Merry Christmas, Darling

We've been spending a great deal of time lately 'decking the halls' and shopping for gifts. Christmas has always been my favorite time of year but for the last two years, it's been both happy and sad. Both joyous and lacking. I savor all of the warmth the season brings into our home and the excitement that hangs in the air, but another emotion lingers over us always during these festive days.

Avery isn't here.

Her stocking hangs between mine and her brother's. She has several ornaments gracing our tree. But she will never share in this special holiday with us. The closest thing to having her here was when I was pregnant with her for Christmas of 2009. I kept saying excitedly how it was our last Christmas without our baby when actually, it was our only Christmas with her.

As I watch Jude marvel over these new and amazing sights, I wonder how Avery would love it all. What would be her favorite parts of our traditions? What would be on her Christmas wish list? Surely, she would have helped us decorate the tree last night. Even if she dropped and broke a few ornaments, I'd be glad to let her help. To see the twinkling lights illuminate her little face. To watch her smile in awe as she watched the tree come to life with color and beauty. I know she would've enjoyed it. The Christmas cookies we'd bake. The Christmas movies we'd watch. The Christmas dresses she'd wear. I'm sure she would have looked beautiful on our Christmas card, nestled right in between us, next to her brother. And she'd probably help Daddy plug in the Christmas lights outside each evening and light up as the lights did.

Christmas, although beautiful and magical, will always be missing something. I'll always wonder about that empty space in our family and my imagination will always fill it as I drift off into the 'if only's. I especially wish that Jude could share the excitement of Christmas with his sister, just the way I always did with my brothers. It makes me sad for him, though he'll never know differently and won't realize what he's missing. But I will. It'll always be there in the back of my mind. His singularity, his technical only child-ness.

I try not to focus on the negative aspects. I want to enjoy our blessings more than grieve our losses. It's not as raw as it used to be. The first Christmas without Avery was agonizing. It was ugly and anything but joyful. The season's beauty practically mocked our pain. I'm so grateful that our hearts have come a long way since then, but our love has not faded. The way we miss our little girl has not changed. We'll always wish she was here. I guess in a way she is, living on in the spirit of her little brother, who is here because of her.

I often think about where Avery is spending Christmas instead. And I think about what Christmas is all about in the first place... Celebrating the birth of Christ. Avery gets to celebrate the birth of Jesus with Him. She is there with Jesus Himself, among the songs of the angels, sharing in His birthday celebration. What an amazing joyous sight that must be.

Merry Christmas darling, we're apart that's true
But I can dream and in my dreams, I'm Christmas-ing with you...

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.

 

 

 



Jude's 2nd Thanksgiving

I miss how magical the holidays felt when I was a kid. It seems now, I spend more time in disbelief that the certain date has so quickly rolled around once again than I do really feeling festive! Maybe that's just part of growing up. Don't get me wrong. I look forward to these times. It's my favorite time of the year. I love and thoroughly enjoy all the decorating and the baking and the family gatherings. But now it's my job to make sure Jude feels the joy and the magic that every kid should feel. To remind him to be thankful for what he has and who he is. He's too young now to understand but I'm looking forward to the years to come, to see the excitement in Jude's eyes on these special family days. All the beautiful memories we're going to make together. What a blessing. So much to be thankful for!!

This year, Thanksgiving was different for my family with Poppop gone. It was the first thing I thought about as the day loomed. It would be the first time our family gathered without him. I must admit, as I mixed the filling for my pumpkin pie bars that morning, and "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" was playing in the living room, I lost it. The line "Through the years we all will be together" was what did it. Through the years we all have been together. Now it's changed. It's another new normal that we have to accept in life. Just like having a dead daughter has become normal for me. But for now, it's sometimes unbelievable. That all of Jude's firsts were all of my grandpa's lasts. Life is strange and hard and sometimes very ugly, but it's also very beautiful. And family is the best part.

Things may not always be as magical as I imagined they would be when I was a kid, but no matter who or what I have lost, no matter the struggles or triumphs, there is always always so much to be thankful for. There is love and life in my home. And that is more than enough.

Seizure

Yesterday was one of the scariest days of my life. There are a few horrifying days in my memory and this is definitely at the top of the list.

Yesterday, Jude had a seizure.

Jude has been completely healthy since he's been born, despite his nine week early entrance into the world. Yesterday, he showed no signs of sickness, no indication that anything was wrong.
Jude and I went with my parents, my grandma, and my aunt to the cemetery to visit my grandpa.

It was warm, but nothing alarming. Jude played on the ground for a few minutes, Then I picked him up and took him to stand under an umbrella to take a break from the sunshine.

Just a moment later, he arched backwards in my arms. At first, I thought he was being silly, leaning back. But when I turned to him, he was making a weird sound. The second, I realized something was wrong, my dad took him from my arms and said he was having a seizure. My mom and I immediately went into hysterics as we followed behind my dad, who was rushing Jude to the car. He yelled for us to call 911. I pulled out my phone and dialed it with shaking hands... the first time I've ever called it in my life. I couldn't believe I was saying "my son is having a seizure."

There was a couple who was helping us, as we brought Jude to the air conditioning in my parents' car. He was shaking and his eyes were rolling back. He was drooling. It looked like my little boy was gone. I couldn't believe what was happening. I was so afraid he was going to die. I pleaded with God in my head as the couple gave us pointers. They told us to drive to the entrance of the cemetery so the ambulance could find us better. I took Jude in my arms, surprised that he felt like dead weight. The woman was telling me how to do CPR in case he stopped breathing. As soon as she mentioned that, I tuned out and started freaking out all over again, not hearing a word she was saying. I couldn't wait to get him to the ambulance. I did not want to be responsible for resuscitating my own baby. I didn't trust myself to do it properly. I didn't want to experience that with him.

