Four Holes

It has been quite a while since I've blogged. I have been diving into school and loving it. I needed a break. I went through quite a long high after my diagnosis and feeling the satisfaction of that validation. But I'm coming down off that high. I'm now at the point where I'm having to learn how to live with my diagnosis, and that really isn't easy. Unfortunately, I'm still grieving my losses. I don't know if I'll ever not be grieving. Emotionally I go both ways about what I'd prefer. If I were able to stop grieving maybe I would enjoy life more. But, would I still be able to empathize as much? Though I know I'll never truly forget them, would an end to the grief mean less remembrance of my little ones? I'm not sure. I guess the only thing to do is keep moving on one day at a time.

For a while I had been considering getting a memorial tattoo on my foot so that no matter where I went, or how ever my story ends up, I'd still have them with me. They would literally go with me every step of the journey. Unfortunately, I'm pretty prone to infections and after a conversation with my doctor, I decided that getting a tattoo really wasn't an option anymore. I was very disappointed. I had been counting on that special image to remind me of who is waiting for me!

I made myself just forget it and not focus on it. But I still had the money I was going to use for the tattoo. Spontaneously, I decided to get my second earring holes pierced again. I happened to be hanging out with a friend who came with me and even got her second holes pierced too. I was talking to her later about my original plan to get a tattoo when it struck me so hard. I may not have a tattoo for my four losses, but I do have four piercings. I literally have four holes in my body. It was such an amazing moment as I considered that those four holes represent the four holes in my heart that live in heaven. My heart will always be missing those four holes. I also really liked that they (obviously) came in pairs several years apart. Rachel and Michael were three months apart. Then Ishael and Connor were three months apart two years later. I'm really happy that I have four holes in my ears, even though it being a memorial wasn't my first thought. The holes came with pain, and they never filled back in, but they did heal.

That is what God has done for me. I do have holes for my kids that will never be filled, but God has still healed the holes. He has brought beauty from the pain and suffering. I truly am grateful for that.

Labor Day

I can't believe how the time has flown. I truly wonder if it would have felt so fast if I had remained pregnant. Would I feel unprepared right now, or would every little detail be planned out as best as possible. I'm not sure.

I've been on quite the journey the last six months. I worked through the most intense grief I've ever experienced. I had countless Doctor appointments. I had awkward and invasive tests. I got a diagnosis and answers! I quit my job. I started school. I got a new job. I started going to a church closer to us. And I changed my priorities from children to a career. 

So much has changed, but yet I still would give everything to have Connor here with us. How I would love to feel him kick right now. How much I would enjoy daydreaming about our new life if I could.

When people think about pregnancy, several things coming to mind. Morning sickness, ultrasounds, feeling kicks, mood swings, a growing belly, your water breaking, labor, finally holding your little one. I believe it is highly likely that I will never experience all of those things, but I'm grateful for all of the new things I got to experience with Connor.

Each pregnancy has been special to me, but this one was the most hopeful. We got to see him alive in our first ultrasound. I begged the doctor to order an early ultrasound specifically because I wanted a chance to see our baby alive. I knew that there were no guarantees.  The joy that we both felt as we saw that little heart beating was indescribable. Looking back, I'm so grateful for our ultrasound tech. She knew our history, and why we were there. She was so happy for us, but realistically explained that it still wasn't a guarantee. She got it. She understood.

Oh what a difference those two ultrasounds were. Immediately we could see the concern, and I knew. I knew he should be bigger than that. All we could do was wait for her to actually say it. She was kind and sympathetic. She told us everything she could. And then we left.

It was over. There wasn't any hope anymore. The only expectation was a long few days of very preterm labor. It was horrible. I nearly passed out multiple times. I slept on the bathroom floor when I could. It was one of the worst nights of my life. And then it was done. He was gone. I no longer was pregnant.

The stages of grief are predictably unpredictable. Every ten minutes felt like a shift. I have never experienced the depths of grief like I did with his death. The anger and bitterness. The denial. The extreme guilt. The depression. Never has the world seemed so dark as it did those following months. 

