Now let's see... where did I leave off?
OH YEA!! I'm pregnant! Hee Hee.
It's been 8 months since I announced to family and friends that my husband and I were expecting another tiny bundle of joy. Now, we are 36 weeks along; with only 4 weeks left, we are in the home stretch!
Phew!! I almost feel like I can finally breathe again. Almost...
The fears from losing Elijah are still very much real. I also carry guilt. Guilt that I am doing ok in life and am moving on. Yet, I don't really see it as moving on without him. I am moving on with him.
Our son Paighton is very excited about the new baby. So much that we let him pick the name! Now at first he was choosing names like Captain America, Thor, Cupcake, Poopy Pants and so on. So we had a talk about real names, animal names and pretend names. He got better. He began picking names like Ethan, Dominic, and Emma (if baby was a girl). I turned those down as well considering those are the names of kids in his preschool class. Ethan seemed to be a bit of a bully with a very scary anger management problem. He once bit Dominic in the leg because he wanted to sit by Paighton in school and Dominic refused to move. Yikes! Dominic is Paighton's BFF and Emma is Paighton's girlfriend. WHAT?! Yup... I said it... girlfriend! However now that school is over and summer is here, he really hasn't kept in touch much with his friends. We try but its hard to plan with ever changing schedules.
So what shall we name baby? Hmm... it was tough for a 4-year old to pull out a name from thin air when he hasn't had much personal experiences yet to know what names are really out there. At the time, his favorite two movies he was constantly streaming throughout the day over and over and over again were E.T. (yes, the creepy alien movie - classic by the way) and Alvin & The Chipmunks: Chipwrecked. OH MY GAWD these movies were driving me insane! But I turned what was a mind-splitting annoyance into a positive and got him thinking. What about the names Elliott or Theodore? He thought those were perfect! Finally, I got him to narrow names down to two. Elliott and Theodore.
We stuck on those names for a very long time. It wasn't until a couple months ago that we all, even daddy, agreed on Theodore. Theodore Robert (my dad's name is Robert). I am very happy and satisfied with our decision as a family. I even have a super cute story to tell Theo when he grows up that his brother Paighton named him. Now we'll see if he likes the reason behind the why... because Theodore is the chubby chipmunk that eats too much. There is just something about an over-indulging fur ball I find to be incredibly adorable!
So a chubby chipmunk. It just might be a perfect fit. A month ago, Theo had a growth ultrasound (we get an ultrasound every visit and a growth every 4 weeks) and he measured 9 days ahead of schedule; putting himself at the 78th percentile for his weight class. WOW! Paighton always measured in the 30s percentiles for weight. Theo is going to be one hefty boy! He sure is going to take after his daddy! I picture giant chest and shoulders, like a gorilla. My husband and his father have very big upper bodies. I love it. Especially when my husband wraps those giant arms around me and pulls me in for a extra strong hug. I feel safe and the stress just melts right off me.
Paighton on the other hand takes a lot after me. He is tall and skinny. I don't think we will be skinny forever since he has ambitions to become a UFC fighter. Oh, and a cop, a firefighter, Captain America, mailman, McDonald's worker, a dentist, a baby doctor, a construction worker, a boxer, a football player, a hockey player, and... am I missing any? He loves to stay busy! I like our conversations with each other of what he is going to be when he grows up. Its safe to say he doesn't have any self esteem issues when it comes to his ability to accomplish anything! If he wants to aim for the Moon or farther, I know he will. And I will let him; standing right behind him for encouragement the entire way. I am very proud of my big (not so little anymore) boy.
One area where Paighton isn't all Captain America-can-do-attitude are things more of the sentimental or emotional things. Now I'm not saying he isn't sensitive, because he is. He is just very extra-sensitive. He goes deeper in his thoughts and reasoning than I'd expect from a child his age. But then again, he has experienced more things in his short life than most his peers would at this age. He is very much in touch about death. It makes me a little uncomfortable at times, but I think we manage it well. We always answer his questions without sugar coating anything, but we also don't go further than what is required for him to understand and be content with the answer given.
Now even though Paighton is very excited for Baby Theo, he really hasn't shown complete acceptance yet. He will say cute things once in awhile like "I'm not helping with poopy diapers" and "I don't want him to sleep in my room because he will pee on my bed and chew on my toys" but he also says things that bring us back to the day we lost Elijah. That's when it gets tough. He doesn't fully believe yet that Theo is going to survive. One day he and daddy where gluing paper cutouts of people onto paper making our family. He added dad, mom, himself, and then stopped. He pondered for a bit, then grabbed a baby cutout and said something along the lines of not wanting to add Theo because if he dies then he will have to rip it off the paper. Nothing was mentioned about Elijah. Andy encouraged him to add Theo, and said its ok to to glue it on and we'll just see what happens.
Its really hard because all we want to do is promise to Paighton that Theo will not die. We are literally 99.999999999% (you get the idea) sure that Theo will not die. Same goes for me. Mommy is not going to die. But we are not God. God decides all; who, when, where, how, why (wish I knew the why part of that). I cannot bring myself to promise him anything because I hate breaking promises. He cried for days when I promised he could see his cousins, or his BFF Dominic, and it just didn't work out. I broke my promise. Usually because of circumstances out of my own control, but he doesn't understand that. I don't expect him to understand either. He is 4, not an adult. So I can understand his own anxiousness and frustration in me when I wont give him a straight yes or no answer. I try my best to avoid this question on a daily basis right now.
In efforts to prepare Paighton for the birth of Theo, we watch A Baby Story on TLC, search videos on YouTube and spend time with family and friends with babies. We have even asked him if he would like to watch daddy cut the umbilical cord (entering the room after Theo is born and all is calm of course). This sparked another emotional melt down. Sorry we asked! He first became just unresponsive, then bluntly said "NO" and stormed out our room. After he came back, I asked why. Of course I am not going to force him, but as his mother, I need to know why and what upset him so much. He expressed himself very well and I'm proud of him for opening up to me. Not only did he not want to see dad cut the cord, he doesn't want dad to cut it at all. Period. He said he didn't want me to get an owie; to get hurt - to die. He said he likes his baby brother and doesn't want him to die and if daddy cuts the cord, Theo will die and I will get an owie. My heart felt so heavy listening to him say these things. I assured him it wont hurt me at all; nor will it hurt Theo. Its a part of real life and Theo cant live stuck to me forever. We examined Paighton's belly button and explained how big and strong he got all on his own without being stuck to mommy. He calmed down and the topic hasn't resurfaced since. Not sure if it will.
As the days go on, he is getting very impatient for Theo's arrival. So am I! We are due September 2nd, but I really have a gut feeling that he will make an early appearance. If he doesn't, and I am wrong, that is okay too! Paighton's birthday is August 31st, and making sure he isn't shoved to the side and still gets to have a full day of all about him, I scheduled his birthday party to be on the 17th instead. A whole two weeks early! Now if I didn't plan far enough in advance and Theo comes before then, or on e the day, I am going to feel so awful! I stress about it every day right now. Just PLEASE not before or on, just come after the 17th... PLEASE!!
Another amazing thing about my three boys are their due dates... Both Paighton and Theo were estimated to be due on September 2nd. Elijah was due August 28th. Paighton and Elijah were both born on the 31st of the month. Strange as it is... I think Theo will be born on August 28th. It would be kind of neat I think. Sweet and honorable.
If I am going to make it to August 28th, I've got a lot of focusing and praying to do! I have begun dilating already! Last I was checked I was at 1.5. I have horrible nighttime contraction episodes that last about 2 hours and tons of swelling. At least I am able to stay home and relax if I absolutely need to. The past two months I wasn't able to. Paighton had baseball and swimming lessons. We were on the go Monday through Thursday of every week. Its hard being pregnant and sitting on a stiff bleacher under the hot sun. Paighton had tons of fun but boy, am I glad its over! I told him from now on, I think we are doing swimming lessons indoors. We will have to see how he feels about baseball next year. I am hoping he will want to drop it; I'm not much of a baseball fan. I'd like to see him get into kickboxing, football, hockey or soccer; some kind of sport I can actually watch without wanting to bang my hand into a brick wall. Even football might be a stretch for me... not a fan. I just get easily bored.
Looking back to my past life, life before kids and a husband, I never in a million years saw myself where I am today. But you know what? I am glad it happened. It took a lot of hurt to get here and it may not be picture perfect but it's perfect for me. I have a great husband who loves me and protects me from everything and everyone, and two (almost three) amazing sons who constantly teach and challenge me every day, and two super annoying cats with personality disorders that I think are just animal versions of how I'd like to act in real life but don't.
Those are the things that I have. You cannot buy them with any amount of money yet they are worth more than any house, car, boat, toy, latest tech gadget, social status or what have you.
I am the richest woman in the world. My family is priceless.
My family is perfect.
Showing posts with label infant loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label infant loss. Show all posts
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Baby #... 5?
Tonight brings lots of excitement, hope, worry, fear, and an endless list of self-asked questions.
Yes, we are pregnant.
Last October I promptly shared the great news to all that Baby # 3 was coming soon. I was so happy and excited, I wrote those words on my driveway using my 4 year old's chalk and took a picture to share. But as I wrote the number "3", I felt off.
Baby #3. I only have one kid. He is 4, but then there was Elijah. He was a baby (Baby #2). He didn't live past 3 hours, but was still here. Very much as real as you and I. He is still a baby in my heart and my mind every day. But he isn't here to see and hold everyday. Sometimes I feel so hurt by that, that I don't want to include him in the official kid count. Is that wrong of me? It's certainly something I am working on; and get better at but still i get tripped up by those random people..."who many kids do you have?" ONE!, I blurt out. It's my way of shielding myself of having to explain the story to anyone I do not know, or just rubs me the wrong way.
But what a lot of people that heard the Baby #3 news in October, do not know this... it was actually Baby #4. Three months prior, in July, we took a trip to Faith's Lodge in Danbury, WI. It was a retreat for bereaved parents for a chance in whatever a person wanted: hope, to recharge, to reflect, to remember, to cry, to laugh. Whatever the moment called for, that is what we did. And we all did it together. It was an experience only we know as we made friends and created bonds (and inside jokes). Sadly, on our 2nd night there, we ended up having to drive to the ER. I was miscarrying. But since I was so early on, they just sent me home (after an exam making sure I was ok). I was so upset, yet oddly relieved. We hadn't told anyone we were pregnant so there wasn't any news to tell anyone we lost it. You can't loose what you never had.
