Day 12: The Day Before Goodbye

Again, I am sharing a post I wrote two years ago, on the first anniversary of this difficult day:

March 12th - The day of waiting and induction

Today, last year, was another hard day. It was the day between the knowledge of death and the day of birth. We started off this day very weary and emotionally broken. I had not slept. We had to be at my doctor's office to meet with my OB early, around 9:00am if I remember right. (Times are the only trouble I have in my memory of these days. I recall the events perfectly, but minutes and hours melt together and I couldn't tell you what time many things occurred.)

It was very painful to sit in my doctor's office, waiting. The place where I had just been only three days before for a routine visit was now a place of torment. Pregnant women everywhere, while my baby lay dead inside of my womb. Of course, the office would have to be busy today. Finally, I was called back and Daniel and I followed the nurse to a room where we sat and waited for the doctor.

She was very kind to us and was visibly broken for us. She said she went through my chart over and over again to see if there was something she had missed but could not figure out why our baby had died. I could tell this was something that bothered her, that she felt she had failed us as a doctor. I didn't feel this was her fault though. According to ultrasound techs (at a separate facility) Avery was doing just fine.

We decided to go through with inducing and the nurse's assistant got on the phone with the labor and delivery department at the hospital just around the corner to set up a time. The first available delivery suite wouldn't be ready for me until 6:30 that evening. A long day of waiting. Waiting for the most bittersweet moments a person could possibly experience. The birth of a dead child.

We went back to my parents' house since they live no more than five minutes from the hospital. We took our places on the couch where we had sat all the day before and just cried and shared our thoughts. I broke down over and over again, thinking of all the things I had lost. First smiles, first laughs, first crawls, first steps, first words... So many things that some take for granted as just being typical life. Family frequently called my dad to see how we were doing. I couldn't bear to talk to anyone.

Then my dad was on the phone with his friend, who owns a funeral home. He would be the one to come and pick Avery up from the hospital. He wanted to know what our preferences were for the funeral. We had to pick what color her casket would be. (We chose white.) And then, he needed to know her name for the obituary.

At this point, we hadn't chosen a definite name for our little girl. Only two weeks before, at our last ultrasound, we were given an '80-90% chance' that she was a girl. Up until this point, we'd been considering Sawyer for her, but hadn't made it definite since I was afraid others would think it was too boyish. So when thinking about our sweet little girl, Sawyer just didn't fit anymore. I thought through my mental list of favorite names, back to the one we loved originally. I started to cry when I thought of it. "I want to name her Avery," I told Daniel. He immediately agreed. We decided to give her my name as her middle name, as a way to have a piece of me with her. Avery Nicole. We had just named our baby.

The day went on. So much crying. So much agony. Awaiting what was to come that evening. I hadn't eaten in almost two days. The thought of doing so made me so incredibly sad, thinking about how Avery used to share my food with me and now she no longer would. Regardless, I forced myself to eat half of a bagel, figuring I may need some energy for that night. Who knows how much pushing and labor I may have to go through. My attempt failed, however, because I threw it up almost immediately.

Suddenly, it was somehow time for us to go to the hospital. My parents drove us there and my brothers and Daniel's family would be meeting us a bit later. I had my mom check in for me and tell the front desk why I was there, but even she could barely get through the words. My amazing nurse, Daniele, appeared and called me to her side to show me to my room. She put her arm so lovingly around me and I just leaned against her and started sobbing once again. She knew exactly what I was going through. Not too many years ago, she had a baby girl who died shortly after birth. It felt nice to have someone there who understood this pain.

In my room, I had to change into a gown. I went into the bathroom and just started crying all over again. I had always dreamed of coming to one of these rooms to have my own baby, instead of just being here to visit everyone else's. Finally, I was here to deliver my baby, but it was all wrong. So wrong. She would not be coming home with us like everyone else's has. This was not the happy moment it was supposed to be, the excitement of bringing a crying chubby pink baby into the world, our eyes about to meet for the first time. No one would bring 'It's A Girl!' balloons or stuffed animals. No one was celebrating her life... just mourning her death before she was even here. When I think back on these horrific moments, I feel so insulted by some of the women who complain at the end of their pregnancy, who are upset that their baby hasn't come when they wanted them to, acting like it's a huge cross to bear. I understand that one could become impatient since it's uncomfortable to be that large and that pregnant, but there's a difference between being uncomfortable and being ungrateful. And also the people who sympathize with the ingrates and act as if the woman is enduring something terrible by having to wait longer. Really? If you are going to be pushing out a living child that you get to take home and watch grow up, then you deserve no pity. Go through labor to deliver a dead baby and leave the hospital empty-handed and then see how 'miserable' you feel. End of rant.

Once in bed, I'd been given the medication to begin inducing labor, which was administered in a very uncomfortable and violating manner (that I will not speak of) every three hours. It was probably about 7pm at this time. Daniele stayed with me even after her shift ended. She told us the story of her baby girl and even brought some humor into the room. I actually smiled. I felt guilty at first, but realized how amazing it felt to be distracted enough to show positive emotions. Another nurse, who'd lost a son due to preterm labor, came in. She had been one of the nurses who had tried to find Avery's heartbeat the day before. She brought in a crocheted blanket and matching hat for Avery to wear when she was born. I remember thinking that the hat looked so tiny and there was no way she was going to be that small, not according to her gestational age. I would find out later that that same hat would be much too big and we'd end up with an even smaller one.

