The day before a positive

 Two years ago on Christmas morning I chose not to take a pregnancy test (though I was confident it would be positive) because I didn't want to be disappointed with a negative. Instead, I chose to wait for the day after Christmas, just in case. Lo and Behold, it was undeniably positive. You may guess what my first reaction was...

jumping up and down, running to hug MMM, doing a little happy dance...

No. My response was to lay back down, tell him "yup" and try desparately not to cry out of terror of what that positive test meant. Looking back I can say with confidence that I should have let myself heal more from our last loss before starting the journey again, but being in the midst of grief and willing to do most things to fulfill a lifelong dream? Yeah, I wasn't thinking clearly. We were leaving shortly for my family reunion, so I had no chance to get bloodwork done. I didn't allow myself any hope until I saw good test results.

I broke down with my sister on the drive home from the airport. I was barely surviving knowing that I was pregnant again. It is a weird experience of emotions, to want something so terribly and yet be in horror that it was happening. I wasn't planning on telling my sister yet, but I was too overwhelmed.

The day after I arrived, I decided to go into our hometown clinic to ask for bloodwork. I had a different sister go with me. Two of them knew now, but I wanted to make it a surprise for everyone else, if there was something worth making a surprise for. She and I waited what seemed like forever. As always, the blood draw was not fun and took several tries. Then the neverending wait (it was only 30-45 minutes I think ) to hear the lab results. Finally, they arrived. My sister and I waited nervously for the doctor to tell us the numbers. Every test they took was in the perfectly healthy range for being 4 weeks pregnant. 

A breath of relief. But I had good numbers at first last time too...new anxiety.

The doctor arranged for me to come back in a couple days for a repeat draw. MMM arrived in time for my second appointment.

 Same terror, same anxiety, new day. Blood draw again... still didn't go well. And the neverending wait for results. We were both nervous. Here comes the doctor.

Good news! Test results are amazing! My numbers more than doubled like they should have. All excellent signs of a healthy little one. We decide to finally tell the rest of our family. We had a small surprise planned, and it went off without a hitch. Everyone was excited and happy for us.

Yet there is still a feeling a doom in the air.

Six weeks and Four days: the first ultrasound.

We go to the chiropractor first thing in the morning. I'm so tense that I feel the adjustment didn't make any difference. I sat by the front door waiting for MMM.

Breathe, just breathe.

A worker comes over to talk to me. She has 6 little ones waiting for her in heaven and 6 little ones on earth. She gets it...she understands. She knows there is nothing she can say to calm my nerves, but her presence is enough.

At the hospital, they are running behind. They are waiting for a specialist. My heart sinks for the poor mom waiting, it most likely is bad news. My anxiety increases, I feel a lot of pain as my bladder is about to explode. MMM gets up to ask how much longer..he hates seeing me in pain. I love him for that.

It's finally our turn.

Breathe, keep breathing

There it is! A heartbeat! A tiny flutter on the screen that we've never seen before. I smile at the tech, "no matter what, this is the best pregnancy yet!". She smiles back and congratulates me but is reminding me that despite this good news, this pregnancy is not guaranteed to last. I appreciate her understanding and honesty. She got it. She understood. And she was happy for us in the present.

Everyone is on pins and needles. We start calling immediately. There's a strong heartbeat! Everyone rejoices!

We decide to go ahead and announce on facebook right away to ask for prayers. We use the picture we planned on using in our last pregnancy. Facebook explodes with joy and prayers.

One moment of peace and joy. We finally got to announce, maybe this will be the one.

Eight weeks, six days.

Everyone at church is excited for us! I notice another pregnant lady down the hall. I feel an undescribable feeling of doom. I instantly know that something is not right. I sit down on the stairs behind me.

Breathe, just keep breathing

A friend, and fellow loss momma finds me and asks what's wrong. I tell her that I'm not sure, but I'm scared the baby isn't okay. She looks concerned. She prays everything is okay. She gets it, she knows. She reminds me that we can't know anything for sure, so just try to hope for the best.

I go home. We just received a home doppler. The baby should be big enough to get a reading by now.

Static...

Every week we try the doppler at least once.