But I was relieved. Relieved that I wasn't father along in a pregnancy I wasn't meant to have. I was relieved I didn't have to give birth to another "Elijah", hold him, kiss him, and wake up to find him dead. I thank God for not putting me through that horror story again.
So the miscarriage I never told anyone from July, prompted me to be more anxious about telling people in October. I told myself "It still counts". I want to be happy, and I deserve to be happy about it. We told everyone a few days after we found out. Two days after we told people, I miscarried. I was more upset about the fact that I still had people saying congrats as I was trying to keep up with taking it back and explaining that no, I was not longer pregnant. Whatever I guess.
So now I come to tonight, and the news of having a baby, that may or may not stick around. I guess it is in God's master plan if I am meant for this, this time around.
I still can't help to think that i have been pregnant four times (now tonight is five) and I only have one living child today. Although I think about it, I am not angry. i am frustrated, as a person would be in attempting to jump on a pogo stick. Frustrated with a giant dose of determination. I say to myself, "I will succeed!"
I just know I am meant to have more kids. It is in my blood, in my family history, in my heart. I have dreams in my sleep seeing my family of (oh I don't know how many exactly) a lot running a muck in the house. To the outside world it looks like chaos; dirty house, marker on the wall, boys pulling the girls' hair, and the girls flushing the boys' army guys down the toilets, hence creating the flood even Moses himself would be afraid to touch!. But in my eyes I see them creating the world amongst themselves. I see stories of pirates come to life as they stand on top of the couch holding onto a soup ladle. I see generosity as they fight and learn how to share. I see compassion as they stick up for each other, and even attempt to hide the truth from me as I interrogate them to find out who really flushed the army guys down the toilets.
I grew up in chaos. Loud noises. Rowdy boys and whiny girls. I like full houses. I just do not understand smaller families. Those seem foreign to me, and even more clicky and "VIP to enter". Geez, it's pretty much impossible to not only have, but sustain a relationship. My experiences only I guess. I am sure there are lots of small families that work best in their own way. I wont ever understand it though.
I am determined to have a large family. And if that means that I, myself, cannot bear them all, I will adopt. I will foster. With the help of God, I will find a way. My aunt has shown me this is possible as long as you have the will to do it. She is an inspiration to me. I am very proud of her.
Children bring wonders to life. They bring out qualities and ideas in yourself that you never thought you had, hiding deep inside. Children are all so different too. They are like snowflakes; not one is the same as the other. Even twins, and I know this for a fact!!
Having a child is such a blessing. I love the feeling of being pregnant; even the icky feelings too! I know it's all part of the good things to come.
My hopes for this pregnancy, whatever number I decide to call it, is that it goes according to God's plan. I am working on taking the responsibility out of my hands and placing them into God's. I failed to realize this the last few times. Here I thought it was all mine and my husband's doing. It is not. I need to remind myself of that.
But I can always help of course...will lots of yummy foods and spoiled pampering from my husband!
To my Baby Elijah,
I miss you so very much. I hope that you celebrated the most wonderful Christmas up in Heaven. Your big brother Paighton talked about you, and sang Happy Birthday to Jesus, knowing He is taking good care of you and mommy's friend Danica. He is such a smart little guy. He remembers all our friends in Heaven and likes to talk about them often; especially you. You are his favorite.
Mommy and Daddy love you. Until then...sending hugs and kisses up to you...
Yes, we are pregnant.
Last October I promptly shared the great news to all that Baby # 3 was coming soon. I was so happy and excited, I wrote those words on my driveway using my 4 year old's chalk and took a picture to share. But as I wrote the number "3", I felt off.
Baby #3. I only have one kid. He is 4, but then there was Elijah. He was a baby (Baby #2). He didn't live past 3 hours, but was still here. Very much as real as you and I. He is still a baby in my heart and my mind every day. But he isn't here to see and hold everyday. Sometimes I feel so hurt by that, that I don't want to include him in the official kid count. Is that wrong of me? It's certainly something I am working on; and get better at but still i get tripped up by those random people..."who many kids do you have?" ONE!, I blurt out. It's my way of shielding myself of having to explain the story to anyone I do not know, or just rubs me the wrong way.
But what a lot of people that heard the Baby #3 news in October, do not know this... it was actually Baby #4. Three months prior, in July, we took a trip to Faith's Lodge in Danbury, WI. It was a retreat for bereaved parents for a chance in whatever a person wanted: hope, to recharge, to reflect, to remember, to cry, to laugh. Whatever the moment called for, that is what we did. And we all did it together. It was an experience only we know as we made friends and created bonds (and inside jokes). Sadly, on our 2nd night there, we ended up having to drive to the ER. I was miscarrying. But since I was so early on, they just sent me home (after an exam making sure I was ok). I was so upset, yet oddly relieved. We hadn't told anyone we were pregnant so there wasn't any news to tell anyone we lost it. You can't loose what you never had.
But I was relieved. Relieved that I wasn't father along in a pregnancy I wasn't meant to have. I was relieved I didn't have to give birth to another "Elijah", hold him, kiss him, and wake up to find him dead. I thank God for not putting me through that horror story again.
So the miscarriage I never told anyone from July, prompted me to be more anxious about telling people in October. I told myself "It still counts". I want to be happy, and I deserve to be happy about it. We told everyone a few days after we found out. Two days after we told people, I miscarried. I was more upset about the fact that I still had people saying congrats as I was trying to keep up with taking it back and explaining that no, I was not longer pregnant. Whatever I guess.
So now I come to tonight, and the news of having a baby, that may or may not stick around. I guess it is in God's master plan if I am meant for this, this time around.
I still can't help to think that i have been pregnant four times (now tonight is five) and I only have one living child today. Although I think about it, I am not angry. i am frustrated, as a person would be in attempting to jump on a pogo stick. Frustrated with a giant dose of determination. I say to myself, "I will succeed!"
I just know I am meant to have more kids. It is in my blood, in my family history, in my heart. I have dreams in my sleep seeing my family of (oh I don't know how many exactly) a lot running a muck in the house. To the outside world it looks like chaos; dirty house, marker on the wall, boys pulling the girls' hair, and the girls flushing the boys' army guys down the toilets, hence creating the flood even Moses himself would be afraid to touch!. But in my eyes I see them creating the world amongst themselves. I see stories of pirates come to life as they stand on top of the couch holding onto a soup ladle. I see generosity as they fight and learn how to share. I see compassion as they stick up for each other, and even attempt to hide the truth from me as I interrogate them to find out who really flushed the army guys down the toilets.
I grew up in chaos. Loud noises. Rowdy boys and whiny girls. I like full houses. I just do not understand smaller families. Those seem foreign to me, and even more clicky and "VIP to enter". Geez, it's pretty much impossible to not only have, but sustain a relationship. My experiences only I guess. I am sure there are lots of small families that work best in their own way. I wont ever understand it though.
I am determined to have a large family. And if that means that I, myself, cannot bear them all, I will adopt. I will foster. With the help of God, I will find a way. My aunt has shown me this is possible as long as you have the will to do it. She is an inspiration to me. I am very proud of her.
Children bring wonders to life. They bring out qualities and ideas in yourself that you never thought you had, hiding deep inside. Children are all so different too. They are like snowflakes; not one is the same as the other. Even twins, and I know this for a fact!!
Having a child is such a blessing. I love the feeling of being pregnant; even the icky feelings too! I know it's all part of the good things to come.
My hopes for this pregnancy, whatever number I decide to call it, is that it goes according to God's plan. I am working on taking the responsibility out of my hands and placing them into God's. I failed to realize this the last few times. Here I thought it was all mine and my husband's doing. It is not. I need to remind myself of that.
But I can always help of course...will lots of yummy foods and spoiled pampering from my husband!
To my Baby Elijah,
I miss you so very much. I hope that you celebrated the most wonderful Christmas up in Heaven. Your big brother Paighton talked about you, and sang Happy Birthday to Jesus, knowing He is taking good care of you and mommy's friend Danica. He is such a smart little guy. He remembers all our friends in Heaven and likes to talk about them often; especially you. You are his favorite.
Mommy and Daddy love you. Until then...sending hugs and kisses up to you...
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Faith's Lodge
Last week Andy and I spent almost an entire week away from Paighton. We finally got to go to Faith's Lodge in Danbury, Wisconsin. We enjoyed a lot of alone time, as well as meeting new friends.
We took a little trip out on the paddle boat. Don't mind the dumb look on my face of "uhhh". The sun was very bright!! I like this picture because the sun rays glowing on us reminds me of our little guy in Heaven, making sure our paddle boat date was just perfect! However... the humor side if me... when I see this, I hear some kind of Beavis and Butt-Head noise coming from my mouth. I just can't take nice pictures. I'm such a weirdo!
During our time spent there, we had a lot of time to reflect on and think of our son Elijah. More time than we have ever had for a long time. It was nice for a change, however I keep having a lingering feeling I haven't had before; or that I haven't paid attention to at least. It wasn't until tonight that I could put my finger on it.
This feeling is hard to describe, but I will do my best. Let's back up a bit, to 2 years ago when Elijah was first diagnosed, born, died, and celebrated his 1st birthday without him. I was a train wreck, without the tracks; as if I would plow through anything and anyone without a warning. I cried all the time. I screamed all the time.
Now come back to present day. I am OK. That is a strange feeling... I am OK.
Being at Faith's Lodge and meeting other parents who have lost their babies all too soon and in such tragic ways (as if there is an un-tragic way to lose a baby?? - not!) it brought me back to how I used to feel. I compared it to how I feel now and its not the same. Their hurt is very new, fresh cut in their hearts. Mine has a 2 year old scab on it.
Am I a bad mommy for not crying over Elijah any more?
I do once in awhile. Usually it takes a lot, like someone else's sad story. Or if I hear my husband repeat the events aloud. Just hearing if from him hurts the most.
I just cant shake this feeling; yet the flip side is I also feel like I am still in limbo. Like I am just waiting for someone to knock on my front door and hand me a 2-year old. Our life has not really continued, more so just stayed the same. But I am OK? I am so confused, none of this is making any sense to me.
Also, while we were at Faith's Lodge, I received an email from a mother, pregnant with a little baby girl named Lucy Rose. She is 32 weeks along, and was diagnosed with Triploidy at 17 weeks. I really hate Triploidy. I wish we could have been assigned a different card...one with actual hope for life. Triploidy just sucks in all forms...I wish there was hope. But when it turned my world upside down, and then had the nerve to threaten my own life, I made it my enemy.
