that the symptoms were real but fake in that they were caused by the stupid shots and not by an actual pregnancy.
Three or four weeks ago. When this cycle started I was feeling optimistic just like I normally did. I knew that things could go one way or another but was hopeful that perhaps this time since we were trying IUI, we might just sway things in the positive direction a bit. So I took my Femara on Days 3-7. I went into the RE's office to have my ultrasound done on day 9. This was pretty early for me since I normally go in on day 10 but with day 10 being a Sunday we went in early in the hopes of not missing my ovulation.
My day 9 ultrasound showed that the follicles weren't ready to trigger yet. Even though they told me this was normal, I was a bit worried. I always ovulated early. The nurse scheduled me for a second ultrasound on Monday, I think it was. This time when I went in the follicles were closer to the size they needed to be. I was told to do my trigger shot on Tuesday night and that our IUI would be Thursday morning.
Just in case it might help, we had been trying on our own off and on throughout the weekend and then even on their suggested schedule of Tuesday night. I don't think I slept at all Wednesday evening. I had no idea of what to expect for the procedure. It cracks me up now to think about how nervous I was for something so simple but when you are in the dark about something it can be pretty frightening to think about.
Thursday, about two or three weeks ago. Alex's part went well. I guess that's how you word it? :) He went in early that morning, did his thing and came back to get us. My procedure was supposed to be at 9:45 but they didn't get to me until almost 10:15! I was trying not to panic about the time seeing as how my son was supposed to catch his bus at 11:49!
The doctor came in with the nurse and they had me sign paperwork--this is me, that's my hubby's sperm, yup, yup. Then my RE, whom I very rarely see and have much conversation with, asked me to look at the number on the form. I read it aloud as he asked me to. Well, that number was my hubby's sperm count. Apparently it was not just good but off the charts good! My RE said that they very rarely see someone what that many sperm. I laughed and said I'd have to tell my husband he did well. We all joked for a few minutes and I ended with, "Well, it's too bad this can't help me any." My RE said, "Well, actually it can. Sometimes when we have one partner who is deficient (that would be me), if the other has something like this, it might just help make up for the deficiency."
Wow. That was the first GOOD news I had ever heard come out of my RE's mouth. He was the same guy who painted that awfully gloomy picture of black for us back in March. Now even if my hubby's super sperm (that's what I've dubbed it) give me even a half of a half of a half of a percent increase in our chances, well, I'll take it. I take all of the good news I can in this journey.
So. The procedure ended up being relatively painless to which I was grateful. The nurse had said I may feel my uterus contracting or something like that and period-like cramping. Nope. Didn't feel a thing! My cervix wasn't tipped or anything--it was in a perfect position which made the doc's job even easier. The worst part was probably the speculum but we all know how much fun that is anyway. After a few minutes I was handed a timer and told to lie flat for 7 minutes. Wow. That was it.
Luckily we made it home in time for Sammy to catch his bus and this was the first time Daddy was there to see him off too. For the rest of the day I felt fine and was thankful that the procedure had been so painless and easy to move forward from.
That night I went to my folk dance group and danced for 3.5 hours! I loved it. It was truly like I needed to be there. The music just carried me away and allowed me to stop thinking of dates and times and schedules--pills, shots, intercourse. I could just be in the moment.
With the first two weeks of my cycle out of the way I felt like a lot of pressure had been lifted. What I was into now was the "tww" which stands for "two week wait." For those of you not in the baby loss community, did you even think of all of the acronyms that are out there? The "tww" is just one of many! So here I was in the my two week wait and I actually felt better knowing that I had done everything I could at that point and that again, it was in God's hands. I felt a lot of relief.
Tuesday following my IUI. That Tuesday, about 5-6 days later, I had some strong crampy feelings. My first thought was that my period was going to be coming soon. Again I called my RE and they said what they told me the previous month, based on the timing, it could be early PMS or possibly implantation cramping. Wouldn't you know that I had to go look that up again? I keep telling myself to stay off of the computer. Stop looking up pregnancy symptoms. But no, I had to go yet again and found out that implantation can occur as early as 5-6 days past ovulation all the way up to 12 days past. Wow. So I was in that ballpark for my pain. Hmm.
That was the last symptom that I felt. No spotting which I had had before. No other ideas that my period was coming. And so the hope slowly began to build.
One week ago. As I entered into my final week of the "tww" I kept trying not to think about my test date. I also noticed that I was developing more strange symptoms that are totally unlike me. Remember last cycle where I was about flattened by the fatigue? Turns out that was caused by my second shot--since it's the pregnancy hormone, it causes actual symptoms of pregnancy--like extreme fatigue.
Not only was I feeling extreme fatigue this time but also stomach troubles. Lots of gas. Not like you care to know that but boy, it didn't matter what I ate, it was not settling well in my tummy. I just figured my stomach was out of whack about something and tried not to think about it.
Tuesday, one week ago. That Tuesday of my 4th week I developed a new symptom that REALLY threw me. Heartburn. I had to go look up those symptoms because to tell the truth, I really wasn't sure that's what it was. I normally never have heartburn/acid reflux/whatever and only got it when I was pregnant with all of my boys. Upon reading of how heartburn is triggered in early pregnancy by the pregnancy hormone and other hormones loosening some flap between your stomach and esophagus, I thought--well, that makes sense. Huh.
The heartburn settled down a bit but my nauseous feelings continued off and on for the next few days. I had to have my pregnancy test pushed back all the way to last Friday instead of Wednesday. I caught their error and called them and they realized they had scheduled my test too early. Last time it took forever for me to get the hcg shot out of my body so I had to be re-tested. They were trying to avoid that this time.
