2013

This year was much different. It was probably the most healing year I've experienced since Avery died. Life was relatively normal this year. Of course, it wasn't without conflict, but it wasn't fraught with profoundly earth-shattering circumstances to hurl us off course like previous years. I struggled horribly with my anxiety in the first few months and it wasn't until my writing took off that I felt some relief from that.

Possibly the most thrilling and notable detail of this year would have to be my novel. I can't stress enough how writing has saved me. I was becoming a shell of the person I'd been, so full of fear and sadness. I was constantly worrying about something, convinced that demise was certain at any moment. Writing gave me a reprieve, new thoughts to dwell on, something to be excited about. My characters became special to me and their fictional world my refuge. It might sound crazy to those who don't write, or to those who haven't experienced emotional turmoil. But this was the change I needed. 

Sure, I still have my occasional setbacks and I still have bouts of anxiety and worry, but I am no longer paralyzed by the darkness that was consuming me. My monthly doctor appointments don't grip me with fear any longer. I've learned to contain my thoughts better. 

The struggle I do still deal with is the insatiable desire for more children. As Jude gets older, it only gets worse. He is growing up alone, not even with any cousins, and I long for him to share life with someone like him. I grew up with three brothers who, to this day, remain my very best friends. It hurts that Jude won't know that bond. I find myself still holding onto hope that someday surrogacy will be possible, because that's all I have. I'm not sure what plans God has, but hope is greater than despair. 

New babies are still painful to me. Pregnant women still have me turning my head the other way. It still hurts very much and it's so difficult to be stuck in this place where everyone else around me can move along in their life while I cannot. 

I turned the big 30 this year, which I'm still in disbelief of. I don't think 30 is old, I just can't believe that I'm here already and that time has gone so quickly. Jude turned two in July and that is crazy to me as well. Didn't we just bring him home? 

We lost Bailey this year, but I was surprised to find how quickly I was able to get past it. I guess after losing my own daughter and my grandfather, the loss of a pet wasn't quite the crisis I'd imagined it would be.

Daniel left his CNA job at the health and rehab center and now works at a hospital. He's so much happier and I love that. Lately he's been caring for an elderly man in his home a few days a week and that has definitely helped us out financially. Less stress is nice! Next week, Daniel will begin nursing school to get his RN. I know that will open up so many more opportunities for him and a better life for us a family. 

I pray 2014 is gentle and kind. I pray I can continue on this better path. I look forward to watching my precious boy grow and learn. I will be finishing my book soon and will be publishing it in the coming months. I am very excited about that! 

Where have I been?

I'll tell you where...

I've been on the computer lots and lots in my spare time, but not for blogging. I mentioned a couple posts ago that I have been writing, to say the least.

I am currently on chapter 17 of my novel. It takes up all my free hours of the night, after Jude goes to bed. Most nights I stay up much too late as the words just flow and the story comes to me. I am loving every bit of this.

After I finish my book, and revise and edit a million times of course, I will be self-publishing it. I am very excited, but also a bit nervous. My book is very special to me. I'm almost certain it's freed me from my debilitating anxiety (not all gone, but I am much more myself now, instead of that psychotic other). I've fallen in love with my characters, and I feel that it is a slightly unique storyline. So, I do worry that people won't like it. It's fine if they don't, I guess... I just worry they'll let me know! I'm not sure I can handle that. But my desire to put it in the hands of people who will enjoy it and fall in love with it far outweighs the fears. Plus, it would be amazing to hold a physical copy of my book in my hands. Dream come true, for sure.

So, that's where I have been. I don't like that I never posted Jude's birthday. He had such a great party and we really enjoyed his day together. Maybe sometime this week I will do a few photo posts to catch up on everything. Not that anyone is pining for it, but because it's nice to look back on these precious times.

Writing therapy

As I've mentioned very recently, I have been struggling a lot with my anxiety and have even questioned if I've also been on the verge of depression. It's been an extremely dark and difficult few months, as I had not been able to shake any of these debilitating feelings. 

I always loved to write. Not just blogging or journaling, which I've always enjoyed and liked keeping up with. But fiction. I've always been a reader and I developed an interest in creating my own stories when I was very young. It had been a while since I'd really written anything of merit until about April, when an idea came to me and I ran with it. I'd missed creative writing and bringing characters to life. Creating people that readers fall in love with and care about. I wanted to write the kind of story I would want to read. Something that stays with you long after you put it down. Something that can bring you to tears. Something special and emotional, like the novels John Green writes. 

And so it is, that I am on chapter 11 of my first real substantial novel. Some days it's all I can think about. Because I've invested myself in this story, I have not been focusing on the troubles in my life that ail me. I find joy in the reactions of those closest to me that I have been sharing my pages with. I am moving them with my story and I love that. I thrive on it. It's been making me so happy lately and I haven't felt this good in months. I'm falling in love with characters that don't even exist, and bringing them to life, giving them a story. I love it. 

I'm not sure what will come of my novel. I've been looking into publishing it independently, even as just an e-book. If I'm being honest, I think it's just as good as books out there, and better than a lot I've read. Maybe I'm biased. ;) But I think it could be something... and a lot of people could enjoy it. 

Regardless of what it becomes, I'm grateful to have something I can feel good about, an outlet that I can enjoy. Something that makes me feel happy and helps me forget the things that bring me down. I'm grateful for the gift of creativity. 

Right where I am 2013: three years, three months, eight days

Just like the past two years, Angie at Still Life with Circles, has encouraged us all to share right where we are at this moment in our grief.  My post from last year can be found here.

So, where do I stand in this up and down journey on this rugged terrain of grief? My grief has changed shape and size in the past three years, as life takes me down more paths that intertwine with this same road that I've trudged along. Right now, I am stuck. That's the only way I know how to describe it. Losing my daughter, Avery, three years ago at 25 weeks caused a ripple affect that has not seemed to cease. It's brought about so many other circumstances that I was never prepared to face, and now, I still face them everyday.

My son, my Rainbow Baby, will be two years old next month. As he gets older, my insatiable desire for more children gets stronger. Because of the unpredictable nature of my high risk pregnancies, I have been strongly advised to never attempt another pregnancy again. This has been a struggle that I still have never been able to accept. Right now, I am watching everyone who was pregnant with their Rainbows along with me become pregnant once again. Their bodies no longer fail them. They've seemed to be able to remedy what caused them to have their losses. But not me. Even those who have the exact blood clotting disorders I do have gone on to have healthy, full term pregnancies, and are having third babies now as well. My premature Rainbow was nearly lost as well, my body barely responding to what was supposed to fix it. All of this leaves me with so much anger. I don't understand why my body was not made for the one thing my heart has always longed for. I am grateful for my precious Jude, but I never wanted him to be alone.

When I had Jude by emergency c-section while on blood thinners, it caused me to develop blood clots in my lungs. I was hospitalized for his last week in the NICU, and it was one of the most traumatic experiences I've ever endured. I thought I would be over it by now, but it still haunts me. I have been left with a ridiculous struggle with anxiety. Because of the clots nearly two years ago, I am on coumadin and have to get my blood checked once a month (PT/INR). My anxiety has turned these routine finger pricks into horrifying moments to dread all month long. As they get closer, I am filled with fear. I know there is nothing to really worry about, but I cannot shake the feeling of dread over it. Things that never would have bothered me before have my stomach in knots now. I worry that I could lose my husband. I worry that my son could get cancer (ever since his febrile seizure seven months ago). I think about things no one should dwell on. I rob my life of the joy I should have by marring it with the fear of what isn't. I truly cannot control this and sometimes it consumes me.

Right now, I long for another daughter. I so badly want to be able to raise a little girl. I eat my heart out at the store, glancing over the sweet pinks and frilliness of the baby girls' section, knowing that the only baby girl clothes I'll ever buy are in a box in the top of my closet, purchased for a sweet girl that never made it home. I long for the little sandals and the dresses. The dolls and the bows. I love having a son, but I want a daughter again too. I was supposed to have that. I feel like there will forever be a gaping hole in my heart without a daughter to watch grow up. I'll never see my little girl as a bride. Never share girly heart to hearts or give mother-daughter advice. There's so much I can't have and I am dreadfully aware of that. I wish I didn't want it so badly, but I do.

I have a hard time with people who question my situation, just shrugging it off like I could just go to a specialist if I want another baby. They don't understand how serious it is. I almost died twice having my son. He almost died. My daughter did die. Since there are no guarantees at all when it comes to pregnancy for me, how could anyone think I should try going against the advice of more than one doctor? Then people nonchalantly suggest adoption, as if I've never heard of it before. That is not something that we can afford. And my heart aches for my child, so adoption does not heal what is broken. My dream is surrogacy, if that is even possible one day. If someone is truly selfless enough to give us the greatest gift imaginable. It's a huge deal. And very unlikely, but even so, I still keep a mental log of my favorite names... just in case.

I am convinced that if what happened to Avery was the end of our losses, that I would be a much better version of myself now. I grasp onto my loss more tightly than I would if we hadn't lost our future children as well. When I was pregnant with Jude, and everything was going perfectly, I felt at peace. I thought of her lovingly, without so much pain attached to her memory. I felt like I could survive and move past it, always carrying her close but never letting her death define me. But as soon as things went badly with Jude, and I lost all of his future siblings, a dark cloud moved in and it's hovered over me ever since. I'm stuck in the mud. I'm standing still while everyone moves on... But at least I'm standing.

Anxiety lives here now

It's been over a month now since I've blogged. In my last post, I talked about my returning anxiety and how it had been worse than ever. I talked about how I hoped it would go away. But the truth is, it hasn't.