I hate being a bringer of bad news when someone has already received it and reaches out to me for hope. I have no hope to offer... I have a lot of support in any decisions they make for themselves and babies... but those first few emails back and forth...are tough.
Triploidy sucks...
Please pray for Lucy Rose and her mommy, Jeanene and the rest of her family. Funny thing too...she has a 3-year old brother, living...named Elijah...
On a lighter note, I received a thank you card in the mail today from New Beginnings - the organization where we donate Elijah's birthday presents too. It was nice to see that we are doing something to honor his birth each year. Even if it is small and simple. We didn't receive a card last year, so it was a very nice surprise to get one this year.
So... looking forward onto this week, Saturday will be mine and Andy's 5-year anniversary. I think this time we are going to celebrate it with Paighton. Usually we get a sitter and spend some alone time, but Paighton is just as much part of this marriage as we two are together. We are a family. So, I think we are going to head up to Duluth and take him to see a real-sized Thomas the Train and go for a train ride. I am so excited!! I have never been on a train ride (expect for the light rail in the cities - but that's not the same). So what better way for a first time, than with a little guy who is very much obsessed with trains?!
In saying good night now, I send hugs and prayers of comfort for our new friends at Faith's Lodge:
Kelly and Dennis - Jordyn
Jenny and Adam - Cooper
Mary and Ryan - Mac
Melanie and Sunny - Eliana
Charlotte and Dan - Landen
Deanna and Paul - Devon
May you always feel the warm embrace from your sweet babies when you most need it, and learn how to share your babies lives with the world around you so that we all may become better people because of them. God bless you always - thank you for sharing with me and Andy - you are all forever in our hearts.
Good night my sweet baby boy - Elijah - Mommy's little prince charming. May you come rescue me in my dreams tonight.
Love tenderly,
Mommy
We took a little trip out on the paddle boat. Don't mind the dumb look on my face of "uhhh". The sun was very bright!! I like this picture because the sun rays glowing on us reminds me of our little guy in Heaven, making sure our paddle boat date was just perfect! However... the humor side if me... when I see this, I hear some kind of Beavis and Butt-Head noise coming from my mouth. I just can't take nice pictures. I'm such a weirdo!
During our time spent there, we had a lot of time to reflect on and think of our son Elijah. More time than we have ever had for a long time. It was nice for a change, however I keep having a lingering feeling I haven't had before; or that I haven't paid attention to at least. It wasn't until tonight that I could put my finger on it.
This feeling is hard to describe, but I will do my best. Let's back up a bit, to 2 years ago when Elijah was first diagnosed, born, died, and celebrated his 1st birthday without him. I was a train wreck, without the tracks; as if I would plow through anything and anyone without a warning. I cried all the time. I screamed all the time.
Now come back to present day. I am OK. That is a strange feeling... I am OK.
Being at Faith's Lodge and meeting other parents who have lost their babies all too soon and in such tragic ways (as if there is an un-tragic way to lose a baby?? - not!) it brought me back to how I used to feel. I compared it to how I feel now and its not the same. Their hurt is very new, fresh cut in their hearts. Mine has a 2 year old scab on it.
Am I a bad mommy for not crying over Elijah any more?
I do once in awhile. Usually it takes a lot, like someone else's sad story. Or if I hear my husband repeat the events aloud. Just hearing if from him hurts the most.
I just cant shake this feeling; yet the flip side is I also feel like I am still in limbo. Like I am just waiting for someone to knock on my front door and hand me a 2-year old. Our life has not really continued, more so just stayed the same. But I am OK? I am so confused, none of this is making any sense to me.
Also, while we were at Faith's Lodge, I received an email from a mother, pregnant with a little baby girl named Lucy Rose. She is 32 weeks along, and was diagnosed with Triploidy at 17 weeks. I really hate Triploidy. I wish we could have been assigned a different card...one with actual hope for life. Triploidy just sucks in all forms...I wish there was hope. But when it turned my world upside down, and then had the nerve to threaten my own life, I made it my enemy.
I hate being a bringer of bad news when someone has already received it and reaches out to me for hope. I have no hope to offer... I have a lot of support in any decisions they make for themselves and babies... but those first few emails back and forth...are tough.
Triploidy sucks...
Please pray for Lucy Rose and her mommy, Jeanene and the rest of her family. Funny thing too...she has a 3-year old brother, living...named Elijah...
On a lighter note, I received a thank you card in the mail today from New Beginnings - the organization where we donate Elijah's birthday presents too. It was nice to see that we are doing something to honor his birth each year. Even if it is small and simple. We didn't receive a card last year, so it was a very nice surprise to get one this year.
So... looking forward onto this week, Saturday will be mine and Andy's 5-year anniversary. I think this time we are going to celebrate it with Paighton. Usually we get a sitter and spend some alone time, but Paighton is just as much part of this marriage as we two are together. We are a family. So, I think we are going to head up to Duluth and take him to see a real-sized Thomas the Train and go for a train ride. I am so excited!! I have never been on a train ride (expect for the light rail in the cities - but that's not the same). So what better way for a first time, than with a little guy who is very much obsessed with trains?!
In saying good night now, I send hugs and prayers of comfort for our new friends at Faith's Lodge:
Kelly and Dennis - Jordyn
Jenny and Adam - Cooper
Mary and Ryan - Mac
Melanie and Sunny - Eliana
Charlotte and Dan - Landen
Deanna and Paul - Devon
May you always feel the warm embrace from your sweet babies when you most need it, and learn how to share your babies lives with the world around you so that we all may become better people because of them. God bless you always - thank you for sharing with me and Andy - you are all forever in our hearts.
Thank you Melanie and Sunny for writing our son's name on the beach. Just knowing he was in your mind for a moment, means that he was real and his life matters. Thank you for acknowledging him. Not very many people in my life do that. Maybe they are afraid of reminding me , or making me sad... I don't know. Just... THANK YOU!
Good night my sweet baby boy - Elijah - Mommy's little prince charming. May you come rescue me in my dreams tonight.
Love tenderly,
Mommy
Monday, August 29, 2011
Change of speed
What is my current speed? FAST!
I thought I was busy before, but now I am super busy. Maybe I can take on the label of being a super-mom? Only with the help of my amazing husband am I able to continue to work my full-time job and go to school (part-time, of course).
I feel so blessed that I am able to get back into, college that is. After losing Elijah, I felt like my life was so worthless and pointless. I needed to do something with myself because, frankly, I was becoming a little lazy.
I am taking up two different economics classes: micro and macro. One is online and the other on-campus. They are both with the same professor, which is why I registered for both. I was initially going to just take one class to "get my feet wet", so to speak, but I really wanted one more. So when I saw the second open up, with the same professor, I immediately thought it was a great benefit because I wouldn't have to struggle with different styles and personalities. Just one.
Though the concepts seem simple enough; it's the math I am stumbling over. Which is very odd for me, considering my weird love for math (I kept my college algebra and pre-calc book to work problems out of it for "fun"). Hey! Don't judge me. Maybe I am thinking into it too much. Another thing I think I am digging a hole in on my online discussion boards. I ramble on too much; taking a very simple concept and twist it until it becomes my own. Not to mention it is wrong. I got called out on it; and yes, he did have a valid point, but I had dug myself so far into complexity I was still stubborn in thinking I was right. So I commented back; I am still right (even though I know deep down, I am wrong but can't admit it). Whatever.
My life always moved at the speed of busy. Even though I have added two more plates to my table, I don't feel any more stressed (or so not yet). I am looking forward to the change of priorities. The number one I am going to miss the most though is spending time with my husband and son. Yet, again like I have mentioned before, I am putting myself through all of this to better OUR quality of life. Elijah is not here with me, and I want him to be so much, but he can't. So I have to live the best life I possibly can in honor of his life that had been taken away so soon.
Last week, my husband and I attended a funeral visitation for the youngest person we know (aside from our own Elijah's). His name was Peter; a tiny little teacher. He was 6 years old and ever-so the cutest boy. Many on you who have followed Elijah's story may remember how we came to know him in the way we do. Mary Kellett; founder of Prenatal Partner's for Life. I was so desperate to find anyone who would help save my little boy and Mary was the only one who would listen. In fact, she pushed me to listen. I was in a dark deep world and she helped me to cope. Because of Mary, she put us in touch with Sustaining Grace; who gave us the gift of 3D/4D ultrasound and a teddy to hold his heartbeat.
It was Mary's little boy, Peter, that had passed away. I was so upset, knowing what an amazing woman she is in taking care of her own 11 children and all the families and mothers that come to her for support in their own child loss. She is amazing.
Mary had asked us to stay and speak so that her friends and family could she just exactly what it is that Prenatal Partners for Life actually does. I did... through my tears and nervousness of public speaking... I did. For her.
So in closing, I want all my friends and family, to now turn your prayers towards Mary and her family as they go down their own path of sorrow.
Peter's life was short; but he has already accomplished so much. He gave me the opportunity to know my son, Elijah.
His work is just getting started...
For more information, please visit www.prenatalpartnersforlife.org and www.sustaininggrace.org or visit them on Facebook.
Please consider donating (or sending memorials to Mary) to keep Peter's, Elijah's, and Grace's legacies live on.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Happy Birthday Cake
May 31st, 2011 marks the date of a great milestone. A little boy's first birthday.
Usually for most 1-year olds there are gifts and the smashing of a brightly colored cake and a showered burst of air to blow out a single candle; that is if it isn't put out with the grasp of five sticky fingers first.
As I look back on the year, I try to imagine what my house would sound like as I stand in the kitchen cooking dinner for three instead of four. With my soon-to-be 3-ear old, I can't imagine it could get any louder.
My husband and I have gone through a lot in one year, and although most people have told us "it will get better" and "it will only make us stronger", I am not sure we have made it to that point yet. It is easier talking about Elijah, but stronger? Not so sure.
On Saturday, we did have a birthday party for Elijah. We asked our guests to bring a gift that would be donated to an organization called New Beginnings here in St Cloud. Their mission is to help young teen girls who have children or are pregnant. I truly believe in their mission and hope that the girls going through their program understand just how precious the little lives that they hold in their hands really are. I have yet to drop things off; life is so unpredictably busy. I think I may need a personal assistant!