Time does heal. It doesn't forget, but it eases life. The days are few and far between that I feel trapped in despair. I am so grateful for the amazing support I have found in old friends, new friends,  new doctors, and our family. I have felt the amazing level of support from each of you. Thank you. Thank you so much for letting me talk, cry, laugh, despair, rejoice, and experience all facets of life with you. And most of all, I truly thank you for not forgetting my little angels. Every time someone mentions them by name, it's like a warm bubble of contentment grows in me. Thank you for letting me remember, and not pushing me to get past something I will never be fully past. And to all my beautiful friends, sisters, who have been where I am, thank you for sharing with me. Thank you for showing me that I'm not alone. Thank you for knowing that the right words are sometimes not words at all. I'm so grateful to have met each one of you.

What could very well be my last "first" estimated due date is fast approaching. Everyone laughed at the irony when I told them my due date was Labor Day. It will be a labor of my heart this year, and I will never forget my highly desired boy. 

An unexpected answer

After my surgery, I was told that everything looked normal, but they still took biopsies to check things out. They didn't seem to think anything would come of it, and I definitely felt the same. I figured any problem serious enough for everything I've been through should at least be visible! 

So, I adjusted my thinking to having no diagnosis and was just starting to feel okay about it when my biopsy results came back. They were not normal. I got a diagnosis. I got the diagnosis I have anticipated for years.

My initial reaction was disbelief. Having gone through the stage of accepting no diagnosis, it was so overwhelming to wrap my head around this discovery. 

I did more research. I talked to my support system. I eventually calmed down. 

Now, a few days out, all I feel is relief! I have an answer! My concerns were validated in that one answer. I wasn't delusional about my symptoms. I wasn't just seeking attention. In one moment, every doctor who didn't believe me was proven to be wrong. 

I feel so empowered by this experience. My thoughts and concerns have legitimacy. I do understand my body better than anyone expected. 

I have a follow up appointment in a couple of weeks to discuss everything. From my current understanding, I have the best case scenario for this diagnosis. Things are still at a very low level of aggressiveness and might remain that way for a very long time. This is a result that I can handle and accept. 

After multiple losses, years of pain and frustration, I can confidently say that I have surgically diagnosed Endometriosis, and I am at peace, at long last.

Open Doors

This has been a confusing weekend for me on many levels. As you know, we've been going through some testing to see if we can find a reason for our losses. My doctor agreed to do an exploratory surgery with a few diagnoses in mind. I went through surgery on Friday, and everything came back completely normal. I'm still somewhat in shock over that discovery.

For years, I have thought about a few different diseases/disorders/conditions that just made sense. I had all the symptoms, I obviously have issues maintaining pregnancy, and it made the most logical sense that one of these things just had to be wrong. So, how do I handle hearing that I'm "normal". Friday, I didn't handle it very well.

I had prepared myself for the worst case scenario. I had made up my mind that we were going down a certain road, and I would be okay with it. And now? That road doesn't even exist! The road that I already considered myself on is nonexistent. Even though, technically speaking, being normal is the best case scenario, it is almost devastating to realize that what you assumed to be true, just isn't.  I have really struggled with self doubt through this experience. I'm so grateful for my friends reminding me of certain things that remain true in my life. So, yes, it has been a difficult weekend for me. And boy, does surgery hurt! :P I've never had surgery before, and I really had no idea what the pain would be like. (I think I must have a pretty low pain tolerance.)

So, as I've laid in bed all weekend, just trying not to move too much; I've had a lot of time to think. This is not the result I expected by any stretch of the imagination. But, that doesn't mean that it's not the better result. I don't know what this means for us now. I don't know what testing, if any testing, we will pursue now. I do know that I've started to feel just the smallest measure of hope that I didn't allow myself to feel before.

Another thing I know is that I have more to do in this life than think about children. So, with some trepidation, I decided to quit my job a few weeks ago and go back to school. I am so nervous that I will have left an amazing job for a bad one, but it is time for me to move outside of childcare, and find something new to love.