I have anxiety almost daily now. More often than not, I live in fear. Jude gets a heat rash and I worry and obsess that it's something worse (ruined my Mother's Day over that one). I see a fictional male character on a TV show that has cancer and I get worried that Daniel could have cancer. I see a child on Instagram who died of cancer and I worry that Jude could get cancer and die. I worry that he could get meningitis and die. I worry that he could have another febrile seizure. I just worry that he could die. (I still make sure he's breathing when he sleeps.) I get a headache and think about brain aneurysms. I live in dread of my monthly blood check appointments. I worry that my blood pressure will be high (so then it is). I worry they will find something wrong and make me go to the hospital. I worry they will charge me too much money when I already can't afford it. I get a pain in my stomach and I worry that my medication is making me bleed internally. I get a pain in my leg and think about clots, which is the exact opposite of the previous thoughts. I find myself just waiting for one of those sudden gasp moments when something awful occurs. Why do I let my mind dwell on these awful things? I hate what I have become. I really can't live like this.

I'm so desperate for peace at this point, that I'm willing to look into medication for my anxiety. A phlebotomist at the doctor's office recommended the medication she takes so I looked it up and found that people who take blood thinners shouldn't take it. Great. I wonder if this is the case with all or most medications. I really hope not. Someone also recently told me that vitamin K is a good natural supplement for anxiety... and vitamin K is exactly what I cannot have also because of my blood thinners. It counteracts it. I guess I have a lot of research to do before I fork out the money for another doctor to see me.

I have my monthly blood appointment in just three days and I am filled with dread. They are every 28 days but I feel like I am there so often. I feel like my life is consumed by this, by my medical health. It makes me feel like I'm unhealthy, even though I have no real reason to believe that. My medication prevents any possible clots from forming and my appointments make sure my dose isn't making my blood too thin or keeping it too thick. But my mind has a way of twisting that and turning it into something to fear and hate and dread. I cannot help it. My doctor is a hematologist at a cancer center so I go to a cancer center for my appointments. I sit with all of the cancer patients and I guess sometimes I feel like I'm as sick as they are. But I'm not! I am alive. I am well. I am not fighting for my life. I know that. But with any and every discomfort I ever feel, I worry. I worry that my heart is bad or that something is wrong. Why can't I just remember always that I am young and healthy and that my medication is keeping me even healthier and safer so I shouldn't worry?

I also wonder if I have depression as well as anxiety. Sometimes I just cannot handle my life. I am not exaggerating when I say that I come across a new pregnancy announcement every day. Lately, it has sure been that way. And I can't take it. It makes me angry. It makes me sad. It makes me hate myself. I despise this path I am on. I hate what God has allowed for me.

I don't want to adopt. It doesn't solve any of this. Surrogacy is so extreme and so difficult. I'm not even sure if that's possible for us. And it sure as hell is not the same as being able to carry and birth my own baby. Can I really allow someone else to carry my child? To share all of those beautiful full-term things I lost with both of my babies? I'll do what I have to, I guess. I just don't want Jude to be it. I want to experience these sweet things again. Baby things. I want my baby girl I was supposed to have. Or another baby boy. I don't care. Just someone alive. Someone healthy. Someone mine.

Even if you remove all of these emotional issues I have, I'm still so insecure, it's ridiculous. That's always been a struggle of mine, but through all of this, I think it's been magnified. I'm always pulling at my clothes, worried about how they are accentuating what I hate most about my body. I can't just enjoy being with people without worrying what I look like. I've never liked my body and I have never felt good about myself. That's just the truth.

I apologize for this being such a dark and ugly post. But it's what's real and it's what my life is right now. I feel like a failure for allowing this darkness to take a hold of me. If I could help it, surely, I would. I pray I can come away from this, medicated or not. I just want to live. I want to feel joy. I want to enjoy my family and what I do have. I want to be foolishly optimistic. I want to be unrealistically happy. I just want my life back.

Anxiety Returns

I believed I was all better. I hadn't felt paranoid or anxious in a few months. Not since Jude's seizure, really. It all began last Friday, when Daniel and I were out celebrating our seventh dating anniversary. It was one stupid thing after another, all strung together to pull down my happy mood.

I'm also struggling with all these pregnancy announcements, that seem to be pouring in daily. BLMs and non-BLMs. I think almost everyone who was also pregnant while I was pregnant with Jude is already having another one. I know if I had the choice, I wouldn't be ready to make Jude a big brother for probably another year, but just watching everyone else have their own choice and the ability to add another baby to their family has awakened a fierce ache. It feels a lot like the ache I had when Avery was gone and I was watching everyone else have their healthy living babies. Just so happens, last weekend, another announcement struck me at a vulnerable moment and I fell apart.

I felt so angry at God. In my head, I yelled at Him, asking Him why He chose this for me. And even if He didn't choose this plan for my life, how could He allow it while I had such a desire for the opposite? Why would He allow this desire to anchor so deeply since childhood? Then, inevitably, the guilt over my anger, mixed with the pain, and just made for a really down evening. It also set the stage for what was to come over the week.

Oddly enough, just like last April, my period decided to be late. Three days this time. I was supposed to get it Saturday, so when Tuesday rolled around, and it still hadn't come, I was panicking. The same thoughts from last year surfaced. The possibility of losing another baby or losing my life trying to get that baby here plagued me constantly. These situations are so painful for me, like being kicked right in the face. It's insulting to pray away what you wish so badly you could have. You are forced to not want what you really do want.

Daniel couldn't take it anymore and went out and bought me a pregnancy test. I never thought I'd have to take one ever again. I was so scared of what it would say. I felt like I was about to find out if I would live or die as I watched the test. When it came up with just one line instead of two, I burst into tears, clutching Daniel so tightly. I was so relieved that no one would be dying... but I was all over again, so upset that this is my reality. That I live a life like this where I'm denied so much of what I dreamed of... and having it anyway, could literally kill me... or innocent babies.

I thought things would be looking up after that. But I guess all of the anxiety and the fears came to head on Wednesday. That night, right before Daniel had to leave for work, I started having an anxiety attack. I was having hot flushes and nausea. It was coming in waves. Finally, being alone and fearing I should go to the hospital, I called my mom. I felt bad waking her, but she was exactly what I needed, especially since Daniel was at work. She knew I'd been under a lot of emotional stress lately and felt that my symptoms came from that. I hoped she was right. After all, some of my biggest fears involve my health and ending up back in the hospital like I was for my clots. But thank God, after talking to my mom for a while, my symptoms started to fade. She calmed me enough to distract me and the symptoms stopped completely.

I was so relieved that it was all in my head. I looked up the symptoms of anxiety attacks and I had almost all of them. Wow. It's never gotten that bad before. I spent the next day with my brothers and parents and I felt much better getting out of the house. There were a couple anxious moments over the weekend, but somehow I managed.

Today, I finally feel more like myself. I'm a bit disappointed that I have allowed myself to get that low again, to where I let my emotions make me physically ill. I'm aware that I can't help it, but I wish I was stronger. Some people suggest taking medication for my anxiety, but I would much rather not, if I can help it. I'm not against it and I believe it can be extremely necessary for people. But I would really like to try getting through this without it.

I really don't want to live this way. I don't want the joy of others to bring me so much pain. It makes me feel ugly. While I never wish any ill will toward them, it still makes me feel bad about myself that I don't know how to separate their happiness from my misfortune. I wish their blessings didn't trigger the inevitable reflecting of myself. I just want to be happy and enjoy what I do have, without being so reluctant. I don't want to compare myself to everyone else and feel so deprived. I pray it's something that will fade over time.

I'm hoping and praying that things get better from here and that the anxiety stays away!

Torn

I ran into two different things today that made me question blogging altogether. I am actually torn over whether or not to continue doing so, despite the fact that it's been something I enjoy and something that has been very beneficial to me emotionally.

On Instagram, a mother of three, who is a gifted and inspiring author and blogger, was berated by a very rude person, who ridiculed her for giving her children no privacy and claimed that she was exploiting them and her life and was openly boycotting her. All of the mother's followers defended her and stuck by her side but the words were still said and I'm sure they bothered her to some degree. I don't think she has done anything wrong or has disrespected her children by sharing her life (with them included) on her popular blog. But someone else did. And reading her comment and the comments in response to it made me feel like I couldn't breathe. How would I be able to handle something like that if it was directed at me?! Where do you draw the line on over sharing anyway?

The second thing I happened to run into today was an article from a mom blogger who found that a photo of her children was taken from her blog and altered in a way that made it disturbingly vulgar. She warned readers of the creeps that linger online and reminded fellow bloggers to be extra careful. But how careful can you be?

I post many photos of Jude on my blog and of course there are a sacred few of Avery that are very sensitive in nature. Can these photos fall into the wrong hands? Is there anyone out there that can hurt us with our own photos? I don't post anything questionable, like nude bath photos so does that keep my blog safe? Does anyone even read it anyway? And if no one really reads it, what's the point of putting us out there for disgusting people to defile? I've had my concerns about this before. Maybe I was right in that all along.

There is a part of me that feels like I'm slowly cutting myself off from the world. I don't really have many friends anymore. It's been ten months since I have regularly used Facebook. My Instagram account is private and I am picky about who I allow to follow me. (So what makes my blog so different? Photos that are kept private on my Instagram are posted freely on this blog for anyone in the world to see.) I've always been creative and enjoyed expressing myself. If I stop doing that, what would happen? Nothing. Probably nothing. I think I would just miss it.

But I wouldn't miss the worrying. I wouldn't miss being nervous that I said too much or that I would insult someone who didn't understand my grief-induced ranting. I don't feel like I have made a difference with my writing and my sharing. I haven't helped anyone. So maybe all I'm doing is leaving the door open to any creep who could gawk at my family. It's sad that the world is so ugly. It's pathetic that these things are even an issue.

So I'm not sure what I will do in the future. If I do continue, I just may not share so many photos. I can always write offline where I know my words are safe. And so is my family.

Blog thoughts

I've been thinking about my blog a bit lately. It doesn't appear to have too much of a following and usually I'm torn on how I feel about that.

To be quite honest, on the rare occasion that I get an email alerting me of a blog comment, my first reaction is nervousness. Sometimes I fear that someone doesn't like what I have said and has commented to ridicule me on my unpopular grief-induced opinions. This has thankfully never happened but I worry about it. In that way, I'm happy with my very small following, with much less of a chance that someone could attack me. I cannot handle confrontation. Another one of my anxieties. I don't share my blog link in my Instagram profile and I no longer use Facebook so I don't share each post there like I used to. I'm also a little afraid of putting my family out there. If you google image '31 weeks gestation,' Jude is the 19th photo (and the 46th). But when I google 'premature baby boy' Jude is the FIRST photo. It's a little scary to have my precious boy floating around in the cyber world. But I don't know how not to share my story.