Soon, my brothers, and Daniel's parents and siblings had arrived, followed by my aunt and uncle. Everyone just sat around, some trying to lighten the mood. I could hear a brand new baby just on the other side of the wall, crying. Every time I heard that little one, tears poured down my face. I knew my little one would never cry. She would come silently into this world, just as silently as she left it.

Every hour I had to get up to use the restroom. Every time I'd drag my IV pole inside and shut the door, all the emotions would flood in all over again. Maybe it was being alone that did it. But I would look at myself in the mirror, hold my belly and just hate and dread everything. I got extremely upset when I began bleeding. Pregnant women aren't supposed to bleed. But technically I wasn't pregnant anymore. This medication was taking my baby away from me. She wasn't supposed to be gone. Each time I exited the bathroom, my eyes fell upon the the little, wheeled hospital bed that the babies are supposed to sleep in. Seeing that pierced my heart every time. I knew my baby would not be using that. In fact, it would only be used to wheel her out of the room for the last time. Thankfully, I couldn't see it from my bed.

Hours passed and I could feel my contractions. They got more and more painful as the time went on. I wanted to brave them without any pain medication for as long as possible. I was allowed to have an epidural if I chose, but I knew I didn't want that. Not this time. I'd save that for a bigger baby, I thought. I remember thinking that I wanted to feel the pain. I wanted to hurt for Avery. I had no idea if she suffered but if she had at all, then I wanted to suffer some too. I waited almost seven hours before I finally asked for pain medication. I waited until they hurt bad enough to make me cry. I could no longer be distracted from why I was here.

By this time it was 1:30am. My nurse gave me some pain medicine and sleeping pills so I could finally get some rest. It had been a while since I'd slept. All of my family, except Daniel and my mom left for the night. I felt so tired but even with the drugs, my mind kept working. I wondered when Avery would finally come and what she would look like. I was so afraid of how much it would hurt to see her and so quickly say goodbye. Trading a lifetime with her for just a few hours. Eventually, I fell asleep, but it was definitely not peaceful.

 

Day 11: Falling From Cloud 9

Today, three years ago, is the day we found out we'd lost Avery. The day of the ultrasound that showed her still, lifeless little body. The day we found out I'd have to deliver her. There really isn't anything else that I can write for today that I haven't written before. I decided to just repost what I blogged on Avery's blog on this day two years ago, on the very first anniversary. It may be of special interest to newer readers who may not know the whole story. But first, I would like to share a photo from today when we took Jude to visit his big sister.

Originally posted on The Avery Diaries on March 11, 2010:

March 11th - The hardest day

Today, a year ago, our whole world came crashing down. Last night, a year ago, I had the strangest feeling that something was wrong. Heart palpitations all evening. Worry. Out of nowhere, really. Then, it all escalated into tears and a small panic attack. I believe in my heart that that's when our sweet girl was leaving us for Heaven. My body and my heart knew. But my mind wouldn't until the following day.

It was Thursday, March 11, 2010... I had called my mom and told her my concerns. She thought it would be best to go to labor and delivery at the hospital just for peace of mind. After all, we did have a date later to see Dear John at the movies together. So Daniel and I went. I felt kind of silly, assuming I didn't know what I was talking about since this was my first baby. But I needed to hear that Avery was fine and I didn't care if they thought I was paranoid.

After an agonizing wait, which was probably not half as long as it felt, they called us back and hooked me up to a fetal monitor. Well, they tried to. They couldn't pick up a heartbeat and decided to go with a regular fetal doppler. Three different nurses tried their hand at it. None of them said anything but I could see it in their faces that this was not good. Plus I knew Avery. In the doctor's office, her heartbeat was always found so quickly. Still, I refused to entertain the thought that she was gone. I couldn't handle that.

They sent me over to ultrasound and I got on the table, actually feeling a little excited to see our baby on the screen. A part of me was still hoping that the doppler issue was a fluke and that the ultrasound would show us a healthy beautiful girl. But she was so still. She looked so cloudy, faded. Two different techs looked for a heartbeat. I could see the flatline across the screen as they typed 'NO FHT.' No fetal heart tone. They weren't allowed to tell me Avery was gone, but I knew it. The techs left Daniel and I alone for a moment and I turned to him and finally beginning to cry, I said, "I'm going to have to deliver her." His eyes welled up, "No," he answered, still not wanting to believe it.
The tech returned and told me to go to the restroom. I remember it so perfectly. I felt like I was in a dream. I closed the bathroom door behind me and looked at myself in the mirror. I whispered, "This is the worst day of my life." Then I added, "My baby is dead." That's when I started crying more. To say it, to admit it... I knew it was true.

 

They took us back to OB and had us wait in an empty delivery suite. I looked around the room, knowing I wouldn't be coming to one of these rooms with joy. I would come back here to say goodbye. In a few moments, a nurse, Daniele, entered the room. Her face said everything. I was already crying. She came right up to me, knelt down in front of me and just pulled me to her. That is when I lost it, sobbing and sobbing. And that's when she finally said it. She told me 'the baby is gone.' I really don't think I've ever cried that hard before or since. It was truly the most devastating and painful moment of my life.

