The Inevitable

I've been a part of this awful wonderful community of women since I started my blog in June of 2010. The community of baby loss moms. Before I started my blog, I was alone. I was the freak of nature whose baby died inside her. I knew no one like me. The only outlet I had was, sadly, Facebook... the vast sea of normal people with constant pregnancy announcements and photos of living chubby pink babies. I felt so alienated. So isolated. I didn't start getting better and healing until I started finding mothers like me.

I had so much anger, so much pain, so much grief... I didn't know what to do with it. How to express it and how to just release all of the pent up emotions that were plaguing me. Finally, when another baby loss mom's blog inspired me to start mine, it was the best thing that could have happened. I was able to get all of those tormenting thoughts out but I also found so many other women out there who had been thrown into this journey around the same time I had.

We'd all lost our firstborn babies within months of each other. We were all in the very early raw stages of our grief, some of us still trying to process our losses, some of us still waiting for the results to tell us what had happened to our babies. We went through so much together, pouring out tortured posts and leaving each other encouraging and loving comments. We started adding each other on Facebook and being a part of each other's lives. I didn't feel so alone anymore. It made such a difference to have people that understood this. It was vital in trying to heal.

The next step we all worked toward was being ready for our Rainbow Babies (a baby born after a loss... the rainbow after the storm). It seemed we all started getting pregnant around the same time, one after another, until we were all pregnant again together. It was very exciting and hopeful, sharing these sacred pregnancies together, sharing our fears and understanding each other's worries. And of course our babies are all pretty close in age (though Jude came a bit earlier than he was supposed to). One by one, we had our precious Rainbow Babies. Each miracle entered the world, healthy and perfect. It was glorious.

But then things changed... It was me who quickly found out that Jude would be my last. It was me who was told not to have any more children. Even though I have come to know a few other women who have the same exact blood clotting mutations I have, I was the only one who didn't have a successful Rainbow pregnancy with the same corrective medical regimen. The other women carried to term. None formed blood clots. None had their future children taken away from them. It was just me. My body still failed to sustain my unborn child. My emergency c-section almost killed me... twice. I was the only one with complications. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just be like them?

Even though all of these new realities came to be, I was, for the most part, still the same as these mothers. We were torn between happiness and sadness. Thrilled to finally hold our living, breathing children like we'd always dreamed. But we were sad because it reminded us all over again what we'd lost with our first babies. We were all experiencing what we'd bawled our eyes out for through dozens of agonizing, sleepless nights. It was glorious. And we all shared it together. First smiles. First visits to the cemetery to meet big sister/brother. We all understood each other. I felt like I belonged so well, though I knew one day, it would change again...

And that time has come. I knew it would. I was fully aware it would happen. I don't think I expected it to start happening so soon, but it has. My baby loss friends are slowly getting pregnant again. I'm surprised by how much it bothers me. I am, without a doubt, happy for them all. I would never want any of them to be in the same boat as me. I wouldn't want them to never have more babies. I know I would if I could! I would never want any of them to think they have attributed to my struggles. Trust me, the struggles were already here! I have no bitterness or ill will toward them. Am I jealous? Sure. My feelings all stem from how I feel about myself... how I feel about the cards I have been dealt... the horribly unfortunate flawed nature of my body and its inability to do the one thing I desire more than anything. The sadness I feel is not geared toward these lovely mothers. It is not their fault. They're just doing what they have every right to do... what I wish I could do. And I feel sorry for myself. I'm slowly becoming different again. But I'm so glad they're not like me.

I feel stuck in my grief. I like I can't move on like I would be able to if I could continue having more children. I feel like I grasp onto Avery tighter than I would if I could have another daughter. Not that she could or would be replaced. But that ache in my heart to raise a daughter could possibly be quenched. I wouldn't know what it would be like to raise Avery and watch her grow up, but I could experience a daughter and all the girly sweet things I would have experienced with Avery. Now, none of that is possible and I am left with dreaming of what could have/should have been. I can't fully move on because I am still being injured by all of this. What took Avery nearly took Jude and it's taken away all of the babies I thought I would have... All the babies I wanted so badly and still do. I will never feel life fluttering away inside me ever again. I will never bring another life into this world. I will never caress another newborn cheek in the middle of the night. I'll never cradle another tiny body close to my chest. I still can't get over that. I can't get past it. It's all I've ever wanted. I'd do anything to change this.

