After my first miscarriage one of my mom's friends, who has three grown children now, confided that she too had miscarried once. She said that no one really knew what I was going through except other women who are "in the club". Women who have suffered a miscarriage do indeed form a club, a very quiet club and we share a bond like no other, for we are the only ones who know what it's like to lose a child while it's still inside of us. This is not a club I ever wanted to be in, but like it or not, I think I may be the president!
I once read something written by another member of the miscarriage club. She wrote that after her miscarriage she would hear other mothers talking about all the things young, new mothers talk about....pregnancy, child birth, nursing, potty training, first words and first days of school. And she longed to be a part of that club, the Mommy Club. I think about my life since Riley was born and I am so thankful that I get to be a member of the Mommy Club, that I know what it's like to see your baby for the first time, hold her, smell her, marvel at her perfectness. That I know what it's like to be dog tired, getting up in the middle of the night 2,3,4 times in a sleep deprived haze to attend to a baby who needs you. That I know what it's like to finally go on a date with your husband again after having a baby...you take a shower, put on something other than sweats, put on make up for the first time in weeks and then just as you head out the door your little angel spits up all over you. I know what it's like to get poop on your fingers and not even be phased because it's the 10th diaper you have changed today. I know the joy of a first smile, first laugh, first step and first word. My days are filled with chasing, teaching, time outs, no-no's, kissing boo boo's and putting band-aids on imaginary ones, cleaning the same mess over and over, tickles, giggles, pretending, blowing bubbles and many days even tears over the frustrations the mother of a toddler faces. And then there are the nights out for drinks with other mommy girlfriends, the ones we take to get a break from our crazy toddlers and mommy duties but then end up talking about the kiddos all night anyway. The good, the bad, the ugly...the wonderful, this is what it is like to be in the Mommy Club. And as much as I hate the previous club, I had to be a member of that one to get to be a member of this one.
To those of you out there who are members of the miscarriage club but not yet members of the Mommy Club, take heart, because you too have days full of mommy adventures in your future. Don't give up. I am so thankful I kept trying and now have Riley. Many days I think about giving up on trying for another one. I think that it is definitely not the worst thing in the world to have an only child. But I know when the day comes that I see my baby, smell that sweet baby smell and marvel once again at the perfectness of God's creation I will be so thankful that I trudged my way through membership in the miscarriage club so that I could once again become a member of the mommy club. And if the measure of a mommy isn't how many children she bears, but how much love is in her heart, then perhaps I am the president of this club too.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
A Day to Remember - Part Two
I lay alone in an exam room, my heart races, small tears are trying to escape through the corner of my eyes but I am fighting them with all my might. Bad memories flood my consciousness. I haven't been back here since losing my baby in December. Pregnancy Loss Remembrance Day just so happens to also be the day I scheduled my annual well woman's check up. I didn't realize that when I made the appointment over two months ago. I already wrote one post about this day, a day we remember. But nothing helps you remember like returning to the scene of the crime. Now I am going to tell you what this day was really like for me.
I sit in a waiting room amongst swollen tummies and little brand new baby cries. I over hear two expectant mothers complaining about their various pregnancy symptoms that are making them uncomfortable. I am escorted back to the exam room where a nurse, the nurse, checks my blood pressure. And I remember. I remember calling and speaking to this very nurse, telling her something was wrong and I thought my baby had died. I remember her telling me that my doctor was out of town and that she was sure everything was fine and I "just needed to relax". I told her I could not find my baby's heart beat on my rented at home fetal doppler. She knows I have miscarried before, but she refuses to allow me to come in to be seen. She tells me the office is closing early for a Christmas party that day and I will have to wait until the next day to come in and see the on call doctor who is scheduled for that Saturday. I plead with her, but she brushes me off and leaves me hanging, terrified, with no where to turn. Out of desperation I call Dr. G's office. He has already released me back to my regular obgyn but I hope he will see me and do an ultrasound. Unfortunately, he is in surgery all day. I contemplate going to the ER, but I did that one too many times with Riley and she was always fine and two weeks later I got a bill for $700. So i white knuckle my way through the day and night until I can go see a doctor.