The other significant thing about that Tuesday was that it was day 26 of my cycle. My cycles are typically 25 days long and I should have gotten my period that day for sure...or even earlier. But, no period. Hmm. Home pregnancy test was positive although I knew that I was still within the 10-day window of my second shot and that I was picking up the hcg. That's okay. I figured I'd keep testing until it went negative...or perhaps stayed positive.
Wednesday, just last week. The day my dreams started to fall. Spotting that evening. I remember saying, "Oh God, no! Please no!" as I stared at the toilet paper. It was just a faint pinkish-tannish but I knew in my gut what it meant. My period was coming. Another brand of home testing showed a negative. Another major punch in the gut. That night I had to buy my original brand of test. Even though I knew my period was coming, I was desperately holding on to hope that maybe it wasn't. The original test was back to positive. Talk about a yo-yo of emotions building in the past few days.
This day had to have been the worst that I have felt since losing Jacob last October. After I got the negative test and the slight spotting, I went and sat at the dining room table. I just stared out of the window for a few minutes. I didn't have much more time but took just a few minutes to do nothing. It felt almost like a death. I really thought, not for sure, but thought that I might just actually be pregnant and all of those bizzare symptoms that I had felt might actually be do to a pregnancy.
Then I felt stupid. I felt like I had been suckered in by this whole thing and that I fell prey to it. I hated feeling like that. I wanted to be stronger than that.
Thursday, just last week and one day from official test day. More spotting that night. Home test still showing a faint positive line. Tried to prepare myself for the official news. I felt it. I knew Wednesday that things weren't good. The nurse said some women bleed all throughout their pregnancy and it's normal. I knew and hoped that if I was pregnant, I would fear what the bleeding would mean. Either way, it wasn't looking good in my mind.
I also had to call my nurse today to figure out what on earth to do...if my period started and when, or if it didn't. Their phones don't open until 8:30 and my appointment was scheduled for then. It's all timing.
Last Friday morning. No "flow" yet. I had been told to come in if I didn't have flow (heavy bleeding) or to call and reschedule for an ultrasound if I did. The nurse drawing my blood told me my period should have started by now. I was like, Geez, please don't get my hopes up any more. It's coming. It's probably coming today.
Ready for another yo-yo? One of my regular nurses came into talk with me for some reason after the other nurse did my blood draw. First she scolded me for taking home tests when I knew the hcg would still be in my system from the shot. I have no clue why she did this because it's not like I was whining or worrying or even said anything about it. I thought, "What do you care?" I was actually very matter-of-fact in knowing my period was coming. I was simply reporting to them what I had found because they asked if I tested at home. Duh.
My nurse even clarified that perhaps the shot hcg went out of my system (hence the faint positive line) and then my own would build back up and that home tests might pick this up if they were sensitive enough to indeed pick it up. Apparently the one test I used is awesome and super sensitive. Good to know. Maybe.
And then my nurse did something awful. She crushed my dreams. Stomped all over them. Left them in pieces there in the blood draw room. If the cramping, spotting, impending period news and negative pregnancy test weren't all enough to throw at me on top of the last week of building hope and actually feeling pregnant, she thought she'd hit me with a lot more.
She started counting how many rounds of this treatment plan I'd been doing and said that I would have to take this next round off and meet with the doctor to discuss my options at this point. She leaned on the counter and said, "We're fighting that low AMH score with you. You just aren't making a lot of eggs and that signifies diminished ovarian reserve." No kidding, really?? Do you think I've forgotten how abysmal my scores are?? Must you remind me?? And on a day like today??? She went through the one option of injectables if the doc would go that route but said she just didn't know.
So I leave the RE's office feeling more crampy and more down than ever. I truly felt like my nurse's little speech was more of a getting ready to "kick me to the curb" speech than anything else. I know my options are limited. Oh sure, there's maybe IVF which we can't afford. And who could forget egg donation? Sure. I have $20K in my pocket right now for that. Yup.
I fought tears as I went back to the car to relay all of this to Alex. He suggested we start looking for another doc to work with. A second opinion. The sky over me was getting more and more gloomy. It was so hard getting Sammy ready for school. He noticed my mood and asked, "What's wrong, Mommy?" I sat on the driveway with him waiting for the bus and told him I was sad because the doctor said it was hard for me to have a baby. He said, "Oh," and hugged me. Just the other day he was talking about where we'd put his baby's sister's car seat in the car. Out of the blue.
And then the bus came. Sammy and I gave our 'hearts' to each other...and then the little dark-haired girl in the seat behind him made that special shape that my sons and I share. Why had she chosen this day of all of days to do the same gesture to some other little boy's mommy? It was too much. It was as if seeing her do that shoved the pain of not ever having another baby, let alone a little girl, even deeper into my heart. And that's when I cried. Finally. After all week of holding back, I cried for the lost that I felt thinking I had been pregnant. And I cried for the lack of another chance--for the extinguishing of hope.
To be continued....
Kim
Friday, September 2, 2011
An Overwhelmingly Sad Day
Well, I'm back. And it's late. What's new? I'm always the late-night poster. :) That's probably because it's the only time I have free time to write.
I'm sorry for the lengthy delay in responding. Been a fast, furious and fatiguing several weeks.
Will keep this post short so I can try to get to bed for at least a bit...before we head out of town tomorrow.
Today was rough. I've been thinking a lot lately about so many women I've met in the Baby Loss Community--both online and in person. They are such beautiful, compassionate and supportive women. We all share a common bond--the loss of a baby. Today for some reason and more than normal, I was feeling their losses, I was looking at pictures of their babies at various ages when they passed away and I even saw a picture of a little boy who may have looked like Jacob did when he died at 13 weeks in my womb. What a sweet little baby...so tender, so innocent...just like my Jacob.