I get so angry when I think about all of this. About this life I have been given. This life sentence of losing so much of what I wanted for my life. I planned it all out since I was a kid. But I'll tell ya... This body of mine has really screwed up so much of my life. I've always hated my body, but never more than I do now. There's this sense of betrayal. A sense of failure... That because of my body, I cannot do what a woman is made to do. That a life was lost because of my body and another was severely compromised because of it as well. It really takes a toll on how I feel about myself. I know it's not my fault. But my body, inside and out, has always been what's wrong with my life. I always feel like I'm trapped inside this disgusting shell. I wish I could just break out of it and be normal. Be happy.

I wish we could start talking about another baby and decide when we're ready to start trying again. I wish we could make another pregnancy announcement and tell the world with excitement that Jude is going to be a big brother. I wish we could reuse all the precious clothes we loved on Jude. I wish Jude wouldn't grow up alone. I wish he could know what it's like to share life with a brother or sister who would always be a friend. I wish I could watch my belly slowly get bigger, counting the weeks with joy. I wish I could feel the kicks and the rolls once again. I wish I could feel the excitement of the ultrasounds and the thrill of the gender reveal. Keeping the list of names. Journaling every little tidbit. Dreaming of who it is dancing beneath my heart. I miss it. I miss all of it. I hate how much I want it. I swear I was given the wrong fate. Why has God allowed me to grow up with this insatiable desire if He knew I'd be denied it? I just don't understand.

Not allowed

Tonight (yes, after American Idol), I was watching the local news and there was a story about a wife and mother who desperately needs a kidney donor. My initial thought was that I wish I could help her. Of course, even if I was a match for her (I'm not), I would not be able to do something like that. Major surgery doesn't go well with someone on blood thinners... and surgery was how I got my blood clots in the first place.

After seeing that woman's touching story, I kept thinking about all the things I wish I could do for people. I used to donate blood, back before I was married... before I knew anything was wrong with me. I didn't mind doing that. I enjoyed feeling like I was helping. Now, with two blood clotting mutations, I am not a candidate for donation. Every time I see one of those blood mobiles parked somewhere, I feel a little guilty that I can't help.

Another thing I would love to do, is surrogacy. I would have no problem carrying a child for a couple facing infertility. I love being pregnant. My heart breaks for those who cannot conceive and who ache to hold their own baby. I know what that longing is like. I wish I could help even one couple. But of course, as we all know, my body cannot handle pregnancy. I can get pregnant, I just can't stay pregnant without my body failing the baby. I can't even carry another of my own babies without the risk of death (for both of us) let alone for someone else. I wish that weren't at all the case.

I've always enjoyed taking care of other people or using my abilities or resources to bless others. I know if I was the one in need, I would pray someone would step up to help. I wish these issues in my body didn't have to affect so much of my life and my desires.

I'm sure there are dozens of other ways I can help people, especially in situations close to my heart. I just have to realize them and go for it.

Jude is here!

On Sunday, July 31, 2011, Jude Wesley was born, weighing just 3lbs 1oz and was 15.5 inches long at just 31 weeks gestation. He is perfect and beautiful...

The entire week since my last entry, I spent feeling uneasy. I was still on bed rest for my high blood pressure and I was letting it worry me. I worried about Jude and whether he was being affected or not. I checked my blood pressure several times a day and obsessed over Jude's movements. On Thursday, July 28th, I had an OB appointment. My BP was really high so my doctor had me do a non-stress test (NST) there in the office. I had to press a button each time I felt Jude move and he wasn't super active. But his heartbeat was great. My doctor then sent me to the hospital to have a biophysical profile (BPP) ultrasound done, just to make sure Jude was still doing well.

I went to the BPP and Jude looked great. The tech said she found everything she needed to find and all looked well. Despite getting a good result, I still felt a bit worried. I didn't like having high BP. I had it with Avery and things ended very badly after that.

