Break Even

When it comes to fads, I am definitely a sucker. I love trends, of all sorts. Although I may not always dress trendy myself, that it mostly due to the nature of being a mother within me. I feel guilt if I spend money on myself for superficial reasons such as clothes when my son is growing and hungry. I rather buy him food and clothes of his own.

One fad I am going through right now is actually on the radio. Doesn't it seem like whenever you turn on the radio, you hear the same 10 songs in a row. Once they are all played, loop it around again and play on.

I really like the song "Break Even" from The Script. Even though it was written with an entirely different meaning from how I interpret it, it makes sense to me to what is going on in my life right now.

"I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing". This speaks so much to how my body feels; my mind. Like I have said before, someone helped me put this into words; my body is on autopilot. I am alive, my body is alive. I wake up, get dressed, eat, go to work and take care of my family. I cannot breathe without my family, and with Elijah living, but knowing I will have to say goodbye to him soon makes me feel like I can barely breathe. I want to stop breathing... Then I think of my husband and son and the sight of them in my mind gives my lungs a breathe of fresh air, and I can keep going. Until I think of Elijah again... It is a vicious cycle.

"Just pray to a god that I don't believe in". There have been times where I prayed so hard, with so much passion, then anger, then humbling myself, again anger, I felt as if God could not hear me. I felt like I was praying to no one. We just keep praying, but we sometimes find ourselves in a position where we start to lose faith. That happened to me. I wanted to lose faith because I was so angry at God for taking away my baby so soon; for being so cruel to my sweet Elijah. I didn't understand God's purpose for Elijah, or for my need to experience this. I still don't, I am not sure if I ever will. I do have faith though. It is just hard to rely on it right now.

"Cause I got time while she got freedom". Although the lyrics are talking about a female, same rule applies. I feel like we all have time here on Earth. What are we waiting for? What do we strive and work for everyday during our whole life? Freedom. Freedom is priceless. When you think of it, I mean really think and analyze it, does anyone really have complete freedom? Freedom from what? Freedom from our parents when we are younger. That moves onto freedom from college, then work onto retirement. You are old, and your body is slowing. Now it is time for ultimate freedom. Freedom from life. Our bodies will die and go back into the Earth the way God intended it to, but our souls will live on; free. We will feel no pain, no hunger or thirst, no sadness. My sweet Elijah, will have his freedom soon. I still have time, and when my time will end, only God knows. But Elijah, will have freedom; no pain, no suffering, no hunger or thirst, no sadness... Elijah will be free...

"Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't break even". My heart feels like it has broken, and is still breaking in a million pieces. Each piece for a different reason. One piece for my sweet Elijah, that's a big piece. Another piece for my son, Paighton. Paighton will never get to know his little brother in a way brothers ought to. He also has to endure mommy and daddy's "sad time". This will pass in time, but I feel for him. We are keeping him busy of course to divert attention. Another piece breaks for my husband. He too has to endure his wife's "sad time". I am not the same person I once was a month and a half ago. I am more stressed, temperamental, easily triggered, and depressed. I don't eve feel like doing anything anymore, but of course, like keeping Paighton busy, I force myself to join in the business. I have to continue my life. I also feel for him in having to lose our son. Seeing him sad makes me sad. I ache when I see his eyes swell with tears, his lips quivers and curl in attempts to hide and stifle his own cries. Then pieces are broken from my heart for my family; my parents, in-laws, friends, and so on. I feel for them because they too will not get to know Elijah and they have to deal with me being different for awhile.

I am curious of the type of person I will grow into after time goes by. People keep telling me I will come out a better and stronger person. I am not sure if I completely agree with that. Different, yes. Stronger? I don't know. Better? Really? I am having a hard time seeing how, in any way, how this can make a person better. Stronger, maybe in a sense of thick-skinned and cold-hearted. Does that count as stronger? I have a very traditional German Grandmother, and some say she is a very strong woman. I agree, she is strong, but you will never hear the words "I love you" come from her lips. I know she loves me, she shows it in the pies and blankets she makes, or the towel whips she throws at you if you are bugging her in the kitchen. One snap in the toosh and you will think twice before getting her fired up. She is a feisty one, and we all love her for that.

There are a few more lines to the lyrics of that song that brings meaning and helps explain certain emotions that I feel. I will leave that up to you next time you listen. Think how it relates to your own life. I hope it brings peace to your current struggle, confusion, or whatever it may be.

I'd like to think that we could just live in a world without struggles, but then it wouldn't be much of a life would it. The grass is always greener on the other side, and in this life we are always trying to get there. We are always in competition with someone or something to get the bigger and better "whatever" in life, we forget what it is really important. Love.

I love my family, my husband and children. I hope that I will not get caught up in life and forget about love.

I love my sweet baby Elijah; God's child, gift given to me. God's Angel...

Infant times again.