On a brighter note, I'm proud of my blog and wish that more people could see it. From time to time, (like last night) I randomly redo my header and I enjoy the way it represents my family and me. With each layout that I come up with, I feel that my design improves. I enjoy being creative and making my ideas come to life in Photoshop. But even more than the aesthetics, I desire for the content to mean something to someone. I would love for others to read my writing and feel less alone. For something to strike a chord in someone's heart because they've read the exact description of what they couldn't put into words themselves. I would love to help people and to use my suffering for good. If I could be a guide for a newly bereaved parent or a comfort to a new preemie parent, or even help a non baby loss person better understand the needs of a bereaved loved one, it would make such a difference for me.

I guess sometimes I worry that Avery has made no impact. That her memory has dulled for the few that knew her here. It's been almost three years since she came and went. With each passing day, her image even in my mind fades a bit more. Without her photos to refresh me, she may be nearly lost by now, no matter how many times I memorized her face in that delivery room. These truths are heart shattering to a mother. For your child to leave no legacy is another loss in itself. But to be able to use that loss to better something or someone. To give purpose to something so devastating. To bring beauty out of such a wretched tragedy. To make beautiful things out of the dust... I've always wanted to do something meaningful. I desire for someone to need me the way I needed someone who knew how this felt when the days were raw with the newness of it all. To cling to a baby loss veteran who could be proof that I would, in fact, smile again.

Does this blog help anyone? Has it made a difference? I would like to think so, even if it was just one person for a fraction of a second. Just one resounding phrase that touched their heart. I love to write. I love to express my heart. I need to. This has been therapy for me these past nearly three years. Blogging was how I met so many amazing women that I never would have found otherwise. I'd be roaming the treacherous streets of this journey all alone.

I have ideas for this blog. I'm adding a 'resources' and 'how to help' page in my navigation section. The resources will point baby loss parents to different websites and organizations that can aid them on their path toward healing. The help page is the one that makes me nervous. I've been working on it, writing more as it comes to me. It's the inevitable 'what to say/what not to say' bit. The what does and doesn't help that I and so many I've met have agreed are true. Something I know I would appreciate if I was struggling to know how to be there for someone who'd lost a child, if it was something I couldn't relate to myself. I'm sure I'll be working on it for a little while, to be sure there's nothing that can rub someone the wrong way. Because as I've already established, I just can't handle that.

With all of the uselessness expressed, I'm glad I blog no matter what. I like that I can come on here and see a running log of our life and how Jude is growing and changing. I love editing and sharing my cherished photos. I enjoy pretending like my life is exciting and important to the world. I like keeping my little girl's memory alive by telling her story and sharing her life. I like having the potential to help people. Anything is possible.

2012 : Finding peace

We started out the year hopeful that it would finally be a calm and normal one. We craved an eventless year. Needless to say, 2010 ravaged and destroyed us to the core. 2011 was definitely better, but still pulled the rug out from under our feet and knocked the wind out of us. 2012 was both good and bad. Joyful and agonizing. That's life, though, isn't it? The bitter sweetness. The constant conflict of happy and sad.

January

Jude turned a whole six months old this month. Four months adjusted, sweet thing. My biggest memory from this month is when Jude had solid food for the very first time. Homemade banana purée. I was excited to see him try something new but so sad watching my baby grow up so quickly.

This month my grandpa celebrated his 80th birthday. (We didn't know it was his last.)

February

This month was tragic. I never blogged about what happened. I meant to but it just seemed at the time that there was no way to put it into words. Our family's pastor and dear family friend lost his 20 year old daughter, Hannah. A gun went off by accident, striking her in the head. She was in a coma for several days. Despite incessant prayers from literally around the world, beautiful Hannah, who we watched grow up, went to be with Jesus. It really shook my faith. I couldn't understand why God didn't save her. I couldn't believe He could allow that to happen to her precious family. Hannah was so young, so innocent. I still think about her all the time. I still ache for her parents and her little sister.

I've since stopped being angry at God for taking Hannah, just like I eventually had to stop blaming Him for Avery's death. I don't believe God does these awful things to us. No doubt, He is aware they will happen beforehand. But no one is exempt from the perils of this fallen world. God knew Hannah would die. He didn't like it. But He will make sure her legacy changes the world. He'll make sure her death was not in vain. He'll make sure souls are saved and hearts and lives are changed because of her. He'll use tragedy to bring about victory. In one way or another, He will and He has.

Also in February, my parents took my family and my brothers away to Tennessee, as they'd been planning for weeks. It was exciting to go away and get a break from everyday life. To take Jude somewhere fun and make some memories with him. At just 6.5 months old, Jude saw snow fall. It took me 28 years to see it!! It was definitely a sight for us Florida folk. We enjoyed our time there as a little family.

March

We celebrated (if you can call it that?) Avery's 2nd birthday in Heaven on the 13th. We released balloons at the cemetery and decorated her grave just like last year. It was surreal and bittersweet to have Jude there for it. For Avery's first birthday, I was 11 weeks pregnant with him, so unsure of whether he would make it here alive. But Jude was able to release a balloon for his big sister this time. I'm sure he had no idea he let go of the string, much less that he was even holding it, but it was still a touching sight for me.

In March, Jude also got his first two teeth and tried a sippy cup for the first time. ;)

April

Jude was sick for the very first time. He was put on nebulizer treatments but was better so quickly. It took him 9 whole months to catch anything! That's pretty good, I think. We're still weird (or just paranoid preemie parents?) and sanitize everything out in public, like restaurant tables and high chairs, shopping carts, etc. I guess it's paid off!

I stopped using Facebook. Yup. Life is so much better. My anxiety, sadly, just cannot take it.

This month, Jude also fell in love with swimming in the pool, usually with my dad. I loved watching him splash and enjoy the water.

April 14th marked six years since Daniel and I started dating. ;)

May

Daniel turned 25.

My grandparents celebrated their 61st wedding anniversary.

Jude had a follow up eye appointment (last one was when he was 5 weeks old). He was perfect, even when they put drops in to dilate his eyes! His eyes were still perfectly healthy. (The reason for his eye appointments was because preemies can suffer eyesight damage from receiving oxygen.)

June

June 1st marked TEN years since I graduated high school Yikes!! Where has the time gone?!

Daniel and I had the honor of photographing my cousin, Jason's wedding. I was very happy with how the photos turned out. It was a lovely day!

We experienced our first ever tornado while at my parents' house one weekend. We all actually had to cram into the bathroom to take cover. It was so loud but was over so quickly. The damage was pretty bad. Trees broken, screen, ripped, roof damaged, glass broken, cars dented... It was crazy!

Avery would have been two at the end of this month had she not passed away. I'll always think of that as my would-be due date of June 22nd comes and goes.

June 30th marked five years since Daniel and I got engaged. ;)

July

Jude experienced his first 4th of July and saw fireworks. We weren't sure how he'd react, but he loved them! We found it a little sad that this holiday was Jude's last 'first.' It goes so quickly!

Daniel and I took Jude to visit the NICU where he stayed for almost five weeks. All the nurses remembered him and were so excited to see him. It was so neat to be back there and to look at the isolette where Jude spent his first few weeks of life. We're so blessed that he's so healthy!

We went away to the beach over night with my parents and brothers. It was Jude's very first time at the beach. He enjoyed the sand and he even liked the Gulf! It was amazing to watch him experience it all for the first time. I love it so much!

This month, Jude started crawling and pulling himself up to stand. He's always a little late with his milestones but as a preemie, it's expected. I know he's smart and that he's just growing and learning at his own pace!

We had Jude's 1st birthday party on the 28th. It was a photo theme, (surprise, surprise!) "One Year Old in a Flash." The colors were aqua and red. My mom and I worked really hard to put it together. It was so much fun and I think it came out great! Jude had such a great time, and a lot of people showed. It was so lovely that my grandparents were able to make it. It was the first and last time my grandpa has ever been to my house (We've lived in three different houses since we've been married and my grandpa didn't get around well). I'm so glad he came. So special.

Thanks to my grandparents' generous birthday gift, we were able to finally buy Jude a 'big boy' car seat and get him out of his infant car seat at a year old!

On July 31st, our sweet boy turned one! His first year went so quickly but was beautiful nonetheless. I spent a lot of it feeling extremely happy but reluctant for time to pass and for Jude to grow up. It was a struggle for much of the year, actually.

August

I think this month was the peak of my anxiety issues. I spent so much of the year, since my blood clots the previous August, battling paranoia and fear over my health. Any twinge of anything sent my mind racing, thinking I was forming a clot or even the opposite extreme... that my Coumadin was causing me to bleed internally. It was ridiculous! I felt like a slave to fear and it was no way to live. I hated it so much. I even started getting anxiety attacks at my monthly blood checks (INR). The one this particular month had my pulse at 127 bpm. The nurses didn't understand my anxiety and started throwing around heart conditions. That did NOT help my fear and got me worrying I had heart problems for a while. I seriously contemplated trying to get on medication for my anxiety. I've since calmed down a lot, but if I'm being honest, would probably still benefit from taking something. :/

September

The 1st marked an entire year since Jude graduated from the NICU. Unfortunately, this day, my grandpa was also admitted to the hospital for congestive heart failure. He never came home. On September 6, my Poppop passed away. It was (and still is) a huge devastation to my family. I still can't believe it sometimes. Aside from Avery, he's the first close family member I've lost. I miss him so much. It's not the same without him here.

Daniel left his CNA job to help take care of my grandma.

Jude stood on his own, got his first diaper rash, got his first fever, moved up to a size 4 diaper, and started waving this month.

October

Daniel and I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary. How has it only been 4 years? I feel like we've lived a lifetime together!

Daniel went back to his old CNA job. He made plans to go back to college and eventually become an RN.