Friday, I felt pretty good. A bit calmer. And thank God, I had Daniel take some cute photos of me on my parents' back patio. I had no idea they'd be the last photos of me pregnant with Jude.

Saturday, July 30th, is when things changed. The early part of the day was fine, but as it went on, I really felt like Jude wasn't moving as often as he usually did. I even felt like his movements were softer as well. But then I wondered if I was just paranoid. My aunt was over and was talking to me about my baby shower but it just made me feel depressed... like I felt worried that my shower wouldn't happen. That something was going to happen to Jude and he wouldn't make it til then. It was a sick feeling that I absolutely hated. It wasn't quite like the crazy intuition that I had with knowing something was wrong with Avery, but it didn't feel like nothing. I went into the bathroom and I cried. And I begged God to let me keep Jude. I felt so scared.

Daniel kept checking my BP and it was really high each time. We decided that I should go to the hospital again, just to make sure everything was alright. And to get some peace of mind that Jude was safe, if nothing else. I got admitted around 8pm. I had a nurse that I had when Avery was born. She remembered us and so many specific things about Avery's birth day. It meant so much to us.

Being hooked up to the monitor, Jude sounded good and normal. But I still felt nervous about him and whether my body was harming him or not. My BP stayed kind of high for the next couple hours. My doctor decided to just have me stay the night for monitoring, mostly for my own peace of mind because she knew I was nervous. The night passed peacefully and I felt safe there. I was grateful to not be at home worrying on my own.

The next day, Sunday, July 31st, I had my favorite nurse ever, Daniele. She was there for me during what happened with Avery. She was the one who told us Avery was gone and sat with me and wiped my tears. So even now, she is special to me and we have a special bond. I was thrilled that I got to have her take care of me.

Sometime in the morning, my doctor had me go for a BPP and cord doppler, to check the blood pressure in the cord. The tech said that Jude looked really good but she still had to figure out the results of the cord doppler. I went back to my room with Daniel, feeling a lot better seeing Jude and knowing he looked well. I figured I'd be leaving that evening, after my 24 hour urine collection was completed. (Yuck, sorry)

But not too much later, right before 11am, Daniele came into the room and she seemed like something was up. She grabbed a chair and put it next to my bed. She asked me where Daniel was. I knew that meant she had something really important to say. I told her he was in the restroom and I think she could tell I started to freak out in my head. She didn't make me wait for Daniel. She just came out and told me... "Jude did really good on the BPP... but the cord doppler came back elevated... The blood pressure in the cord is high... so Jude is going to be born today." I couldn't believe it. Daniel came out of the restroom and Daniele asked him if he was ready to be a father again. He thought she was just joking when she said Jude was coming. Oh but it was true!

Daniele explained things to us. Jude still looked good and healthy but what was happening with the placenta and the cord would begin to affect him if they didn't act immediately. My doctor would be there to do a c-section at noon, just an hour from then. She explained that I would have to be put under because of my blood issues and my blood being too thin. If I had a spinal, I could bleed out. And because I was being put under, Daniel wasn't allowed in the operating room. That's when I started to cry. I would not be there for my baby's birth. That was bad enough. But then Daniel wouldn't be there either? I absolutely hated it. I felt so sad for us, that my pregnancy was ending so suddenly and so early and that it wasn't going to be anything like we've dreamed.

I called my mom and told her to come immediately. It was a much better call than when I had to tell her Avery was gone! She was surprised Jude was coming but seemed so calm to me. I needed that. She later told me she was pretty much freaking out. I don't blame here, it was a big deal!

It didn't take long for Daniele and some other nurses to start preparing me for my surgery. Because I was being put under, they had to put my catheter in before I was knocked out. They wouldn't be able to take the time to do it after because Jude would need to come out as soon as possible before the anestesia affected him. I can't go into detail but that was one of the single most painful moments of my life. That was followed by getting my IV put in. Two veins blew out before finally getting the third to work.