Daniele and another nurse, Vicki, told us our options. We could stay and I could be induced to deliver right then. Or I could go home, meet with my doctor in the morning and decide when to come back. It was all too much, too soon. We decided to come back the following day. I couldn't part with our sweet girl just yet. The nurses left the room for a moment and Daniel called the pizza place he delivered for at that time to tell them he wouldn't make it in that night. I started crying all over again when I heard him tell his boss, "I just found out my baby died." It hurt me so much to hear him say that. I hated that he was hurting so much. But Avery is something we share together.

One of my biggest memories from that day is when I called my mom. I dreaded her answering because I knew I was about to shatter her world too. "Mom... she's dead," was all I could manage to say through my tears. "No, don't tell me that," she answered, immediately crying. I don't remember much else from our conversation, but I know I told her they couldn't find a heartbeat and the ultrasound confirmed she was gone. I'm sure I told her we decided to come back 'tomorrow' to induce and deliver. My father was appalled that I had to deliver a dead baby. But that was the reality of it.

After we left the hospital, we went straight to my parents' house. My parents and two of my brothers met us at the door. I broke down all over again when I saw them and they each hugged me. It all just felt so awful. More than awful. There is no word for it.
We spent the rest of the day and evening sitting in the living room. I cried all day and night, wishing I could be consoled. I just kept thinking about how my sweet little baby was dead inside of me. I hated it so much. I felt so much dread and sadness. I was afraid of what the next day would bring. So much pain. So much devastation.

I'll never forget how my dad wanted to try anything he could to help me. He ran out and got me a liter of Mountain Dew, my favorite drink of all time, and Doritos and a Butterfinger, which are a couple other favorites. I couldn't bear to eat, but I did allow myself to have the soda. I stayed away from caffeine through my pregnancy so it was nice to have it. Little good my caffeine avoidance had done.

That night, when Daniel and I finally got home, we got into bed. We cried for a while, holding each other so miserably. It was pretty late. Daniel is blessed to be able to fall asleep easily no matter what. I, on the other hand, was awake all night. I cried and cried. I pictured how the next day would go and what it might be like to see our baby. How would she look? Would it be disturbing? Would she look normal? Would she look beautiful and perfect? So many questions and worry. But most of all I was just afraid of how much it would hurt my heart to go through that. The labor to deliver a child is worth it, but to deliver a baby who is not coming home with you is a like a kick in the face.

Of all the days surrounding Avery's death and birth, this day was the hardest. Finding out that the baby I had waited my whole life to have was gone, was really and truly the very worst thing that I have ever been through. Sometimes I still cannot believe that this happened to us and that our sweet little girl is not here. Today is hard for me, reliving the day and remembering exactly how I felt to know our baby died. I will never forget that.

Thank you for reading. These days are so sacred to me.

Day 7: Words For Her

I got an iPad for my most recent birthday. Not much later, I was feeling creative and downloaded a journal app. It's been years since I've written poetry. It's something I used to do a lot of, but in the last few years, I've struggled to successfully be poetic.

Despite my writer's block, on October 29, 2012, I made an entry in that journal app, just typing out whatever came to mind, trying to eloquently express the way I feel. I never planned to share it, but this is what I came up with:

I miss you. 

Who would you be right now? What would your voice sound like? What would you say to me? What would be your favorite things? Would you sing? Would you dance? What would you pretend as you play? Would you have curls like your brother? Would you be brave and bold or shy and reserved? 

So many things I don't know and that's what makes it so hard to be without you. 

A lifetime of knowing and loving and living left undone. 

Goodbye without hello. Kisses you never felt. Words you never heard. 

You're so gone. So missing. So absent. 

Yet you're here, etched into my being, the void in my heart screams your name.

Aching to feel your weight in my hands again, dreading the day I forget the feel of your skin. 

Slowly slipping away, the touch, the scent, the sight...

But the memory of silence is engraved like a scar. 

The torture of the stillness, no cry, no breath from your perfect lips. 

Day 5: Happy Memories

In early March of 2010, Daniel and I tagged along on a fun outing to celebrate his father's birthday. Daniel's brother and sister came along too. We went to place that had a go cart track, rides, and arcade games. I was 24 weeks pregnant with Avery so I wasn't allowed on any of the rides-- not even the little carousel!

It was a beautiful day. The weather was perfect. I spent a lot of time sitting by myself while I waited for Daniel and his family to finish each ride. I didn't mind waiting. I sat there thinking about my sweet baby, dreaming of her arrival. Dreaming of holding her and seeing her face. I felt so content even through my impatience. I can't believe how vividly I remember sitting there, watching the carousel, picturing that one day my little girl would ride one, laughing and smiling. I pictured her with curls like her dad.

Every few minutes, Daniel would speed by me on the go cart track and each time he would smile real big and blow me a kiss as he passed by. I loved seeing him enjoy himself and have fun. At the time, he was working three jobs so leisure time was scarce. But his joyful grins and boyish excitement made me so happy that day, knowing all of the beautiful moments that were ahead of us with coming birth of our first baby.

We all had dinner at Hard Rock Cafe. I had chicken fajitas with lots of guacamole, one of my most common cravings when I was pregnant with Avery. I remember as we walked to the car, Daniel's sister asked me what baby kicks feel like. And I told her they feel exactly what you'd think they feel like. I didn't know she should have been kicking much harder than that by then. And I didn't know I'd stop feeling her in just a matter of days.