As we prepared Saturday morning for the small birthday party, my toddler knew something special was going on. We do talk to him about Baby Elijah and look at his pictures and his pajamas we have sitting next to the urn. He says "Baby Elijah" so beautifully, it makes my heart melt.
It was very difficult trying to get him down for his afternoon nap; he didn't sleep a wink. I had to bribe him to just lay down and stay in his room without screaming. The bribe? Dairy Queen birthday cake.
Our first guests, my mom and Grandmother Faye arrived. I went into Paighton's room to tell him grandma was here and he could be done with his idea of a 'nap'. He ran full speed down the hallway and into the kitchen yelling "cake". Not so much as a "hello" for any of us. It was a sight to see.
We had the gifts laid out on the table for display next to a photo album, the start of my scrapbook for Elijah, and handmade thank you cards. I got a little choked up when my Grandma Faye hugged me as if she was never going to let go. I hid in my bedroom closet for about a minute or two to blow off some emotions. It was bittersweet to see all these baby items in my kitchen; things that Paighton has grown out of but Elijah would be using right now. I pressed a key on a little piano rattle to hear its quick melody. I pictured a chubby little boy bouncing to its rhythm.
Later in the evening after everyone had gone, I brought out more ice cream cake for a late snack. As we were waiting for Daddy to cut it, Paighton bounced around singing "Happy birthday cake. Happy birthday cake Baby Elijah. Happy birthday cake". I couldn't ask for a better song. I was so impressed and proud of my silly toddler to have remembered not only his version of the words, but Elijah's name. I squeezed him tightly and sang along with him.
I know that my son is not here with me physically, but I am always looking for those signs that he is here with me in spirit. As weird as that may sound to some, I yearn for something of his presence.
This past Memorial weekend I spent most of my time remembering my little boy, whom I have held in my arms for a little over 15 minutes, and the large footprint he has left in my heart. I also remembered other family and friends who I miss very much: friend Jennifer, friend Danica, Grandpa V, cousins Josh and Jhase, and other Baby Angels I have come to know.
"Say not, in grief, that you have gone; but give thanks that you were ours"
Usually for most 1-year olds there are gifts and the smashing of a brightly colored cake and a showered burst of air to blow out a single candle; that is if it isn't put out with the grasp of five sticky fingers first.
As I look back on the year, I try to imagine what my house would sound like as I stand in the kitchen cooking dinner for three instead of four. With my soon-to-be 3-ear old, I can't imagine it could get any louder.
My husband and I have gone through a lot in one year, and although most people have told us "it will get better" and "it will only make us stronger", I am not sure we have made it to that point yet. It is easier talking about Elijah, but stronger? Not so sure.
On Saturday, we did have a birthday party for Elijah. We asked our guests to bring a gift that would be donated to an organization called New Beginnings here in St Cloud. Their mission is to help young teen girls who have children or are pregnant. I truly believe in their mission and hope that the girls going through their program understand just how precious the little lives that they hold in their hands really are. I have yet to drop things off; life is so unpredictably busy. I think I may need a personal assistant!
As we prepared Saturday morning for the small birthday party, my toddler knew something special was going on. We do talk to him about Baby Elijah and look at his pictures and his pajamas we have sitting next to the urn. He says "Baby Elijah" so beautifully, it makes my heart melt.
It was very difficult trying to get him down for his afternoon nap; he didn't sleep a wink. I had to bribe him to just lay down and stay in his room without screaming. The bribe? Dairy Queen birthday cake.
Our first guests, my mom and Grandmother Faye arrived. I went into Paighton's room to tell him grandma was here and he could be done with his idea of a 'nap'. He ran full speed down the hallway and into the kitchen yelling "cake". Not so much as a "hello" for any of us. It was a sight to see.
We had the gifts laid out on the table for display next to a photo album, the start of my scrapbook for Elijah, and handmade thank you cards. I got a little choked up when my Grandma Faye hugged me as if she was never going to let go. I hid in my bedroom closet for about a minute or two to blow off some emotions. It was bittersweet to see all these baby items in my kitchen; things that Paighton has grown out of but Elijah would be using right now. I pressed a key on a little piano rattle to hear its quick melody. I pictured a chubby little boy bouncing to its rhythm.
Later in the evening after everyone had gone, I brought out more ice cream cake for a late snack. As we were waiting for Daddy to cut it, Paighton bounced around singing "Happy birthday cake. Happy birthday cake Baby Elijah. Happy birthday cake". I couldn't ask for a better song. I was so impressed and proud of my silly toddler to have remembered not only his version of the words, but Elijah's name. I squeezed him tightly and sang along with him.
I know that my son is not here with me physically, but I am always looking for those signs that he is here with me in spirit. As weird as that may sound to some, I yearn for something of his presence.
This past Memorial weekend I spent most of my time remembering my little boy, whom I have held in my arms for a little over 15 minutes, and the large footprint he has left in my heart. I also remembered other family and friends who I miss very much: friend Jennifer, friend Danica, Grandpa V, cousins Josh and Jhase, and other Baby Angels I have come to know.
"Say not, in grief, that you have gone; but give thanks that you were ours"
Friday, August 6, 2010
Back to work
This is my last weekend before I have to return to work. I got a little taste of what it would be like to be a stay-at-home mother. Although I enjoyed it very much, it opened my eyes and reminded me of exactly the things I don't want.
There were days I found myself feeling slumped. Usually those were days I still brought my son to daycare. He went because I wanted him to keep somewhat of a normal schedule, yet I didn't bring him everyday. When he isn't with me, I have nothing to do. I become bored, then sad.
When Paighton is with me, we are busy little bees. We have so much fun together. I love taking him out in public; he is so funny to watch. He with blurt out across an aisle at a store to say "hello" to strangers and if you don't acknowledge him, he will continue as he gets louder and louder with each attempt. It's darling. He also does it when we leave, yelling "bye" and waving frantically.
Yesterday I took him to a local splash pad and the county fair. He would hesitantly hold out his hand to touch a stream of watering drizzling out of the side of a giant sprinkler. he would say "cold?" as he looked towards me for approval. I agree. He then turns and runs wildly through it. I love how he is always looking for my approval. Makes me feel like I am doing something right as a mother. He values what I think. I hope he carries forever the same values my husband and I share, especially when it comes to the big important things in life.
At the county fair, I paid $5 for a miniature pony ride for him. He went around the circle once while I walked along side him holding his waist. Then began the tear factory. He lunged towards me and I couldn't keep him up on the pony anymore. The pony began to veer away from me. I just yanked him off and walked out of the carousel area. So much for my $5, but it was worth him having that experience. Hands on experience is more educational than any book or classroom or video. He knew what a duck was when he saw it, and when we were by the pigs he gave his best effort to snort through his nose. He also pointed at the pig and said "nigh nigh". That means "night night"; he sleeps with a plush pig in his crib at night. He got the pig from my girlfriend Rachel for his birthday last year. She was concerned he wouldn't like it because it didn't light up; he LOVES it. He squeezes its tummy and leans his head from side to side as it signs to him about shapes and colors. When we got to the cows, he squatted down and cautiously stuck his hand through the fence to grab the calf's attention. I was squatting with him, but a little back behind him to give him some freedom. He looked back to see if I was still there and swatted his hand towards me and said "go". I laughed so hard. He thinks he is so grown up.
The things I don't want if I were a stay-at-home mom is my son being to dependent on me and not wanting any help from his daddy. The past couple of weeks he doesn't want daddy to get him in or out of the car seat, give him his bath or put him down to bed. Those things my husband always did while I was pregnant with Elijah because I was trying to lessen my activities of heavy lifting. I was always involved in some way, but daddy was the main guy. I wonder if Paighton is trying to compensate for lost time? I can see the sadness and disappointment in my husband. He makes comments like "he doesn't like me" or "he doesn't need me anymore". Other than disagreeing with my husband, I am unsure of other ways to help him see that it is untrue. Paighton just may be going through a phase right now.
That will all change once I go back to work and he is back in daycare full-time again. He will continue going through "phases" all the way up to adulthood. Its just hard to understand and get used to.
I am very excited to get back to work and see good friends I have made over the years. A smile is contagious and I know there are about 400 or more smiles a day at work. That's a lot of smiles! I am also nervous, but that is only natural. I hope I can remember all of the procedures. So much constantly changes within the company everyday, and being gone for so long I may have to start all over. I am exaggerating a little, okay maybe a lot. I have confidence in myself to pick it up easily. Just knowing that I will have lingering thoughts, feelings, events and experiences in the back of my mind, not sure what type of person I am anymore.
I hope I am the same person but only debuting changed qualities that boost my personality for the better; not worse. I want friends, not enemies.
These past ten weeks have been a trial of learning to live a new life. Not necessarily a better life, just different. I have been forced to confront some grudges of people that hurt me in the past and let go. I have been taught how to love differently; more appreciative. My teacher? God.
I have also had more time to ask myself where do I want to be led now? Which direction? Which ever way I choose, there are sacrifices to be had. I want to return to school and finish what I started; double major in Accounting and Finance. The sacrifice would be my family and missing out on my son growing up and changing everyday. I am afraid I will come home when day and not know who he is. The other sacrifice would be no babies until I graduate. Regardless, we have to wait an entire year before trying for another baby. If we don't, I am yet again risking my own life and the life of our unborn child. When I ponder on the facts, I get down. I feel depressed and upset with my situation and having lost my son's life so soon. Then I think, its just a year. It could be worse; the doctors could have performed a hysterectomy instead of an embollization. I still have my uterus. I could be without, but I am not. God blessed me with the ability to try again. My biggest fear about trying a year from now (if we even decide to) is going through all of this again. I had a close call for my life, what if next time I am not so lucky? What if I lose yet another baby?
Again, my mind, the "what-ifs" is my worst enemy.
Hopefully work will numb the chaos in my mind and open new doors for me to grow as a person.
There were days I found myself feeling slumped. Usually those were days I still brought my son to daycare. He went because I wanted him to keep somewhat of a normal schedule, yet I didn't bring him everyday. When he isn't with me, I have nothing to do. I become bored, then sad.
When Paighton is with me, we are busy little bees. We have so much fun together. I love taking him out in public; he is so funny to watch. He with blurt out across an aisle at a store to say "hello" to strangers and if you don't acknowledge him, he will continue as he gets louder and louder with each attempt. It's darling. He also does it when we leave, yelling "bye" and waving frantically.