I turned 29! Again, where are these years going??

Jude was Superman (sort of) for Halloween.

November

On the 12th, Jude had a febrile seizure, which was absolutely horrifying. We were visiting Poppop's grave and it just happened. An ambulance came and Jude spent several hours in the ER. He was perfectly fine and bouncing around like normal by the time we left. I was very scarred for a while after that. At Jude's follow up appointment with his doctor, a blood retest was ordered. The results came back elevated in some areas that concerned the doctor. He wanted Jude retested in two weeks to make sure the levels returned to normal. I worried so badly and was extremely fearful for those two weeks. I cried a lot, so afraid something was wrong with my baby boy. It was the longest two weeks of my life. But thank God, after his retest, his results came back perfectly normal. And that changed a lot of things for me. It helped me finally feel content with just one living child. (I'd still change it if I could.) I stopped dreading Jude growing so quickly. It just helped me heal a lot so I could just live in the now and enjoy my little boy without so much reluctance and wishing.

I saw my doctor for the first time in nine or so months (I usually just see nurses at my monthly visits. I only see the doctor once or twice a year now.) Speaking to him eased so many of my fears and he reminded me how safe I am on my blood thinners. I was so grateful to be able to shed so much of that worry I was carrying around for no reason.

Jude started taking steps this month!

We celebrated Jude's 2nd Thanksgiving. He was teething, working on two molars, so he couldn't fully enjoy eating Thanksgiving dinner for the first time. Bummer!

December

It was so much fun seeing Jude enjoy the Christmas season this year. He loved seeing all the Christmas trees at Home Depot (that's where we Florida folk get our trees!) He loved seeing the lights on our house. He loved the lit up Christmas tree with all the pretty ornaments in our house. He loved our nativity scene and always wanted to hold baby Jesus.

My favorite thing during the season was when we took Jude to the zoo to see Santa and all the lights. He loved it so much! I can't wait to go again next year!

Christmas was so special with Jude. He understood a little better this year.

Jude got a little better at learning to walk. He finished out the year with seven being his record number of steps before falling. ;)

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And that was our 2012. More for my documentation than anyone's enjoyment, I'm sure! My little journal to Jude is much more detailed with some tidbits written for just about every single day. I couldn't bear to stop documenting his days when his first year calendar ended in July, so I kept going, writing it down in a journal. I love keeping track of all his amazing sweetness. I'm sure my above recollection of the year is proof of my notorious sentimentality. I have always been this way, but losing a child and only having the chance to enjoy one child makes it even stronger.

2012 was both wonderful and hard. We always struggle with money. We struggle with our absent child. We struggle with peace. We struggle with the new losses we've acquired this year. This year, I believe we healed the most over our personal struggles. I did lose my grandfather, but besides the pain of that, I'm learning to live with the pains I've been dealing with since Avery died. The pains since I found we couldn't have any more babies. I've found so much more peace in my heart, even while acquiring more hurt. It's a different kind of pain, losing a grandparent. It's inevitable. Never easy, never wanted. Not a day goes by where I don't think about him...

But I thank God for the gift of peace this year. I so greatly desire to enjoy my life and the blessings we do have. I want to dwell on the good and not the bad. I don't want to forget Avery (it's not possible), but I want to feel joy over her life, not just the grief over her death. I will always miss her and grieve her, but I can't live in that devastation anymore. I have to piece it back together for Jude. He won't carry that grief. He will know of his sister, but he didn't experience her loss. I need to be the best version of myself for my little boy. I can't very well do that if I'm still broken and still pining for what I've lost, past and future. He is enough and I can't ever let him question it.

I will still have my moments, my days, of when I fall back into those sad thoughts and bitter mindsets. Loss doesn't go away. But I can choose joy. And that's exactly what I'm doing for 2013. I pray it's our best year yet!

Fear and healing

I never dreamed fear could have a positive outcome. It has plagued me through so many seasons of my life in the past nearly three years. My fear has kept me from so much joy. It's caused anxiety, paranoia, and even hypochondria. But this time, my fear actually set me free.

How could that be? Fear is not from God. Perfect love drives out fear. (1 John 4:18) But in this case, I believe God used my greatest flaw -- my uncontrollable, sometimes paralyzing tendency to worry and fear -- to heal a very broken piece of my being.

This terrible, unnecessary fear set deep within me four days after Jude's seizure. He had a follow up appointment with his pediatrician two days after that horrific ordeal. Everything looked great, his ear infection had even cleared up already. Jude's doctor looked through the charts from the hospital and was not pleased with the practically inconclusive blood test results from the ER. They hadn't been able to get a good sample of Jude's blood so it clumped up a lot, throwing off some of the results. He wanted us to take Jude to get another complete blood count (CBC) just to be thorough. We did just that and I didn't think much of it because Jude seemed fine and it was just a precaution.

Two days after the test, Jude's doctor called me and told me that his levels were a bit off, some varying drastically since his ER lab results just two days prior. His platelets were low and so were his white blood cells. As soon as he mentioned white blood cells, my mind immediately shot to cancer. I felt so sick with worry. The doctor explained that he believed they were both low due to viral suppression from the high fever, seizure, and ear infection. He spoke to a hematologist, who happened to specialize in oncology, just to verify and she completely agreed with him but she wanted Jude to get retested in two weeks to make sure his levels returned to normal. Cue the longest, most fearful two weeks of my life (well... Since the 31 weeks I was pregnant with Jude).

Before hanging up with Jude's doctor that afternoon, he assured me it wasn't time to worry. He expressed his belief that it couldn't be due to any cancer (because you know I asked him about it!) but he confessed his concern. When I hung up, I was close to tears and felt no peace at all. There was no way I could refrain from worrying.

All day, I had a knot in my stomach and that night, after Jude went to bed, I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't help but imagine his next results being no better or even worse. What would it mean? What if something was horribly wrong inside his little body? What if the seizure was a gift from God, so we could find out something was wrong with him before it was too late? All of these morbid fears forced their way into my thoughts. My imagination reeled with sickening visions of losing my baby. I suddenly felt like I was no longer guaranteed a life with my son. I felt like all my mothering duties may be temporary. It was a sick and awful feeling and I tried so hard to push it all away. But over the two weeks, it kept rearing its ugly head.

During that time, Jude started cutting two molars and one incisor all at once. Before we realized this, Jude's appetite changed and he wasn't eating well. Of course, my fear caused me to think something was wrong with him, that he was getting sick from whatever horrific thing was brewing inside him. Noticing the swollen gums, I felt some relief but nearly everyday, Daniel had to convince me that Jude was okay for one reason or another.

For those two long weeks, I felt like I was holding my breath. I was dreading the day we'd have to take Jude back for more blood work. I was dreading the phone call that would proceed. I imagined how my stomach would drop when my phone would ring and I'd see Jude's doctor on my caller ID. I pictured our conversation going so many ways, but naturally, against my will, what I pictured always left me feeling sick to my stomach. But then there was another side of me that couldn't wait to get it all over with. I wanted to be able to really enjoy the Christmas season and I couldn't manage to really do that with all of the fearful unknown looming over my head.

Finally, the day came and went. I prayed so much everyday leading up to it that Jude was healthy and strong. And he is. I burst into tears of relief on the phone with Jude's doctor. He knows me well enough by now and was not surprised by my reaction.

I believed in my heart that Jude was fine but my fear kept telling me I was wrong. It kept whispering ugly lies and planting that seed of worry. It really ate a hole. It festered and tormented. It was so unbearable at times. I felt so weak. I was disappointed in myself for folding so easily. Like it didn't take much for me to fall apart. That I couldn't face the situation with faith and trust, boldly and gracefully holding my head high like a dignified woman of God. But after weighing all of the things I've suffered through concerning my children, I decided to give myself a break. It's okay to be scarred by what's happened to me. I need to be patient with myself. It will take time to live confidently and to shake that paranoia.

So how did all of this fear and obsessive worry actually benefit me? During all of the stress, I kept thinking to myself how hard it was to worry so much about one person. To have so much of my heart, life, and love invested in one person. If I had to worry so much about the well-being of just one person, how could I manage that much more worry for the well-being of even more? The way I started to see it, the more children you have, the higher the chance of something awful happening to one of them. And half of my children are already dead so the odds don't look so hot. Morbid "humor" aside, I think I've endured too much for my heart to handle worrying for so many lives. I carry enough concern for Jude.

The other way the fear helped was in how much I despised the way our normal life twisted into a huge fear fest. I desperately wanted to return to our normal days. I wanted our old life. I missed it. I missed my biggest problem being how I couldn't have all the kids I wanted to have. I decided I'd gladly take that problem over there being something wrong with Jude. I willingly surrender the dreams of my future children for Jude in all his perfection. I'd much rather have "just" him than the possibility of others.

For the first time since I found out I couldn't have any more children, I am content with it. I never thought I would say that. That is the healing the fear brought. It was the lesson it taught me. Jude is enough. He has always been enough but I always longed for more as well. Now, I'm okay. Of course I would have a few more children if things were different and I still wish that were so, but It's okay that I won't have Jonah or Uriah or Ezra (a new beautiful favorite). It feels amazing to accept that. I feel more whole than I have felt in a long time. If it was even possible to love Jude more than I already did, I do.

I feel like the wounds from the babies that were taken away (past and future) have finally stopped bleeding. I feel like I can live my life now. Like I can be happy. That I don't have to be defined by my grief or my suffering. Yes, I am a baby loss mom. Yes, I have two children. Yes, my daughter is in Heaven. But I cannot live in that devastation anymore. Life is beautiful. My family is beautiful. I have so much, despite what I've lost. I know the Glory of God and the love of a husband and son. With humbled and gracious tears in my eyes, I know full well that I am blessed.

 

 

 



A Break

I haven't been on Facebook in almost two months. I'd been noticing how bothered I would get almost on a daily basis, just by the things I would see and read. Yes, it is still very difficult for me to see other people having babies, because I know I can never be there again. It's very hard to watch some people take for granted what I ache for. And it's hard to watch some people complain about such trivial things. So, needless to say, I decided to walk away from what bothers me. I decided to step back from the world while I'm working on my heart and waiting for it to heal some. Oddly enough, I've noticed an improvement since I've taken the reprieve. It seems silly, that something as petty as Facebook could have such an effect, but somehow it does.