Static...

Maybe the baby is in a weird spot? Maybe the placenta is in front? Maybe the machine isn't that powerful? Maybe?

Eleven Weeks

We go to California to visit family. Lots of belly rubs and excited chatter about taking it easy for the baby.

Is there even a baby still there?

Still feeling every symptom, enjoying being fussed over.

Is my baby still there?

Sitting by the ocean, waves pounding the shore.

Will you really call me to deal with this again, God?

Out to eat with a different side of my family.. and not feeling well. I excuse myself for a minute.

Spotting...

I text my sister under the table. I'm scared, but know it is inevitable. I ask her to spread the word through my family. PRAY! I try to act normal. Tap MMM to look at the text I just sent. He holds my hand without a word and trys to act normal for me.

I can't discuss the probable outcome, just get through the night.  

I text my sister-in-law to let her know once I go to bed. We text back and forth, and she tries to remain hopeful.

 

The spotting stopped? Maybe?

We leave for home the next day. There currently is no spotting, but I feel no boost in confidence. I call my doctor and leave a message. I know that there are many reasons spotting could happen but none of them apply to my situation.

We had planned to get together with new friends the following day. I texted the wife to apologize and cancel..

"I am worried I am miscarrying again."

They offer to bring us supper instead. I gratefully accept.

Eleven weeks and Three days

I go back to work. My boss  knows my story, she knows I had spotting..she's almost as worried as I am. Work is going alright for a while.

Spotting...

I feel myself hold the scream of anguish inside.

My boss comforts me. She insists it is absolutely ok for me to leave as soon as my doctor orders the ultrasound. I get the call. It's scheduled. I leave to pick MMM up from his work.

Silent glances as we drive towards our reality.

The ultrasound tech does not keep us waiting. I'm nearly in tears already. Her first attempt comes up empty. The baby is too small to see clearly. Her second attempt shows us the baby briefly, then she quickly gets the other images she needs for the routine ultrasound to be complete. She goes back to the baby.

No flutter...no movement

He squeezes my hand

She glances at us.. "I'm so sorry. The baby only measures 8.5 weeks, and I do not see any heartbeat. I'm so sorry for your loss."

Silence. Numb. Cold.

We are leaving the hospital. He turns toward me.. "are you okay?" "No."

Will I ever be okay?

I text everyone who is waiting for an update. I text those we had plans with that night. Responses flood in. My phone rings, but I can't answer. I leave MMM back at work and drive the 30 minutes home alone. I call a friend, hysterical. She is devastated. I call another friend, cold, numb, and in denial. She is devastated. I make it home alive.

What do I do now?

There is nothing to do but wait for a phone call from my doctor. I get an email from MMM. He's written something to post on my blog. My first ever guest post, and most likely the only one that he'll ever write. I share it. Facebook is flooded. That post is the most read of any on my blog. Everyone is devastated.

Numb

Eleven Weeks, Four Days

The doctor calls.. "I'm so sorry, here are your options..."

I choose to stay home with medication. The pharmacy tech knows what the medication is for.

A sympathetic glance

I force myself to take medication that will make my body give birth to my little one. My womb should be the safest place, now it is a dark tomb. Friends bring food. They pray for God to speak to us.

The bathroom floor is my bed for most of the night. A friend stays up with me texting back and forth. It takes my mind off of things. The pain has subsided. I try to go to bed. I wake up in agony. My water broke. My little one is born.



I can't look, but I want to...I can't.

I choose not to look at my baby, knowing I may one day regret it.

I finally sleep and dream.

Connor...

My baby has a name. God spoke. He's still there. I don't understand. But He's still there.

We agree to give Connor a middle name, just like his sister before him.

Connor Elliot..So highly desired, but God is still God.

Eleven weeks. Farther than ever before. Terror, anxiety, joy, hope, pain, calm, excitement, devastation. So many emotions in such a short time. Some of the best and worst 11 weeks of my life. They have shaped me more than I can say. Today, the day before I got a positive test...This is the story that I'm reminded of. How many years will this be the story? I'm so grateful for this hard and painful story, because it is mine. 





