38 Weeks & 4 days: Mixed Everything

To be completely honest, I have been avoiding writing on this blog. And the longer I take to write on it, the easier it gets to avoid it.  In fact, I started this post last week but couldn't bring myself to finish it until now.

I have let grief overtake me these past few weeks, and it has been hard to let it go. Sometimes I think grief is good to let in because it lets me know that I still love Alma. It lets me know that I still miss him. And in a way, it helps me be close to him.

But grief is also mean. It overshadows me with darkness and despair and doesn't want to let go.

These past few weeks I have felt one part of grief especially: denial.

Last year, Alma was due on September 13 - the weekend before school started. I planned to only take two classes, and even though people cautioned me how hard it would be to take school and have a baby, deferring never felt right to me. Something kept me from dropping those classes. I figured it was Heavenly Father's way of letting me know that school is important and He would help me balance it all.

Then Alma passed away. The reason became clear why I wasn't supposed to defer - it was because I wouldn't need to try to balance a baby and school because there would be no baby. I had never been so grateful for school in my life. Someone mentioned that maybe I should defer because of what happened with Alma and that it was still possible, but instead of deferring, I registered for a full load of classes, bought all of the materials, and kept myself as busy as I could.

School saved me that semester.

It was hard going to school knowing my instructors and classmates didn't know what had happened. It was hard knowing I had just barely had a baby but he was no longer with me. It was hard when instructors would ask the class who had children and I kept my hand down because I didn't want to announce to the whole class that yes, I do have a baby, but he was stillborn. It was unbelievably hard keeping grief at bay, getting out of bed, working with Jayze's school and work schedule, going to work when I had been planning to quit, and actually having to make the decision to go to Church every single week when I didn't want to talk to anyone or see all of the babies and pregnant women there.

But I was able to get out of the house every day and keep my mind busy. It was one of my best semesters, and I still look back on it and think, again, that with God I can do hard things.

This year I'm pregnant again, but this time he is due October 2 - three weeks after school started. And because it doesn't feel right to defer this semester either, it feels like I've been having deja vu. What if it doesn't feel right to defer because the same thing is going to happen?

Before school began, I held my breath as August 29 passed by. After that day, our baby was still alive. Then I held my breath again as I hit 37 weeks, and I have been continually holding my breath ever since then.

Because for me, there is no "safe" time for this baby. We got past 37 weeks - how old Alma was when he died - but what if it happens at 38 weeks+ with Baby #2? Or 39 weeks? Or right when I'm supposed to have him at the hospital?

I go to class, and it doesn't feel like I'm pregnant. I just feel like a regular college student going to classes trying to figure out my schedule and figure out what is expected of me. I'm in denial that I am actually going to have a baby - a real, live baby. Telling my instructors and others that I'm going to have a baby soon makes it seem real, but I also don't want to commit because I don't know what's going to happen.

Grief has allowed me to put up walls - to not be excited, to fear, to doubt, to deny we're actually having another baby, to be hopeless...

Jayze and I were trying to figure out our schedules and what it's going to be like with a baby here. We realized that balancing Jayze's work and school as well as my school is going to be pretty hard. We really need to be committed and supportive of each other if it's going to work out. As we kept talking about it, Jayze finally asked me, "Why are you taking classes?"

I thought about it and said, "Because like last year it hasn't felt right to defer...so maybe because of that...I keep thinking that we're not really going to have a baby to take care of at home. We'll just have him...and then I won't have to worry about balancing school and a baby because there will be no baby. The denial has come back, Jayze."

The tears came, and I buried my face in my hands.

Jayze let me cry for a little bit, letting all of the emotions out I had been holding inside all week. Then he said, "Sarah, don't make the decision to take classes because of doubt. If you want to still take classes, take them because of faith. We need to plan as if we really are going to have a baby here with us, not as if we're going to have a baby and then not take him home with us."

Faith that we're going to take a baby home with us. Is that possible at this point?

I was getting ready for the day the other morning and was listening to different songs on Pandora. As I fixed my hair, a song by Hilary Weeks came on called, "Dancing in the Rain." As I listened to the lyrics, I realized I really needed to hear that song that morning. Ever since then, I have kept the words in my mind and have tried to keep the faith.

It clouded over on Monday morning
And I'd hoped to wake up to sunshine
Come Tuesday I think I felt it
A little raindrop on top of my head
On Wednesday no mistaken it
By Thursday no escaping it the storm had rolled in

I thought about going back to bed
Or reading the book on my night stand
I considered calling the weatherman
Just to ask when it might end

I did something you would not have thought
I grabbed my polka dot umbrella
And I opened the door...

And I danced in the rain
I let my dreams know I hadn't forgotten them
I let my heart take the lead and
I told my hopes to get themselves up again
And I danced, I looked, yes I danced in the rain

I invited my worries to step aside
I needed room to see in front of me
As the raindrops fell on my overcoat
I let em roll right off of my back

And I waited for the rainbow
Cause Heaven and me we both know
This storm's gonna pass...

And I danced in the rain
I let my dreams know I hadn't forgotten them
I let my heart take the lead and
I told my hopes to get themselves up again
And I danced, I looked, yes I danced...

I danced till my fears washed away
Then I thanked the rain for coming... today
So I could dance in the rain
And let my dreams know I hadn't forgotten them

I danced in the rain
I let my dreams know I hadn't forgotten them
I let my heart take the lead and
I told my hopes to get themselves up again
And I danced, I looked, yes I danced in the rain

I'm dancing in the rain

www.lyricsmode.com

We saw a rainbow by the temple even while it was still raining - a tender mercy.

This second baby is my rainbow baby, but sometimes rainbows come during the storm. I can be happy now and not just when he is born.

The grief won't go away. As the day for Baby #2 gets closer, the anxiety and fear will be there. Flashbacks will continue to pop up. Comments from others will always come, whether they are well-meaning or not.

But hope is still there. I can dance during the storm and grasp the opportunity to be happy now.

I'm hoping that things will go well. I'm hoping that I will have a living, breathing baby in my arms soon and that he will help fill the gigantic hole that was left in my heart and home from losing Alma.

Until then, I can keep counting his movements; keep going to class because I have faith that things will work out, not because it's a "back up"; and keep cherishing the time I have him inside of me.

Maternity Shoot

When Alma passed away, I was so grateful I took belly bump pictures because it became one more record of him to cherish. Looking at them helps me remember that I really was pregnant with him and that he is a very real part of our family.

However, even knowing how grateful I am for those belly bump pictures, it has been hard to take consistent pictures with Baby #2. Part of me has been in denial this pregnancy. I knew that I wanted to take maternity pictures once I got past 30 weeks, but I kept avoiding it. I think it's because I thought that I would jinx this baby - that if we took pictures, a couple of weeks later he wouldn't be with us anymore.

But one thing I have learned is that I can do hard things.

And one way to know that is by actually doing them. I have so many doors to open still. Doors I have intentionally kept closed because I know that facing what's behind them is going to be hard. This door, taking maternity pictures, is one I'm grateful I opened. It's just one more step towards the healing process, and it's one more step I can look back to for strength when I open another door. 

So, a great shout out to my friend, Crystal Adams for taking these beautiful pictures. She did an amazing job. Thanks, Crystal!

Some of my favorites (which are practically all of them, haha):

 

Only a few more weeks to go. Hang in there little man! Your dad and I are excited and nervous to finally meet you.