After all of that, things calmed down a bit. I laid there, feeling Jude kick and dance. I started to cry because I knew these were the last moments that I would ever feel him inside me. I loved being pregnant with him. I cherished every second. I felt like he was being taken away from me. It was just too soon. I worried it would be too soon for him too, and that he wouldn't be okay. It was so hard not to worry and feel sad, to feel like I was losing my pregnancy.

Before I knew it, I was being wheeled out of my room and into the OR. It was hard to say bye to Daniel. I had to get up off my bed and get onto the small operating table. I laid there, crying, wishing I could be a part of my son's birth. His life was so special and such a miracle and I wouldn't be able to witness it at all. I could hear Daniele encouraging me as she helped my doctor prepare. It seemed like there were so many people in the room. It didn't take long to prep me. Before I knew it, the anestesiologist was looming over me and I felt myself fade away.

Waking up from surgery is one of the worst feelings, physicially. My first thought was how thirsty I felt. My mouth was so dry and my throat was so raw from being intubated. I could feel the pain in my stomach from the c-section. And suddenly I felt the need to cough, my throat itchy from having a tube shoved down it during the surgery. It was agonizing to cough. I don't remember a whole lot that was said around me, but I know Daniele was there. They were trying to get another IV in my arm because I had lost a lot of blood during my c-section. I needed a plasma transfusion. Because I have MTHFR and Factor II clotting disorders, I'd been on Lovenox blood thinning shots for my entire pregnancy. This was the reason for my bleeding issue during surgery. It was supposed to take 20 minutes, but ended up taking an hour and a half. It's weird to think I was in any kind of danger. I'm glad I had no idea about it until it was over.

I was then wheeled back into my room. Mine and Daniel's families were in there waiting for me. I barely recall seeing them. I remember balloons. I was trying so hard to stay awake but it was difficult. Everyone left to let me sleep off what I'd just been through. That's good, because I probably would've been embarrassed to have them all there looking at me!

While I slept, Jude was being stablized in the NICU. He did not need any ventilator for his breathing. He was breathing on his own! All he needed was a little bit of oxygen, just 35%. The rest he was getting by himself. They gave him a dose of surfactant to further help his lungs. The steroid shots I received the week before were a miracle. They were probably the reason Jude was breathing so well so soon. They also put in an IV for nutrients and antibiotics and a tube down into his stomach to drain any air or leftover fluid. He was also of course hooked up to monitor his heart rate, oxygen level, and respirations. When all of this was finally done, and Jude was safe and well, he was allowed to have a little meet and greet with our families. Daniel was the only one who really got to see him after he was born. One of the nurses let him kind of hold Jude for a few seconds before he'd been whisked off to the NICU.

I knew beforehand that I'd be the last to meet our son, but I was okay with that. I mean, I wasn't thrilled by it, but I didn't want everyone else to have to wait. I wanted them to be able to meet this precious little one that they have been waiting for and praying for too.

It wasn't until 1:30am August 1st, 13 hours after he was born, that I finally got to see our baby boy. I spent the day in so much pain. And it was agony to get out of my bed and into the wheelchair but somehow I did it.

I was beyond thrilled to see Jude. But to be honest, the moment was not what I expected. From my point of view in the wheelchair, it was hard to really get a good look at Jude. I was in so much pain, it was hard to sit there and enjoy anything. Plus, I was falling asleep and struggling to stay awake. Then, to add to it, a phlebotomist came in while I was visiting my son for the first time to draw blood from me. Could it not wait a few minutes?? So I do feel like that moment was kind of ruined by a lot of different factors. But nonetheless, it was still a dream come true to have a living, breathing baby that belonged to me.

I finally got my moment the following day (actually just much later that same day) when I got to hold Jude for the first time.

He was now in his incubator, what they call an Isolette, looking much better. I'd still been battling the sadness of no longer being pregnant. It was hard to feel like Jude was here when I was spending all my time in pain in a hospital room and he was not with me. But it changed so much, when I got him in my arms.

And I cried. I cried because I felt so much love. Because I have waited for this for so long. And because I lost this with Avery. Yes, I got to hold her, but it wasn't the same. She was already gone. But Jude is very much here and well. To feel his warmth and movement. To hear his breath and his sounds. To see his eyes. It's amazing and it's beautiful. He's beautiful.