One and Only

Going through miscarriages tends to create isolation. Each loss is different, so no one completely understands your experience. And despite the growing prevalence of people talking openly about their losses, it still feels lonely. But there's another aspect of loneliness has been very apparent to me lately.

I'm the youngest of four girls who were born just 4.5 years apart. We've always been very close in relationship and life stages. There have been multiple losses within my family, and it has been helpful to have family members who can understand to some extent. Recently though, another nephew was born and I became the only one with no children. I'm so excited for each of my sisters that they have had the blessing of biological children, please don't get me wrong.

The feeling of isolation is very evident to me now. It is difficult for me to know that there are some bonding experiences that I will never be apart of with my sisters. While I feel hopeful that Mark and I will adopt at some point, that doesn't take away the loss of prominent dreams included with pregnancy.

I will never be able to discuss what it felt like to have the baby kick. My husband will never feel his baby kick from outside my belly. I won't be able to talk about the trials and joys of each trimester. I won't have any joyful birth story. The only birth stories I have are trauma. Again, I know that I may have some similar experiences through adoption, but that's not the same as having a baby shower where you dress to show off your belly and everyone wants to touch it.

It is just disappointing. And it's hard to get used to. It is really hard to feel like, despite every effort, I can't be in the same stage of life as my sisters. It does feel lonely sometimes. I'm grateful that they have been gracious and kind. I'm excited to adopt at some point. But we will see if adopting takes that longing away. I don't know what that will look like yet. I know that I'm not the only one who feels that way, and I really appreciate hearing that I'm truly not alone.

20/400

I was 5 or 6 years old when I got my first pair of glasses. I don't really remember not having them. One of my favorites were the confetti speckled pair, but I remember most of them. At one point, around 10, I even had a pair of bifocals.

I started having a unique issue with my left eye when I was around 12. My eye twitched almost constantly, but the stranger thing was the bubble sensation in my eye. The only way I've been able to explain it is feeling an air bubble in the back of my eye that would float to the front of my eye, and then bursting right before it would leave my eye. My eye doctor initially suspected that I had bleeding inside my eye, but after an examination turned up nothing, the doctor had no answer. I resolved to live wiith it.

When I'd been dealing with it for about six months, I heard someone praying for healing in the eye of a listener and I knew they meant me. I felt completely overwhelmed! I'm so happy to say that God healed my eye in that moment, and I never have had that issue since. I have asked other opthalmalogists about it and no one has heard of anything even similar to my experience.

Life continued as normal. I was used to wearing glasses, so I just dealt with it. After 20 years of glasses, I finally started getting eager to not need them anymore. There was a lot to consider with timing to get lasik done. They suggest waiting until you won't be pregnant anymore (pregnancy can change prescriptions), and waiting until after doing major schooling (for reading strain on the eyes). Having a stable prescription is also important. It was just in the last year that all of those things came together.

About 6 months ago at church, I felt compelled to have people pray for my eyes to be healed, even if the healing was achieved through lasik. Fast forward to a month ago when I had my first consultation. The doctor said that I was a good candidate for lasik, but that I had the most difficult prescription to treat with lasik. At each appointment he would remind me that the most he could comfortably guarantee was 20/40 vision. Meaning that what normal people can see at 40 feet, I would need to see at 20. I accepted this news knowing that anything would be an improvement. I would be able to function day to day, and I would be in the legal limit to drive without glasses. He did warn me that I might still need glasses for nightime driving. Despite all this, MMM and I still thought it was worth pursuing.

As the day drew near, I was reminded of the day in church where I asked for prayer. I started praying again. I prayed that the procedure would do much more than the doctor expected, and I believed it would happen. The procedure went fairly smoothly. It took most of the day for my vision to clear up, but by the end of the day I could actually read my phone without major strain on my eyes! It was incredible!

The next day was my first post-op appointment. The first thing they did was ask me to read the lowest line I could. Immediately the doctor was staring at me dumbfounded! I was able to read the 20/20 line without any effort! I could even read half of the 20/15 line! He absolutely couldn't believe it. He said my eyes looked perfect for one day post surgery. And all he could say was how suprised he was at my immediate results. He did warn me that my vision might fluctuate some and might not settle at 20/20, but we'd see.