I've begun the application process to start the surgical tech program at our local college. Apparently, it's pretty competitive to be accepted, so I'm a bit nervous about that. As part of pre-qualifications, I need to be a CNA. I start my two week CNA course tomorrow (and if you think of it, please pray for me the next few days, as I am still very sore from surgery). I have a lot of things to complete before I can even submit my application, but I feel confident that I can do it. And I know that if I don't make it in this round, I can re-apply in a few months.

I'm so excited to be going to school and starting a new life. There are so many new experiences waiting for me! If I'm accepted, the program should take me 1-1.5 years to complete, including an internship. So far my favorite part has been buying my first pairs of scrubs. That may seem really silly, but it was a major celebration of a new chapter in my life. This is a new open door. And we have a new open door for our future as a family. I really have no idea what's gonna come next, but I'm genuinely excited for it to start.

I'm Guilty

 I'm guilty of letting guilt rule my life. I'm just sitting here with tears in my eyes, and I'm done. I am done with feeling guilty.

With each loss I have dealt with major guilt. Maybe if I hadn't had alcohol. Maybe if I hadn't been eating food my body couldn't handle. Maybe if I hadn't taken ibuprofen. Maybe if I was at a healthier weight. Maybe if I was taking iodine. Maybe if I was taking progesterone. Maybe if I had eaten healthier foods. Maybe if I had taken it easier. Maybe if I prayed more. 

None of those maybes change the fact that we lost four babies and there was nothing we could do about it right then.

What if I could have saved them by going to the doctor sooner. What if I decided too quickly to take the meds to process the miscarriage. Why didn't I ask for the second ultrasound pictures. Why didn't I look at our sweet little one when I could have. Why did my body do this. Why can't my body handle what other women handle just fine. What is so wrong with me that this keeps happening.

It is exhausting. It is exhausting feeling like I failed my husband and my babies. It is so humiliating to see other women walk by and wonder inside if they could have given him biological children. My dear dear husband has reminded so many times that he doesn't blame me at all, but I blame myself. It was my body that decided I wasn't going to stay pregnant. It was my fault. Right?

It's not my fault. This is something I would never have chosen if given the chance. If I could have known the one miracle thing that would have saved my babies, there is nothing in this world that would have stopped me from getting it. I didn't choose this. If it physically is something with my body not being able to handle pregnancy, that is still not my fault. There is nothing more I could have done to try to protect our little ones. Allowing guilt to ruin my life is not helping anything.

So I've decided that this has to end. Guilt has eaten me alive. Guilt is not what Christ has given us. He has given us grace. He has given us love beyond measure. He doesn't want me to be in this bondage to guilt. And He doesn't want that for you either. If you are His child your slate has been wiped clean and the chalk broken. God isn't casting blame on us. 

Guilt is something that has brought be down to the pit. Lord, I confess that allowing guilt to rule my life is actually prideful thinking...that I can hold the weight of my decisions. Lord, I can't handle this on my own...I simply can't do it. I pray that You would break the weight that guilt has laid on me, and my brothers and sisters. Renew us with Your grace.   

Answers

It's hard to know where to begin. The last couple of days have been tough. There was yet another pregnancy loss in my circle of friends. It feels like an epidemic. So many losses. So many questions. And each time it happens I'm rushed back to the memory of seeing Ishael on the screen and not seeing a heartbeat and the tech trying to be hopeful, and seeing Connor on the screen and immediately knowing that our boy was gone. Those moments will be in my heart forever. And each time I'm reminded of them, it's like being stabbed in the heart. It is so incredibly difficult to break the hold of memories. To remember but not fall apart.

This friend's loss has been especially hard to handle for me. Just when everything seems to be going so well, it all comes crashing down. There is no guarantee, no security. The one place that should be the safest for our little ones becomes their tomb. It's dark and scary, and it's so impossible to deal with the guilt of not knowing what happened. And on top of that is that nagging doubt that there will be no healthy pregnancy in the future.