I really don't miss Facebook. I miss some of the people I kept in touch with, but I know there's always email. I really don't know if or when I'll return to it. I went on tonight for the first time just to make sure I didn't have any important messages from anyone that wasn't aware that I'm on a break. Nope. Nothing. But while I was there, I stupidly skimmed the news feed and I could feel some anxiety creeping in. It was more like an anticipatory anxiety, like I was just waiting to see something that would bother me. I logged out before that could happen, but my feelings completely confirmed my decision.

I wish I wasn't so abnormal. I wish I didn't always feel so alienated and easily bothered. I'm sure that's a normal stage that comes with the territory but it's very hard to try being "normal" that way. Regardless, at the end of the day, I need to guard my heart, and do what's best for me. Things are tough enough without subjecting myself to more grief. I'm sure I'll get better and things will get easier. Until then, I just need to work on me, let myself heal, and enjoy my sweet little family.

The scare

I never thought I'd live a life where there could ever be such a thing as a "pregnancy scare." I had always wanted to have several children, so I never imagined before this new reality that it would be something I'd have to reluctantly avoid. I would've welcomed any surprise pregnancy with excitement and happiness.

For "normal" people, a pregnancy scare is pretty much thinking you may be pregnant when you aren't ready to be for one reason or another. For me, it is truly a scare... a literal fear for my life. Daniel and I experienced this just a couple weeks ago.

I contemplated whether or not to share this, since it entails "TMI" personal elements like monthly cycles, but I feel it's a very important piece of my healing journey. So with that small disclaimer, I will continue...

Ever since Jude was born, my cycles have not returned completely to normal. A couples days off or so each month but relatively dependable. Nothing to make me question anything. This past month was different. I was four days late, compared to the previous month. And for those four days, I felt like my world was hanging by a small thread, waiting to be severed and come crashing down.

I'm not like a typical woman. As I've explained previously, I have been strongly medically advised not to have any more children. My body does not do well with my pregnancies. My body failed Avery, causing her stillbirth at 25 weeks. Four weeks later, the pregnancy had caused my gallbladder to go bad and I had to have surgery to have it removed. Then, as we all know, my body started failing Jude and he was born at 31 weeks via emergency c-section. I had a bad bleeding problem during the surgery since I'd been on Lovenox (blood thinner) and had to have a plasma transfusion. Another four weeks later, the surgery had caused pulmonary embolisms (blood clots in the lungs) that nearly took my life.

All of this plagued me in those four days... If I were to be pregnant again, I could lose another baby, or my body could have another catastrophic response to the pregnancy. There's no way of knowing what could go wrong during or afterwards. I'd most likely have to have another c-section so the bleeding would be an issue again. There is no way we could endure losing another baby, and after two near-death experiences after having Jude, I really could not put my family in the position to possibly lose me. Needless to say, I do not want to die either!

As I feared that the impossible had happened, I imagined writing letters to Jude, in case something happened to me, so he would have at least some part of his mother. So he could know me at least a little. I cried, just imagining that... and imagining losing another child. And since I'd most likely have another preemie, what if this one wasn't as strong as Jude was? What if things didn't go as well or he or she had to be born way too early? I couldn't help but worry about these terrible things.

As if those facts and possibilities were not enough, there was another fear I had to dwell on if it were true that I was pregnant. Because of my previous blood clots, I am now on coumadin indefinitely. Coumadin is highly dangerous to an unborn baby. My hematologist told me, above everything else, not to get pregnant because of the severe effects the drug can have on a baby. I was told that I would most likely miscarry or the baby would have birth defects. Definitely not good things at all. My mom did some research and there's about a 50/50 chance that the baby would either die or have defects... or be completely unaffected. Not a chance I'm comfortable taking.

During those four uncertain days, I assessed my life and the way things are. I have a sweet, hard-working husband and a healthy and amazing baby boy. He is the only living child that we will ever get to have and this has plagued and saddened me on a near-daily basis. But comparing this hardship with all of the fears of a potential doomed pregnancy really made me see things in a new light. It's crazy to say, but I think I needed that. I did not enjoy all the worrying, but I am grateful for the good it left behind. I wasn't ungrateful for my blessings, but I was too focused on the dreams I have lost. I didn't want to live that way, but I didn't know how to push it away, and not let it spoil the good in my life.

On the fourth day of all of this, I actually took a pregnancy test. I prayed so hard and begged God for my normal life... well normal to me, anyway. I so badly wanted to just go back to what Daniel and I have together and share my days with Jude and watch him grow. I did feel angry though that this was even happening. That I was taking a pregnancy test out of fear, praying away the one thing I wish for so badly. I would love to be pregnant again and have another baby. But being pregnant wouldn't just be a surprise that came too soon, like it is for most people. It would be a threat to my life and the life of the baby. Sometimes I am still dumbfounded that this is even possible. That it's my reality. And that's when I feel angry that I have to face it at all. It never occurred to me that there could be any scares since we are so careful and do not take this lightly. But now that it's happened and blown over, I do believe it's taught us a lot.

I feel more content with our life. I've been feeling happier. I notice such a difference in my day to day life since this happened. It wasn't easy to go through but I am glad it happened. Maybe it was a little gift in disguise from God, to help me get to where I need to be. My heart has needed a lot of help lately and that was definitely a nudge in the right direction.

Honest thoughts

I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to type here. I just know that I've been itching to express myself for the past few days. I've had that urge to get things off my chest, to just pour out my thoughts and feelings. It's been a long time since I've really done that. I guess I just haven't known where to start. It seems like blog posts are supposed to be eloquent and organized, with a well-thought title perfectly summing it up as one specific point to meditate on. I don't think this is one of those posts. I have so many thoughts. So many feelings. Maybe I won't even publish this. Maybe I'll erase everything and start again. I don't know. We'll see...

I reflect on my life a lot. I've always been a nostalgic person and I've always been overly sentimental so I think these qualities exacerbate my situation sometimes. In a little over a month, it will be two years since Avery died. I can't believe that it's been that long. How did that much time pass since I held my baby girl? It sounds like such a long time to the outsider, but to the griever, it's  just a few moments. Because all it takes is a single thought to bring back those days. They never feel distant or in the past. You never recover from what the devastating blow has done to your life. It has changed everything. Everything about me is changed. My outlook is skewed. What offends me is much different. I'm more sensitive to a lot of things. How I perceive others and react to normal situations is different. But at the same time, I still appear the same. All of these changes are internal. They are plaguing thoughts that gnaw at me daily. It's so exhausting sometimes. All of the time.

I can't believe Jude is six months old already. I am so grateful that he's growing and thriving, given his rocky start. He's amazing. His doctor is always impressed by him. But I spend a lot of time feeling like I'm trying to hold onto these fleeting moments. I know how fast they're already going. I'm savoring them like crazy because I know once they're gone, that's it. I don't get to experience these things ever again with anyone else. In a way, I almost mourn the stages Jude grows out of. I already miss his little preemie self. How tiny and delicate he was. So sweet and precious. I miss his skinny little hands and feet and how small his clothes were. I miss those outfits. I hate how there's so much reluctance in everything. I fear how much it will hurt when I look back at these days and miss my baby boy so much. When he's running around and talking and won't even let me cuddle him for more than a second.

Once these days are over, I'll never have them back. Not another chance with another baby. I think about this all the time. I wish I didn't. I wish I could just put it out of my mind and enjoy without these thoughts. I want to forget that this is my reality and just live as if it isn't. I don't want to take anything for granted. But I don't want to mar what I do have with the things I won't have. I don't know how to do that yet though. I'm still not over it. I'm still not okay with any of it. I still have not made peace with it. The moment I feel like I have, I am faced with yet another pregnancy announcement and yes, the jealousy clouds in and erases my supposed progress once again.

I'm being honest, I feel jealous a lot. Not in a hateful or spiteful way. But just in a self-pitying way. I do not want these other women to be like me to keep me from feeling like this. I want to be like them. I don't want other women to not get pregnant or not have healthy babies. I don't ever want to see anyone go through what I have. My jealousy is just me hating what I have been dealt and wishing I could be like everyone else around me. And yes, it's brought on by seeing other people so easily and sometimes accidentally having second, third, and fourth pregnancies. Because I can't fathom how people can make it through a pregnancy without any issues. I can't imagine what that must be like. I can't imagine a pregnancy reaching the 40th week and no one has died or been hospitalized or medicated to get them there. To naturally go into labor to deliver a living child. To hold that screaming, breathing miracle on your chest right after birth. I have missed all of that. To me, that is like a fantasy. Why couldn't it have been typical for me? I hate when people take it for granted. That makes it even harder to be me.

I always worry that I will offend people when I share how I feel. I shouldn't have to feel that way. I'm sure not everyone worries if they'll offend me when they make negative comments about babies or pregnancy, when that is a very very sacred subject to me. Regardless, I never want to offend anyone. I think women should have babies if they are blessed enough to be able to do so. I'm not anti-pregnancy. I do not want to be left in the dark because people are afraid of me. Oh, don't tell Nicole about that. She'll freak out. You'll upset her. No. If someone omits me from their pregnancy announcement because they don't want to hurt my feelings, then that would just make it worse. I know I said it makes me sad, but that is just my cross to bear for the rest of my life. It's not against the pregnant person. It's just me once again reflecting on myself and not being okay with what I've lost.

It just so happens that the most common thing that people do with their lives... creating life itself... is the one thing that I have lost the ability to do. And it's everywhere. It's widespread and popular. It's what's "normal" and it's just what people do. I wish it was something much less common that I couldn't do. Like scuba dive. How often does that come up? Surely, I'd feel much less left out if that was what I was no longer able to take part in. I really hate being so different and so left out. I hate having a dead baby. I hate that I cannot have more children without the risk of death. I hate that Jude couldn't even get here normally. I was denied so much even with him. He barely made it here alive. It is a miracle that he is so healthy with no setbacks. Truly.