One week later the 20/15 line was as clear as could be. He still can't believe it! I've been back multiple times since my operation and my vision has remained steady at 20/15. I told him I was praying for a miracle, and I got it! I asked him what my vision was without my glasses and he shocked me by saying 20/400! What you might make out at 400 feet, I would need to have 20 feet away for clarity. As a side note, he also told me that 20/200 is considered legally blind.

I went from seeing 20/400 to miraculously seeing at 20/15! I am so beyond grateful for the healing God granted me with my vision. I have so enjoyed being able to live my life without the inconvenience of wearing glasses. I'm hopeful for many more years of excellent vision!

Partially healed

It has been nine months since I got the second piercing in my ears. Generally, piercings in the earlobes take about 2 months to heal. I didn't dare even take my earrings out once before 5 months had passed. I knew that my body was very sensitive and difficult to heal. At five months I started taking them out to clean them, clean my ears, and would put them back in. At six months I probably started leaving them out for a few hours, seven months - most of the day, eight months - over night, and now nine months. I might leave them out for 24 hours. And even after all this time one of my piercings was bleeding and irritated just yesterday! Through this whole process it has been interesting to me how the holes would take turns being irritated. Rarely were both new holes struggling at the same time. They would switch back and forth...be okay for a day, and them go back to the cycle of back and forth. On more than one occasion I actually found my original holes getting inflamed!

Tonight as I thought about my ears, I appreciated the excellent example of grief it showed me. While I truly believe no one should tell anyone else what is the "correct" way to grieve, this illustration truly fit me to a tee.

When the trauma happens it is such a blow to the system. The five stages of grief can come at any moment and in any order. In many ways it feels like your body is fighting a stab wound to the heart and it's afraid to let anything in. It feels like every moment of every day revolves around the traumatic experience. You might want to get back to feeling normal, and being healthy again, but you have very little control over that aspect of your life. So you take a hold of the few things you can control and start to isolate yourself in fear of exposing just how wounded you truly are.

As time moves on you start to feel a little braver. You carefully prepare some limited time for vulnerability. You might have one experience that doesn't end in a break down and you feel victorious. And then the next time you go in expecting another good result and you end up with a bleeding soul. And so you hide away again, waiting for another day of bravery.

The days move on..You might even be sick of the fear of breaking down. You might be so frustrated that a potential breakdown is even a problem at all. Just to spite the circumstances, you put yourself in a position to be over triggered and expect yourself to handle it calmly and rationally. You probably know how that ends..more bleeding and the start of infection. A pain so deep being triggered in a way that causes despair of ever being truly healed.

More cycles of hiding away and then poking your head out to the light of day..over and over the same things happen. Only this time the victorious days are more common. You begin to feel encouraged that you are coming out of the tunnel of brokenness. The days getting longer and longer between despair episodes. They get so far apart that you no longer are even expecting a new stab of the cruelty of this world.

All of the sudden, without any warning, the traumatic memory is triggered by the sight of more blood. and the discouragement is even deeper than before. You thought you were doing well. You thought you could trust yourself to be better. You feel betrayed by your own self. It is hard to get past that feeling of self loathing.

Fast forward to nine months since trauma (the fact that it's been 9 months - a whole pregnancy- since receiving my piercing has not slipped my mind ) every day seems to be going smoothly. You start noticing that you seem to have healed, and yet every once in a while a word is said and you are reminded of the trauma. Now you feel slightly better equipped to handle it safely. You recognize that this is a pattern. There are things you can do to get through the triggering event. A new hope is born that healing can truly take place. Still you know it may take much much longer than others might expect.


The piercings in my ears are incredibly special to me. I wrote here about how they each indicate a baby I lost. My dear dear friend gave me the insanely kind gift of earrings with each initial. An R for Rachel, an M for Michael, and I for Ishael Grace, and a C for Conner Elliot. As their initials have been used in all four holes I have been blessed to feel my little ones so closely. Another interesting aspect of grief that I have considered is how I can grieve for one loss in different ways than my other losses. I saw that concept perfectly in the back and forth cycle of each hole deciding to be solely difficult. This also will show up as grieving for just one of them at a time. Sometimes thinking about Rachel is so much more painful than thinking about Ishael. And sometimes I feel triggered just by one loss, and not all four. It is a complicated feeling to be sure.