And then right before dinner, I saw a note that a woman in one of our facebook baby loss communities was right then in labor to deliver her son who died two days prior. I couldn't believe it. Yes, we know this stuff happens all the time but how often do we know right when it's happening? Here I was sitting down to dinner with my boys, about to eat teriyaki chicken and I couldn't stop thinking of what this woman was going through. My heart still goes out to her and her family. Just yesterday she had posted a question about not feeling her baby move for the last day or so. I, along with so many others, advised her to go to the doctor and not to wait. I know we all held her in our prayers as we hoped that the baby was okay.
On a personal note, earlier I had to reschedule my blood test for next week. Actually I had to push it back--just what every woman who is trying to conceive wants to do, you know? My nurse wants to make sure we don't catch my trigger shot like we did last time (I'll have to fill you in later). So I still have another week left to wait. I can't even cheat and take a home pregnancy test because it will just pick up the hcg in my system from the shot so no go there. Patience, patience and more patience.
Can I be honest? Part of me is horribly scared. What if? What if this time things somehow were to work? I will have to give more details to catch you up on this latest round of fertility treatments in a day or so...but let's just pretend things do work. I've known that even if I get a positive it's a long, scary road with an unknown destination. Maybe I'll never get that chance to go down that road again, I don't know. Would I stop trying because I don't want to take that path? Nope. I can't do that. I don't know. It's just so scary knowing that I may make it even farther than 13 weeks only to lose another baby. And yet, even though I am well aware of this, I have to keep trying until there are no options left.
My hope and prayer is simple. If I do get pregnant again that I can 1) be strong enough to get through whatever happens with God's help, and that of my friends and family and 2) that I will celebrate each and every day with that baby with joy, hope and love...no matter how short or long that time may be. Joy, lots and lots of joy. That's what I want. I want to share that joy with all of you if I'm ever able.
Do you know that's what I still feel about Jacob? Joy. I think today may have been when I found out that I was pregnant last year. It's got to be getting close but since I'm not organized enough to find last year's calendar right now all I can do is to go by gut feelings and timing. I remember the shock and joy I felt at finally becoming pregnant again! I still feel that joy for my son. I love him dearly. I would not have changed anything that happened (well, of course that he lived)...but even though he left us, I know he is happy and so loved in Heaven. Just knowing I have him waiting there for me brings me such comfort. He lives in my heart too...always.
For some reason the tears fell a bit more freely than normal today. Perhaps because I was overwhelmed by the grief that others have been suffering, maybe having 3 "slower than normal" days in my life allowed feelings to surface that I normally keep buried under all of my busyness, it's hard to pinpoint exactly what caused my off and on sadness today. Who knows, if this hcg in my system mimics pregnancy symptoms as I'm told it does, that might explain my mood too. I know it definitely has knocked me on my butt fatigue-wise just like last month.
That would also explain my absence from writing--too plain tired to write at 3:00 AM! :)
Well, friends just wanted to let you know I'm still here, my blog is still here and I have lots and lots to write about! I must tell you to end on a happy note how much I am looking forward to the month of October. I've dubbed that, "Jacob's month", and have all sorts of things planned--from my blog, to our day to remember him, to things I will be doing to honor my sweet baby who is waiting for me in Heaven. I really am looking forward to a month-long celebration of his short, yet special time here on this earth. I hope you'll join me in celebrating him.
With joy in my heart for my Jacob,
Kim :)
I'm sorry for the lengthy delay in responding. Been a fast, furious and fatiguing several weeks.
Will keep this post short so I can try to get to bed for at least a bit...before we head out of town tomorrow.
Today was rough. I've been thinking a lot lately about so many women I've met in the Baby Loss Community--both online and in person. They are such beautiful, compassionate and supportive women. We all share a common bond--the loss of a baby. Today for some reason and more than normal, I was feeling their losses, I was looking at pictures of their babies at various ages when they passed away and I even saw a picture of a little boy who may have looked like Jacob did when he died at 13 weeks in my womb. What a sweet little baby...so tender, so innocent...just like my Jacob.
And then right before dinner, I saw a note that a woman in one of our facebook baby loss communities was right then in labor to deliver her son who died two days prior. I couldn't believe it. Yes, we know this stuff happens all the time but how often do we know right when it's happening? Here I was sitting down to dinner with my boys, about to eat teriyaki chicken and I couldn't stop thinking of what this woman was going through. My heart still goes out to her and her family. Just yesterday she had posted a question about not feeling her baby move for the last day or so. I, along with so many others, advised her to go to the doctor and not to wait. I know we all held her in our prayers as we hoped that the baby was okay.
On a personal note, earlier I had to reschedule my blood test for next week. Actually I had to push it back--just what every woman who is trying to conceive wants to do, you know? My nurse wants to make sure we don't catch my trigger shot like we did last time (I'll have to fill you in later). So I still have another week left to wait. I can't even cheat and take a home pregnancy test because it will just pick up the hcg in my system from the shot so no go there. Patience, patience and more patience.
Can I be honest? Part of me is horribly scared. What if? What if this time things somehow were to work? I will have to give more details to catch you up on this latest round of fertility treatments in a day or so...but let's just pretend things do work. I've known that even if I get a positive it's a long, scary road with an unknown destination. Maybe I'll never get that chance to go down that road again, I don't know. Would I stop trying because I don't want to take that path? Nope. I can't do that. I don't know. It's just so scary knowing that I may make it even farther than 13 weeks only to lose another baby. And yet, even though I am well aware of this, I have to keep trying until there are no options left.
My hope and prayer is simple. If I do get pregnant again that I can 1) be strong enough to get through whatever happens with God's help, and that of my friends and family and 2) that I will celebrate each and every day with that baby with joy, hope and love...no matter how short or long that time may be. Joy, lots and lots of joy. That's what I want. I want to share that joy with all of you if I'm ever able.