I'm not overlooking the blessing of Jude. I'm not "looking the gift horse in the mouth." I think that's a huge reason why I haven't blogged lately. I bet to some I appear ungrateful for Jude because I still want more babies and I still let the loss of Avery affect me. That's really not it though. Jude is enough. He really is. Zero living babies would not be enough. Jude makes me happy. I love him. He fills such a huge void in my life. He fulfills a dream. But there was another dream I grew up with. The dream of many children. Siblings. I wanted us to be able to decide how many we had. And I wanted to be able to enjoy the process, not fear it. I think it was just a huge blow and so disappointing that the agony didn't end with losing Avery. I really wanted Jude to be our rainbow after the storm. The start of true happiness. I really thought I'd met my devastation quota for life with having my own baby die inside of me, then having to deliver her. I still feel angry when I think about how that wasn't all I've had to endure. How it wasn't enough for me to have to bear. That there would be more to suffer through. More things to break me and tear my world and my life apart and nearly literally kill me.

For those that know me, please bear with me during these times. I know that my feelings may seem unfair or mean or negative to those who have not walked in my shoes. The things that have happened have left me with a lot of pain and a lot of emotions to work through. It is not easy. I'm trying to find some sort of semblance of normalcy now. Trying to feel like I'm in control of my own life. Trying not to live in fear of what may be next or living in mourning of what was and could have been. It will take some time to be okay with it all, but I want to get there. I don't want Jude to have a sad mom. He deserves the very best.

I pray that this is just another set of stages that I am going through. That I won't always feel so angry about my life. Angry at God. Blaming Him for all of this when I know it's not His fault. Hating myself because it's my body that's caused all of this. I'm praying I come to terms. That I accept it all without relapse. I don't want to be sad anymore. I don't want these sacred days with my precious boy to be ridden with sadness. I don't want to fight to be happy. I just want to be happy. I don't want to feel so alienated and different. I don't want to compare my life to everyone else's and feel so deprived. I want to feel blessed and not just know that I am.

2011 : A Broken Hallelujah

There's really no other way to describe 2011, but with contradicting terms. It was beautiful and horrifying all at the same time. It was full of fear and joy. Life and near-death experiences. Healing and brokenness.

My biggest wish this year was that my baby boy would make it here alive. I prayed incessantly for his safety and health and spent more than half of the year living in fear for him. God answered those prayers, as Jude is here safe and sound, a healthy and strong five month old. I praise God for that. But the way Jude came and the things that transpired since his birth have left me a bit broken. This year, though it brought blessings with it, was also the second hardest year of my life.

When I prayed for Jude to arrive safely, and even when I begged God, with tears streaming down my face, to let me keep him, I never imagined he would arrive the way he did. I didn't think my pregnancy would be taken away from me once again and I'd miss out on the things I'd been dreaming of experiencing. I never thought I'd be the mother of a preemie, watching my miniature baby lay in a plastic box with IVs in his tiny veins, a tube down his throat, leads on his tiny chest, monitors going off. It was hard to see that. He should have been safe and warm and happy in my womb. He already knew so much pain and discomfort. That still makes me sad.

I still can't believe that that wasn't the extent of my trials this year. At the end of August, I nearly died of pulmonary embolisms. Blood clots in my lungs. For many people with PEs, the first symptom is sudden death. I was very very fortunate to have the severe pain that they cause instead, letting me know something was wrong. In many ways, it seems I shouldn't even be here right now. It's amazing, and nothing short of a miracle, that I survived that. Sure, it was the second worst thing that's happened to me, next to the stillbirth of my firstborn, but I'm grateful that it went the way it did. It could have been so much worse. God isn't through with me yet. I know I'm here for a reason. Needless to say, I'm still trying to forget those five days in the hospital, crying every day. I hated being there so much. It was downright horrible. It leaves me with a sick feeling if I spend too much time dwelling on it.

It was kind of a neat thing, though, that Jude and I were discharged from the hospital the very same afternoon. In a way, I think my experience with my clots stole a lot of the joy of going to the NICU for the very last time and taking Jude home. I wonder how it would have been if my spirit hadn't felt so crushed. Regardless, it was the best moment of the entire year. Walking out that door for the last time, finally not empty-handed. Something so many take for granted as something so typical. It was a walk of victory that day. Walking down that hall. Passing the room I delivered Avery in. Walking out with smiles instead of tears and a severed heart. How wonderful the feeling. The answered prayer. We both made it out alive.

It makes me mad that the next couple of weeks were filled with a paranoia and lingering sadness. I was scared to death that I would form more clots and end up back in that horrible hospital (they are worthless unless you're having a baby or have a baby in the NICU). I obsessed over every single sensation in my legs, afraid it could be a clot. I worried something would happen to me and I wouldn't get to see Jude grow up. It was ridiculous. But at the time, I didn't know that I was protected as long as I was on blood thinners (I wasn't told this until my follow up appointment with my doctor).

At this time, my feelings were so contradictory. I was unbelievably thrilled over Jude. But I was also sad I wasn't still pregnant. I felt robbed of a normal birth. I would have even settled for a normal c-section. I was put under, not even there for the monumental birth of my Rainbow Baby. Daniel wasn't even allowed to be there. I still hate that. I didn't want to skip out on anything. I lost enough with Avery.

Also post-NICU, I failed to be able to breastfeed Jude. I took that hard. I had been pumping for the almost five weeks he was in the NICU. He had just begun learning to eat by mouth when I was hospitalized for the clots. That's when they were probably going to let me try to nurse him. But no. I was still trying to pump but it was so hard to stay on my 'every 3 hours' schedule while I was trying to recuperate. Between the emotional stress, the physical stress on my body, and the missed pumpings, my supply took a huge hit. I was barely producing anything anymore. By the time we got Jude home, he was so used to the bottle. He would not even attempt latching, no matter how many times I tried. Finally, I gave in and decided to surrender my wishes once again.

The good thing about not breastfeeding is that I was then able to get off the twice a day Lovenox shots that were continuing to shrink my clots and prevent new ones. I then got on Coumadin, which I am on now. And probably for the rest of my life. This has left me a changed person. For a while, I felt so unhealthy. It took a long time for my lungs to stop hurting and for me to stop feeling so sluggish. It was depressing. I have to make sure I don't cut myself. I can't eat anything with vitamin K or it will counteract the Coumadin (I can eat vitamin K if I were to make sure I ate it every single day in the same amount and my Coumadin dose would have to be regulated according to it. I think it's just easier to omit vitamin K altogether. I don't like the idea of putting something into my system that makes my blood thicker at this point. I'm still too scared). So that means, I can't have lettuce, broccoli, spinach... Things like that. No salad? Well, that's healthy. I have to go to the doctor regularly to get my blood checked (INR) and make sure my blood isn't too thick or too thin. I also CANNOT get pregnant on Coumadin. If I did, I would either have a miscarriage or my baby would very likely have severe birth defects. That's very scary. And of course, I let myself worry about that. (And TMI: because of my clotting mutations and previous clots, I am not allowed to take birth control pills, thus adding to the difficulties.) I really dislike this new aspect to my life. But I just have to remember that I could be dead. And then I think it's pretty pathetic that that's what I can compare my situation to... Being dead.

So, my trials of the year did not end at Jude's 31 week birth or my blood clots. As I've blogged about before, I cannot have anymore babies. This has plagued me for the past few months. It would have been the furthest thought from my mind, having just had a baby. But it's one of the nagging backdrops to my everyday. It affects how I see everything. I see unfit people easily having subsequent pregnancies and I feel jealous. Let's face it. A part of me deflates whenever I hear a pregnancy announcement. I don't want to feel that way. But right now I do.

Right now, I am honestly mourning the babies I thought I would have. I always wanted three or four. And lately I just feel so attached to 'Jonah.' It wasn't even on our name list with either Avery or Jude. But for some reason, I keep seeing it and it's like my ears perk up when I hear it. It's like it's special for some reason and I can't explain it. If I had another boy right now, his name would be Jonah. So in a weird way, I guess I feel like I'm mourning Jonah. Not a real baby. But Jonah represents a baby I imagined I would have. The brother I would love for Jude to grow up with. I could cry, picturing Jude growing up alone. Whenever I see brothers together, even my own, I think of it. Jude and Jonah. (I'm not thrilled about the "J" theme; it's a coincidence, I guess.) I'm really not sure what the significance of my thoughts of Jonah is. I doubt it means a thing. It's probably just my perpetual interest in baby names and my dream of more children manifesting itself into a 'what-could-have-been.' I have a lot of those.

With all of that said, these last five months have been five of the most amazing months I've ever lived. It's all because of this tiny boy that God has entrusted to me. No matter how broken I have felt, Jude has filled my heart with a joy that cannot be explained. He is everything I dreamed he would be. His presence is just as beautiful and fulfilling as I imagined. Being a mother to a living child is the single greatest thing in this entire world and the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced. I LOVE IT. There is nothing about it that I do not like. There is nothing I could complain about. I savor every single bit of it. I always knew what I lost with Avery, but it's all been confirmed in mothering Jude. I don't take any of it for granted. I know I was made for this. My body may not have been. But I know in my heart that this is my greatest accomplishment. Thank You, God.

I know I did a lot of complaining and painted a negative picture about 2011. But to be honest, I actually have begun to feel myself beginning to heal in just the last couple of weeks. I think I have started 2012 with a lighter heart. Just recently, I have started feeling more myself as far as my health goes. My doctor switched my blood checks to once a month so I feel like less of my time is occupied with my clotting issue. I don't feel any more pains in my chest and I've gotten my energy back. That makes a huge difference! It's difficult feeling like you're sick all the time. It's so easy to take your health for granted.

God has also been healing my heart a bit over the loss of my dreams for more children. It's not quite the forefront of my thoughts any longer. It doesn't battle against my joy for Jude. Maybe I'm beginning to get used to it as my reality. Maybe I'm beginning to accept it. I do know one thing... Jude is definitely enough. He is amazing enough to be all I need. He makes me so happy. It feels so good to feel true joy again.