Today I walked by the ultrasound room and couldn't help but peek in. And I remember. I remember laying in that very room eyes clenched closed while a doctor finally attended to me, searching and searching for a heart beat that was there two days ago, but now can't be found. I remember his words, "I'm sorry guys but I can't find a heart beat". I remember how quiet the office was that Saturday and how my sobs seemed to echo down the quiet halls as my husband held me. I remember looking into his red, swollen eyes and feeling so incredibly guilty for losing another one of his babies, feeling like I had let him down. I remember the plastic replicas in that room. Little plastic babies at all different gestational ages. I remember I stared for so long at the 16 week baby replica, so tiny, yet so big and perfectly formed, all the body parts there and functioning. I just stared at it.
I remember seeing my obgyn when she returned to town and discussing my options, D&E or induction of natural labor. She helped me sort through the most difficult time of my life and make the decision best for me. She came into see me today, immediately sat down and just said, "How are you and there are tissues on the wall." Many people have told me after the terrible experience with her nurse, I should find a new doctor in a new practice, but a good, thorough doctor who knows your history, knows you and gets you is hard to find. So I put up with said nurse so I can stay with the doctor who has been with me through it all, even calling me at night on her personal time to discuss this with me. She told me today my case is one of the worst she has ever seen, that she wishes there was something she could do for me but there isn't, except pray. She says she will pray for me. But I am beyond medical help.
I left the office today completely exhausted. I don't need a special day to remember. I don't need a candle to remember. I remember every day just by being awake, and even in my sleep sometimes. I slept all afternoon to escape this day, to escape remembering. But I sit here now, remembering and retelling with a candle lit beside me. My baby girl comes bursting through the door, runs up to the candle and says "I blow out candle!" I tell her at 8:00 she can. For one hour this candle will burn and when she blows it out the rest of the world will forget this day and these babies but the light that burns inside of me with love and longing for my babies will burn on forever. I remember you dear ones, each and every single one of you will never ever be forgotten by the one person who loved you more than anything while you were on this earth, your mother.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
I sit in a waiting room amongst swollen tummies and little brand new baby cries. I over hear two expectant mothers complaining about their various pregnancy symptoms that are making them uncomfortable. I am escorted back to the exam room where a nurse, the nurse, checks my blood pressure. And I remember. I remember calling and speaking to this very nurse, telling her something was wrong and I thought my baby had died. I remember her telling me that my doctor was out of town and that she was sure everything was fine and I "just needed to relax". I told her I could not find my baby's heart beat on my rented at home fetal doppler. She knows I have miscarried before, but she refuses to allow me to come in to be seen. She tells me the office is closing early for a Christmas party that day and I will have to wait until the next day to come in and see the on call doctor who is scheduled for that Saturday. I plead with her, but she brushes me off and leaves me hanging, terrified, with no where to turn. Out of desperation I call Dr. G's office. He has already released me back to my regular obgyn but I hope he will see me and do an ultrasound. Unfortunately, he is in surgery all day. I contemplate going to the ER, but I did that one too many times with Riley and she was always fine and two weeks later I got a bill for $700. So i white knuckle my way through the day and night until I can go see a doctor.
Today I walked by the ultrasound room and couldn't help but peek in. And I remember. I remember laying in that very room eyes clenched closed while a doctor finally attended to me, searching and searching for a heart beat that was there two days ago, but now can't be found. I remember his words, "I'm sorry guys but I can't find a heart beat". I remember how quiet the office was that Saturday and how my sobs seemed to echo down the quiet halls as my husband held me. I remember looking into his red, swollen eyes and feeling so incredibly guilty for losing another one of his babies, feeling like I had let him down. I remember the plastic replicas in that room. Little plastic babies at all different gestational ages. I remember I stared for so long at the 16 week baby replica, so tiny, yet so big and perfectly formed, all the body parts there and functioning. I just stared at it.