My poor little baby boy is sick. I am not sure what he has, but he came down with a fever Sunday afternoon, after his nap. We gave him some Tylenol and that seems to help a little bit. He was given some Motrin right before bed that night.

Well, this morning, he woke up looking horrible. He was heating up really bad, and was super cranky. Oh, my poor baby. All I wanted to do was cuddle him and make him feel all better. I had to go to work...

My husband stayed home with him, and throughout the day, I got phone calls from Paighton himself. He gave Mommy updates on how he was feeling. He had taken three naps; he usually takes one big one. Tired little guy.

When I got home, he greeted me with intense enthusiasm. He was so hyper, I almost forgot he was sick. He didn't really eat much for dinner; kind of played with it instead. After dinner, he started to slow down.

He stood on the couch next to where I was sitting, and let out a little whimper pointing to my lap. Now for those who don't know my son very well, he is not one to cuddle. He is very independent, on the go go go. He doesn't like to sit for very long. If you ask for a hug or kiss, it will be a quick one. He is getting more and more cuddlier as he gets older, but slowly.

I asked him if he wanted to cuddle and he shook his head "yes". I jumped at the opportunity, not wanting to miss a second. I grabbed him and laid his across my tummy and chest. My heart started to melt. I was in a lot of pain, with his weight pushing down on my already sore abdomen and full bladder, but I didn't care. The pain was worth every minute of it. It lasted about forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of Heaven.

As he laid there, I struggled through each contraction; harder to breathe with each one. But my baby boy needed me, he needed his Mommy. I hummed a tune my mother use to hum to me when I was younger; a sweet low and slow tune of only three syllables. As I hummed, I slowly rubbed his back with my hand. He fought to keep his eyes open.

He started to snore a little, but that didn't last long. I could then hear him swallowing hard over and over. I wish he could just tell Mommy how he is feeling.

I felt as if he were an infant again. Not being able to move on his own, with his head laid on my chest listening to my heart beat. He would let out a sigh, like a sigh or relief every now and then. I was in a state of utopia; paradise. This is the best feeling in the whole world. I do not want my son to be sick, ever. But when he is, he gets very cuddly, needy; infantile. I love it.

I am sad and proud when I see my son reaching his milestones and becoming a big boy. During times like this, I feel like no matter what he will always be Mommy's little baby. My baby will always need me. Even when he is in his adult years, I think he will need me. No matter what, I will always be there for him to care for him. Hopefully his wife doesn't mind of an overbearing and spoiling In-Law! I don't think I would even be able to help not too if I tried.

This picture was taken tonight, during Mommy's much needed cuddle time.

I love my son so much...

Good night little one...

Look-a-like

The more and more I stare at Elijah's 3D pictures taken yesterday, the more I see my son Paighton. The moment Elijah's face was put up on that big screen, I felt like I had time warped backwards; 20 months backwards.

The look-a-like brothers.

Paighton would be a good big brother. He loves babies. He tries to cuddle with them, gives them hugs and kisses and says "oh da baby baby baby". He makes sure they are okay when he knows they are sad even. I hope he gets the chance to meet Elijah here on Earth before Elijah leaves us. I want to see my son kiss his baby brother just once.

I was going through some of Paighton's pictures when he was younger. I am amazed that I found some pictures that are almost exactly alike in comparison to the pictures of Elijah that I posted last night.

I think this picture looks like the first photo in line of Elijah...

This one looks a lot like the second one...

This one looks like the fourth (I couldn't find one fore the third, kind of an odd pose to match)...

And lastly, this one looks like the fifth picture...

It is strange how fast time passes you by. You don't even notice until you miss it. I miss it.... a lot. Paighton has grown so much is the past 20 months; he will be 2-years old this August. I cannot believe it. I want so much to feel his tiny, sleepy body against mine again. Now he has too many things to do; he is a boy. He wants to wrestle, which is Daddy's job. He will take the occasional time-out, grab his famous blankie, and cuddle in my lap for a minute or two for a quick breather before he is right back at showing his Daddy who's boss. He is so mature, a very good listener, intelligent, loving, apologetic when needed, and just all around my most favorite guy in the world.

I want so badly to know and see if Elijah would have been like Paighton. They look alike, but would they act alike? Would they be best friends? I would like to think so. Paighton would look out for him and love him as much as my husband and I love both of them; unconditionally.

I love my children, born and unborn the same. Mommy's little look-a-likes...

Baby Elijah

Today we got to see our sweet baby Elijah in a 3D/4D ultrasound at Bella Angel Imaging in Maple Grove. I do not have any words that can even begin to describe our day.

First of all, I want to say "thank you", well actually, a thank you is not enough, to two wonderful people named Scott and Diane. They have a beautiful baby daughter named Grace who was born into Heaven. Their sadness turned into strength to help others turn their sadness into their own strength. They started a foundation called Sustaining Grace (http://www.sustaininggrace.org/) to give the gift of 3D/4D ultrasounds to parents who have received a fatal diagnosis of their unborn children. Today, we received this gift; because of Grace, my husband and I and our families were able to see Elijah alive. Whether you know me personally, or don't know me at all, please consider donating to their cause. Without them, I never would have been able to have these pictures after my baby's body leaves this world and his soul enters into Heaven, waiting for his mommy and daddy.