Do you know that's what I still feel about Jacob? Joy. I think today may have been when I found out that I was pregnant last year. It's got to be getting close but since I'm not organized enough to find last year's calendar right now all I can do is to go by gut feelings and timing. I remember the shock and joy I felt at finally becoming pregnant again! I still feel that joy for my son. I love him dearly. I would not have changed anything that happened (well, of course that he lived)...but even though he left us, I know he is happy and so loved in Heaven. Just knowing I have him waiting there for me brings me such comfort. He lives in my heart too...always.
For some reason the tears fell a bit more freely than normal today. Perhaps because I was overwhelmed by the grief that others have been suffering, maybe having 3 "slower than normal" days in my life allowed feelings to surface that I normally keep buried under all of my busyness, it's hard to pinpoint exactly what caused my off and on sadness today. Who knows, if this hcg in my system mimics pregnancy symptoms as I'm told it does, that might explain my mood too. I know it definitely has knocked me on my butt fatigue-wise just like last month.
That would also explain my absence from writing--too plain tired to write at 3:00 AM! :)
Well, friends just wanted to let you know I'm still here, my blog is still here and I have lots and lots to write about! I must tell you to end on a happy note how much I am looking forward to the month of October. I've dubbed that, "Jacob's month", and have all sorts of things planned--from my blog, to our day to remember him, to things I will be doing to honor my sweet baby who is waiting for me in Heaven. I really am looking forward to a month-long celebration of his short, yet special time here on this earth. I hope you'll join me in celebrating him.
With joy in my heart for my Jacob,
Kim :)
Monday, August 8, 2011
So Desperate to Hope...and Yet So Afraid
Does anyone else know where the summer has gone? Wow, it sure has flown by here. It's so hard to think back to just one month ago when it was the 4th of July and we were celebrating the Red, White and Blue...and, when I was agonizing over what those colors were like for me at that time.
Where to start? What's happened in the last few weeks? I've been bouncing all over the place. Not just physically, but also mentally.
My last cycle was only 19 days long. I had no warning, my period just started and way too early! I was told by the nurses that cycle length varies due to fertility medications so I tried not to worry about it. I also figured that since I had a cyst, that may have thrown things off a bit, who knows.
Well, with my cycles that close together it's not like there is a lot of time for planning and preparations. Wham, bam, boom. Another cycle. Decisions to be made. Doctor appointments to cram in and money to be found...or not. Stress levels start rising with the start of each period.
Amazingly, all of my woes and worries for when this last cycle would start were put to rest when my period started at the last possible date that it could have prior to our trip to Washington, D.C. It allowed me to schedule my baseline ultrasound for early Wednesday morning. Alex had just returned to town on Monday evening from an extended drill weekend in Kentucky, went to work on Tuesday and came to pick us up at my mom's that evening and then to return to Dayton late that night.
It was a short night for me Tuesday, and we all got up early to go to my doctor appointment for my ultrasound. Good news--my cyst had shrunk--and I had 8 follicles! Wow! I don't know when I've had that many. Of course, I knew they may not all grow but it was kind of neat hearing that I had that many.
We ran straight to the pharmacy to pick up my Femara prescription which I was to start taking that night. And, after about another hour to finish adding my hubby's stuff to our already crammed van (we had packed the boys' toys, clothes, etc. as well as mine the night before at my mom's), we finally set off for D.C.
Our trip to Washington, D.C. was a bit longer than we thought. I think it was like 14 hours or something like that. I don't remember for sure but it was getting difficult in the wee hours. We had one major delay with the van that slowed us down. We were somewhere in some rural mountains and realized the back hatch wouldn't open. Alex had to crawl into the back from the front. This meant slithering over tons of stuff on what was one of those extreme heat days a few weeks back (remember how most of the country was in triple digits with severe heat warnings?) in order to pull out Mary, our old terrier. She was in a cage in the back of the van and was now stuck. I knew we still had several hours to go and didn't want to risk leaving her back there without a potty break or water so Alex braved the piles and stacks and crawled back out over the boys' seats with Mary in his arms. I then rode with her at my feet up front for the rest of the trip.
It wasn't only that delay which added to our lengthy trip. It was also the path we took. Coming from Dayton, we soon found that most of our drive was through mountains! And tons of them! Curves, sneaky paths, twisting and turning up and down the hills made for a slower and more cautious drive than if we had been on straight roads.
Well, our trip to D.C. was great. Alex's conference went extremely well and we even managed 2 days to sight see during the heatwave. Everyone had a great time. But, Alex & I were whooped in the end. We drove back to my mom's in Seville to pick up another dog that she was babysitting for us. We laid over that night and took off for Dayton the next day.
If you've been mentally calculating the days in my cycle you'd see that we should be somewhere nearing our "window" in this cycle. Well, try facing that window when you're tired and then frustrated because you're tired. I wish I could say that for me it as all because I was just tired but it wasn't just that. I think going into this cycle I was crabby. The last cycle with the cyst was 'non-existent' for the most part. I was doubtful and had a "great attitude" going into this round. Several times I thought to myself, "Why even bother? Why am I putting myself through all of this? It won't work anyway."
Consequently, I wasn't as focused on the task at hand as much as I should have been. I was like, "Eh...whatever." And then I'd beat myself up for feeling like that and thought, "Why would God give you a baby with a terrible attitude like this?" One night Alex & I even got into a fight prior to our "window". That's really great, huh? I was mad because he was tired and because I always have to remind him of the dates and timing. He was mad simply because he was tired and who knows what else. We had a pretty serious discussion about making this a priority and ways to make sure that dates are cleared as much as possible, etc. Thankfully, we cleared the air and resumed with the work at hand. I can only wonder how many other couples feel the stress and get into similar arguments? So very difficult.
I hate to say it but we didn't even hit all of our windows this last round. I felt terrible. My nurse told me not to fret about the exact timing and that we hit the most critical. I tried to shake off my frustration, held on to the fact that we did do the most critical windows and looked forward to starting over with this next cycle approaching.
