Thursday, October 23, 2014

A Deeper Grief


Alma's foot

Dear Aidan,

I hope you can forgive me:
when I accidentally call you Alma
when I kiss your chubby cheeks and wish Alma was here so I could kiss his cheeks too

when you open your eyes and I can't help but wonder what color of eyes Alma has

as I feed you I think of what it would be like to have a toddler run in and ask me to play with him
when it seems like I have enough love in my heart for two children, but can only show my love to one of you
when I cry as I feed you - there is just too much time during your feedings to think and ponder about you and Alma and wish that I could see you two interact

for being overprotective and for wanting to be the only one to hold you
for disturbing your sleep when I can't help but place my hands on your chest to make sure you're still breathing





That being said, I hope you know how much I love:

putting you in your little clothes

dancing with you
listening to your squeaks, grunts, hiccups, and other cute baby sounds

brushing your hair
seeing baby clothes in my closet
all of the baby clutter around my house
 watching you breathe
waking up to you in your pack 'n play and seeing that you've escaped from your swaddle for the millionth time
 
seeing your dad hold you




having you in the back seat of the car when I drive somewhere 
rocking you to sleep

taking pictures of you - I want to cherish every moment


Oh, how I love you.

I hope you can continue to be patient with me as I keep trying to figure out how to deal with the mix of missing your brother and rejoicing over you.




Sunday, October 19, 2014

Aidan's Birth Story

Aidan Nelson Flake made his appearance on Thursday, September 25, 2014, at 11:13 a.m. He was 7 lbs 13 oz and 20 inches long.

After nine long months of waiting, it still seems surreal that he is here. Everything went really well, but I think my mind and emotions are still trying to catch up that I really have a living, healthy baby with me.

I was 39 weeks along when we had him. A couple of weeks before that I had been having lots of contractions, especially when I walked around. Jayze and I went shopping at Winco for a couple of hours, and I had contractions the whole time. Of course it was Friday night - the weekend. Why do things like that always happen on the weekend? We got back home around 11:00 p.m. and called the nurse to see if we needed to come in. We were both just so anxious and ready to have the baby here, even if that meant he come a couple of weeks early. I ended up being on hold for half an hour and by then the contractions stopped. When I talked to the doctor about it the next week, he said there must have been something going on with a lot of different people because the nurse was crazy busy that weekend. Usually the weekends are really slow, but that weekend was just super busy.

It seemed like as time went on, Jayze and I kept getting more and more anxious. I dreaded hitting 37 weeks because that's when we lost Alma. The day I hit 37 weeks along the doctor checked me and I was already dilated to a four. I was so shocked that I didn't hear if I was effaced at all or not. Part of me was excited I was already dilated that much and that I could go into labor at any time, but another part of me ached. That was how much I was dilated when we lost Alma. So it was kind of a bittersweet moment - one part knowing we were closer to having the baby, and another part of me thinking we were closer to hearing bad news again. It was an exhausting, emotional roller coaster.

The doctors said that we would consider an induction at 39 weeks, but no sooner than that unless something went wrong. I almost kept hoping that something would go wrong and I would be rushed to the hospital just so we could get the baby here. But then I knew that would cause me even more anxiety and stress, so every time I went to the doctor I would pray that everything was still looking "perfect" and that this second baby of mine would come when he was supposed to come and not because something had gone wrong.

Because I was considered a high risk pregnancy, I had two appointments a week from 32 weeks on. Towards the end I went in for another appointment and did the routine no-stress test and ultrasound and waited for the doctor to come in and check me again. It was on a Monday, and that coming Thursday I was going to be 39 weeks along.

The doctor walked in, asked me a couple of questions, and then checked me. I was still 4cm dilated and found out I was 80% effaced. I asked him if we would talk about having an induction when I came in for my doctor's appointment on Thursday, and he said yes. Then he kind of paused and asked, "How far along will you be on Thursday?" I said, "39 weeks exactly." He nodded, looked at the charts, and then said, "Do you want to be induced on Thursday?"

I was shocked. This Thursday? We could have it scheduled? We could have him this week? Was this really happening?

I knew that the time to have the baby was getting closer, but when it came right down to it, I almost felt like I would be pregnant forever and just keep going to my doctor's appointments. I kept mentally pushing away the thought of actually giving birth.

I kind of sputtered out, "Really? This Thursday?"

He shrugged and said, "Yeah, well if that works for you." and smiled.

I said, "Yeah! Well, that would be so great. I am so ready to have this baby." -at least I felt ready to be done with the emotional roller coaster of pregnancy after loss and ready to see what the outcome would finally turn out to be.

The doctor gave instructions to the nurse to let the hospital know that I was being induced because of my previous pregnancy, not because my mom was in town and I was bored or something. :)

The nurse called the hospital and made the arrangements, handed me the paperwork, and I walked out the door still in shock.

I texted my parents and Jayze and said, "I guess we're having the baby this week!"

The rest of the week was a blur. I let my teachers know I was having a baby that week, Jayze got work off and let his teachers know he would be missing his classes that day, and we just kind of waited. It still seemed utterly surreal. It was such a mix of emotions - excitement, worry, stress, anxiety, wonder, denial...and I couldn't get over the fact that Alma was born on a Thursday too...and we were induced with him too...

On Wednesday, the nurse who had scheduled the induction called and told me the doctor wanted us there at 5 a.m. instead of at 7 a.m. Jayze and I were totally okay with that! The sooner we could have this baby the better.



39 weeks exactly - just before we went to the hospital. This is the biggest I got.