Yesterday I took him to a local splash pad and the county fair. He would hesitantly hold out his hand to touch a stream of watering drizzling out of the side of a giant sprinkler. he would say "cold?" as he looked towards me for approval. I agree. He then turns and runs wildly through it. I love how he is always looking for my approval. Makes me feel like I am doing something right as a mother. He values what I think. I hope he carries forever the same values my husband and I share, especially when it comes to the big important things in life.
At the county fair, I paid $5 for a miniature pony ride for him. He went around the circle once while I walked along side him holding his waist. Then began the tear factory. He lunged towards me and I couldn't keep him up on the pony anymore. The pony began to veer away from me. I just yanked him off and walked out of the carousel area. So much for my $5, but it was worth him having that experience. Hands on experience is more educational than any book or classroom or video. He knew what a duck was when he saw it, and when we were by the pigs he gave his best effort to snort through his nose. He also pointed at the pig and said "nigh nigh". That means "night night"; he sleeps with a plush pig in his crib at night. He got the pig from my girlfriend Rachel for his birthday last year. She was concerned he wouldn't like it because it didn't light up; he LOVES it. He squeezes its tummy and leans his head from side to side as it signs to him about shapes and colors. When we got to the cows, he squatted down and cautiously stuck his hand through the fence to grab the calf's attention. I was squatting with him, but a little back behind him to give him some freedom. He looked back to see if I was still there and swatted his hand towards me and said "go". I laughed so hard. He thinks he is so grown up.
The things I don't want if I were a stay-at-home mom is my son being to dependent on me and not wanting any help from his daddy. The past couple of weeks he doesn't want daddy to get him in or out of the car seat, give him his bath or put him down to bed. Those things my husband always did while I was pregnant with Elijah because I was trying to lessen my activities of heavy lifting. I was always involved in some way, but daddy was the main guy. I wonder if Paighton is trying to compensate for lost time? I can see the sadness and disappointment in my husband. He makes comments like "he doesn't like me" or "he doesn't need me anymore". Other than disagreeing with my husband, I am unsure of other ways to help him see that it is untrue. Paighton just may be going through a phase right now.
That will all change once I go back to work and he is back in daycare full-time again. He will continue going through "phases" all the way up to adulthood. Its just hard to understand and get used to.
I am very excited to get back to work and see good friends I have made over the years. A smile is contagious and I know there are about 400 or more smiles a day at work. That's a lot of smiles! I am also nervous, but that is only natural. I hope I can remember all of the procedures. So much constantly changes within the company everyday, and being gone for so long I may have to start all over. I am exaggerating a little, okay maybe a lot. I have confidence in myself to pick it up easily. Just knowing that I will have lingering thoughts, feelings, events and experiences in the back of my mind, not sure what type of person I am anymore.
I hope I am the same person but only debuting changed qualities that boost my personality for the better; not worse. I want friends, not enemies.
These past ten weeks have been a trial of learning to live a new life. Not necessarily a better life, just different. I have been forced to confront some grudges of people that hurt me in the past and let go. I have been taught how to love differently; more appreciative. My teacher? God.
I have also had more time to ask myself where do I want to be led now? Which direction? Which ever way I choose, there are sacrifices to be had. I want to return to school and finish what I started; double major in Accounting and Finance. The sacrifice would be my family and missing out on my son growing up and changing everyday. I am afraid I will come home when day and not know who he is. The other sacrifice would be no babies until I graduate. Regardless, we have to wait an entire year before trying for another baby. If we don't, I am yet again risking my own life and the life of our unborn child. When I ponder on the facts, I get down. I feel depressed and upset with my situation and having lost my son's life so soon. Then I think, its just a year. It could be worse; the doctors could have performed a hysterectomy instead of an embollization. I still have my uterus. I could be without, but I am not. God blessed me with the ability to try again. My biggest fear about trying a year from now (if we even decide to) is going through all of this again. I had a close call for my life, what if next time I am not so lucky? What if I lose yet another baby?
Again, my mind, the "what-ifs" is my worst enemy.
Hopefully work will numb the chaos in my mind and open new doors for me to grow as a person.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Disconnected
Lately I have been feeling a little disconnected from the world around me. I feel lost. I am unsure of which direction to take, if any direction at all. Do I stay stalled where I am at, or do I move left or right?
The only direction I can think of is to move forward. But how? My husband and I wanted a baby so much. We planned down to every detail, even trying to get Elijah's birthday as close to the month of August as we could. Elijah's due date was August 22nd. We were married in August, bought our first house together, and brought our first son into the world in August. August was always a good month for us.
We so badly wanted a new little someone in our lives. Tiny fingers, tiny toes, dirty diapers and spit up, all of it. It is all worth it.
But now what? Move forward? Here I go with the what-if's. Just don't tell my mother, she will tell you that I am the "What-If Queen". But what if? What if we move forward and choose to try again? What if we cant get pregnant again? What if we do get pregnant but then lose the baby... again? What if my life is at risk... again? What if our son has a harder time adjusting to a new family member when he is older? My mind is spinning in a giant 'what-if' tun drum and I cannot find my way out.
My husband and I are actually quite laid back when it comes to planning our future. We basically say "if it happens, it is meant to be". That was his main way of deciding whether or not to get up in the morning to attend his college classes. He never double checked our alarm clock, he would just say "if it goes off, it is meant that I attend class today". He lives by his own philosophy. I love him dearly for that. He is the most laid back person I know and is always teaching me to let go once in awhile and stop fretting so much about "what-ifs".
I know and understand that everything that has happened in our lives thus far has happened for a reason. Some reason or another, it has happened, whether or not we have been shown the reason yet. I can see the stepping stones of our friendship, into our marriage and then into parenthood. Each placed so strategically yet not all were planned by us alone. God has played a major role in the planning and placement of our stones; again whether we know it or not. We make thing we were in control of our very fate, our future, but God really has complete control. We just like to think we do.
I feel disconnected from the world recently because everything seems to have been pulled out of my control; I don't like that feeling. I lost control over my own body. I lost control over my family, my children. I am supposed to keep them safe. I am supposed to make sure they eat well and get enough sleep and have clean clothes to wear. I am the wife and mother of this family, that is my responsibility. I feel ashamed and disappointed in myself that I was unable, and still am a little bit, to do that.
I feel disconnected from my son. Seems like lately he has forgotten who his own Mommy is. He looks at me with eyes of confusion, eyes of distrust. Today, for the first time in a couple of weeks, he brought his favorite blanket and puppy to me for safe keeping. He used to always do that; wanting me to hold on to them while he played. He hasn't for awhile, until today. It brought tears to my eyes, but I choked them back. I didn't want him to see Mommy cry... again.
I feel disconnected from friends and family. People wanting to hang out, help out, or just simply talk. I don't know how. I want to, but never make the effort to their invitations. Partly, I believe its because I miss my husband and son so much I don't want to leave them. The other part is a mystery. I feel something, but cant put my finger on it. I just feel blah; no ambition.
I feel disconnected from my body. I am still in pain from my surgery, but I don't really own that pain. I lay in the bathtub and stare at my belly. I look at it and touch it, hoping I will see a wiggle. It is so flat, and soggy. I remember when I was just so recently pregnant with Elijah, how he would interact with me. He would poke back at every teasing poke I would throw his way. As I lay in the bathtub now, I cross my arms around my tummy and waist, squeezing and hugging, hoping I would just feel something. Nothing. All I feel is emptiness. A worthless uterus and messed up insides that make me feel sick and painful to even use the bathroom. I hate my body now.
Tomorrow is Elijah's funeral. I don't want to go, just like I didn't want to go through with labor. If I do it, it is done, and I can never go back. How am I to remember him if I let him go completely? I spent such a short time with him. It was not enough. I feel, and am afraid, that I will forget his face, his smell and his touch. I will forget how it felt holding his two pound body in my arms. Cupping his tiny face in the palm of my hands and sneaking my pointer finger under the fold and grip of his tiny 6-fingered hand. I don't want to forget. I am afraid.
I know that I will become connected again, but when? Soon I hope.
The only direction I can think of is to move forward. But how? My husband and I wanted a baby so much. We planned down to every detail, even trying to get Elijah's birthday as close to the month of August as we could. Elijah's due date was August 22nd. We were married in August, bought our first house together, and brought our first son into the world in August. August was always a good month for us.
We so badly wanted a new little someone in our lives. Tiny fingers, tiny toes, dirty diapers and spit up, all of it. It is all worth it.
But now what? Move forward? Here I go with the what-if's. Just don't tell my mother, she will tell you that I am the "What-If Queen". But what if? What if we move forward and choose to try again? What if we cant get pregnant again? What if we do get pregnant but then lose the baby... again? What if my life is at risk... again? What if our son has a harder time adjusting to a new family member when he is older? My mind is spinning in a giant 'what-if' tun drum and I cannot find my way out.
My husband and I are actually quite laid back when it comes to planning our future. We basically say "if it happens, it is meant to be". That was his main way of deciding whether or not to get up in the morning to attend his college classes. He never double checked our alarm clock, he would just say "if it goes off, it is meant that I attend class today". He lives by his own philosophy. I love him dearly for that. He is the most laid back person I know and is always teaching me to let go once in awhile and stop fretting so much about "what-ifs".
I know and understand that everything that has happened in our lives thus far has happened for a reason. Some reason or another, it has happened, whether or not we have been shown the reason yet. I can see the stepping stones of our friendship, into our marriage and then into parenthood. Each placed so strategically yet not all were planned by us alone. God has played a major role in the planning and placement of our stones; again whether we know it or not. We make thing we were in control of our very fate, our future, but God really has complete control. We just like to think we do.
I feel disconnected from the world recently because everything seems to have been pulled out of my control; I don't like that feeling. I lost control over my own body. I lost control over my family, my children. I am supposed to keep them safe. I am supposed to make sure they eat well and get enough sleep and have clean clothes to wear. I am the wife and mother of this family, that is my responsibility. I feel ashamed and disappointed in myself that I was unable, and still am a little bit, to do that.
I feel disconnected from my son. Seems like lately he has forgotten who his own Mommy is. He looks at me with eyes of confusion, eyes of distrust. Today, for the first time in a couple of weeks, he brought his favorite blanket and puppy to me for safe keeping. He used to always do that; wanting me to hold on to them while he played. He hasn't for awhile, until today. It brought tears to my eyes, but I choked them back. I didn't want him to see Mommy cry... again.