And then suddenly, I noticed how extremely tired I was over the weekend. I mean, I was pooped. I was beyond pooped. It was terrible. It was so hard to get things done. I didn't think anything of it until that Sunday right after supper when I felt myself entering a yawning marathon. Even Alex noticed my exhaustion and said how unlike me that was. I'd like to think that normally I'm pretty hearty! I can get by on little sleep when I have to or when insomnia hits. I somehow find the rest when I need it and build myself back up. But this time I just couldn't get caught up.
It was then that I remembered something my nurse told me when I got my trigger shot on Day 10. She said something about the shot containing the pregnancy hormone, progesterone, and that it causes pregnancy symptoms in some women--one of them being tiredness. A-HA! Maybe that was it? But why don't I remember being this tired the one other time I had the shot? With that question on my mind, I drifted off quite easily that night.
A chat with my nurse on Monday confirmed that more than likely it was the progesterone making me tired. Follow that up with ANOTHER shot that day and more Zzz..... on the way for me. Supposedly it takes 10 days for the progesterone to get out of your system so I still have another 2 days to wait it out. Unless....
And this is where the title of my blog comes in. Hope. Why, oh why, oh WHY did I have to have this tiredness symptom of pregnancy this cycle? I know that more than likely, what I've been feeling has been simply a side effect of the Ovidrel shot but I would be lying if part of me didn't stop more than once and wonder, what if? Could I be this tired because maybe something did work this round? Maybe I could just be pregnant??? Probably not...but possibly??? Why wasn't I this tired before? Even after the first shot I don't remember being this tired at all. Maybe you can react differently each time, I don't know.
Another step towards Hope. My progesterone test on Thursday of last week came back really good. My level was a 40. Previously my other two tests were in the low 20s. Obviously the second shot probably had something to do with this but still, they told me that I had a really good ovulation and that the second shot was supporting what the body does naturally to support an egg being implanted if it was fertilized. Why can't the dumb test TELL you that though?
Even though I totally don't understand the necessity of testing one's progesterone every treatment cycle, here's what I'm walking away with:
1. Maybe it's how it was in school--high school or something like that--where an A was an A. It didn't matter if you barely made it with a 90/92 or 94 or if you totally aced it with a 98. If you had an A, you had an A. As long as your progesterone score is above 15, that's good and that's it.
2. I'm very THANKFUL that the medication is working and that I AM having good ovulations! If that is something that some women struggle with in conceiving, then I need to recognize that and be thankful that I am having good ovulations. Take time to thank God for all that I can.
So what do I do about Hope? Part of me so desperately wants to think that maybe, just maybe, my tiredness is a result of possibly being pregnant. And if my progesterone score shows a good level, than that's really good. Oh, but the inner battle! I told myself I wasn't going to let myself do this again. And here I am watching every strange symptom that my body shows and wondering about it. I'm finding myself frustrated at my hope and fearing a major letdown in a few days. You see, I don't think I've felt this hopeful in awhile and coming off of my 19 day cyst cycle and then the start of this one with my "give up" attitude, I'm ready for a little optimism. In fact, I need it. I'm clinging to it. I'm desperate for it!
Hope is one of those things that I think we all need. Without it, our lives have no sense of 'maybes', 'what ifs' or 'could bes'. They are simply what we stare at every day with no thought of anything different in the future. But when we dare to hope, we are setting are selves up for the potential of what we want not coming to be. The risk is huge. We hope that our marriages will work out. We hope that our spouses will live to be a ripe old age with us. We hope that our family will stay healthy and happy. We hope that we will continue to have a job in a crummy economy. We hope and yet we know that things could fall through in an instant.
No one knows this more than a parent who has lost a child through miscarriage, still birth or infant loss. I have heard of so many mothers who fear that the child born after the child they lost, may not make it. The stories are the same--these women get up throughout the night to make sure their child is still breathing. I do that every night. I think I always have, actually, but since losing Jacob last fall, I feel like I watch over Sammy and Benny even more sometimes. It's hard to explain why, but I think knowing what can happen to those we love makes us more protective.
I know that our attempts to conceive again carry a huge risk. Will we get pregnant? Will we have a miscarriage? How on earth would I make it through 38 weeks???
And yet, despite all of my fears, I still cling to hope. I am desperate to hope. I don't think we can exist without it. I know I can't. No matter how tough we want to be. Despite the fact that I want to toughen myself up for what's going to happen in three days, a big part of me doesn't want to. I want to remain vulnerable. I need to if I'm going to have any chance at having another baby. If not, I might as well truly quit right now.
What's coming in a few days? You guessed it. My scheduled pregnancy test at my RE's. I have never before made it to one of these as my period has always come before the scheduled test. Now, despite the fact that frequently my period gives me signs that its coming--spotting, cramping, etc.--watch this time it will lay in wait and perhaps even not start prior to my test leaving me fully open to the test results when my nurse calls sometime Thursday afternoon. Please pray that I'll have the strength to get through that morning if that is indeed what happens! I still can't fathom how I'll keep myself busy enough to not go crazy after my blood test--unless my period comes prior to then.
I'm at day 22...well, actually since it's midnight I can say I'm on day 23 now. Last time my cycle was only 19 days. I don't remember what it was before that. I'm thankful also that I made it past 19 days. That kind of freaked me out a bit having a cycle that short. Every day forward is a good one!
I don't know what's going to happen in the next few days. I know that I'm desperate, truly desperate, to hold on to some hope at this point in my journey. Last night, as we were packing and getting ready to leave my mom's where we had spent the weekend going to a parade and a county fair, I saw a rainbow. Not just a piece of one, but the entire beautiful rainbow reaching from end to end! I couldn't stop looking at it. Even after I ran in the house to get everyone to come look and take pictures, I still found myself watching it fade away and felt...hope. I felt like God was sending me a message to keep holding on. Here we were about to get underway and tackle this busy week that included my blood test. And right before we left, I spotted what I needed to see. A rainbow.