I remember seeing my obgyn when she returned to town and discussing my options, D&E or induction of natural labor. She helped me sort through the most difficult time of my life and make the decision best for me. She came into see me today, immediately sat down and just said, "How are you and there are tissues on the wall." Many people have told me after the terrible experience with her nurse, I should find a new doctor in a new practice, but a good, thorough doctor who knows your history, knows you and gets you is hard to find. So I put up with said nurse so I can stay with the doctor who has been with me through it all, even calling me at night on her personal time to discuss this with me. She told me today my case is one of the worst she has ever seen, that she wishes there was something she could do for me but there isn't, except pray. She says she will pray for me. But I am beyond medical help.
I left the office today completely exhausted. I don't need a special day to remember. I don't need a candle to remember. I remember every day just by being awake, and even in my sleep sometimes. I slept all afternoon to escape this day, to escape remembering. But I sit here now, remembering and retelling with a candle lit beside me. My baby girl comes bursting through the door, runs up to the candle and says "I blow out candle!" I tell her at 8:00 she can. For one hour this candle will burn and when she blows it out the rest of the world will forget this day and these babies but the light that burns inside of me with love and longing for my babies will burn on forever. I remember you dear ones, each and every single one of you will never ever be forgotten by the one person who loved you more than anything while you were on this earth, your mother.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
A Day to Remember
Today is a day to remember. I have been aware of this day for several years now. Each year it comes it is a bittersweet day, Pregnancy Loss Remembrance Day. A day I appreciate because it recognizes my lost little ones and a day I dread because it sears into my heart the reality that I have lost so many little ones. October 15th, Pregnancy Loss Remembrance Day. At 7:00 pm in each time zone on this day baby loss families will light a candle for one hour in memory of their babies, creating a continuous wave of light.
I came across the story of a couple who had three children. They wanted another one and when the mother was pregnant with her fourth child she found out the baby girl had a life threatening condition and would not survive past birth and she may not even survive to term and in fact she did die shortly after her birth. It is an amazing and beautiful story of life, love and pain. A song was written for their little baby, "I Will Carry You". I have posted the link to the song below. If you ever wonder how I feel about losing my babies, this song says it all. It is the perfect song for me for this day. I have also posted the links to their full story. It is a bit long, about 30 minutes in three parts, but it so worth watching! This mother's words could be mine...I have thought many times that I shouldn't think about the could haves and the would haves. My babies were never going to live longer than the short moments they did. That was God's plan for them all along, His plan for me all along. And there is some measure of comfort in that. I am thankful God allowed me to carry them as long as he did. For allowing their little hearts to beat, their little arms and legs to wiggle, thankful that their days were lived out inside of me even if for just a short time. I carry them all, every day. I carry them on a chain around my neck, I carry them in a box of saved mementos from their short little lives, I carry them in the bright face and smile of my sweet Riley, I carry them in my heart...always and forever and no matter what.
"I Will Carry You"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2CnUtVY35o&feature=related
Part 1:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBQYda-mkTM&feature=relmfu
Part 2:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYzp2mu2g5c&feature=related
Part 3:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rD_HmwjPm80&feature=relmfu
I came across the story of a couple who had three children. They wanted another one and when the mother was pregnant with her fourth child she found out the baby girl had a life threatening condition and would not survive past birth and she may not even survive to term and in fact she did die shortly after her birth. It is an amazing and beautiful story of life, love and pain. A song was written for their little baby, "I Will Carry You". I have posted the link to the song below. If you ever wonder how I feel about losing my babies, this song says it all. It is the perfect song for me for this day. I have also posted the links to their full story. It is a bit long, about 30 minutes in three parts, but it so worth watching! This mother's words could be mine...I have thought many times that I shouldn't think about the could haves and the would haves. My babies were never going to live longer than the short moments they did. That was God's plan for them all along, His plan for me all along. And there is some measure of comfort in that. I am thankful God allowed me to carry them as long as he did. For allowing their little hearts to beat, their little arms and legs to wiggle, thankful that their days were lived out inside of me even if for just a short time. I carry them all, every day. I carry them on a chain around my neck, I carry them in a box of saved mementos from their short little lives, I carry them in the bright face and smile of my sweet Riley, I carry them in my heart...always and forever and no matter what.