But on this day, all of those horrors were far away in the unknown, not yet a part of reality or my world. I like to think back to the days before I knew this could happen to us. Before I knew we'd have to face life without her and all of the things we thought we would share with her. I like to remember the joy and the excitement and not only remember the pain and the grief. Avery deserves that. She should never be diminished to a source of agony or a sad story. She is my firstborn, the first to hear my heartbeat from the inside. She made me a mother and she will always be the joy of my heart.

Day 3: Avery's Heartbeat

I don't have an awful lot of physical proof of Avery's life. I have a handful of ultrasound images. I have a few sets of her perfect tiny footprints. But the most precious thing I have in my possession is a sound clip of her heart beating. I thank God that Daniel recorded it at our very first prenatal appointment in December of 2009. It was also the very first time we heard her heartbeat. It was an amazing moment and we have it forever.

I remember sitting and just listening to the clip over and over as she grew inside me. It made me feel closer to her, to be able to listen to her heart. After she died, it was painful and a bit strange at first, to listen to a heart that no longer beats. But after a while, it brought me comfort. The proof that her life happened and she existed. She was alive inside of me, a real and whole person.

I'm so grateful to have this piece of my baby girl. To be able to hear the sound of her precious heart long after it no longer beats.

Day 2: Avery's letters

I grew up very sentimental and nostalgic. I had planned for a while to write letters to my babies. I started Avery's journal of letters when we began trying to get pregnant with her. I guess I just couldn't wait, and it kept me busy for those five months while we waited impatiently for that positive result.

My relationship with my daughter started long before the day she was born. I dreamed her my whole life. I wanted her since I was a child. Daniel and I talked about our children even while we were just dating. When we were only engaged, we had Avery's name picked out. We decided to start a family just eight months after we got married. (We even wanted to start sooner, but we felt obligated to become more financially secure first. Yeah, we still aren't.) The first letter in this journal is dated April 14, 2009, the three year anniversary of when we started dating.

It was so surreal to make that decision to have a baby. I remember it so well. I couldn't believe I was finally going to live the rest of my dreams (Daniel being my first dream). Excited doesn't even describe how I felt. We even went out to an expensive restaurant (thanks to my parents) to celebrate the beginning of our journey.

Of course, there was that fear that I wouldn't be able to get pregnant, and even when I did, I feared miscarriage for the first trimester. I would write my letters and I had a thought in the back of my mind... What if I lose this baby? What about these letters? A part of me worried that my baby would never read them. I wish I hadn't been right. Even so, I kept writing them, believing everything would be fine like it was supposed to be, like it always was for everyone around me.

I introduced myself to Avery in the letters, told her my thoughts about being her mother. Daniel wrote a couple of letters, telling her about his three jobs and the fun things he dreamed of doing with her. I wrote because my longing to be with her was so strong, I had to do something. And I formed a love and a relationship with her, even deeper than it already was from my desires that stemmed since childhood. I already loved her. I didn't need to meet her first. She was so wanted.

I decided that I wanted to share "a few" excerpts from this journal of letters. I always feel the need to express how much Avery was loved while she was alive so it can be better understood why she is still so loved even now. She matters. She is part of our family. She isn't just a lost pregnancy. She isn't the loss of something that never was. She was and she is.

"I was looking at baby clothes today at Baby Gap just for fun while I was out shopping with my mom, your Grandma! Oh, it made me want you! I almost feel like I miss you. But I can't say that cuz I've never had you. But I already love you, and I care about you, and I think about you... so it makes me sad that you're not here with me. I guess that's what makes me feel like I miss you. I don't know how else to describe it. One day, Baby!" - May 18, 2009 (almost a month before we started trying)

"I'm a little nervous. Not about having you, but about being able to easily get pregnant and to be able to keep you without anything going wrong. I need to not worry, but you are what I've wanted since I was a little girl. I guess it seems too good to be true that I get to have you soon!" - June 5, 2009

"Baby! We found out on the 16th that you are here with us!! As of today, I'm only 5 weeks and 2 days along but you are growing everyday! Daddy and I were so excited when we read the test and it said 'Pregnant,' I have been praying to see that for so long! You are what I have dreamed of my whole life. You and your Daddy... and of course your future siblings someday. :) Everyone is so excited that you're coming! I can't wait to find out if you're a boy or a girl. I can't wait until I can feel you living inside me. Stay healthy, baby! I can't wait to meet you and I already love you!" - October 22, 2009

"I haven't been feeling too well lately, but I don't even care. I'm just so thrilled that you're here with me. I pray for you all the time, that you're healthy and that God will keep you safe. Sometimes I'm so scared that something could happen to you. I shouldn't ever think like that, but I guess it's just cuz I want you so badly." - November 12, 2009

"We've moved to a new house since I wrote you last. This is the house you'll come home to. I picture cuddling with you in these rooms and I can't wait 'til you're here with us." - December 11, 2009 (right before our very first ultrasound)

"Hello Baby, I think about you constantly. I wonder what you think about. I know you're young and don't understand life yet but I know that you experience sensations and some emotions. I bet you're happy -- all warm and nourished. I wish I could see you. You're so close to me, within me, and yet you seem so far away. I can't wait until we can find out what gender you are, so I can know who you are -- who it is I've been loving. My son or my daughter. Jude or Avery." - December 16, 2009

And then on March 30, 2010...