I feel disconnected from friends and family. People wanting to hang out, help out, or just simply talk. I don't know how. I want to, but never make the effort to their invitations. Partly, I believe its because I miss my husband and son so much I don't want to leave them. The other part is a mystery. I feel something, but cant put my finger on it. I just feel blah; no ambition.
I feel disconnected from my body. I am still in pain from my surgery, but I don't really own that pain. I lay in the bathtub and stare at my belly. I look at it and touch it, hoping I will see a wiggle. It is so flat, and soggy. I remember when I was just so recently pregnant with Elijah, how he would interact with me. He would poke back at every teasing poke I would throw his way. As I lay in the bathtub now, I cross my arms around my tummy and waist, squeezing and hugging, hoping I would just feel something. Nothing. All I feel is emptiness. A worthless uterus and messed up insides that make me feel sick and painful to even use the bathroom. I hate my body now.
Tomorrow is Elijah's funeral. I don't want to go, just like I didn't want to go through with labor. If I do it, it is done, and I can never go back. How am I to remember him if I let him go completely? I spent such a short time with him. It was not enough. I feel, and am afraid, that I will forget his face, his smell and his touch. I will forget how it felt holding his two pound body in my arms. Cupping his tiny face in the palm of my hands and sneaking my pointer finger under the fold and grip of his tiny 6-fingered hand. I don't want to forget. I am afraid.
I know that I will become connected again, but when? Soon I hope.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Hate you
I hate you because I do not understand you. I don't want to... I hate myself for not wanting to.
I do not hate you because I am incapable of understanding you. It is not your fault... it is my own. Do not hate me for my faults and I will not hate you for your faults.
These are two simple, yet loaded statements of how my feelings pull me from side to side, sometimes up or down and cross ways. I have hired two people to help keep my mind occupied and running smoothly, as 'normal' as possible. They are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. They mean well, but somethings their odd behaviour and confusing tactics creates more chaos then needed. In the end, job is done and onto the next... off the go, arguing about a new topic, possible teatime...
I left work early last Tuesday, and did not go in today. I do not feel well, physically, but I think a lot of it is due to my emotional state right now. My mind is my worst enemy and it is confusing the rest of my body. I have stopped eating, not completely but pretty much. I just don't care. I have stopped sleeping, maybe 3-4 hours per night. I lie awake at night and listen to the many arguments my bipolar conscience has with itself. I try to mediate the two, but I am left unheard.
So I go into work on Monday, tired, barely functioning due to lack of sleep and poor nutrition. Self sabotage. Not even 5 minutes into the work day, an overheard conversation amongst co-workers triggers my rambling mind to detach itself from my inner chaos and retaliate outwards. A comment is said after my requests for a different public conversational topic that left me feeling heated. I walked away... I had to bring something to the HR department anyways, and thought that was a good time to do it.
Although I may feel clinically insane right now; that is one thing I am not. What I feel is very logical; I wouldn't have a soul if I didn't feel like this. A person who loses, or is losing a child that feels nothing; is just that; they are nothing themselves. I am not nothing; I am a lot of things. I am love, I am compassion, I am fear, I am God's child whom He has given a soul to.
Although I must maintain a professional demeanor at work, I do not feel sorry, nor do I apologize for my actions on Monday. They were warranted and very subtle. Hardly anyone even noticed. I would expect others to understand. If they don't, I do not hate you for not understanding... How can you? You never have had to endure what I am living every second of my life. I do not hate you for being insensitive. How can you measure sensitivity on a scale you have never stepped foot on? If you were to be pinched in the arm and asked to rate the pain on a scale of 1-10, you might rate it a 3 whereas someone else would rate it a 9. Everyone is different. We are snowflakes; no two are the exact same. I only ask of others, friends, family, co-workers, even strangers, that if you do not understand, please do not judge me. Do not hate me because you cannot understand. I do not hate you for not understanding. Please do not assume that the type of person you are seeing right now is the real person that I am; right now I am a mirage... even unto myself...
So on Tuesday, I left work and went to the doctor's office here in St. Cloud. I was crying and screaming the whole way as I drove; I could barely see the road. I was in so much pain, I so badly wanted to go down the highway, press as hard as I could on the gas pedal, close my eyes and let go...
My soul stepped in. It reminded me of my family, my son, and all the other lives that would be effected. Again, I am not clinically insane, nor depressed; just confused...
I think I scared the nurse when I got to the clinic. She was very short and wouldn't look my in the eyes. Of course, understandable; she does not know the situation with my pregnancy. The doctor didn't even know when she walked in. I had to go through the whole story with her. I guess that is what happens when you transfer all prenatal care to a different clinic. I told her I would be better, just a little, if all I could do was sleep. Sleep. Without it, your mind fails and drives your body blindly into life.
She was hesitant. She left the exam room for a few minutes. When she came back, she told me she got off the phone with a different doctor in the Centracare system that I have seen in the past; she was reassured by this doctor that I am not crazy. That actually I am very in touch with my emotions and are handling them better than others have had done in the past. It felt good to hear that. It wasn't only reassurance to her, but myself. I needed some form of justification; that was it. She prescribed me 5 Ambien pills with one exception: I had to promise I wouldn't take them all at once. I laughed; then I saw how serious she was. I promised, of course. She said she believed me, she could see in my eyes, and through my tears that I do want to live. If I am so distraught over losing the life of a child I will never get to know; why would I take my own life and miss out on the life and getting to know the son I already have? I wouldn't. Simple as that.
Tuesday night I took one Ambien. I slept, but woke up feeling worse. I had another doctor's appointment to go to again; a follow up visit from Tuesday. The appointment lasted an hour, and my nose bled the whole time. It wouldn't stop. I am not sure if my nosebleed was a result from me crying so bad, the cold I am trying to get over paired with me violently blowing my nose into a tissue, or an adverse effect from the Ambien. I hate drugs. If it isn't natural, more than likely I do not want it in my body.
Then today I received a phone call from the neurosurgeon's office; asking me to reschedule... yet again. My first thought was pure annoyance, but then I quickly corrected my thoughts and called myself selfish. Why would a children's neurosurgeon need to reschedule? The only reason is obvious. A little boy has a brain tumor and needs to have surgery right away. I felt sad for the little boy, then sad for his mother and other family members. I rescheduled the appointment for the same day, just an earlier time. We have to be there at 7:45 A.M. Wow, Paighton is going to be one cranky little boy having to get up that early in the morning to go to daycare. I feel sorry for his daycare friends. Grumpy little man...
To answer the many questions I have received about why I haven't posted on my blog for a week, is simple. The past two days have been the answer. My mind was fighting with my heart; fighting for control over my body. That control would include my hands, my fingers... my ability to type. I was afraid of what I might have posted had my mind been given complete control over my hands. I need to think, and speak from my heart. I need to act from the heart. Had my mind posted a blog, it would have offended many people. People I am not out to offend, nor attack. They have nothing to do with my situation. People I like, I respect, and care for regardless of any regards.
Pregnancy is like a roller coaster. It has its ups and downs. You will enjoy it, but you also throw your hands up and scream for your mother; hoping she will come save you. You get to the highest point, and is it creeps to a slow stop that doesn't completely stop, you can see down how far you are going to fall. You white knuckle grip the handlebars for support. You start to have regrets of ever getting on the roller coaster to begin with. Like all roller coasters, they have an end. It comes to the end and you are left with a sick, yet satisfied feeling. "That's odd", you think to yourself. You want to do it again, and again, and again... Even though you know what to expect, all roller coasters are different. The highs and lows might be higher or lower than the last, and the turns will jerk you in a direction you weren't ready for. Yet you get on another one... again... and again... and again...
I have heard of parents of triplody babies getting on that roller coaster again, and some haven't. I wonder which I will be...
I hope work goes well tomorrow. I miss people again...
This picture was taken awhile ago, before my little man got his first haircut. I thought of it as I was writing this post. I stared at it for awhile, trying to contain my laugh from waking the sleeping angel in his room. It kind of puts a view on what I was talking about regarding rollercoasters. He was being pushed by Daddy in an empty diaper box. At times he wanted to get out, but if he stopped, he would get upset and ask for more. He reminds me of the Sour Cabbage Patch Kids gummy candies. At first they are sour, then the are sweet...
I do not hate you because I am incapable of understanding you. It is not your fault... it is my own. Do not hate me for my faults and I will not hate you for your faults.
These are two simple, yet loaded statements of how my feelings pull me from side to side, sometimes up or down and cross ways. I have hired two people to help keep my mind occupied and running smoothly, as 'normal' as possible. They are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. They mean well, but somethings their odd behaviour and confusing tactics creates more chaos then needed. In the end, job is done and onto the next... off the go, arguing about a new topic, possible teatime...
I left work early last Tuesday, and did not go in today. I do not feel well, physically, but I think a lot of it is due to my emotional state right now. My mind is my worst enemy and it is confusing the rest of my body. I have stopped eating, not completely but pretty much. I just don't care. I have stopped sleeping, maybe 3-4 hours per night. I lie awake at night and listen to the many arguments my bipolar conscience has with itself. I try to mediate the two, but I am left unheard.
So I go into work on Monday, tired, barely functioning due to lack of sleep and poor nutrition. Self sabotage. Not even 5 minutes into the work day, an overheard conversation amongst co-workers triggers my rambling mind to detach itself from my inner chaos and retaliate outwards. A comment is said after my requests for a different public conversational topic that left me feeling heated. I walked away... I had to bring something to the HR department anyways, and thought that was a good time to do it.
Although I may feel clinically insane right now; that is one thing I am not. What I feel is very logical; I wouldn't have a soul if I didn't feel like this. A person who loses, or is losing a child that feels nothing; is just that; they are nothing themselves. I am not nothing; I am a lot of things. I am love, I am compassion, I am fear, I am God's child whom He has given a soul to.
Although I must maintain a professional demeanor at work, I do not feel sorry, nor do I apologize for my actions on Monday. They were warranted and very subtle. Hardly anyone even noticed. I would expect others to understand. If they don't, I do not hate you for not understanding... How can you? You never have had to endure what I am living every second of my life. I do not hate you for being insensitive. How can you measure sensitivity on a scale you have never stepped foot on? If you were to be pinched in the arm and asked to rate the pain on a scale of 1-10, you might rate it a 3 whereas someone else would rate it a 9. Everyone is different. We are snowflakes; no two are the exact same. I only ask of others, friends, family, co-workers, even strangers, that if you do not understand, please do not judge me. Do not hate me because you cannot understand. I do not hate you for not understanding. Please do not assume that the type of person you are seeing right now is the real person that I am; right now I am a mirage... even unto myself...