Although I may not get to keep Elijah in my life for as long as I want; I have amazing 3D pictures, 4D live footage, and a very soft teddy bear that holds inside of him the sound of Elijah's very own heartbeat. Hearing my baby boy's heartbeat come from inside the bear makes me feel as if the bear has a soul of its own, my sweet, precious child Elijah. It will live on forever and never die. I will listen to it always.

Please meet our gift from God, Elijah Andrew...

Hospital visit

Well, I am home. After a long night at the hospital, things seem to be moving along, but not quite ready yet.

I was supposed to have an OB appointment today with my OB here in St Cloud, but since all my care has been transferred to Abbott Northwestern in Minneapolis, I guess I forgot about it.

The nurse called me; she is aware of everything going on. She wanted to check in with me and we talked about how I was feeling. I didn't really think anything of it, expect stress and lack of sleep. She sounded alarmed that I didn't call sooner, and wanted me to be seen tonight. So I dropped my son off at the In-laws and headed for the Birthing Center a the St Cloud Hospital.

I was hooked up to monitors. My contractions are becoming more frequent, but they aren't all painful. My cervix is softening but closed. I was also given an I.V. for dehydration. She poked my right hand twice until she gave up and went over to the left. When anyone ever asks me if an epidural hurts, I say "no, the I.V. does". I hate getting I.V.'s put in.

They also took blood and a urine sample. Basically testing to see if I have signs of preclampsia. To have preclampsia you need protein in your urine and elevated blood pressure. I have both... But they also took blood to see how it is effecting my liver, kidneys, things like that. I didn't really pay attention to it all. All my blood work came back fine and normal. They did say however that my hemoglobin and platelets were low, and suggested an iron supplement.

They offered me a shot to stop my contractions, but said it may cause my heart to race. I refused. It already feels like my heart is jumping gout of my chest. It is the only thing that reminds me I am alive and not dead; I am not dreaming, and that I am actually living this nightmare and will not wake up from it.

They cannot do anything for my pain, my headaches and backaches, the dizziness. Nothing. She offered another drug though to help me relax, said it has the same effects as Benadryl. I also denied this. I need to be able to function for my husband and son. My previous posts talked about my dangerous comfortness with percocet. I too, refused this drug.



I am 24 weeks and 5 days pregnant with Elijah...

Feelings

When I talk to people about how I am feeling, I cannot fully describe enough to help them understand completely what I actually feel; what I am actually going through. You can only tell me you understand when you, yourself, have gone through this. Then will it be that I listen and take your words, advice, even criticism into consideration.

For those of you who have gone through this, let me first thank you. Thank you for walking along side me. Thank you for finding your own strength in your moments of weakness and darkest hours to now use your found strength to carry me in my time of weakness; while I walk through my darkness in search for light. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for just listening.

For those who have not gone through this, I do not mean disrespect. These are my feelings, my opinions. You cannot put factual weight and importance on an opinion. Facts and opinions are not one in the same. With that said, please do not tell me it will be okay. Do not tell me it is for the best. Do not tell me how to feel.

Have you carried a child knowingly it will die before or shortly after its born? Then how do you know it will be okay? I know it will be okay, but right now it is not okay. I am hurting, and you telling me everything will be okay hurts more.

How do you know it is for the best? You never went through this. What if it isn't the best for me, or my Elijah? In a way, I do know. I know it is for the best, but you telling me its for the best hurts because I am at the point of still grieving. I will not stop grieving until I feel well and ready.

Do you really know how I feel? Let me help you understand, yet again...

Take two people. One person is a man, in his 40s. He is having a mid-life crisis because he wants that hot new viper that was just set out on the car lot for sale. He feels bummed because no matter how badly he wants it, he knows he cannot have it. He cannot have it because it is for the best; he has a wife and children to take care of. If he gets the viper, he will not be able to afford the needs in his and his family's life. He accepts the facts, sadly, walking away. He is OK. Life goes on.

The other person is a 3 year old. This 3 year old is taken with on a grocery shopping trip. He is given a delicious sucker to hold in his hands, wrapper taken off. The sucker is sweet smelling, shiny and new. His mouth starts to water as his eyes are hypnotically fixed on the sucker. He is told to hold the sucker tight, but he cannot eat it. Not even a single lick. He may hold it up to his little button nose and take in the sweet sugary smell if he wants to, but he must not eat it. He is also told, that after grocery shopping, before going home, he will have to give away the sucker. He may not take it home with him. During the whole trip, he is holding the sucker, caring for it ensuring it does not bump into anything, drop on the ground or get dirty. He is aware of the sucker's presence at all times. He also knows, when the shopping ends, he will loose the sucker forever. Sure, he may get another sucker someday, but it wont be "that" sucker. He will never hold that exact same sucker in his hands ever again. This makes him sad.