While listening to Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" a few days ago, the line it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah stood out to me. That is really how I see the state of my life right now. I have lost so much but I have gained so much. I feel so broken down but so blessed. My heart will always be broken over Avery and the things I can't change for the future, but Jude calls for a Hallelujah. I will forever praise God for the gift of my sweet boy.

I'm praying 2012 is the most boring and normal year ever!

Tonight we'll stand, get off our knees, fight for what we've worked for all these years. The battle was long, it's the fight of our lives, but we'll stand up champions tonight.

It was the night things changed. Can you see it now? These walls that they put up to hold us back fell down. It's a revolution. Throw your hands up 'cause we never gave in.

And we'll sing Hallelujah!

We sang Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

- Taylor Swift

Another new reality

These past several weeks have been a whirlwind to say the least. Life with Jude is amazing and beautiful, everything I knew it would be. I have also been spending this time healing physically from the blood clots that formed in my lungs about a month ago.

In a nutshell, I was hospitalized for about five days, at the end of Jude's NICU stay. We were both discharged the same day. It was a very horrible ordeal. At the risk of sounding dramatic, it left me somewhat traumatized. I don't want to go into my hospital experience. I honestly hate talking or even thinking about it, but even after my discharge, I lived in literal paranoia that I was going to end up back in the hospital. Every little pain, even a normal headache, would throw me into a fit of fear. I would even sit there, looking down at my tiny son, worrying that I wouldn't be able to watch him grow up. It was not a way to live! And I felt so angry because I just wanted to enjoy my new baby, my miracle. The one thing I have been dying for (literally) my entire life.

But since having a follow up appointment with my hematologist, I can breathe again. He assured me that I will be okay. As long as I am on my blood thinners, I am protected from future clots. And the pain I am still feeling in my chest is the clots going away, and the damage in my lungs healing. I really could have died. It was a very serious thing. I sit here and shake my head, thinking about how I nearly bled to death having Jude and then four weeks later, almost to the day, I nearly die of pulmonary embolisms. No matter what, I can never just have a normal childbearing experience. The premature birth and long NICU stay weren't enough. I will never understand why all these crazy things happen to me.

All of this brings me to the subject that is really plaguing me. The one thing that has been wrestling my joy away from me. At a time where I long to be happy and blissful, this new reality is blowing the dark clouds in. In the weeks since Jude has been born, I have been medically advised not to have any more children. There it is. I cannot have anymore babies. I type that and I still can't believe that's my life now. No, I have not lost my fertility. I can get pregnant (not with ease). If I really wanted to have more children, I could. But to do so would be horribly risking my life and the life of my baby.

In a month's time after having Jude, I almost died twice. Even with all of the medical intervention, the injections, the extra ultrasounds, the specialists, I only carried Jude six more weeks than I carried Avery. That doesn't sound very successful to me. My doctor even said, if Jude had not been born when he was, he would not have made it through the week. The same thing that had happened to Avery was beginning to happen to him. For whatever reason, my body cannot produce strong placentas. They begin to die and clot. I was told Jude's placenta looked worse than Avery's... and I saw hers and it was horrible. :(

There have been some people who have suggested that this couldn't be true. That with other help or down the road when medicine has progressed even further, that I can have more children. I appreciate their optimism but the facts are all here. To go against what I see right in front of me would be selfish. I could have another baby to bury. Or I could devastate my family... Leave Daniel without his wife, Jude without his mother, my parents without their daughter, my brothers without their sister... I don't know about you, but that sounds a bit risky to me. And even as someone who desperately wanted several children, I'm convinced that this is the right decision. As reluctant and heartbroken as I am.

The realization that Jude is the only living child I will ever have has really left me in a strange place. I feel ungrateful for being upset that I can't have more. I am thrilled to no end over Jude, but at the same time, I am sad. I can't help it. I gained him, an amazing miraculous gift, but I have also lost all the hopes and the dreams of the future children I also longed for. Jude will grow up alone and I never wanted that. I loved growing up with my brothers. To this day, they are my best friends, truthfully. He won't have that. His sister is dead. I wish this had been my choice. It's not fair to have the decision made for me.

I was the little girl who loved her baby dolls. Who played house incessantly. Who always named all of her dolls. Who kept lists of her favorite names and always knew at any given time what all of her future children's names would be. Sure, the list changed every so often as I got older, but I always had one. Scribbled down in the backs of my journals. First and middle, sometimes paired up with the last name of the guy I liked at the time. All silly, but that was always me. Daniel and I had our children's names picked out before we were even married. Jude has been named since 2007 (He was Jude Lucas then). Avery was named around that time too. I just always knew what I wanted. I have planned it and dreamed it forever. So why am I the one that loses it all?

In my actual physical circle, out of the people I actually know in real life, I have never run into anyone who has had it this way. I hate to complain, but mostly everyone gets to choose how many children they have and most get to do it with thoughtless ease. (Most, not all.) And even those who have run into difficulty haven't been forced to bear the excessive devastation I have. Again, hate to do the "woe is me" dance... I don't like to be that person. But I can't help but notice and wish I had answers. WHY ME?

I really thought my cross to bear was going to be the death of my daughter. I thought an entire life without her was enough of a burden to live with. I can't believe I have to endure this as well. I feel like I've lost my future children as well. I mourn Avery and I mourn the children I will never get to have. They had names. Uriah... Jonah... Cadence... I always pictured them being here. They never will be.

I despise that this is my new reality. Every time I have a baby I get a new reality. I hate that I am experiencing some of the same feelings with Jude that I also felt with Avery. Avery died. Jude didn't. I hate that circumstances have left me feeling slapped across the face anyway. I just want to be happy and have my babies. Why does that have to be the one thing I am denied? Disgusting, unworthy people across the globe can pop 'em out like it's nobody's business. There are women who kill their own children. Yet they are the ones who find it effortless. So many beautiful and deserving women struggle to even get pregnant let alone make it successfully through a pregnancy. I will never understand this and it will always anger me.

Before Jude was born, I struggled with bitterness against women who complained about being pregnant or who complained about the inconveniences of their children. It bothered me because I wanted so badly to have my daughter in my arms instead of in the ground and it was so painful to feel like other "normal" people were taking it for granted. Now I feel like I'm left with another reason to fight bitterness. Not only is my daughter dead, but now I am not able to have anymore babies, thus making pregnancy and childbirth even more sacred to me because I am now denied it. It's really hard to feel that way. Like even today at the store, there was a stupid onesie that said, "My mommy is exhausted." It made me angry. I gladly get up all night for Jude. Because I know I am so blessed to be able to. I lost all of that with Avery. I was up all night crying for her instead and that is not better. I love waking up to his sweetness all night, whether he's crying or not, because I know this is all I get. He's going to grow up and I will never experience the joy of my baby again. So, needless to say, my perspective is severely warped when it comes to this. It may be unfair and it may make me a jerk, but I'd like to think I deserve a little grace after all the hell I have been through that's made me this way.

This is all very raw and new right now. I am still angry. I'm feeling mad at God. I just feel like it's all so unfair. Oh I know, "life isn't fair." Regardless... Jude is here safe and healthy like I prayed so desperately for but I'm so mad that instead of being able to bask in the glow of his presence, I am mourning the loss of my will. My dreams. My own choices. I have my days where I feel like I'm accepting it. Where I know Jude is enough (because he is) and I'll be okay without what I wanted for my life. Then other days I just cannot believe that this is my life. That I am on coumadin (blood thinner) possibly for life (which will cause severe birth defects or kill my baby if I were to get pregnant on it). That I don't get to have my babies... I know I'm getting redundant now. But this has been festering in my mind for weeks and I haven't had the chance to spill it out until now.

I'm sure some people will like to think that I'm ungrateful for finding something wrong during a time where something beautiful has also happened to me. I am completely and deeply grateful for Jude. I am SO beyond happy that he is here. I am fiercely in love with him and am cherishing every single second with him. But because I love him so much and wanted him so badly and because I wanted several children so badly, this affects my happiness. It's not fair that he's all I get after everything that's happened. I never get to have my cake and eat it too, I guess.

Time will pass, and I will get used to this. I'll never like it. But I'm sure I'll learn to accept it. Until then, I have a lot of anger to work through. I want to live a happy life with my little family. And for the most part, I do. But I am still carrying so much pain. I just want all the disappointment and loss to be over. I just want to have all those everyday "normal people" problems. Not these ridiculous earth shattering ones. I know life happens and no one is exempt. But I could really use a break for the next few decades. Either way, for now, I am spending each day with my beautiful tiny boy... and letting him heal my broken heart.

Our Hospital Experience

The past two days have been a little crazy. I spent last night in labor and delivery at the hospital. It all started early yesterday morning (Sunday, July 24th). I felt very uncomfortable, in my upper abdomen, as if Jude had wedged himself up inside my rib cage. I am now 30 weeks pregnant, five weeks further than I have ever been before. Jude is almost three pounds more than Avery was at birth so I really don't know what to expect with things like this. I assumed it was normal at first, to feel so uncomfortable with him so high up.

But as the wee hours of the morning went on, and I could not sleep through the discomfort, I felt like something just wasn't right. I rubbed my stomach, trying to get him to adjust his position, but nothing eased up. Of course, Daniel was at work all night so I was doing this alone. When 7am rolled around, I texted him to call me because he'd be getting off any minute. By the time he called me, I had started to get upset. I paced our room, hoping my movement would make Jude move. When Daniel asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, it made me cry.

The thought of walking into L&D with the feeling something was wrong completely brought me back to that day with Avery. That weird feeling that something wasn't right, and finding out she was gone. I didn't want to go in there and do the same things we had to do with her... listen for his heartbeat and then have to confirm his health with an ultrasound, all in the same rooms. I have made it so far without any true scares. That does surprise me. I did picture myself being a lot more paranoid than this. But I guess Jude doing so well has kept me from having to go that far with my worries. For that, I am so grateful.