"My sweet Avery Nicole, It's been 20 days since you met Jesus. It's been 17 days since I held you for the first and last time. Something suddenly went wrong and we lost you. You were born on March 13, 2010 at 5:05am, a beautiful Saturday morning, weighing 8.2oz and just 8 1/4in long. Despite the fact that you were already gone, you were still so beautiful and perfect. Daddy and I already loved you, so seeing you just deepened that love. We held you and kissed you and savored you for about 7 hours before we said goodbye. Oh. baby girl, that was the hardest thing I've ever done. I relive those moments with you over and over. We miss you so desperately, Avery! Your funeral on Tuesday, March 16th was bittersweet. So many people came. So many people love you as if you'd been here a lifetime. It was so hard to see your small, pretty, white casket, knowing you were inside it instead of in my arms... or in my belly where you should still be. It's so hard without you here, sweet girl! I cry all the time cuz it hurts so bad. But it's not your fault. God needed you. We don't know why, but we believe He had a special purpose for you. I'm so proud of you, Baby! You touched so many lives and you changed people. I miss you, my sweet Avery. I wish I could cuddle with you right now. I hope you're having fun in Heaven. Picturing you playing and laughing always makes me feel a little better. I love you, sweet girl. Forever, Mommy."

Flashback : 1.21.11

Today, two years ago (two years already?!), we found out I was pregnant with Jude. I remember it so well, still. Such an amazing and unbelievable day.

It was so difficult, trying again for another baby, when we were supposed to be raising our little girl but weren't. The fear mixed with the excitement mixed with the frustration. Not only was I trying for something I was supposed to already have, it was taking longer than it should. For couple who struggle with infertility, I know nine cycles is a dream. But for me, who is supposedly "normal" is that department, it was just another nagging thing. I can't imagine being one of those women who get pregnant on the first try... or even on accident. I can't fathom how that's possible.

So today, two years ago, as soon as I got up that morning, I dragged Daniel into our bathroom and took a test. I wanted to just put myself out of my misery and see that we failed yet another month. I thought it would be easier for the test to tell me than to wait for my body to. We stood there for just seconds, it seemed, as the little hourglass displayed on the digital screen. Suddenly, there was just one beautiful and alarming, glorious and terrifying word: Pregnant. I couldn't believe it. I let out a joyful shriek and threw my arms around Daniel. It was the beginning of a lovely and scary journey that would end in both victory and defeat.

Pregnancy after loss is such a rollercoaster of emotions. In one moment, you can feel both excited and scared. Both confidence and doom. The bliss is gone, but there's still so much joy in carrying life again, in the same exact spot where there was so much loss. I remember I used to think about how strange it was to have Jude dancing around where Avery died. That his heart beat exactly where hers stopped. He is the only person to be in the very place where she lived, and the very place she passed away.

Her death saved his life... Her death is the reason he is even here, just as he is. I never would have gotten pregnant two Januaries ago if Avery had lived. She'd only be 2 1/2 right now if she'd made it to her due date, so I doubt we'd even have another baby by now. Even when we would give Avery a sibling, in this alternate universe where she never died, it wouldn't be the Jude we know now. He would be a completely different person. It's crazy to think of that. I'd never change Jude, but I wish Avery was here.

I'm so grateful how everything turned out with my second pregnancy, despite the new horrors that came with it. Standing in my bathroom with that positive test in my hand, I was not promised that our second baby would make it here alive. There was so much left to uncertainty. So much fear and worry. So much hope and joy. I've never prayed more in my life than I did when I was pregnant with Jude. Most days, I begged God for his life. I thank God He brought Jude here safely, even if it was too early and not the experience I dreamed of. I'm so glad this day in our history is still a happy day, the day we found out our boy was coming.

"Mighty glad you stayed..."

October 16, 2009

This day, three years ago, is the last significant best day of my life. This day, I found out I was finally pregnant with my first baby -- the day I waited my whole life for. It's odd to think that it set my hell in motion. I was a week shy of 26 years old, but to be honest, had been a mother in my heart since I was old enough to play with dolls.

I can still remember my bliss and my utter excitement. I have never been happier than I was in that moment. Even my most beautiful moments with Jude have been bittersweet and tainted by the doings of my flawed body.  Regardless of anything, I miss that day three years ago. I miss thinking my dreams were coming true. I miss having Avery alive, so close. I miss the time when my life was normal, before grief ravaged and frayed every fiber of my being.

I wonder if there will come a time when I don't remember this day... When October 16th rolls around and I'm no longer aware of its significance. For now, I don't see that happening. I can't shake any of this. I feel like this monumentally beautiful day was taken away from me the moment we lost Avery. This day is sacred to me. Pregnancy is so sacred to me. It always was. And after what I've been through, it's intensified. In a world where it's seemingly fashionable to complain away pregnancies and take 'needy' babies for granted, it's proven unbearable.

But I live on like I always do. Remembering my girl on every little special day I can. Because that's all I have left of her. And it will never be enough.

Happy Birthday, sweet Jude

It's July 31st. I can't believe it.

A whole year has gone by, yet I feel like Jude just came into the world. Right now, last year, I was in the hospital once again, staying overnight for observation after another bout of high blood pressure. My doctor had me admitted, mostly for my own peace of mind, since she knew how fearful I was for Jude's safety.