We've officially begun testing to see if there's an answer for our losses. I've gone through a couple of tests. They were both pretty standard (after lots of blood work, of course). And they both came back completely normal. I was disappointed. It's a strange thing to know going into medical tests that you want them to find something wrong with you. But it's the truth. Answers. I really want answers. I may not get answers. It is possible that we will have to decide if it's worth the risk to ever try for a healthy pregnancy again. That's just scary. It's a place I never imagined I would end up at. We are doing more testing, and I'm hopeful that an answer will be found. I do not feel much hope it will be a fixable problem.

I'm stuck in limbo. Testing takes an annoying amount of time. I feel like I can't continue life until we have a clear road ahead of us. And the biggest problem is that it may never be clear. I was talking to a friend recently, and she reminded me that I need Jesus to be enough. If we never have bio kids, will He be enough for me. If we never have adopted kids, will He be enough for me. Have I surrendered my life to Him. And so many days, the answer to that is "no". I want my life to go how I planned it. I don't want to wait for my dreams to come true, and I certainly don't want to give up on my dreams. But what if that's what He is calling me to? It's scary. It really is. But where did I get the idea that my dreams would be better than His plans. I don't know why I think so little of God. Seriously. If I really trusted Him, wouldn't I recognize that He can handle the day to day of my life, and every moment, big and small? I'm seeing how this will be a battle every day.

I sat down to play the piano tonight and was reminded of several songs I want to share with you. They have been a balm to my soul, and an encouragement to surrender my life to God's way.

Only You by David Crowder

Sovereign Over Us by Aaron Keyes

Come to the Altar by Elevation Worship

Tell Your Heart to Beat Again by Danny Gokey

Through All of It by Colton Dixon

He Knows My Name by Tommy Walker

Though You Slay Me by Shane and Shane

Wishes

I'm not a great journaler. I have spurts where I write frequently, and then I'll go months without a word. This has resulted in having my biggest life experiences all in one journal. I started this journal right after I got home from Germany in April of 2010. I'm about half way through the book now. So, yeah. I should work on that.

Tonight I was thinking about how I can look back on certain times of my life and realize how little I knew about life, love, loss, everything. It made me want to read back from the beginning of the journal. I definitely skimmed, but as I moved to the Windy City, and met MMM, each entry got more and more interesting. I remember writing the entry the night that he asked me to be his girlfriend and how my excitement was making my hands shake.
And then the next day this is part of what I wrote:

"Day two of having boyfriend and it's amazing. I had a hard time falling asleep because I was so excited, so I'm a bit tired, but it's all good...Whenever I think about what he said yesterday, I still get butterflies...This is such an odd feeling. I'm so excited about this!"

 

 

Reading this, all I could do was smile. I remember those feelings. I remember the butterflies. I remember jumping around the apartment because I was so excited that he had finally asked me to be his girlfriend.

 

Then I had a thought. I remember wishing I could know what would happen with MMM. I wondered if we would get married. I thought it would make it easier to go through each disagreement, and day of learning who each of us was, if we knew in the end we would get married. But I'm realizing that as much as I wanted to know how it would turn out, knowing wouldn't have allowed me to grow as a person. I wouldn't have the excitement of this new relationship. I wouldn't have had to try to really get to know him. It would have taken any need for effort out of the equation.

 

Now, four years later, I'm still wishing I knew how things would turn out. I wish I knew if I would get a diagnosis for why I keep miscarrying. I wish I knew if we would ever have biological or adopted children. I wish I knew if I would ever go through another miscarriage. I wish for so many things. But if I actually knew the future, would I be willing to wait for it? Would I have the courage to take each day in stride when I knew a particular heartache was coming toward me? Would I be able to enjoy the small moments of joy? I honestly don't think so. I think knowing my future would ruin my present.

 

This is where I think God is amazing. While we might wish and wish to know what's coming next, or when God's going to answer our cries; He knows that we are so weak that we can only handle our today. He knows that we will experience more joy by not knowing the moment of a proposal, or the first time you'll hear "I love you". There would be no excitement about life if you knew everything that was coming.  