So on Tuesday, I left work and went to the doctor's office here in St. Cloud. I was crying and screaming the whole way as I drove; I could barely see the road. I was in so much pain, I so badly wanted to go down the highway, press as hard as I could on the gas pedal, close my eyes and let go...
My soul stepped in. It reminded me of my family, my son, and all the other lives that would be effected. Again, I am not clinically insane, nor depressed; just confused...
I think I scared the nurse when I got to the clinic. She was very short and wouldn't look my in the eyes. Of course, understandable; she does not know the situation with my pregnancy. The doctor didn't even know when she walked in. I had to go through the whole story with her. I guess that is what happens when you transfer all prenatal care to a different clinic. I told her I would be better, just a little, if all I could do was sleep. Sleep. Without it, your mind fails and drives your body blindly into life.
She was hesitant. She left the exam room for a few minutes. When she came back, she told me she got off the phone with a different doctor in the Centracare system that I have seen in the past; she was reassured by this doctor that I am not crazy. That actually I am very in touch with my emotions and are handling them better than others have had done in the past. It felt good to hear that. It wasn't only reassurance to her, but myself. I needed some form of justification; that was it. She prescribed me 5 Ambien pills with one exception: I had to promise I wouldn't take them all at once. I laughed; then I saw how serious she was. I promised, of course. She said she believed me, she could see in my eyes, and through my tears that I do want to live. If I am so distraught over losing the life of a child I will never get to know; why would I take my own life and miss out on the life and getting to know the son I already have? I wouldn't. Simple as that.
Tuesday night I took one Ambien. I slept, but woke up feeling worse. I had another doctor's appointment to go to again; a follow up visit from Tuesday. The appointment lasted an hour, and my nose bled the whole time. It wouldn't stop. I am not sure if my nosebleed was a result from me crying so bad, the cold I am trying to get over paired with me violently blowing my nose into a tissue, or an adverse effect from the Ambien. I hate drugs. If it isn't natural, more than likely I do not want it in my body.
Then today I received a phone call from the neurosurgeon's office; asking me to reschedule... yet again. My first thought was pure annoyance, but then I quickly corrected my thoughts and called myself selfish. Why would a children's neurosurgeon need to reschedule? The only reason is obvious. A little boy has a brain tumor and needs to have surgery right away. I felt sad for the little boy, then sad for his mother and other family members. I rescheduled the appointment for the same day, just an earlier time. We have to be there at 7:45 A.M. Wow, Paighton is going to be one cranky little boy having to get up that early in the morning to go to daycare. I feel sorry for his daycare friends. Grumpy little man...
To answer the many questions I have received about why I haven't posted on my blog for a week, is simple. The past two days have been the answer. My mind was fighting with my heart; fighting for control over my body. That control would include my hands, my fingers... my ability to type. I was afraid of what I might have posted had my mind been given complete control over my hands. I need to think, and speak from my heart. I need to act from the heart. Had my mind posted a blog, it would have offended many people. People I am not out to offend, nor attack. They have nothing to do with my situation. People I like, I respect, and care for regardless of any regards.
Pregnancy is like a roller coaster. It has its ups and downs. You will enjoy it, but you also throw your hands up and scream for your mother; hoping she will come save you. You get to the highest point, and is it creeps to a slow stop that doesn't completely stop, you can see down how far you are going to fall. You white knuckle grip the handlebars for support. You start to have regrets of ever getting on the roller coaster to begin with. Like all roller coasters, they have an end. It comes to the end and you are left with a sick, yet satisfied feeling. "That's odd", you think to yourself. You want to do it again, and again, and again... Even though you know what to expect, all roller coasters are different. The highs and lows might be higher or lower than the last, and the turns will jerk you in a direction you weren't ready for. Yet you get on another one... again... and again... and again...
I have heard of parents of triplody babies getting on that roller coaster again, and some haven't. I wonder which I will be...
I hope work goes well tomorrow. I miss people again...
This picture was taken awhile ago, before my little man got his first haircut. I thought of it as I was writing this post. I stared at it for awhile, trying to contain my laugh from waking the sleeping angel in his room. It kind of puts a view on what I was talking about regarding rollercoasters. He was being pushed by Daddy in an empty diaper box. At times he wanted to get out, but if he stopped, he would get upset and ask for more. He reminds me of the Sour Cabbage Patch Kids gummy candies. At first they are sour, then the are sweet...
Good night my sweet gremlin...
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
The beginning of the end...
This is my first post of many I hope. I want to get my story out there and provide hope to others who have or are facing the loss of an infant. I have not lost my unborn child yet, but I will soon. Talking about it this past week has helped a lot, and I will really need to continue to get through the worst of what's to come. First of all, here is a little sum up about me:
I am 25 years old. I am married to a wonderful man named Andrew, who is 26. We met by chance in a gas station late at night when we were 19 and 20. The gas station was close to where i was working at that time and was the only one open during the late night. He would continue every night to show up when i did and ask me for my number. I kept refusing, but finally gave in, under ONE condition: i drove. We went for Chinese and to the mall, where he passed my first test: can i control his wardrobe habits? YES! He let me dress him up in a horrible all white ensemble from Structure (it hadn't changed to Express yet).
He proposed to me during my favorite thing to do in the whole world... a bubble bath. I swear if i could live in water 24/7, i would; especially if it smells like lavender!
We were married August 4th, 2007. We had a very humble gathering in a park and BBQ at my cousin's house afterwards. We are very happy to have done it under $1,000. That was Good Decision #1 of our married life together. We planned that within 5 years or less we will buy a house.
Well, 10 months later, we bought our first house! Good thing too because we were also pregnant! We didn't close on our house until August 15th, 2008. 16 days later, August 31, 2008 our son was born! We named him Paighton Neil. I really liked the name Peyton, but i was working in banking sales during my pregnancy and i had opened 3 savings accounts for Peytons; all of which were girls. My name is a little different, and I wanted my son's to be as well. So i thought and thought about it, until i decided that i would also somehow incorporate my God-Daughter's name: Paige.
The first year of Paighton's life was very challenging, stressful, tearful, and spiked my anxiety like never before. At 11 days old, he stopped breathing. He was rushed to the ER in an ambulance. We were sent home being told nothing was wrong, he probably refluxed a little bit. I thought out loud with my husband "uh, NO, he didn't 'just' reflux a little bit, he completely stopped breathing!" Never the less we went home.
A month later, October, he had another "episode" where he was having troubles breathing. During this whole time, he was also refusing to eat. He was hospitalized and tested for apnea. We were sent home with instructions to put him on an acid reflux medication and to seek occupational therapy for his "sensory" issues regarding his comfort ability to eat. We visited his OT twice a week.
At few months later, he had another breathing "episode". He was hospitalized again. This time having to endure watching my son go through scans to test his swallowing and any aspirations within his lungs. This was painful to watch, as my son was strapped to a board, forced to swallow gross chalky substance of some sort, and screaming the whole time. I wanted to die. I felt helpless, only wanting to save my son from what the doctors were doing, but didn't know how.
At 7 months of age, he had another "episode". This one was the worst of them all; going in and out of conscientiousness. He was hospitalized again. He was FINALLY tested for a milk allergy. That came back positive. I had suspicion of more, but the doctors refused to test him due to his age. We were told to wait until after he turned 1 year old.
So we waited, and on his 1 year birthday, during his very own b-day party, he had a reaction to his cake. This was specially made by a cousin of mine to unsure no dairy would be present. i bought special ingredients from the organic section and everything. He broke out in hives and began to swell. We didn't have anything with us, so we just left the party and our guests and rushed to the ER. He was seen right away, but wasn't given anything because his body started to take care of itself and the hives receded.
Finally, he was tested for dairy, eggs, peanuts, cats, and wheat. he is allergic to dairy, eggs and nuts. he has an Epi-pen, which i am thankful we never had to use yet since we are more educated on his food allergies and how to react more calmly in situations where he did get into dangerous foods.
My son no longer sees his OT, he is no longer on meds for reflux, and i have bought a cookbook that is dairy-, egg-, and nut-free so that i may feed my family safely.
The day before Thanksgiving, 2009, we found out that we were pregnant again. I was so excited as we were trying and i have always had the idea of my children being close in age. i didn't tell anyone but my husband of course, and held on to our little secret of joy so that i may gift the news to my mother during Christmas. I bought a new tree topper, an angel, and labeled it "To: Grandma, From: Baby". she opened it up and screamed and jumped so high i thought she would hit the ceiling. everyone in the room was confused, and kind of laughing. it was a funny sight to see. so the news was out. We are having another baby.
as the days went on, i got more and more excited for my ultrasound appointment. i am a person that needs to be in control of everything and prepared for anything. i wanted to know; boy or girl? i just feel more relived to have everything ready before baby's arrival. i was really hoping for my own selfish reasons that we would have a baby girl, but for my son Paighton, i was praying for a boy. i wanted my sons to have a "best friend" type of relationship, plus its easier in the clothes department. I am kind of a fashionista when it comes to little girls. we probably would go bankrupt if we had a girl.
Thursday, April 1st 2010.