Before discharging me the morning of the 31st, my doctor ordered an ultrasound, just to be extra thorough. Within minutes, I was told Jude would be coming in an hour because the pressure in the cord was very high and causing him too much stress. It was such a shock at first. At first I felt relieved, like I'd finally be able to breathe for the first time in eight months, knowing that, sadly, he'd be safer outside of my body. But then I was overcome with so much reluctance, holding my belly for the last time and feeling Jude's last kicks while I waited for them to take me away for the emergency c-section. I couldn't shake the notion that my pregnancy was being ripped away from me prematurely, once again.

I was put under for the c-section because I had been on blood thinners. It was too dangerous for a spinal; I could have bled out. So being put under was the only option, which also meant Daniel wasn't allowed in for Jude's birth. I still hate these situations. That neither Daniel nor I were there to see our sweet boy come into the world. Daniel only saw Jude for a few seconds before they whisked him away to the NICU, where he stayed for the next 32 days.

Jude Wesley was born at 12:37pm, at 31 weeks gestation, weighing 3 pounds 1.1 ounces, and was 15.5 inches long. I was told he was very content for such a premature baby. He was born so stressed, but calmed so much after. My body was doing to him exactly what it did to Avery. The placenta was once again failing. My doctor later said Jude probably wouldn't have made it another day. I am so grateful, so thankful that I knew to go to the hospital the previous evening. That I had the intuition that something wasn't right. I thank God for the wisdom of my doctor, who did exactly what was needed before it was too late.

Our families all met Jude within a couple hours after his birth. I was still recuperating from the bleeding issue I had during my surgery. I didn't get to see my little boy at all the day he was born. It's so strange to think about that. He was here but I wasn't with him. Definitely not the typical birth experience. Neither of mine have been, that's for sure. I wish I knew what it was like to carry a baby to term, to go into labor, to give birth to a living baby that I immediately get to hold, and to take that baby home just a day or so later. I'll never know. But I do know the joy of my sweet Jude... and that's definitely enough.

I am so honored to be Jude's mom. He is an amazing baby, such an incredible little person. I can already see his personality and his little heart. He is precious and sweet. He is silly. He is so strong, the first thing he ever was, here in this world, fighting to live. My tiny son is my hero. He is truly a miracle. Truly.

And today, Jude turns 1. It's bittersweet for us. We love our little boy and he just gets bigger and bigger everyday. We miss the tinier days. They get further away with each moment that passes. We embrace these new moments and we love and savor them, but we know we can never go back. We can never share these same sweet stages with any other children. These were the sacred times we lost with our only daughter, and these are the times we cling to with our son. Despite that, today is a victory. Jude is here. He's healthy and alive. He gets to grow up. I just wish he wouldn't do it so quickly!

Jude, Daddy and I are so proud of you. You fill our lives with so much joy. Each day is beautiful just being with you... watching you learn and play, seeing your smile and hearing your laughter. I love you more than life. Happy 1st birthday, sweet sweet boy.

“... and she loved a boy very, very much-- even more than she loved herself.”
― Shel Silverstein, The Giving Tree

Flashback: July 24-25, 2011

Yesterday, last year, I hit the 30 week mark in my pregnancy with Jude. And that was the day my perfect pregnancy went downhill. Everything had been amazing and been going so well. It was a completely different pregnancy than Avery's. 'Night and day,' as my doctor put it.

But early in the morning on July 24th, I had a terrible pain in my upper abdomen, prompting me to go to Labor & Delivery. It turned out that my blood pressure was spiking and the enzymes in my liver were elevated. No longer the perfect, healthy pregnancy I thought I was having. I believed we'd fixed everything that went wrong with Avery and that it would be different this time. But we were all wrong.

I was admitted to the hospital that morning. They monitored Jude and my blood pressure. It was going up and down way too much to put me on medication. To be safe, I received a round of steroid injections to help mature Jude's lungs if things were to worsen. That was the best thing they could have done for me. I really believe that's what helped Jude do so well when he was born just a week later.

Today, last year, I was discharged from the hospital. They did an ultrasound on our sweet boy to make sure he was doing alright. He passed his NST and looked great. But I was to monitor my blood pressure at home and make sure it didn't stay elevated for long periods of time.

I remember spending the next several days so nervous. My dreams of a normal pregnancy were once again shattered, but I still had high hopes that it would be several weeks before we had to face any pregnancy-ending situations. I didn't know I'd be admitted to L&D once again in just five more days.

NICU visit {7.13.12}

It had been ten months and twelve days since we stepped out of the NICU for the very last time. That last long trip down that endless hall of labor and delivery. Bringing Jude out with us into the light of day for the very first time. And we've meant to go back but time slips away in such an unreal manner lately. I feel like I'm living my life in fast forward. It just goes much too quickly.

On July 13th, Daniel and I finally brought Jude back to the hospital where I had both him and Avery. I wanted to visit my favorite nurse, Daniele, who has always played such a special role in both of my birth stories. She is the one who sat down with Daniel and I and told us that Avery was gone (even though we already knew). She was the one who got me settled in my room to induce to deliver Avery. She shared with us, the story of the sweet baby she lost and we bonded over that. I saw that there could be a light at the end of such a devastating blow. If Daniele was still standing, then I knew one day I would get back on my feet as well. She and I kept in touch over the next year. Then, when I was having issues during my pregnancy with Jude, Daniele was there again. She was the one who told me he would be born early... that he'd be coming "in about an hour." She helped prep me for my emergency c-section. She was there when Jude was born and she was the one who took the first photos of him. Daniele took me to see my sweet boy for the first time. She was there in the coming weeks, when we'd come visit our baby. Daniele made sure to come visit me when I ended up in the hospital with pulmonary embolisms. She took care of me so much. There to comfort me and make me laugh, even in the darkest of times. She is amazing and I am so grateful to know her.