 

I want to work on being more focused on the present. I have the tendency to get stuck in the past and ponder the future far more often than I actually enjoy the moment. I don't think that's very healthy. I want to be able to look back on my journal in six months and notice that I'm in the moment experiencing life and allowing myself to go through any and all emotions. I want to live authentically, and I want to trust my future to God.

 

I'm definitely in a season of uncertainty, but I know that God is going to use it in a special way to give Him glory. So I'm going to try to just walk faithfully through each day.

 



I should be huge

 I'm one week away from Ishael's due date. It hasn't been a constant thought the last nine months, but each day we get closer it weighs heavier on my mind.

Right now, I should be huge. I should be uncomfortable. I should be begging my baby girl to arrive sooner rather than later.  I should have a nursery all made up. I should have my bag ready for delivery. I should already have quit my job so I could stay home. I should have a car seat already installed. I should have had a baby shower.

But none of that is my reality. My days continue on as they always have. Not even the tiniest baby bump to be seen. 

I think it's hard for some people to grasp why going through miscarriages is so difficult, especially if it was early enough that it didn't even look like a baby.

This is a big reason why! From the moment I saw that positive test my head was already in the moment of nine months later. I started dreaming of what color the nursery would be. I started to wonder how much weight I'd gain. From the moment of conception, my baby had a life full of expectations in my imagination.  

And then, in a moment, every dream I'd thought of was ruined. There would be no 1st birthday party, daddy daughter dates, first words, baby giggles. None of it was going to happen. When you have built so much hope and excitement to have it just ripped away, it isn't that you just lost a bunch of cells in this moment. You lost a lifetime of memories with a person you would love more than yourself. That is hard to accept. Each time it gets harder. And each time it gets harder to hope.

Ishael's due date will always come around Mother's Day; a day that is already incredibly difficult to get through. So I ask you to remember that holidays hold pain for many. Please don't forget those in your life who have struggled with infertility, miscarrying, infant loss, or even have lost their own mother. Please understand that while we may want to be fully happy for each of you who are celebrating this day, this day is a day of mourning for us.

I'm Not Okay

So many people in my life have been so supportive and compassionate this last month. If you were one of the many people who checked up on me and got the "I'm doing okay" line, I'm sorry. I'm not doing okay. But unfortunately, I seem to have very little emotional energy to talk to anyone deeply except my small group of women that have been where I am.

I hate feeling like a fake. I have always been extremely open about my life and what's going on. Some of you might think I'm too open. :P But being open helps me to get through each day.

So, I'm not okay. The couple times I've completely broken down, that has been the most prominent line. I'm not okay.

Right now I don't feel like I'm anything. It's like I'm dead inside. It's been just over a month since we lost Connor. The first two weeks after I was just numb.. In shock, ..denial. Then the third week hit, and it really set in. This is my life. This is my body that can't handle being pregnant long enough. And it has felt like each day is another nail in the coffin of Hope. Hope that next time could be different. Hope that we will have a family. Hope that I will ever physically be okay. 

All my hope is being buried alive. 

Four/five weeks out, I think I'm fluctuating between the anger and denial stages of grief. I have been so angry that I wanted to grab all our dishes and smash them in the driveway. I've never felt anything like that anger (side note: all of our dishes are safe). 

And it's scary to feel like you have so little control over your emotions. 

And on top of grieving for Connor, I'm still grieving for Ishael! I would be going into labor any day now. But I'm not. I'm not still pregnant with her, and I managed to lose another pregnancy within those nine months. I thought maybe, if I was pregnant for Mother's Day, it would make it easier. And it looked like I would be! But instead, I'm grieving two losses instead of one. Some days it's just too much. 

Sadly, I'm still not going to have the emotional energy to discuss this. Especially in person! I don't know why it's so much more draining in person, but it is. In fact, I really can't talk about it at all. That's why I'm writing it down. 

Please continue to pray for us. This burden is too heavy to bear alone. But, thank you for giving space as well. Someday I will be out of this pit, and then it won't be so hard to talk about. But for now I appreciate you letting me bring it up if I need to talk.