I woke up early to go into work. I was so tired from not getting much sleep the night before, knowing that tomorrow i get to meet my baby through ultrasound. I was 20 weeks pregnant! YAAY!
the ultrasound took longer than it did with my son. i didn't think too much into it though. i was a little bummed though that the sonographer couldn't tell it it was a boy or girl... he said it kinda looked like both... but the umbilical cord was in the way... so i understood.
after the ultrasound, we saw Dr. Dennis. she came in with a worried look on her face and said "i hate to be bringer of bad news" i knew right away something was wrong... of course... she said bad news, not good news...
she explained that the sonographer saw an abnormally shaped cerebellum which could indicate either something genetic or chromosomal wrong. the 2nd issue was he spotted spina bifida. OH MY GOD, MY BABY WILL NEVER WALK?!
we were squeezed into an a appointment right away the same day down at United Hospital in St Paul for a closer look by a specialist. the specialist wouldn't say much, wouldn't even tell me the gender, just said "the Dr. will go over that with you" and ran out the room.
the Dr came in and said there are multiple issues going on all at once. she said if it was just one or two issues, big deal, but not a huge deal. but this is a very very wrong BIG deal...
at 19 weeks and 5 days pregnant, i am carrying a baby that will not live.... my baby has extra toes on both feet and the feet are extremely deformed, same with the hands, extra fingers and squished up in a mass of flesh. my baby has spina bifida... but not like normal where it is only in the low part of the back. the ENTIRE spine is open. from bottom to top of neck. since the whole spine is open, its putting pressure on the spine and pulling the head down therefore mis-shaping it and giving it what Dr's call "lemon head". my baby has a hole in its heart. it does not have a gender, kind of a mess of mangled flesh of a penis and vagina together. and there is major excessive amniotic fluid and barely nothing in my baby's tummy or bladder, indicating the baby is not swallowing very well. the last thing is the legs where they attach to your hips, are turned slightly backwards, so my baby's legs are forced out sideways and cant even close them; sitting in like a Buddha position.
the Dr and Geneticist says that my baby has Triploidy and that i could miscarry, but puts me a risk. or if i did make it full term or even prematurely, the baby wouldn't be able to survive out of the womb. and if for some miracle... it did... they (the doctors) will do nothing to help my baby.
we had another perinatal appointment on Monday. we were told if we decide to continue, no one will help us. babies with spina bifida are given a chance by surgically closing the spine. but since my baby's entire spine is open, no one in the state of MN (or any other state) is willing to even attempt such surgery. the Perintologist refused to refer us to other people, said there is nothing anyone can do. Centracare is refusing me to deliver the baby here because they are not equipped or experienced to handle my baby's needs. if i continue, i am forced to deliver the baby at United. United said they will refuse my wishes for a C-section as it is deemed medically unnecessary (baby will not survive the pressure and stress of a vaginal birth). United also said they will refuse any care to the baby once it is born if it has survived the labor and delivery. they will not provide any care to sustain, save, resisitate my baby. they will not close it's spine, they will not even provide it food.
i have no clue what to do... i am so lost, in so much pain... i want to die... but i have a baby boy here now that needs his mommy. i don't know how to be strong for him right now. i cant believe this is happening to me. a year and a half ago, i watched as my son almost died, now i have to make a decision of letting my baby die now... or later, in a more painful way.....
i am now planning my baby's funeral. I need to prepare myself for the worst. I wish there were more doctors, specialists, scientists, or whoever could do to help my baby, and all others who are facing the cruel, heartbreaking diagnosis of Triploidy.
I am pro-life, i am a Christian... what does God want me to do when something so beautiful and is wanted so badly puts my life at risk? risking my living child to lose his mommy and a husband to lose his wife?
I am 25 years old. I am married to a wonderful man named Andrew, who is 26. We met by chance in a gas station late at night when we were 19 and 20. The gas station was close to where i was working at that time and was the only one open during the late night. He would continue every night to show up when i did and ask me for my number. I kept refusing, but finally gave in, under ONE condition: i drove. We went for Chinese and to the mall, where he passed my first test: can i control his wardrobe habits? YES! He let me dress him up in a horrible all white ensemble from Structure (it hadn't changed to Express yet).
He proposed to me during my favorite thing to do in the whole world... a bubble bath. I swear if i could live in water 24/7, i would; especially if it smells like lavender!
We were married August 4th, 2007. We had a very humble gathering in a park and BBQ at my cousin's house afterwards. We are very happy to have done it under $1,000. That was Good Decision #1 of our married life together. We planned that within 5 years or less we will buy a house.
Well, 10 months later, we bought our first house! Good thing too because we were also pregnant! We didn't close on our house until August 15th, 2008. 16 days later, August 31, 2008 our son was born! We named him Paighton Neil. I really liked the name Peyton, but i was working in banking sales during my pregnancy and i had opened 3 savings accounts for Peytons; all of which were girls. My name is a little different, and I wanted my son's to be as well. So i thought and thought about it, until i decided that i would also somehow incorporate my God-Daughter's name: Paige.
The first year of Paighton's life was very challenging, stressful, tearful, and spiked my anxiety like never before. At 11 days old, he stopped breathing. He was rushed to the ER in an ambulance. We were sent home being told nothing was wrong, he probably refluxed a little bit. I thought out loud with my husband "uh, NO, he didn't 'just' reflux a little bit, he completely stopped breathing!" Never the less we went home.
A month later, October, he had another "episode" where he was having troubles breathing. During this whole time, he was also refusing to eat. He was hospitalized and tested for apnea. We were sent home with instructions to put him on an acid reflux medication and to seek occupational therapy for his "sensory" issues regarding his comfort ability to eat. We visited his OT twice a week.
At few months later, he had another breathing "episode". He was hospitalized again. This time having to endure watching my son go through scans to test his swallowing and any aspirations within his lungs. This was painful to watch, as my son was strapped to a board, forced to swallow gross chalky substance of some sort, and screaming the whole time. I wanted to die. I felt helpless, only wanting to save my son from what the doctors were doing, but didn't know how.
At 7 months of age, he had another "episode". This one was the worst of them all; going in and out of conscientiousness. He was hospitalized again. He was FINALLY tested for a milk allergy. That came back positive. I had suspicion of more, but the doctors refused to test him due to his age. We were told to wait until after he turned 1 year old.
So we waited, and on his 1 year birthday, during his very own b-day party, he had a reaction to his cake. This was specially made by a cousin of mine to unsure no dairy would be present. i bought special ingredients from the organic section and everything. He broke out in hives and began to swell. We didn't have anything with us, so we just left the party and our guests and rushed to the ER. He was seen right away, but wasn't given anything because his body started to take care of itself and the hives receded.
Finally, he was tested for dairy, eggs, peanuts, cats, and wheat. he is allergic to dairy, eggs and nuts. he has an Epi-pen, which i am thankful we never had to use yet since we are more educated on his food allergies and how to react more calmly in situations where he did get into dangerous foods.
My son no longer sees his OT, he is no longer on meds for reflux, and i have bought a cookbook that is dairy-, egg-, and nut-free so that i may feed my family safely.
The day before Thanksgiving, 2009, we found out that we were pregnant again. I was so excited as we were trying and i have always had the idea of my children being close in age. i didn't tell anyone but my husband of course, and held on to our little secret of joy so that i may gift the news to my mother during Christmas. I bought a new tree topper, an angel, and labeled it "To: Grandma, From: Baby". she opened it up and screamed and jumped so high i thought she would hit the ceiling. everyone in the room was confused, and kind of laughing. it was a funny sight to see. so the news was out. We are having another baby.
as the days went on, i got more and more excited for my ultrasound appointment. i am a person that needs to be in control of everything and prepared for anything. i wanted to know; boy or girl? i just feel more relived to have everything ready before baby's arrival. i was really hoping for my own selfish reasons that we would have a baby girl, but for my son Paighton, i was praying for a boy. i wanted my sons to have a "best friend" type of relationship, plus its easier in the clothes department. I am kind of a fashionista when it comes to little girls. we probably would go bankrupt if we had a girl.
Thursday, April 1st 2010.
I woke up early to go into work. I was so tired from not getting much sleep the night before, knowing that tomorrow i get to meet my baby through ultrasound. I was 20 weeks pregnant! YAAY!
the ultrasound took longer than it did with my son. i didn't think too much into it though. i was a little bummed though that the sonographer couldn't tell it it was a boy or girl... he said it kinda looked like both... but the umbilical cord was in the way... so i understood.
after the ultrasound, we saw Dr. Dennis. she came in with a worried look on her face and said "i hate to be bringer of bad news" i knew right away something was wrong... of course... she said bad news, not good news...
she explained that the sonographer saw an abnormally shaped cerebellum which could indicate either something genetic or chromosomal wrong. the 2nd issue was he spotted spina bifida. OH MY GOD, MY BABY WILL NEVER WALK?!
we were squeezed into an a appointment right away the same day down at United Hospital in St Paul for a closer look by a specialist. the specialist wouldn't say much, wouldn't even tell me the gender, just said "the Dr. will go over that with you" and ran out the room.
the Dr came in and said there are multiple issues going on all at once. she said if it was just one or two issues, big deal, but not a huge deal. but this is a very very wrong BIG deal...
at 19 weeks and 5 days pregnant, i am carrying a baby that will not live.... my baby has extra toes on both feet and the feet are extremely deformed, same with the hands, extra fingers and squished up in a mass of flesh. my baby has spina bifida... but not like normal where it is only in the low part of the back. the ENTIRE spine is open. from bottom to top of neck. since the whole spine is open, its putting pressure on the spine and pulling the head down therefore mis-shaping it and giving it what Dr's call "lemon head". my baby has a hole in its heart. it does not have a gender, kind of a mess of mangled flesh of a penis and vagina together. and there is major excessive amniotic fluid and barely nothing in my baby's tummy or bladder, indicating the baby is not swallowing very well. the last thing is the legs where they attach to your hips, are turned slightly backwards, so my baby's legs are forced out sideways and cant even close them; sitting in like a Buddha position.
the Dr and Geneticist says that my baby has Triploidy and that i could miscarry, but puts me a risk. or if i did make it full term or even prematurely, the baby wouldn't be able to survive out of the womb. and if for some miracle... it did... they (the doctors) will do nothing to help my baby.
we had another perinatal appointment on Monday. we were told if we decide to continue, no one will help us. babies with spina bifida are given a chance by surgically closing the spine. but since my baby's entire spine is open, no one in the state of MN (or any other state) is willing to even attempt such surgery. the Perintologist refused to refer us to other people, said there is nothing anyone can do. Centracare is refusing me to deliver the baby here because they are not equipped or experienced to handle my baby's needs. if i continue, i am forced to deliver the baby at United. United said they will refuse my wishes for a C-section as it is deemed medically unnecessary (baby will not survive the pressure and stress of a vaginal birth). United also said they will refuse any care to the baby once it is born if it has survived the labor and delivery. they will not provide any care to sustain, save, resisitate my baby. they will not close it's spine, they will not even provide it food.
i have no clue what to do... i am so lost, in so much pain... i want to die... but i have a baby boy here now that needs his mommy. i don't know how to be strong for him right now. i cant believe this is happening to me. a year and a half ago, i watched as my son almost died, now i have to make a decision of letting my baby die now... or later, in a more painful way.....
i am now planning my baby's funeral. I need to prepare myself for the worst. I wish there were more doctors, specialists, scientists, or whoever could do to help my baby, and all others who are facing the cruel, heartbreaking diagnosis of Triploidy.
I am pro-life, i am a Christian... what does God want me to do when something so beautiful and is wanted so badly puts my life at risk? risking my living child to lose his mommy and a husband to lose his wife?
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