Fellow moms who have lost babies are familiar with this term but others of you reading may not be. Do you know what a "rainbow baby" is? In the Baby Loss Community, this is a term used to describe the baby who comes after the storm--that is our loss of a child--our rainbow. This baby doesn't replace the one we lost, it simply represents the hope that comes again after such a tragedy in our lives.
Could I be carrying my rainbow baby right now? I'm sure the statistics out there say no, and my period might play a mean trick on me this month and start at 5:00 AM Thursday morning or something totally unfair. But, anything is possible. If God wants us to have another baby then all of the statistics in the world mean nada. It could just be so if He makes it so. And, I have to keep reminding myself to hold on to hope even if it doesn't happen this round. Anything is possible.
One more note about rainbows. Several years ago when we lived in Oklahoma, Sammy was only two weeks old when he became colicky. Horribly colicky. He cried all the time. One time I clocked him at over 10 hours straight. I kid you not!! It was terrible. Alex would wear ear plugs to drown out the noise when he'd hold Sam. I can only imagine what the stress levels were in our household that summer of 2006.
On a particularly trying day, I told Alex I needed to clear my head for just a bit. I was a stay-at-home mom still recovering from a c-section with an infection in it. I had a baby who cried all the time and nothing I did would soothe him. I had no break from the non-stop crying. None. I didn't go anywhere ever. I had been crying and had a headache so told Alex I had to go for a walk. Right then. I handed Sammy to him and he took our wailing baby to the computer room and put his earplugs in.
I remember as I left our driveway and got onto the road I could still hear Sammy crying outside!!! I couldn't believe it. That kid sure had some lungs on him! It was a light rain at the time and I didn't have an umbrella but I didn't care. I just had to get out of the house for just a few moments. I wanted to extend my walk and keep going at one point but I thought, "No, Alex might not know what to do with the baby, you really should get back." I remember giving a big sigh and right then I looked in the direction that I had originally wanted to go on my walk--and there was a rainbow. Never before had seeing something so common in nature meant so much to me. It was like I instantly felt lighter. I smiled. I smiled up at the sky. I think I talked to God right there in the street thanking Him for sending me that rainbow and for telling me that things were going to be okay. It was as if He agreed that I should turn around right then and go back to my baby. That I would be stronger when I went into the house.
I will never forget that day and that message of hope that I received. If I wouldn't have still been a bit achy I probably would have skipped back to our house!! I don't remember exactly what happened when I went home but I know I felt better. I probably took a screaming baby back into my arms and gave him a big kiss. All that mattered to me was that hope still existed. I wasn't doomed to non-stop crying for the rest of my life. God was with me and our family and He would give us the strength to make it through. And do you know what? For 4 months, we did. We made it! When Sammy turned 4 months old, the crying stopped--almost like a light switch!
All I can do this week is to take one day at a time, keep myself busy, and keep hoping and praying that perhaps we will be taking the next step on this journey and that is towards our rainbow baby. The storm is certainly rocky, full of risks and dropping bucketfuls of fear on me sometimes but I can only imagine how wonderful the rainbow looks when the storm clears...may my rainbow be a sweet little baby to come into our lives.
I trust you, Lord. Please give me the strength to keep hoping and to keep trusting in you. Thank you for those in my life who continue to pray for me and our family during this wonderfully challenging and yet beautiful journey of faith, hope and love!
Is there a storm in your life right now? Go after your rainbows, my friends! They are out there, I know they are. We just have to keep moving forward and keep our eyes upward. Our rainbows are out there!
Kim :)
Where to start? What's happened in the last few weeks? I've been bouncing all over the place. Not just physically, but also mentally.
My last cycle was only 19 days long. I had no warning, my period just started and way too early! I was told by the nurses that cycle length varies due to fertility medications so I tried not to worry about it. I also figured that since I had a cyst, that may have thrown things off a bit, who knows.
Well, with my cycles that close together it's not like there is a lot of time for planning and preparations. Wham, bam, boom. Another cycle. Decisions to be made. Doctor appointments to cram in and money to be found...or not. Stress levels start rising with the start of each period.
Amazingly, all of my woes and worries for when this last cycle would start were put to rest when my period started at the last possible date that it could have prior to our trip to Washington, D.C. It allowed me to schedule my baseline ultrasound for early Wednesday morning. Alex had just returned to town on Monday evening from an extended drill weekend in Kentucky, went to work on Tuesday and came to pick us up at my mom's that evening and then to return to Dayton late that night.
It was a short night for me Tuesday, and we all got up early to go to my doctor appointment for my ultrasound. Good news--my cyst had shrunk--and I had 8 follicles! Wow! I don't know when I've had that many. Of course, I knew they may not all grow but it was kind of neat hearing that I had that many.
We ran straight to the pharmacy to pick up my Femara prescription which I was to start taking that night. And, after about another hour to finish adding my hubby's stuff to our already crammed van (we had packed the boys' toys, clothes, etc. as well as mine the night before at my mom's), we finally set off for D.C.
Our trip to Washington, D.C. was a bit longer than we thought. I think it was like 14 hours or something like that. I don't remember for sure but it was getting difficult in the wee hours. We had one major delay with the van that slowed us down. We were somewhere in some rural mountains and realized the back hatch wouldn't open. Alex had to crawl into the back from the front. This meant slithering over tons of stuff on what was one of those extreme heat days a few weeks back (remember how most of the country was in triple digits with severe heat warnings?) in order to pull out Mary, our old terrier. She was in a cage in the back of the van and was now stuck. I knew we still had several hours to go and didn't want to risk leaving her back there without a potty break or water so Alex braved the piles and stacks and crawled back out over the boys' seats with Mary in his arms. I then rode with her at my feet up front for the rest of the trip.