I feel like the 3 year old. I am carrying my sweet precious Elijah. He dances within me. I can feel his life, but I will never get to taste his life. I will not get to fully enjoy what he has to offer; my sweet baby Elijah. I do not get to take him home with me. He is so shiny and new; I will never get one like him again. No other child will be the same as him, because they are not him. I want him. My pregnancy is the shopping trip. Short lived with an apparent end. I know the ending to this chapter. What chapter comes after, I do not know for I am not looking that far ahead yet. I cannot see that far, my view is foggy and delusional.

It seems like a cruel joke to give a 3 year old a sucker and tell him he cannot have it. He has it, yet you doesn't HAVE it. A 3 year old cannot comprehend life, the fair and unjust, like a 40 year old man is able to. My mind is the mind of a 3 year old. I want what I want, and that is all that matters to me right now. I do not care about the science or logistics behind it, all I know is I want it.

Tonight I cried just as hard as I did on that horrible day my world crashed on April 1st. I start to panic because I think I cannot breathe. I start to hyperventilate; feeling my tears drown me. I am left with an unwanted salty taste in my mouth from my tears rolling off my cheeks and into the corners of my lips. I cannot cry with my mouth closed, since I cannot breathe any other way. The harder I cry, the harder my heart pounds on my chest. Then sweats start to kick in, then Braxton Hicks contractions. My body feels like it is being attacked. Only thing though is its attacker is itself. All I can do is shove my face into my pillow to breathe in stale air and force myself to calm down. The lack of fresh oxygen slows my brain, slows my heart rate and breathing. I feel calm until another burst comes through due to a thought. A thought my mind has thrown at me like a bomb, and I am under attack again.

Strange things have been happening to my body this past month. I know about 'normal' pregnancy symptoms, I am not an idiot. What I am finding strange is how the affects of emotional stress actually has on you physically. Today, sitting at my desk, I got the weird sensation that I was drunk. I actually felt drunk, from alcohol. I even smelled the scent of beer. My vision was blurred, I had a hard time focusing on people's faces, the room was spinning and I felt nauseous. I felt if I attempted to speak, it would come out slurred. I was afraid to speak. I just sat there hoping it would go away, that no one would notice. I was embarrassed. I wanted to sleep, or pass out; whichever came first.

Tomorrow my son has a doctor's appointment to be retested to see if he has or has not outgrown his food allergies. I am fearful that I am getting him tested too early, I wonder if I should wait until he turns 2. I do not want to see him get retested. It is not fun. The skin test isn't as bad as the blood test. Last time they took blood for this purpose, they pricked his itty bitty finger and milked his finger to fill more than one tube. I think it was like four or six tubes, small tubes. He cried and kicked to get away. I am fearful that I will not be able to physically and most importantly, emotionally handle his appointment tomorrow. I feel guilty as a parent, subjecting him purposely to pain. I do not want him to become afraid of me. I love my son, and I want to do all that I can to protect him from all pain, the physical and emotional.

Tonight I pray to God, please take away the pain from both of my sons, the born and unborn. Please hold my hand and give me strength for my son tomorrow; as he will need his mommy to be strong for him and to hold his mommy's hand. Lord, please let his food allergy tests, both skin and blood come back negative so that he may enjoy 'normal' food and not have to live a life of "cannot have". He does not deserve to watch others enjoy the "sucker" in life while he cannot partake in that same enjoyment. Amen.

Walls

Tonight I cried. I haven't cried for about 3 days in a row. It may be possible due to me being kidnapped for the weekend.

Saturday morning I went garage-selling with my in-laws. I knew I had prior plans with two friends form work to also scrapbook later in the day, but I just didn't want to sit around all morning waiting for our little get-together. When I got home, all my scrap booking items were already packed. I thought that was strange that my husband had already done that for me ahead of time, especially since he never wants me to go; he misses me. What was even stranger though, was my toothbrush, deodorant and toothpaste were missing from my bathroom drawer. It was in our closet in our bedroom. Now why would I put that there? Simple.... I wouldn't. My husband just gave me the "husband look" and said "I don't know" when I asked him how it got there. I just assumed it was our little guy rearranging the house again.

As I was about to leave to go to my friend's house, my doorbell rang. It was both of my friends who I was going to see! I was so surprised! I was really confused as well. I turned around to look at my husband and he was standing there with my bags and said "have fun, see you tomorrow". My girlfriends kidnapped me. Apparently, Saturday was dubbed National Scrapbooking Day. We stayed at a really nice hotel in Maple Grove, went to Archiver's (thee best scrap booking store EVER), ate at Buca's and laughed at the naughty pop-culture portraits hanging in the ladies bathroom, went swimming, and then stayed up all night scrap booking. I was exhausted, but I didn't want it to end.