And then it was off to the NICU. It was so odd to walk down that hall again, like we had countless times last summer. The smell, the slight chill in the air, the sounds. All so incredibly familiar. It suddenly didn't feel like it had been so long since we'd last roamed these halls daily, praying for that phase of our lives to end. For this place to no longer be a reluctant second home.

It was so strange, yet so oddly normal picking up that phone and requesting to be let into the NICU. Daniele had told them we were coming to visit, so they let us right in. I can't even describe how it felt to see that long room again, stretched out before us. The soft light, the calm quiet mixed with the sounds of fragile life, the isolettes, the beeping and chiming monitors. It almost felt like we never left. It almost felt like home. So familiar and normal. Yet distant and vague.

The nurses couldn't believe their eyes when they saw Jude. They all made such a fuss over him; how much he's grown and how healthy he looks. He's like a different baby. It was nice to hear that we did such a great job with him, even though all we've done is love him and take care of him.

Sonal, one of our favorite nurses, was there. She was the one who cut Jude's cord when he was born. She took care of him a lot when he was there in the NICU, and we liked her very much.

It was great to see her and a few of the other nurses, and to tell them how Jude is doing, what he likes, and all the amazing things he can do. ;) He's come such a long way. I love how they still cared about him, even after all this time. Nicole, one of the nurses, ran into their break room and grabbed the thank you card and photos I had sent around Christmas time and showed us that they'd been hanging on their bulletin board. It made me so happy to know that he's so special to them, that they never forgot.

The most amazing thing was to visit Jude's little area of the NICU. The back left corner, right by the supply shelf. That's where he spent most of his first 4.5 weeks. To bring him back to that spot, as he is now, as we are now, all this time later. To watch him touch the thick plastic of the isolette from the outside... such a strange feeling. Victorious, maybe.

I still can't believe we have walked this journey. It's astounding to look back at where we've come from and where Jude began. I am eternally grateful that our fragile, tiny baby has grown into this strong, smart, and incredible little boy. 

Flashback: 7.12.11

I keep looking through the photos on my computer of when I was pregnant with Jude last year. I can't seem to wrap my head around the fact that he is turning one so soon. I can't believe it's gone so quickly, that my tiny tiny baby is turning into a little boy. I'm holding onto all of these moments and reminiscing about the journey to get to him.

Today, last year, I was 28 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I posted this photo on this blog.

These were my favorite belly shots to take. I loved watching my feet disappear. I loved looking down at my pregnant belly. I loved everything about carrying Jude. (Okay, minus the worrying.) It was such a precious, exciting, scary, crazy, beautiful time in my life. And most times, I still can't believe he's actually here. <3

Flashback: 7.10.11

I'm perpetually sentimental, but lately, as I work on Jude's approaching first birthday party, I'm even more sensitive to it. More nostalgic than ever, if that's possible for me.

Today last year, I was 28 weeks pregnant with Jude.

I miss being pregnant so much. I loved being pregnant. Despite the fear and the injections, it was still the greatest thing I've had the privilege of experiencing. I can't believe a whole year has gone by since I snapped this photo in my bathroom. (Thankfully, it's been painted since then!) It's so weird to think that I had no idea, as I posed for this, that Jude would be here in exactly three more weeks.

All because two people fell in love...

I was inspired by the lovely Franchesca, over at Small Bird Studios, to share my love story and how I met Daniel, in the spirit of Valentines Day. It'll probably be too long, and maybe not very eloquent but here goes nothing!

I used to love web design. I had planned to go to school for it at one point, I liked it so much. I ended up building and maintaining a site for the band of a longtime friend, Jimmy. After some time, Jimmy recommended me to someone at his church named Joel who was forming a band and was interested in a website. Yes, this is how it all began.

Daniel was the rhythm guitarist in the new band. He had just moved here to Florida from San Diego, California when his family inherited a house literally four minutes away from where I lived with my parents and two brothers. In August of 2005, I met Joel, who was the lead vocalist of the band, and Andy, who is Daniel's brother and the lead guitarist, at a church function and we chatted about getting things moving with the website. Daniel was there, across the room, and he was pointed out to me. I remember seeing him earlier when I first got there and thinking he looked intriguing. I thought he was very good-looking and wondered about who he was. I was pleased to find out that he was part of the band I'd be working with.

The months went by, and I was preoccupied with a different guy. I thought things were truly going somewhere with him, but it ended in heartbreak like the rest of my romantic endeavors. During this time, my younger brother, Shaun, had begun attending the same youth group Daniel was a part of. Shaun became friends with him and the rest of the band. Daniel and I were MySpace friends but never really interacted in person.

On St. Patrick's Day of 2006, that all changed. Jimmy's band had a show at a local church that night. Joel's band attended as well, meaning Daniel was there. I remember looking up and seeing him from behind. A little ping of excitement shot through me. I felt happy that he was there. It was cool to actually get to spend some time with him. He was such a nice guy.