It wasn't only that delay which added to our lengthy trip. It was also the path we took. Coming from Dayton, we soon found that most of our drive was through mountains! And tons of them! Curves, sneaky paths, twisting and turning up and down the hills made for a slower and more cautious drive than if we had been on straight roads.
Well, our trip to D.C. was great. Alex's conference went extremely well and we even managed 2 days to sight see during the heatwave. Everyone had a great time. But, Alex & I were whooped in the end. We drove back to my mom's in Seville to pick up another dog that she was babysitting for us. We laid over that night and took off for Dayton the next day.
If you've been mentally calculating the days in my cycle you'd see that we should be somewhere nearing our "window" in this cycle. Well, try facing that window when you're tired and then frustrated because you're tired. I wish I could say that for me it as all because I was just tired but it wasn't just that. I think going into this cycle I was crabby. The last cycle with the cyst was 'non-existent' for the most part. I was doubtful and had a "great attitude" going into this round. Several times I thought to myself, "Why even bother? Why am I putting myself through all of this? It won't work anyway."
Consequently, I wasn't as focused on the task at hand as much as I should have been. I was like, "Eh...whatever." And then I'd beat myself up for feeling like that and thought, "Why would God give you a baby with a terrible attitude like this?" One night Alex & I even got into a fight prior to our "window". That's really great, huh? I was mad because he was tired and because I always have to remind him of the dates and timing. He was mad simply because he was tired and who knows what else. We had a pretty serious discussion about making this a priority and ways to make sure that dates are cleared as much as possible, etc. Thankfully, we cleared the air and resumed with the work at hand. I can only wonder how many other couples feel the stress and get into similar arguments? So very difficult.
I hate to say it but we didn't even hit all of our windows this last round. I felt terrible. My nurse told me not to fret about the exact timing and that we hit the most critical. I tried to shake off my frustration, held on to the fact that we did do the most critical windows and looked forward to starting over with this next cycle approaching.
And then suddenly, I noticed how extremely tired I was over the weekend. I mean, I was pooped. I was beyond pooped. It was terrible. It was so hard to get things done. I didn't think anything of it until that Sunday right after supper when I felt myself entering a yawning marathon. Even Alex noticed my exhaustion and said how unlike me that was. I'd like to think that normally I'm pretty hearty! I can get by on little sleep when I have to or when insomnia hits. I somehow find the rest when I need it and build myself back up. But this time I just couldn't get caught up.
It was then that I remembered something my nurse told me when I got my trigger shot on Day 10. She said something about the shot containing the pregnancy hormone, progesterone, and that it causes pregnancy symptoms in some women--one of them being tiredness. A-HA! Maybe that was it? But why don't I remember being this tired the one other time I had the shot? With that question on my mind, I drifted off quite easily that night.
A chat with my nurse on Monday confirmed that more than likely it was the progesterone making me tired. Follow that up with ANOTHER shot that day and more Zzz..... on the way for me. Supposedly it takes 10 days for the progesterone to get out of your system so I still have another 2 days to wait it out. Unless....
And this is where the title of my blog comes in. Hope. Why, oh why, oh WHY did I have to have this tiredness symptom of pregnancy this cycle? I know that more than likely, what I've been feeling has been simply a side effect of the Ovidrel shot but I would be lying if part of me didn't stop more than once and wonder, what if? Could I be this tired because maybe something did work this round? Maybe I could just be pregnant??? Probably not...but possibly??? Why wasn't I this tired before? Even after the first shot I don't remember being this tired at all. Maybe you can react differently each time, I don't know.
Another step towards Hope. My progesterone test on Thursday of last week came back really good. My level was a 40. Previously my other two tests were in the low 20s. Obviously the second shot probably had something to do with this but still, they told me that I had a really good ovulation and that the second shot was supporting what the body does naturally to support an egg being implanted if it was fertilized. Why can't the dumb test TELL you that though?
Even though I totally don't understand the necessity of testing one's progesterone every treatment cycle, here's what I'm walking away with:
1. Maybe it's how it was in school--high school or something like that--where an A was an A. It didn't matter if you barely made it with a 90/92 or 94 or if you totally aced it with a 98. If you had an A, you had an A. As long as your progesterone score is above 15, that's good and that's it.
2. I'm very THANKFUL that the medication is working and that I AM having good ovulations! If that is something that some women struggle with in conceiving, then I need to recognize that and be thankful that I am having good ovulations. Take time to thank God for all that I can.
So what do I do about Hope? Part of me so desperately wants to think that maybe, just maybe, my tiredness is a result of possibly being pregnant. And if my progesterone score shows a good level, than that's really good. Oh, but the inner battle! I told myself I wasn't going to let myself do this again. And here I am watching every strange symptom that my body shows and wondering about it. I'm finding myself frustrated at my hope and fearing a major letdown in a few days. You see, I don't think I've felt this hopeful in awhile and coming off of my 19 day cyst cycle and then the start of this one with my "give up" attitude, I'm ready for a little optimism. In fact, I need it. I'm clinging to it. I'm desperate for it!
Hope is one of those things that I think we all need. Without it, our lives have no sense of 'maybes', 'what ifs' or 'could bes'. They are simply what we stare at every day with no thought of anything different in the future. But when we dare to hope, we are setting are selves up for the potential of what we want not coming to be. The risk is huge. We hope that our marriages will work out. We hope that our spouses will live to be a ripe old age with us. We hope that our family will stay healthy and happy. We hope that we will continue to have a job in a crummy economy. We hope and yet we know that things could fall through in an instant.