In the morning, we went shopping again for more scrap booking items. What else would we do? We then went to the Chocolate Factory. YUM! I finally had my first chocolate made with chile powder. Ever watch the movie Chocolat, starring the all-delicious himself, Johnny Depp. I never knew spicy chile mixed with decadent chocolate could make such a married match of perfection and pure indulgence. I need more...not want....need...

The surprised didn't stop there. Not only had my husband been planning this scrap booking getaway (his own idea), but when I arrived home Sunday afternoon he had seven trees planted in our sad and bare yard; 4 maples and 3 elms. I am so proud of him! I feel so loved to have him as my husband; he truly does care and think of little things. Although, I am worried now of how I am going to top this and out-do him someday. This might take more than a year of thinking.

Even though I had a lot of fun this weekend, I couldn't help but to feel empty. I tried my best to be my normal, quirky, and sometimes obnoxious self that people like so much. Seems like that's why people want to be around me; I can make them laugh.

I love to scrapbook, but my main focus was to scrapbook our ultrasound pictures of Baby Elijah taken on April 1st. As I shopped, my next favorite hobby, I was trying my best to stay away from baby-themed items that involved "baby's firsts". I know that Elijah may not have very many "firsts", if any at all. I bought a smaller scrapbook, small enough to only fit one picture on each page. I was able to finish 3 pages, until I had to move on to finish a page for Paighton instead.

As I stood there in Archiver's, looking at the wall of empty books, some with fill-in pages for baby's "firsts", I felt my eyes starting to swell again. I didn't want to cry, not then, not now. I couldn't help to think that I am never going to be able to fill in those empty lines for the wonderful milestones Elijah is never going to have. I felt as empty as the pages. I wanted to come unglued; rip all the books off the shelf in a violent hurricane of hate and sadness. I wanted to scream as loud as I could until my voice would allow no more. I really needed my husband at that point...

I didn't want to be a downer on this very special trip that my husband and friends had put so much work and thought into. This was supposed to make me happy; and although it did, I just had to put my wall up. The wall I put up whenever I feel the need to protect myself and my emotions. My wall is my worst enemy.

Later that evening when I was looking at Elijah, a vague black and white, two-dimensional picture of my love, I felt my hurricane swirling again. I clenched down on my teeth, tried to swallow the lump that was hardening in my throat, and pushed forward. I didn't even shed a tear even though I could see the swell in my eyes. It was beginning to blur my vision. I didn't want to cry in front of my friends, or worse yet, drop tears on what could be the only pictures I may ever get of Elijah.

I think that sometimes when people hold their own walls up for too long, they don't just come down eventually. The wall comes crashing down in a huge matter that creates chaos, confusion, and just a plain mess. If we didn't work so hard to put up our wall each and every time in crumbles to the ground, it wouldn't hurt as bad. Why do I self-sabotage?

Like I said before, my wall is my worst enemy. It is being built stronger and tougher as the days go by because I do not want to face reality; reality of Elijah dying. Yet my walls are infamous of keeping others out of my life as well. I do not like to get hurt; you cross me once and that wall flies up so fast you'd think it was built on a catapult. I am not trying to say I am an unforgiving person; I am, it just takes a little while. I grew up in a certain way where I have become untrusting of the human population. I am very naive and fall into traps that have not only put my reputation of a good person at risk, but also my life. I love people, maybe a bit too much. There is so much evil out there in the world, and even more disguises.

If I could build a wall to keep out all the people I know, with the exception of my husband and son, knowing that is the only way to save Elijah and live with him forever, I would. No question. I am sorry Mom and Dad, and everyone else whom I love very much, but I would do anything at this point if I knew it would guarantee Elijah's life. He is my son. I do not want him to leave me so early. I do not want him to leave me.... ever.

If I knew he would stay alive forever, pregnant with him, I would bear all the horrible things of pregnancy. Just to know he is alive, comfortable and content; ever so innocent. I would take on morning sickness every minute of every day for the rest of my natural life. We could go "home" together then.

I am in my second week now of being back at work. I am glad to be back, but it certainly is tough. I have to carry my wall around with me. There isn't anything about work that it hard, it actually helps take my mind away from reality and into something productive. The hard part is when I stop. I stop to think about non-work stuff. My mind stalls and I have a hard time jump starting it again. I start to think about how fragile life is; that at any second, any one around me could die including myself. I start to think what would happen if I started to miscarry at work. Would I feel embarrassed? How would people react; and then act when I came back a couple months later? I also think about consequences. I know that seems strange, but just think. Without consequences the world could be a very chaotic place. That is how my mind feels right now. What if I unleashed my hurricane and stomped on my keyboard? Or the next time I went to the bathroom, I punched the mirror in front of me; an ugly image of a failed mother and flawed human starring back at me. I know there would be consequences; not just embarrassment, shame, and physical harm but HR type of consequences. It isn't until someone needs help, or has a question about work does my mind snap back and re-focus on work.