I did get out my doppler and found Jude's heartbeat, faintly, very high in my stomach. So much higher than I have ever heard his heartbeat before. I wondered if he had dangerously wedged himself. Like, what if he was stuck in his cord or was pinching it off up there? I let all these crazy thoughts enter my head. While I waited for Daniel to drive home, I called my parents. I felt bad waking them up for that's for a good reason! I asked my mom what she thought we should do. I couldn't help crying, talking about something being wrong and going to the hospital for our little boy. It just hit too close to home with what happened to Avery. We decided that going to the hospital would definitely be the best thing, just as Daniel had said. I'd rather be deemed paranoid than take the chance of letting something unnecessary happen to Jude. Besides, I have very legitimate reasons to be paranoid. I deserve to be a little crazy from time to time.

Thank God, during the time we were getting ready to leave and pick up my mom to go to the hospital, I felt Jude move a couple times. In the waiting room, filling out the same form I filled out last March, he kicked me some more. I was so grateful that I knew, without any dopplers or ultrasounds that our little boy was alive. I just had to find out what was wrong with me.

The pain in my abdomen by this time began to feel like the start of a gallbladder attack. I definitely know this feeling well since I had several attacks back in April and May of last year. But the thing is, in May, I got my gallbladder removed. So what was going on?? It started to get more and more intense. I felt upset because that is a pain I never thought I'd have to feel ever again. It's a very intense and horrible pain that is completely relentless. Thankfully, they didn't make me wait long and I was in a gown in a bed within 15 minutes.

Julie, my nurse, had Jude hooked up to a monitor right away. I loved laying there listening to him and knowing he was fine. He kept kicking and moving and keeping me very confident that he was perfectly fine. Thank you, little man!! Julie took my blood pressure and it was 160/99 which is really high. I had to start a 24 hour urine collection and they took two vials of blood from me. Within an hour, the phelbotomist came back and took a third vial and said I was on her schedule for more blood work at 3:00pm. What?! It was only 9:00am!! I had never assumed this would be an all day thing at all. Especially since Jude was fine.

I soon found out that they would be admitting me and giving me my own room to rest in. My blood work came back with some elevated levels. My liver enzymes were elevated and my platelets were pretty low. They thought the pain I was feeling was a mix of the high blood pressure and my liver. I'd be hooked up to the blood pressure cuff and monitored every 30 minutes. They were going to give me half of a Labetalol dose to lower my blood pressure. I was on Labetalol with Avery starting at 20 weeks so the whole high blood pressure thing made me nervous, wondering if this was going to be the start of Jude's decline or something. But then Julie informed me that he was alright and that they were going to give me a steroid injection in my back to help mature Jude's lungs more in case he had to be born. If my blood pressure wouldn't come down, I could be in danger and the only way to fix me would be to deliver Jude. So it would be more of something that's bad for me and not him. He would just obviously be premature and spend the first several weeks of his life in the NICU, which is a much better outcome than what his sister endured.

Everything was put into play. I got the steroid injection in my lower back and WOW did that hurt. And the pain lingered for a long time. It was 11:00am by this time. I'd be getting that blood work again at 3:00 just like I'd been told earlier. I was still hooked up to the fetal heart monitor, laying on my side. That made eating lunch pretty difficult, but I managed!

A couple hours later, one of the midwives from my doctor's office (the one who delivered Avery) came in. She had Jude taken off the monitor and said he'd get non stress tests every several hours instead because he was looking so great and my blood pressure was starting to drop. She wanted me to be able to be more comfortable to I could rest better. Even though I enjoyed hearing his precious heart, I was kind of relieved to get that off and be more free. To not have to call the nurse each time I had to go to the restroom so so she unplug and replug me back in each time. And I could actually move in my bed without losing his heartbeat on the monitor. That's what really was so amazing about how active our sweet boy was yesterday. I didn't need to hear him to know he was okay. He kicked and rolled all day long. I don't think he slept at all. It was like a little gift. I really needed that.

The day progressed mundanely from there on out. Both of my parents and Daniel were with me. for the most part. My parents left for a little bit to eat and get some things for me and when they returned I got to take a shower and then Daniel left to get our overnight things. I never dreamed I'd be there overnight! It didn't occur to me for a second when we'd left the house that morning! It was great to take a shower and to change into my own nightgown. My blood work was done at 3pm and looked pretty much the same as earlier. At 5:30pm, I was given a Heparin injection in my stomach instead of my usual Lovenox. Heparin leaves your system sooner than Lovenox so that was yet another precaution in case Jude had to be delivered. I was given dinner, which was surprisingly good. Because you know what they say about hospital food... ;)

A couple hours later, probably around 7:00, my parents went home. Daniel had called into work, which was good because neither of us wanted him that far away and not immediately accessible if something happened. It was just safer to keep him there. And I know I could never leave Daniel if he was in the hospital! I did spent most of the night by myself though. Daniel had worked all night long the previous night and hadn't slept since so he conked out around 8pm and stayed out for the most part all night long. I watched TV and played with my phone, keeping people updated via text and Facebook. I played solitaire. Posted boring photos to Instagram. Anything I could think of to fill my time. I was so tired but just could not sleep.

Around 9pm, another phlebotomist came in because the last woman at 3 left out one of the vials. Of course. haha. So I had blood drawn for the fourth time. At 10:30, my newest nurse came in to do a non stress test on Jude, hooking him up to the monitor again while I watched That 70s Show. He sounded great and was a bit active. I loved listening to him. As always. Daniel slept right through it! Even through Jude's loud kicks against the monitor. :) I wish I could sleep like that!! At 11:00, my nurse came in to take me off the monitor and give me a sleeping pill. I hadn't planned on taking anything but by now I was so ready to go to sleep. 

It started to kick in a little bit within the hour but I just could not, for the life of me, sleep through the blood pressure cuff going off every 30 minutes. It was loud and it would get so painfully tight each time. Even as I would begin to fall asleep, it would go off again, waking me up. But I did try. And maybe in all I got about an hour of sleep.

At 4:15, I gave up sleeping and played Solitaire on my phone. Daniel woke up soon after and watched Netflix. Thank God for wi-fi. :) Even though I was happy Daniel was able to get some rest, it was nice to not be alone anymore.

Around 5:30am, I got hooked back up to the monitor for another NST (non stress test) for Jude. He was very cooperative and his heart rate was very good. Also during the NST, the phlebotomist came back in for four more vials of blood, making that ten vials (and five draws) total for my stay. But hey, whatever it takes!

I ate breakfast around 6:30 and got some nice heartburn, which I'd had last night too. Around 7:30, I was taken to ultrasound to check on Jude and make sure he looked as good as he seemed. I was glad they were being that thorough. The ultrasound tech has absolutely no personality, saying as little to me as possible. It was kind of awkward. Maybe she was having a bad day already? Being wheeled through those OB halls reminded me of being there for Avery. I got wheeled past the room I delivered her in but didn't look inside. I got wheeled right into the ultrasound room, seemingly the same exact one we saw Avery's lifeless body in. It was so odd to be there. So many emotions rolling around in my mind. I felt so cold suddenly, I was shivering. It was weird. But I got on the table and the unfriendly girl did the ultrasound. She said not one word about anything, the screen completely facing away from me. I mouthed to Daniel, "He's moving, right?" because her silence just felt so wrong. He nodded and I felt better. I knew he was okay. I just didn't like feeling as if he was being kept from me, that I couldn't take part in seeing my own son. Like when Avery was gone, they couldn't give us any information because they weren't allowed. It reminded me of that kind of situation. 

Finally, she turned the screen and let me see Jude's sweet face. Oh, he looked so cute! More like a baby face instead of that skull look. She took a couple photos for me, which didn't translate to paper very well to show his cuteness, but I was just thrilled that she even did that.

The tech did tell us Jude looked good and that he weighs 3 pounds. I was excited that he reached another pound mark. When she wheeled me back to my room, I took a look inside room 10 where Avery was born. It really was so weird to look in there and see the bed I gave birth to her and held her in. To see the couch Daniel first sat with her in his hands. The room where that day happened, where we said hello and goodbye to our baby girl.

Back in our room, I bundled up to get rid of my shivers and finally fell asleep. Daniel went home to eat and grab a couple things while I napped. It was so good to get some sleep. I woke up when Daniel returned but fell back to sleep until the midwife came in around 10:00am. She told me how pleased she was with Jude's ultrasound and that he weighs a little over 3 pounds. His fluid levels, heart beat, and movements look great. She thinks he will be able to stay put for several more weeks, provided my blood pressure stays normal. But he's perfectly healthy and wonderful and I loved hearing that. They planned to release me as soon as my blood work and 24 hour urine results were in. About 30 minutes later, Julie, my nurse from yesterday came in excitedly to tell me that all my test results were perfect. No protein or anything irregular in the urine and my blood levels were all normal. My liver enzymes were no longer elevated. Everything was perfectly fine. Praise God! She said we could go home just as soon as I got my second dose of the steroids for Jude.

My other nurse did the injection, which again hurt very badly. Then I was allowed to get dressed and get ready to finally leave! I could not wait to go home and be on my couch and in my bed. :)

I was given an order to start NSTs twice a week and BPPs (biophysical profile ultrasounds) once a week. I start those next Monday, August 1st when I'm 31 weeks and 1 day. I also have to do a 24 hour urine collection once a week and I have to repeat all of the blood work once a week. I have to do all of this until Jude is born. I think I will also be seeing my doctor once a week. And I've been put on bed rest as well. Wow, sounds like a crazy couple of months coming up! But all of it will be worth it. I will always do anything for Jude.

The past two days have been taxing emotionally and physically. It was so strange to think for even a second that Jude could be coming now. I'm so glad he gets to stay put and grow a bit longer inside of me. My body may be flawed, but it's still the best incubation for him. I really hope that everything stays well and that I don't have to worry again about him or about what my body could cause for him. Even though I have a lot of new appointments and tests to deal with now, I hope that's the extent of it all from here on out. No more surprises or sudden issues. I'm so grateful God has answered our prayers and kept us all safe and well.