After the show, the guys ended up coming back to my house, since they all knew my brother. I was thrilled to find out that Daniel was a photography and Photoshop junky like me. He loved playing with my camera that night.

But I, admittedly, was very hesitant because Daniel was younger than me. I was 22 and he would be 19 in a little under two months. That's a three year and nine month difference. I was very reluctant to let myself have any feelings for Daniel. He was still in high school (until May) and didn't have a job or a car. I had a good job working for my dad and nannying for my precious baby cousin. I was done with my college phase of life. I wanted to get married so badly, like as soon as possible. But I couldn't ignore how great Daniel was. His heart for God, his appreciation of life, his joy in the little things. The other things were so easy to overlook. I just had to be patient. I ended up giving in to the fight and letting myself have the feelings for him.

Becoming friends with Daniel was so easy and so natural. We got so close so fast. I guess it was just perfect. One of those things that's just right. I will never forget the night that we took a walk in my neighborhood (which is now our neighborhood because we live around the corner from my parents) and when we got back, he put his arm around me and didn't pull away. It turned into a hug and we just stood there, holding each other for what felt like forever. I could not believe it. Before that moment, I wondered so much if he felt like I did. I was so afraid he was just nice and I had once again made the mistake of falling for my friend. I was perpetually in the friend zone. But not this time. Finally.

When Daniel left, I could still feel his arms around me and I could smell him. I felt so amazed by what had just gone on between us. It was so simple but so special at the same time. I just knew things were about to happen.

Daniel was a little hesitant to make things official at first. He wanted to pray about it. He'd never had an actual girlfriend before me, never kissed anyone. Somehow he was one of the few left out there who was pure and sweet. How did I find him? I never thought I'd find someone who fit my list of unrealistic qualities. I had previously only had one boyfriend at the age of 14 (who'd been one of my closest friends since we were 8. I unfortunately blew my first kiss at the age of 20 on some jerk I worked with but never dated. Grrr. That still makes me mad.)

Finally, on April 14, 2006, Daniel asked me to be his girlfriend. It only took us a week to say "I love you." And by June, we knew we wanted to be together forever. It was like a scene out of a movie. Daniel would be leaving to visit California for three weeks and I came to see him one more time. We were holding each other in his driveway, saying goodbye. I was crying, of course, because I'm really good at that. Suddenly, it began to pour so hard. We didn't budge, but let the rain soak us as we hugged and talked. That's literally when we agreed we wanted to get married someday. I remember I even told him I'd live in a box with him, as long as I could be with him. And then we kissed. In the rain. It was a sweet moment.

A little over a year later, on June 30, 2007, Daniel proposed to me at a cute little Italian restaurant. It was precious. He doesn't think so, but I think it was perfect. We set our wedding date for January 5, 2008.

In October of 2007, Daniel got laid off from his job and our wedding got postponed indefinitely. I was so devastated. That was the worst thing that had ever happened to us... until the death of our first child, of course. I was just a preschool teacher at the time so we needed him to find a decent job before we could set a new date. It was really hard for me. I thought that would be our life's biggest trial. At the time, I felt like my dream fell apart and I didn't know when I could put it back together again.

In April, Daniel and I decided to take a leap of faith and set a Fall date. I was now a nanny for a family and Daniel was working for two different landscapers. As we started to plan, my older brother got out of his abusive marriage and moved back home. We all made the decision to have him as a housemate and have no worries about affording living on our own with his help. Ron has been a blessing to us. Even to this day, we couldn't make ends meet without him.

On October 18, 2008, Daniel and I got married. We spent our wedding night at a little bed and breakfast and then headed to Orlando for a couple nights. At the risk of sounding cheesy, it was like a dream come true. It really was. Getting married was something I had dreamed of and waited for my whole life. Being a wife and a mother have always been the only things I have ever wanted. Daniel has made those come true for me and I will always be grateful to him for that.

We originally wanted to wait a year before trying for a baby but with our love for children, we just couldn't wait that long. We started trying in June of 2009 and found out on October 16, 2009 that our first baby... Avery... was on the way.

Everyone knows the rest of this story. On March 13, 2010, Avery was stillborn at 25 weeks. I had blood clotting mutations that caused clots in Avery's cord and placenta. That is now the worst thing that has ever happened to us. Through the loss of our baby girl, Daniel and I grew even closer. We had always been best friends and truly cared for and loved each other. Someone warned us that child deaths can tear marriages apart. But for us, it did not prove true. We formed an even deeper bond over burying the child we made together and we grieved together. I'm so thankful that I have a husband who loved his unborn baby that much. That he could feel the same way about her loss that I do, even though I was the only one who experienced her alive. I would have understood if he felt disconnected from her. But he never did. He was always in love with her. Since the day the test was positive.

Avery's birth day was a year and eleven months ago. We are just one month from her second birthday. And here we are, with Jude in our arms. Our six month old miracle baby. He is our happily ever after. Things definitely haven't gone how we have planned. We have endured more in our almost six years together than some people do in a lifetime. (I mean, I literally almost died twice last summer. What the heck?) But Daniel and I blessed. We are blessed to have each other. We are blessed to be so in love. We are blessed to have our precious baby boy. We are blessed to have our sweet girl saving us a place in Heaven. We struggle financially. We struggle emotionally. We struggle with these dreams we have lost. But we don't struggle with each other. Daniel is my best friend. God wrote our love story... and I wouldn't change that.

I love you, Daniel. <3