I keep hearing and reading from people that with this experience, I will come out a stronger and better person. How? The only result I can see is me being a very cold and bitter crab apple. Someone who not only didn't trust people, but doesn't trust herself or God after this. How is one to grieve and live on? How do people even think about having more babies after losing one? The pain is so intense, I cannot even begin to explain.

Right now I feel like I have my highest ever made wall, up for good. I only hope that with Elijah's birth, he may live long enough that my wall comes down. It will be the biggest mess one will ever hold witness to, but it may grant me the stepping stones to walk across the mess to a much brighter ans happier side of life. I hope that no matter what kind of break down I may have, that my friends and family are on the other side waiting for me. I hope I am not abandoned.

I feel alone...abandoned right now...

Maybe because I am the only one hiding behind my selfish wall...

Formal Results...

Maybe I was feeling a little too 'safe'; a little cocky about Elijah's future. I was hoping, and thinking that he just HAD to be mosaic triploidy...

Tonight's post is going to be short... I mean really short...

The formal results are in from the amnio test. FULL triploidy is confirmed...

The geneticist said in her 32 years of experience, she has never been wrong about her amnio test results...

I can't even cry if I wanted to...

Thanks God.... thanks a lot...

Games

For every family, there is always that one favorite game. May it be a card game, board game, electronic game, or just a simple made-up-on-the-spot game; young children are good at those kind. When I really take a look at life, I mean really study it with a magnify glass, I see that we as humans play many games within ourselves and each other. Our opponents: friends, family, co-workers, children, strangers, and worse of all, ourselves. Someone as simple as pulling out in front of you while driving on the highway is an opponent. Your own mind can turn into your opponent.

It is our choice, a decision to be made again and again every day, if our opponent is to be our teammate. To work right along side us as an equal. That then leads into another choice, the decision if our opponent-turned-teammate is to become labeled as more or less than ourselves. Don't fool yourself, everyone does it. It is human nature, when we hear or see someone doing or saying something we view as horrible, we take a rhetorical peg on our board and knock them down below our own peg. It works the other way too. We, as humans, automatically put people of certain types on the rhetoric board of pegs, higher, much higher than our own peg. This is done without even knowing the person. How can that even be? Without knowing someone?

If we really knew anyone, I mean really know them in the way God knows us, there would be no board or pegs. We are all equal. Then why social status? Why the status of education, religion, or even convenience? Here is what I mean...

Take Monopoly for example. The amount of property and money you have places you as a higher status then your opponents in the game. This works for real life as well. People seem so impressed with big fancy houses and a fat pocket. What does that say about the person who holds that in his hands? How many people's pegs did he have to knock down to get "up there"?

The game operation comes to mind. The steadier your hand, the better operator you are. How does one doctor become better than the next in real life? How many opponents in his life did he have to knock down? I would rather think how many lives did he save in ratio to those lost. You cant save everyone, but you can make choices, the decision to save and act upon it. You can say "it is not over, until it is over".

I am saying, it isn't over until it is over. I was told my baby's spine is 100% open; head to butt. This was a 'guess' from a 2D picture using sound waves. Then I was told, no, it isn't, just the lower sacral lumbar area. Again, using the same technique. So who is right? Which doctor is better than the other? I say the best doctor is whom choose "it isn't over, till its over". Now I am being told my baby is Triploidy. Well, in reality, yes, I have been told that. But I have only been told that for the first 3 pairs or chromosomes. The "full" picture of the amnio test results have not been completed yet. Below is a chromosome picture of a "normal" human. I am being very vague, by the way. I am not a geneticist...

A normal person gets 46 chromosomes: 23 from dad (sperm) and 23 from mom (egg). The last pair, which is the 23rd, decides the gender of our babies. With full triploidy, every single one of the 23 pairs gets a extra chromosome, resulting in 69 total chromosomes. Below is a picture of a "full triploidy" human.

Now, my point... I have been running into another term called Diploid Triploid, also known as Mosaic Triploidy. For someone who studies numbers and not biology, like me, this is obviously easy to disregard when looking for your own answers. I cannot rely on doctors only, I have to become my own opponent and teammate in the game of life. I do math, not science. Mosaic Triploidy is when some of the 23 pairs are normal and some have 3 chromosomes. I have mentioned before of a 24-year old man that has triploidy and he is still living. He has Mosaic Triploidy. I have been finding more and more children with the mosaic version. For the most part, and from what I know and understand, they live normal lives with a few adjustments. They seem happy in pictures, they are beautiful with their families and older/younger siblings. Their parents are happy.

I want to be happy. I have not received the full amnio test results yet. I am still waiting. But even then, am I going to be satisfied and content with them? I am praying for Mosaic Triploidy. I know that sounds odd, why would I pray for such a thing? But from what I am seeing and understanding mosaic has a better chance, and chance of quality even, at life. It isn't over until it is over. Over equals the death of my baby. I still have hope. Miracles can happen...