No one knows this more than a parent who has lost a child through miscarriage, still birth or infant loss. I have heard of so many mothers who fear that the child born after the child they lost, may not make it. The stories are the same--these women get up throughout the night to make sure their child is still breathing. I do that every night. I think I always have, actually, but since losing Jacob last fall, I feel like I watch over Sammy and Benny even more sometimes. It's hard to explain why, but I think knowing what can happen to those we love makes us more protective.
I know that our attempts to conceive again carry a huge risk. Will we get pregnant? Will we have a miscarriage? How on earth would I make it through 38 weeks???
And yet, despite all of my fears, I still cling to hope. I am desperate to hope. I don't think we can exist without it. I know I can't. No matter how tough we want to be. Despite the fact that I want to toughen myself up for what's going to happen in three days, a big part of me doesn't want to. I want to remain vulnerable. I need to if I'm going to have any chance at having another baby. If not, I might as well truly quit right now.
What's coming in a few days? You guessed it. My scheduled pregnancy test at my RE's. I have never before made it to one of these as my period has always come before the scheduled test. Now, despite the fact that frequently my period gives me signs that its coming--spotting, cramping, etc.--watch this time it will lay in wait and perhaps even not start prior to my test leaving me fully open to the test results when my nurse calls sometime Thursday afternoon. Please pray that I'll have the strength to get through that morning if that is indeed what happens! I still can't fathom how I'll keep myself busy enough to not go crazy after my blood test--unless my period comes prior to then.
I'm at day 22...well, actually since it's midnight I can say I'm on day 23 now. Last time my cycle was only 19 days. I don't remember what it was before that. I'm thankful also that I made it past 19 days. That kind of freaked me out a bit having a cycle that short. Every day forward is a good one!
I don't know what's going to happen in the next few days. I know that I'm desperate, truly desperate, to hold on to some hope at this point in my journey. Last night, as we were packing and getting ready to leave my mom's where we had spent the weekend going to a parade and a county fair, I saw a rainbow. Not just a piece of one, but the entire beautiful rainbow reaching from end to end! I couldn't stop looking at it. Even after I ran in the house to get everyone to come look and take pictures, I still found myself watching it fade away and felt...hope. I felt like God was sending me a message to keep holding on. Here we were about to get underway and tackle this busy week that included my blood test. And right before we left, I spotted what I needed to see. A rainbow.
Fellow moms who have lost babies are familiar with this term but others of you reading may not be. Do you know what a "rainbow baby" is? In the Baby Loss Community, this is a term used to describe the baby who comes after the storm--that is our loss of a child--our rainbow. This baby doesn't replace the one we lost, it simply represents the hope that comes again after such a tragedy in our lives.
Could I be carrying my rainbow baby right now? I'm sure the statistics out there say no, and my period might play a mean trick on me this month and start at 5:00 AM Thursday morning or something totally unfair. But, anything is possible. If God wants us to have another baby then all of the statistics in the world mean nada. It could just be so if He makes it so. And, I have to keep reminding myself to hold on to hope even if it doesn't happen this round. Anything is possible.
One more note about rainbows. Several years ago when we lived in Oklahoma, Sammy was only two weeks old when he became colicky. Horribly colicky. He cried all the time. One time I clocked him at over 10 hours straight. I kid you not!! It was terrible. Alex would wear ear plugs to drown out the noise when he'd hold Sam. I can only imagine what the stress levels were in our household that summer of 2006.
On a particularly trying day, I told Alex I needed to clear my head for just a bit. I was a stay-at-home mom still recovering from a c-section with an infection in it. I had a baby who cried all the time and nothing I did would soothe him. I had no break from the non-stop crying. None. I didn't go anywhere ever. I had been crying and had a headache so told Alex I had to go for a walk. Right then. I handed Sammy to him and he took our wailing baby to the computer room and put his earplugs in.
I remember as I left our driveway and got onto the road I could still hear Sammy crying outside!!! I couldn't believe it. That kid sure had some lungs on him! It was a light rain at the time and I didn't have an umbrella but I didn't care. I just had to get out of the house for just a few moments. I wanted to extend my walk and keep going at one point but I thought, "No, Alex might not know what to do with the baby, you really should get back." I remember giving a big sigh and right then I looked in the direction that I had originally wanted to go on my walk--and there was a rainbow. Never before had seeing something so common in nature meant so much to me. It was like I instantly felt lighter. I smiled. I smiled up at the sky. I think I talked to God right there in the street thanking Him for sending me that rainbow and for telling me that things were going to be okay. It was as if He agreed that I should turn around right then and go back to my baby. That I would be stronger when I went into the house.
I will never forget that day and that message of hope that I received. If I wouldn't have still been a bit achy I probably would have skipped back to our house!! I don't remember exactly what happened when I went home but I know I felt better. I probably took a screaming baby back into my arms and gave him a big kiss. All that mattered to me was that hope still existed. I wasn't doomed to non-stop crying for the rest of my life. God was with me and our family and He would give us the strength to make it through. And do you know what? For 4 months, we did. We made it! When Sammy turned 4 months old, the crying stopped--almost like a light switch!
All I can do this week is to take one day at a time, keep myself busy, and keep hoping and praying that perhaps we will be taking the next step on this journey and that is towards our rainbow baby. The storm is certainly rocky, full of risks and dropping bucketfuls of fear on me sometimes but I can only imagine how wonderful the rainbow looks when the storm clears...may my rainbow be a sweet little baby to come into our lives.
I trust you, Lord. Please give me the strength to keep hoping and to keep trusting in you. Thank you for those in my life who continue to pray for me and our family during this wonderfully challenging and yet beautiful journey of faith, hope and love!
Is there a storm in your life right now? Go after your rainbows, my friends! They are out there, I know they are. We just have to keep moving forward and keep our eyes upward. Our rainbows are out there!
Kim :)
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