Over all, I think what struck me most is just how much of a growing and learning process it is to allow yourself to heal at your own pace. And how much courage it takes to expect those moments of pain and bleeding and yet still strive to push forward and heal.

I know that eventually my piercings will be completely healed. I appreciate how much my body has healed and I'm going to choose to take is one day after another..just one day at a time. But I also know that my soul may never forget the trauma it has gone through. I am prepared to always be partially healed in grief. I trust God to get me through it.

Finally, Cheesecake!

It has been a very long time since I was able to make myself cheesecake that was safe for me to eat! So, when I found a cream cheese substitute that I liked, I needed to find a way to use it! I found a recipe to make GF graham crackers, but was hesitant to try it.

 

Finally, I found S'moreables! I knew they existed, but had never found them in the store. I was very nervous about how they would taste, but I've had great experiences with this brand. I decided to buy a bunch of them so I would definitely have enough for a graham cracker crust.

 

 

 

I ate one cracker just to test it out and I was so happily surprised. So I got started with the crust by crushing the rest of the package in a ziplock bag. They are thicker than graham crackers, so I had a harder time getting them crushed up as much as I would prefer. I let MMM try one of the bigger chunks left and he was also surprised at the similarity to glutinous grahams!

 

 

 

 

 

I added sugar and melted DF butter to the crumbs to make the crust. I did the best I could to make the crust evenly spread out in the springform pan, but the larger chunks unfortunately did make it more difficult.

 

 

 

With the crust ready, I started working on the filling. "Better than Cream Cheese" is the cream cheese substitute I mentioned earlier. It is made from tofu! I was so surprised the first time I tried it with bagels. I was thrilled to get one thing back on my food list. I was, however, less than convinced that it would make a decent cheese cake. Lo and behold, I actually found a cheesecake recipe specifically using this brand!

I used two containers of Better than Cream Cheese. I really could have used at least four, but it is pretty expensive so I opted for a thinner version for my first try at this recipe.

 

 

The website I found with the recipe really just gave general concepts without specific measurements. So, according to the website, I added some lemon juice, vanilla extract, sugar, and a little salt and mixed it all together with my blender. I tasted it quickly and was so beyond happy with the result. It was sweet without being overwhelming. And so light and fluffy!

 

 

 

 

 

After 30 minutes!

With the filling in my springform pan, I put it in my toaster oven for just over 30 minutes at 325 degrees. I could see it gently bubbling through the oven door.

 

I let the cheesecake cool on the counter for a few minutes before allowing it to chill in the refridgerator for an hour.

And here is the result! I am so pleased with the outcome. Both MMM and my mom were delightfully surprised as well. It has been such a long time since I've eaten real cheesecake, it would be impossible to say if it tastes relatively similar. My mom declared that while it might not taste exactly like a cheesecake, it was still a delicious dessert! I think I'll be doing a happy dance for the rest of the night.

The Worst Day

During my clinical rotation as a surgical tech, I've had the opportunity to see so many things. I'm constantly amazed at how our bodies function. I've seen the amazing transformation of one organ being surgically changed to function as another. Medicine is truly miraculous. I'm in awe of the intelligence that God has given to surgeons.

Some surgeries that I have helped in have been so encouraging! It is so wonderful knowing that the patient will wake up to hear that the bump that has caused so much anxiety is not cancerous. I've been able to assist patients with chronic health problems that surgery was able to fix! To be able to legitimately say I was part of changing someone's life for the better... it's impossible to beat that!

But there are the days that the outcome is not so good. I've have been in the room when babies have been born. I have been in the room when babies have died. Nothing could truly prepare me for being in that situation after going through my own experience. The likelihood of these patients actually remembering that I was there is very slim, but I remember them. I know that I was in the room for what may be the worst day of their life. I was in the room where I learned their diagnosis before the patient did.