I have an uncle that when he was in his 20s, was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. He was told he had about 3-5 months to live. He refused treatment, and basically made the choice to live the rest of his short life "well" instead of "sick" from treatments. He is alive today; in his 40s. I never knew this about him until about a week ago when my two aunts were trying to make a point, trying to make me see that miracles happen all around us everyday and we don't even know it. My uncle played the game of life. Although he may be winning now, someday, he will cross the finish line. Possibly happier, slower, yet wiser, but finished. We all have to finish our game someday. Where we place our peg, and effect those pegs around us, will always make a determination in how our game is played.

Some pieces are placed by strategy. We go to school, then college, maybe volunteer in our community. All these things and those that are similar are conscience choices we can control. We decide when, where, and how long. Some moves in life are solely by risk. We make the decision to move our peg in a manner we cannot control. Remember that really cool tattoo you thought you would love forever and ever? Well, I played and I lost, kind of. I got a tattoo in honor of a person. It didn't work out; now no person and a really annoying tattoo. This is a very innocent teenager thing; head over heals in love. It didn't stop me from finding my true love; my husband. What about those who get tattoos and then now are fighting for their life because of a dirty needle? You cannot control everything! You can control who you marry, but you cannot control that person alone. The person you marry is your teammate, yet can also be an opponent in your game of life. It is your choice which role your spouse plays.

Then there are moves in the game of life that you do not make, you cannot control, you do not even see it coming. Chutes N Ladders was always fun. The excitement of rolling the dice, not knowing what number it will add up to when it finally stops spinning on the board. Your opponent counts them up, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, ... He moves his person 5 pieces. Going up... and up...and up. He stops, at the top of a slide; down he does.... What a shame. So does he just stop there and say "I quit!"? No. He waits for his next moves, rolls again, and moves on. We as parents have the responsibility to teach out children that it is okay to fall down, more than once even. It is okay if we have to take a few steps back in order to get ahead. It is okay, as long as we keep going. We have to get up, brush off the dirt, and move on.

Sounds easy right? Well how is a person to move on knowing that there are more slides ahead, and chance might have its way and we would fall victim to it all over again? Maybe if we knew of all of the slides that are relevant, those that will actually make us fall, we can better catch ourselves. Its those slides that magically appear right under our foot as we are about to take a step up. We don't see it coming, we over react. Ever pick up a close to empty milk jug that you were expecting to be full? Your arm swings it straight up and you almost hit yourself in the face; maybe you actually do hit yourself in the face. You overreact. Funny, but still tragic if someone saw you do it.

I feel right now that my life has entered the "charades" episode of the game. All these people, whose pegs are above mine, are overreacting, trying to make decisions for me. My job is to guess who they are, what role they play. It is confusing because I see them, but I cannot hear them. I see their mouths moving, but no sounds. I see the frustration on their face. We are becoming opponents; enemies in the game, and they do not even know me. I do not know them. Yet they feel they have some say, well, say that would actually provoke action, to determine where I place my own peg. I have asked people for their opinions, yes, I admit that. Therefore I cannot judge any of those who have done so. I do not judge them. I try to see it from their view, but I will place my own peg where I feel it should be placed. I ask those to return the favor; do not judge me, you do not know me.

The placement on my peg in regards to my precious unborn baby boy, Elijah, is not up to me. It is not my choice, although it is my decision. The decision of life; it is not over until it is over. Even though I am daily preparing myself for the death of my baby (my painful slide I may take) I am holding the dice in the palms of my hands as I shake them with all the strength I have. I close my eyes tightly to pray to God; hands still shaking and shaking. I am afraid to let go, for fear what might add up. Is my slide due next, or will I coast for now? The power of prayer may give me one more day of pregnancy. Elijah is extremely active, almost more than Paighton was, especially at this gestational age. The power of prayer may give me mosaic triploidy diagnosis instead of full triploidy. Again, the amnio test results are not yet finished. The doctors, who peg themselves above me, have already had their "oops" moment. I do not peg them above me in terms of knowing what is best for Elijah, but I do peg them above me in healing my Elijah. It is up to them to choose. What will their decision be? It is not over until it is over. Flat line.

Will the power of prayer give me a whole month, maybe a whole year, of holding my sweet Elijah in my arms, alive. What is better? Four Oreo cookies, or just one Oreo cookie? Easy right? Four. If only it were that easy....

An angel at work today gifted me the strength to continue praying. To not give up, just as I was becoming weak. Just as I was about to turn off the communication because I thought I had lost the signal. I thought I was talking to no one. She could not foresee my weakness, yet she made a move in her game of life not knowing it effects mine. Not only did she gift me strength to pray more and more, but also supported and encourages the belief that prayers do work. They are answered. Maybe not right away, like the flip of a light switch. Let there be light! No. My slide will come... but I have many people playing the game along side me, making their own moves, showing me that going forward is possible. Going forward matters to all those in the game, like my husband, my 20 month old son, my parents, and even Elijah. His life depends on my life.