"I Will Carry You"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2CnUtVY35o&feature=related
Part 1:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBQYda-mkTM&feature=relmfu
Part 2:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYzp2mu2g5c&feature=related
Part 3:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rD_HmwjPm80&feature=relmfu
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Faith and Doubt
If it isn't clear by now, this journey for me is extremely spiritual. I have always believed in God. My parents took us to church when we were little. My mom prayed the Lord's Prayer with me every night before bed until I could recite it back to her on my own. We prayed before dinner every night. The seed was planted long ago. I can remember being a little girl, and me being me, was deeply distressed by the Gulf War. I thought about my dad and how I was so happy he wasn't fighting far away and in danger. And I thought about all the other little girls out there whose daddies were fighting, in danger, dying. And I prayed. I don't know why I remember this but I do. I prayed all the time for those daddies and their families. And I couldn't have been more than 10 years old. So yes, I have always believed in God, in praying, in the hope that He hears us. But it wasn't until recently when I met my husband that I started attending church regularly, reading and studying the bible and developing a deeper relationship with God. And I suppose that is why I feel so incredibly let down by Him. You can't feel let down by someone you never knew. I began to know Him, to love Him, to want to live for Him...and then my world fell apart. And I am left with the pieces, struggling to hold on to a faith that was so young and vulnerable to begin with.
How do I continue to believe in God, prayer, the hope that He hears us when it seems to me that so many of my prayers go unanswered? I used to believe that Riley was an answer to prayer, but now I can't help but sometimes wonder if I just got lucky with her. I see examples all around me, three very specific ones just recently, of pregnant women who have something happen to them that could potentially have threatened the life of their babies. But every single one of them got through it fine and so did their baby...a miracle. Thank God for those miracles in their lives. But I am beginning to think miracles are for other people, not for me. I look back at my personal journal and with each new pregnancy I have expressed hope and excitement despite my past losses and each time it is proven I should not feel those things. How naive I am to think I have the luxury of feeling hope and excitement at the sight of a positive pregnancy test.
Maybe it's a bad day, maybe it is the darkness slowly creeping back in. Or maybe it is just the process of grief. The ebb and flow of grieving, dealing, trying to cope and heal. I hate doubting God. I hate questioning His infinite wisdom, His plan. But when I ask with an open heart and His answer is no time and time again, it is very hard to hang on to what I believe. But I am hanging on. As confused and upset as I am with Him right now, I can't imagine a life without Him. I can't imagine living life without the knowledge that my sins are forgiven because of Jesus. I can imagine nothing worse than to live in a world where God does not exist, where there is no redemption, where the hope of ever seeing my little babies is completely gone. So I hang on, I cling with all my might. And hope that one day He will redeem this pain and that I will find peace with a God who loves me enough to send His only son to die for me, but who is also the same God that allows me to suffer so much.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
How do I continue to believe in God, prayer, the hope that He hears us when it seems to me that so many of my prayers go unanswered? I used to believe that Riley was an answer to prayer, but now I can't help but sometimes wonder if I just got lucky with her. I see examples all around me, three very specific ones just recently, of pregnant women who have something happen to them that could potentially have threatened the life of their babies. But every single one of them got through it fine and so did their baby...a miracle. Thank God for those miracles in their lives. But I am beginning to think miracles are for other people, not for me. I look back at my personal journal and with each new pregnancy I have expressed hope and excitement despite my past losses and each time it is proven I should not feel those things. How naive I am to think I have the luxury of feeling hope and excitement at the sight of a positive pregnancy test.
Maybe it's a bad day, maybe it is the darkness slowly creeping back in. Or maybe it is just the process of grief. The ebb and flow of grieving, dealing, trying to cope and heal. I hate doubting God. I hate questioning His infinite wisdom, His plan. But when I ask with an open heart and His answer is no time and time again, it is very hard to hang on to what I believe. But I am hanging on. As confused and upset as I am with Him right now, I can't imagine a life without Him. I can't imagine living life without the knowledge that my sins are forgiven because of Jesus. I can imagine nothing worse than to live in a world where God does not exist, where there is no redemption, where the hope of ever seeing my little babies is completely gone. So I hang on, I cling with all my might. And hope that one day He will redeem this pain and that I will find peace with a God who loves me enough to send His only son to die for me, but who is also the same God that allows me to suffer so much.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
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