I spent the next few days in the hospital, finally leaving on Wednesday, August 3rd. I still feel sentimental about deflated belly, missing feeling Jude and how big he made me. I've got lots of physical bruises and a new abdominal scar, but my heart is also feeling more whole. I haven't felt happiness like this since I was pregnant with Avery and knew nothing but bliss. It is hard leaving Jude in the NICU and not having him with me, but he still brings so much joy, and I know he will come home with us.

Thank You, Lord, for bringing our precious boy here safely!

Whatever it takes

I am currently 7 weeks and 2 days pregnant with this precious Rainbow Baby. I've already had three doctor appointments. On Thursday, I met with my hematologist. He told me that it's not the MTHFR that he's worried about, but my Factor II clotting mutation. He put me on daily shots of Lovenox to remedy that. Lovenox will target the clotting system in my body. That sounds pretty good to me. My next two appointments with him are already set up so he can monitor my blood.

I've been having Daniel give me my daily injections. I've only done it for five days so far, and let me tell you, I really hate it. I'm not a baby when it comes to pain. In fact, I believe I actually have a high tolerance. It's not even the needle going into my stomach, it's the medicine that stings so badly. I have a huge bruise on my stomach from the needles. I actually start getting nauseous right before it's time for my shot because I get so nervous about it. I'm surprised how much I dislike it, really. But... regardless of how much I hate the pain, I will do that and anything else I have to for this baby. I'd give a limb to save this baby's life. I am already in love with this little one. He or she is only the size of a raspberry, but I am already head over heels. I'll continue to do whatever I have to. Gladly.

Friday, I had my first actual OB appointment. My official due date is October 2, 2011. I was shocked to see that I was 2 pounds more on the 11th than I was on the 1st. With Avery, I stayed the same weight for a while, then I lost a pound, then the week of her death I had lost 3 more. I'm not the tiniest to begin with, but I didn't think losing weight more than halfway through my pregnancy was a good sign. I'd like to think that gaining 2 pounds already with baby #2 is a sign that things are going better this time. I have more of an appetite (when I'm not feeling nauseous) and my nausea even started a whole week earlier this time. Maybe that means this baby is thriving more and demanding more of me. That sounds good to me.

I feel like my caretakers are doing everything they can right now to prevent the same outcome with this baby. I really like being able to see their concern and their attention. I already have an appointment on the 25th to meet with a Perinatologist. My doctor's office set that up for me on their own. I'll also be getting ultrasounds once a month and I'll continue to go in for blood work.

Even though all is going well, I still have worries. Especially when I hear of others in my boat having miscarriages. It's so hard not to worry as I think about them and pray for them. But I just have to remember that worrying will not change anything. This is all in God's hands and all I have to do is take care of myself and love this baby. I'll do whatever it takes.

Rainbow

Rainbow baby: (n) A baby that comes after a loss; the rainbow after the storm.

Our Rainbow is finally on his or her way! Nine long cycles, hoping and waiting. Frustration and dismay. Missing the baby that is supposed to be here. It definitely has been a storm this past year. But God has painted a rainbow in our sky. There is still thunder grumbling in the distance, and a steady drizzle that won't subside. But ever since we have found out another little one is on the way, my heart has felt much lighter.

A quick recap for readers that may not know me already, as this is a new blog. We lost our daughter, Avery Nicole at 25 weeks gestation. She was stillborn on March 13, 2010. Many blood tests later, we have found that I have MTHFR and Factor II blood clotting disorders. These are what took her life. Because Avery died, our Rainbow has a chance at life. We know what precautions have to be made. Avery is a little hero. Unfortunately, nothing is ever certain, but we have our hope and our trust in God.

I am choosing to feel excited and happy about our new baby. I know I will have times of weakness and fear. Loss is all I know. But worrying and entertaining problems will not help my baby. I am aware of the chance but I have to believe the best. I have to believe that we will hold this baby in our arms in October and he or she will look back up at us. We will hear this baby cry. We will take this baby home. I have to believe that.