I ask all of you to find your reason to pray, and pray. Pray that God guides you as you make choices, risks, and pure luck in your own game of life. Please be courteous of those playing, taking care not to knock down their peg; they might have a harder time getting up than you.

Tonight, I pray to You oh Lord, please bless me now with life. Amen.

Work

Monday, the 26th is officially the day I go back to work. I am so excited. Not only to put some normalcy back into my life, but also to take away some thought and redirect the energy to something more productive. There is no reason I cant work, it makes no sense and does me no good to sit around feeling sorry for myself.

In a way, I am nervous to go back to work. I worry about things I cannot control. What if something happens... with me, or the baby... at work? The other thing I worry is seeing my co-workers that are pregnant, and how happy they are. Knowing they get to hold their babies, and I cant mine... just tears my heart apart. I have been uncomfortable around pregnant women lately, even newborns. I feel my body begin to shake, my eyes swell, and there's that lump again in my throat. I am happy for my friends and co-workers that are expecting. I really am, but I am also very envious. God says do not covet thy neighbor... it is so hard not to at times...

Last night I had a very strange dream. I dreamt that Elijah was born, but I couldn't find him. No matter how much I searched and searched at the hospital, I could not find him. Finally, I entered a room, and it had multiple queen size beds. Maybe about 10. In the beds were babies, about the age of 9 months; all lined up at the head against the pillows. They were cooing and grabbing at their feet. All babies were naked, wearing diapers only. Why queen beds, I do not know. I saw one bed with a full grown man in it, with about 5 babies lined up next to him. He was sitting up, leaning back against the headboard. In his arms, was Elijah. He was holding Elijah lifting him up and back down again, making faces and funny noises at him, like a game. He was smaller than the other babies, but laughing and kicking his obviously deformed legs wildly like he was trying to swim in water. He was laughing, a huge smile on his face, biting at his hands as if he had butterflies in his tummy from too much excitement. I stood in the doorway, watching. I didn't want to disturb them, Elijah was having too much fun. He was happy.

I woke up to my husband's alarm clock ringing. I felt odd. I wasn't sure what emotion my mind was trying to run through the rest of my body. In a way, I interpreted the dream as if Elijah will live. He does has a chance. I was happy. Then fear set in. I was afraid again for how Elijah's life might effect my own, and my son Paighton's. How will I juggle work? How will Elijah's life be? Will he be happy? Or in pain?

I read a story of a 24-year old man who is living today, diagnosed with Diploid Triploid Mosaic Syndrome. How that differs from Elijah's Triploidy, I do not know...
What I do know is he has the mind of a toddler, and gets very upset often because he does not understand his physical limitations. I am afraid of having to relive this nightmare for 24+ years with Elijah. Watching him grow up, but never really growing up.

Was it selfish of me to feel disappointed that Elijah was alive in my dream? In reality, I do want him to live. I don't want my baby to die. But I also don't want my baby to suffer, be in pain, and have a life that isn't much of a life to begin with. By the way, who ever set the standard, the 'norm' for quality of life anyways? When and where was it determined that a life is a life, and when a life is no longer a life? Who determines this?

So in fear for both of my sons, I also fear the change in life that effects my work. It was hard enough trying to juggle my work schedule with my son's appointments for occupational therapy, well-child, ill-child, allergy testing, allergic reactions, hospitalizations, accidents at daycare, what have you. The list goes on. Thankfully almost all of these have stopped. I have never taken a day of PTO for myself just because.
How will I juggle now my work schedule with Elijah's many, upon many appointments for who knows what yet...?

No matter my struggles God puts before me, I will try my best. I will trust in Him to always find a way for balance. I just have to be open to hearing and receiving Him and understanding what He wants.

Life is hard. I have a friend who also keeps a blog. In it she spoke about a theory of life; her own personal view. It is something along the lines of a person's purpose in life is to die. Meaning, we are here to live and serve our purpose, once our purpose is done, we are no longer needed here on Earth. So, we die and God takes us home. God is very particular in how we go home, and when. It all means something, we just need to interpret it correctly. Understanding death is another hard part of life. Sometimes we just simply do not want to understand it. Seems like being a mother, my purpose is to make sure my children live to serve their purposes. So with that said, what purpose would Elijah's life have?

Working with disabled adults in a group home setting, I have seen true testaments that those men have purposes. I am a better person for knowing them. I enjoyed going to work and seeing them, they uplifted my spirit every day. But at the end of my shift, my heart would sink as I drove home. Why did I feel so sorry for them? They were happy, they were not sorry for themselves, so why was I?

I hope that no matter the length of Elijah's life, that I will see and understand his purpose and help others to see and understand it as well. If Elijah outlives me in this physical world, I hope he will let his purpose shine and infect others with love and life of their own.

Work, I will see you Monday. I hope I don't fall asleep since my schedule has been so out of wack...