Thankfully, the ambulance pulled up to us on the side of the road and I got out of the car, my mentally absent child in my arms, as I cried and shook. His breathing was returning to normal, but he didn't seem at all like himself. A paramedic took him from me and I turned to my dad and asked him if it was possible that Jude could now be mentally handicapped from it. He told me no. I figured my parents knew about seizures, since my younger brother has epilepsy and has had about four seizures in his 22 years of life.

I climbed into the ambulance and my parents followed behind. By this time, Jude was crying and getting upset with the paramedic's prodding. He was looking around at the lights on the ceiling and I felt so relieved. I held his hand and talked to him, so afraid that something terrible inside him had caused his little body to seize. There's no way I could lose him. I'd never survive that.

We finally got to the hospital, and by this time, Jude seemed pretty normal, just very upset and tired. Daniel arrived just minutes later. His temperature was 102.7 and was probably much higher before (somehow, the paramedic had no thermometer). They took some blood from Jude, a urine sample via catheter, and a swab from his nose. They were checking for the flu, and RSV, and also checking his blood count. They did an x-ray of his lungs to check for fluid. He had an IV so his arm was taped down to a little board. He was hooked up to a monitor with leads all over his body. He had a little blood pressure cuff on his arm. It sort of felt like the NICU all over again, with my wired baby.

After putting on a saline drip mixed with a medication for infection and giving him Motrin, the nurses finally left him alone. As the medicine kicked in and he started to feel some relief, Jude fell asleep on my chest. I stroked his hair and cried in the unusual silence, remembering all of the horrific emotions I felt in the last hour, believing I may lose my most precious blessing. The fleeting, quick thoughts that had crossed my mind in those frightening unsure moments... Wondering if the last photo I'd ever take of Jude would be him at my grandpa's grave. Wondering if I'd ever see him smile again. I didn't dare imagine a funeral, but the quick thought crossed my mind with a sickening pain.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before the doctor explained to us what happened to our baby. Jude had a febrile seizure. They can commonly occur in children from 6 months old to 7 years old. They can be triggered by a sudden high fever. Upon checking, the doctor found that Jude had an ear infection and that must have been what caused the fever. What a way to discover your first ear infection! He hadn't even been showing any signs of it! The assumption was that Jude was starting to get a fever in the car while he napped on the way to the cemetery. As we were visiting my grandpa, his fever rose, the outside heat propelling his temperature faster, causing a seizure. Febrile seizures do not cause any damage and aren't neurological. They are not necessarily reoccurring. Jude may never have another one. I pray to God he doesn't!

Jude spent about five hours in the ER yesterday. It felt like forever. Even after learning he was going to be okay, it was still easy for the day's emotions to bring us to tears as any given moment. We're relieved that he's fine, but we'll never forget those fearful thoughts and the horrific notion that we were going to lose our baby. It was so difficult to watch Jude go through all of that pain. I know he didn't understand why people he didn't know kept hurting him. The lab messed up one of his blood tests and they had to poke him two more times to get more blood from him. We had to help hold him down as he screamed and fought to break free. It was awful.

So when Jude finally smiled again, it made my heart sing. Tears filled my eyes and I felt so happy to see that my little boy was coming back and that his spirit was still joyful even after all of the torture. He even managed to bounce around and laugh and babble, just like he always does. He was so happy. It was the greatest sight I could ever imagine.

It was so wonderful to bring Jude home. By then, he was completely himself. He crawled around and played. You would never know he had a seizure just seven hours before. Jude's now on medication for his ear infection and rotating between Motrin and Tylenol to make sure he doesn't get another high fever. So far, he's been great, just slightly fussy at times, probably when his ear is hurting him. He goes to his doctor tomorrow for a follow up.

I am so beyond grateful that Jude is alright. I would much rather that the seizure never happened, but I'm so thankful that God protected him and that he recovered quickly. I'm so glad that it wasn't triggered by something serious or life affecting. I already cherished and loved my little boy to a ridiculous degree, but somehow, my love has grown even more. He is amazing and strong and I'm so proud of him.

“Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” - Elizabeth Stone

Jude's 2nd Halloween

I have to say that I'm not completely crazy about Halloween. My brothers and I grew up trick or treating and wearing costumes each year. I never thought about it until high school when I had a teacher who made us watch movies about how evil Halloween is. So now, in my adulthood, having children of my own, I question what I'm to do with Jude and how to approach the day each year from here on out. Especially as the world gets uglier, how much can you trust strangers who are handing out candy from their front steps? I do not judge anyone that takes part in Halloween festivities. We just haven't decided if it's for our family.

On the other hand, I am so afraid to miss opportunities and to miss memories with Jude. I do not ever want to look back and have regrets. I don't want to wish I did something differently. He is all we get. I don't have a chance to learn with him and do things differently with my third, fourth, fifth child.

That's why we dressed Jude up last year. He was a candy corn. Such a tiny little thing, about 13 weeks old, but only 4 weeks adjusted. We didn't take him out, just to my parents' house to show off his cuteness.

This year we did the same, sort of. At the last minute, we went looking for a costume, but really couldn't find anything that was his size, that we liked enough, that wasn't a massive rip off. We settled on a Superman shirt with a cape on the back from Target. He can wear it whenever because it's just a regular shirt. I love that much more than blowing money we need on something silly he would wear for a couple hours at best. I must say, he was a very cute Superman.

I'm not sure what we will do next year when he's old enough to trick or treat and he's walking and talking. I guess we'll just have to see.