Connor Elliot

I feel so... Lost. My pregnancy with Ishael was better than either Rachel or Michael. We had so much hope that things would end differently, but we were disappointed. This pregnancy was exponentially better! All my bloodwork was fantastic. We even got to see the baby's heart beat at 6.5 weeks. We knew that no matter what this pregnancy was going better than any before.

It was going better. 

But I knew something was wrong. I was 8 weeks and 6 days when I just felt an overwhelming sense that something was wrong, and I couldn't shake it. 

Things continued on and I had no signs of trouble until I hit 11 weeks. After a lot of calling my doctor we finally got an ultrasound for that afternoon. As soon as the ultrasound came up I knew the baby was gone.

Our baby wasn't moving and we couldn't see any heartbeat. The tech told us the baby only measured 8 weeks and 3 days. I strongly believe our baby died at 8 weeks and 6 days. 

Our baby lived three weeks longer than his siblings and I carried a month longer than before. 

Mentally processing that we lost another baby has been slow in coming. I still feel a lot of denial. I've been struggling to feel anything, including God. 

Friends prayed for us that God would give us a message. I still find it incredible that they prayed that. They know nothing of our history of loss and receiving names.

That night I had a dream. In the dream I actually got a text from God, which sounds so bizarre. But right then I knew I was in a dream and I just wished I could write everything down so I wouldn't forget any of it. I remember several things He said that I truly needed to hear, but the last thing He did was give me a name. 

Connor. Another name I would never have chosen on my own. There are a few meanings for Connor but the one I've laid claim on is "high desire". This baby was so highly desired! But his name wasn't completed yet. A friend reminded me about Elliot which I've had in my mind this whole pregnancy. Elliot means Jehovah is God. It truly just struck me so hard. Our baby boy was so highly desired, but our Jehovah is still God.

I don't know why God has chosen to have us walk this road, but I know His plan is better than mine ever could be. And I'm so so grateful that He gave me the chance to be a mother to my babies. It is far greater to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. 

Why Can't I Cry?

A guest post from MMM:

You hear someone remark "I can't help it; I wear my emotions on my sleeve".
Typically I imagine the loud, exuberant woman at the party or the sensitive friend who 'oohs' and 'ahhs' everything you say that has anything to do with puppies or love. For girls this is more acceptable. For guys this would be rarer. Perhaps other sentiments strike their heart strings besides puppies and love. In fact, my brother just confirmed this weekend he's the type with figurative tear drops and billboard sign hanging off his sleeves. Yet, I can't remember him crying more than once.

If you didn't recognize yourself in the above paragraph maybe you will in this one. "You don't get it. I know you don't and that's okay. But it hurts right now and I need you to just accept that! And stop trying to fix it because you can't fix everything." This is what I hear from my sobbing wife on occasion. I truly mean on occasion because I keep trying to fix the problems in her life. even after I failed to fix it the first time. This is no bash on her. She is just the emotional type.

This relationship has been hard because, while I want someone who will walk beside me through the tough terrain and will follow my footsteps as I avoid the cracks and crevices, she wants someone to carry her through it. And I mean through the cracks and into the crevices. We have two mindsets when it comes to facing challenges. Don't get me wrong. I know life isn't black and white and symbolism is just that; symbolism. But on the aggregate I would say we handle the difficult problems this way.

Now how in the world do we win this argument? Emotional types: "If you would just love her for who she is." Stoic types: "She needs to learn there are facts and there are feelings." Well, maybe I don't have to win. Instead of How Do I Win, it would be better to ask What Would Jesus Do? The answer. He would be you.

You guys have helped me and my wife cope with quite a few stressors in our first 4 years. Who would have thought you put two Christians together in one house, draft a lifelong covenant based on love, weave in some American culture and then fire the starting pistol you'd end up with cold dinner and a cold shoulder some nights? If it hadn't been for your voices, your encouragement, your 'likes' and your 'thumbs up' we would have been in a world of hurt. Jesus is the friend. So thank you Jesus. Whether it's a call, a text, a poke or a hug we thank you for friends that look like you.

We lost another baby in the womb today and we could really use Jesus.