It's hard to find the balance between feeling too much empathy and desensitizing yourself to the situation enough to function. It's difficult for me to know that I'm going to be in the room for heart wrenching situations and I'll have to be able to hold it together. I wish I could personally empathize with our patients and show them that they aren't alone.

One thing that I have really appreciated about my second rotation (and my upcoming job) location is how often I have talked to patients. Almost every patient gets introduced to the team operating before surgery begins. It makes it so much more personal.

I need to find the balance of still caring deeply and yet protecting myself from falling apart. I still have so much to learn. I want to be someone that they can look back on and say I was the good part of their worst day.

Graduation

Eight months ago, I was accepted into the surgical technology program at a local school. Six months ago I began the core program in the main instructors classroom. Two months ago I started practical labs to learn the functional purpose of a tech. And two days ago I had my last day in class. It really has gone so quickly.

Tuesday begins a new season. I will be doing my clinical externship for the next three months. I will actually be in the operating room helping the surgical staff care for the patient. It is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Surgical technologist isn't a very well known position, but the role techs play is actually quite significant.

Assuming I make it out of clinicals alive, this will the first time I will have a graduation of any sort. I went to Germany before the end of my senior year. Being homeschooled, I wouldn't have walked in the highschool graduation anyway, but I might have had a graduation party. I thought maybe when I got home I would do a belated one, but it just felt odd to have a party at that point. I had already started college online (while in Germany) and knew I would continue going online after arriving home. So, I just moved to the Windy City where my sister lived, and that was that.

I continued college online for a short time before making the decision to discontinue. I am very proud of myself for making that decision. I knew it made the most sense for me to wait to invest my money, time, and stress until I knew what I actually wanted to do. So, I didn't graduate college.

For six years I waited, wondered, debated, and resigned myself that I would never have the "typical" college experience. Then last June I came across this program for the first time (though I'd been on the website countless times debating whether I could enjoy doing any of the programs they offered). It was the first time that I could consider as many aspects of the career that I could think of, and I still couldn't convince myself not to do it. There were things I knew I wouldn't particularly appreciate about the field, but the excitement I felt far outweighed any of the negative things.

I didn't realize how low my confidence was until I had to apply and be part of a very select group to be accepted. I was so nervous, and I could barely believe how everything worked out on time for my application. Receiving the acceptance letter in the mail was one of the most amazing things.

For the first time in my life, I physically attended school. Every day was a new adventure of feeling like a 'real' student. My school doesn't function like a typical university, but it was the perfect combination of my homeschooling experience with being in a classroom with a bunch of people. I was able to prove myself early on that I could actually handle the workload of school. Every class I took was one step closer to finally completing continuing education.

Preparing for my clinical externship required some paperwork to be filled out. My teacher did her part and handed it to me. For the first time ever I saw the word graduation be used in reference to me. "Expected graduation: July 2017" Those four words fill me with such pride and satisfaction. For once I feel confident that I truly am capable of doing what I set my mind to.

While I will finish my program in July, I will still have to take my certification exam. That will most likely happen in August. And the school's graduation will most likely be held in August/September. Whatever day they pick, I will be there to walk in that ceremony. It doesn't matter that I will be getting a certication rather than a degree. It doesn't matter that the school is relatively small. And it doesn't matter to me that most of my classmates will choose not to walk. This is my chance to experience something that I have longed for for so long. The chance to feel that I truly have accomplished something. The opportunity to be proud of myself and the effort I put forth to be in this position. It is easy for me to still struggle with the fact that so many other people do so much more schooling and do so much more with their lives, but not this time. This time I am just going to appreciate that I have done more than I thought I could. I have pushed myself to borders beyond my comfort zone. It may seem small to others, but it is so significant to me.

I think I might even have the graduation party I never had. I certainly don't need the presents that come with a typical party, but I do think I want the chance to celebrate with others an achievement I'm proud of. Besides! Who doesn't like a good party! =P I am going to choose to enjoy this season, though it is scary and overwhelming. I am going to choose to continue doing my best and push myself to do even better. I am so grateful for everyone who has been encouraging me along the way. What a journey it has been and will continue to be!