Thursday morning came - both of us having only slept about three or four hours. We got up and ate some breakfast. For me, it felt like the first day of school. My stomach was full of nerves and I could barely choke down a handful of cornflakes and milk. After breakfast, we threw a few more things in the already-full diaper bag, latched the car seat in the back seat of our car, grabbed my nursing pillow, and made the quick drive to the hospital in the chill of the early morning.


The staff were ready for us when we got there. Of course I had forgotten the paperwork in the car, so Jayze had to leave and go grab it. It reminded me of when we had Alma and I was left alone while Jayze went over insurance stuff with one of the hospital staff members. I changed into the hospital gown and climbed into the bed. Until that point I had been doing okay emotionally, but I think just the action of changing into my hospital gown and climbing into the hospital bed while Jayze was gone brought back so many memories of my last labor and delivery. I laid there in bed trying not to cry.

Jayze came back and held my hand. Multiple things happened after that that made me worry it wasn't going to be a healing experience. Our nurse came in to put an IV in me. As she was prepping to put the IV in, she tried making small talk, and one of the questions she asked was one I was NOT expecting while I was at the hospital. Didn't they have my records? She asked, "Is this your first?" I glanced at Jayze with kind of a surprised look on my face. "Uh...no this is our second." She nodded and said that we probably knew the drill then.

I knew she was leaving at six, and I was hoping and praying that our second nurse would at least look at our record and know without asking that our firstborn was stillborn and that we were on pins and needles with this labor and delivery.

The shift change came, and our current nurse came in with our new nurse and made the shift change report in front of me. She mentioned that the nurse taking over her was almost done with orientation (or something like that) and had a nurse over her to make sure she did things right. But there was also a BYU-Idaho intern there to get experience. So there I was laying in bed trying to take in the fact that I was essentially going to have three nurses supervising me today - two of them I didn't even know if they knew what they were doing.

They all left the room, and Jayze came around and held my hand again and asked me how I was doing. I told him, "I miss Kristine (the nurse we had with Alma)," and from there I couldn't hold back the tears. I was really hoping for a healing labor and delivery. It was already hard enough to have hope that the baby inside me would still be alive when he made his entrance without having to explain our previous experience. I guess I was just hoping for a perfect experience like I had with Alma, and so far it wasn't happening.

That being said, all three nurses ended up being wonderful. The nurse over the intern really knew what she was doing. And I think it was a tender mercy having the intern there because Tara, our nurse, explained everything she was doing out loud in front of us to the intern. Jayze and I knew more of what was going on, and we didn't have to ask as many questions because our questions were being answered right in front of us.


It was an interesting experience being set up for labor and delivery with the expectation that a live baby was going to come out. There were so many things different. They set up a heart monitor so I could hear the baby's heartbeat the entire time. If the baby was in a wrong position, then it was possible for him to move himself because he was alive. Instead of our hospital bag consisting of things just for Jayze and me, it included things for the baby. There was a bassinet in the corner of the room, and there was a "Daddy's plate" on the counter.


There was a whiteboard on the wall and the goal on it said, "A healthy mom and baby boy!"


It was hard to wrap my mind around. There was still such a mix of emotions. I felt like I should be excited and happy, but at the same time I couldn't help but feel that maybe all of the preparation would be for nothing. I felt that things would go right, but then there was doubt nagging in the back of my mind that maybe things wouldn't go right. I didn't know how much I was depending on hearing the baby's heartbeat in the background until at one point I came back from going to the bathroom and the heart monitor wasn't plugged in anymore. I started to have a small panic attack. When the nurse came back in, I asked her as calmly as I could if she could plug in the heart monitor and turn it up to where I could hear the heartbeat. She said, "Of course!" I had depended on hearing that heartbeat at least two times a week, and it felt like something was missing when I couldn't hear it.


They induced me around 5:30 a.m. The nurse checked me before the doctor came in, and I was still dilated to a four. I was hoping it would be a fast labor and delivery, because that's all I knew from Alma's. The doctor came in around 7:15 a.m. to break my water. It was funny because he walked in looking really sheepish. He said, "Sorry you had to be here earlier than expected." He cleared his throat, "The reason is that my son has a soccer game this afternoon..." Haha! Jayze and I laughed and told him that we didn't mind at all. The earlier we have this baby the better! The doctor said, "If it makes it any better, my wife shook her finger at me and said 'Their baby is more important than going to the soccer game!'" Considering they have been through something similar as Jayze and me, I figured she knew what she was talking about. It also made me feel better that the doctor had enough expectation that things would go well with the baby that he was planning to go to a soccer game in the afternoon. 

The doctor checked me and said, "Did I tell you you were at a four the other day? Well, you are at a good five cm now." Yay!

He said that the baby was kind of in a hard position and that he might have to maneuver him later if he didn't change positions on his own. The doctor walked out, and from there it was just waiting until I went into hardcore labor. 

I knew I wanted to get an epidural, but it was just knowing when to get it. I didn't want to get it too soon because it might slow down labor, but I didn't want to get it late enough to where the baby would come before I could get it. I wasn't prepared at all for a natural birth, so I was kind of depending on that epidural. I felt like it would help me relax and feel calm and aware when our baby was born. 

The doctor had estimated that the baby would come around 1:00 or 2:00. After he broke my water, the contractions started coming in harder. It was more and more difficult to breathe through them. Knowing how fast I had progressed with Alma, I was getting worried that I would get too far along before getting an epidural. Finally, about an hour after the doctor broke my water, I asked for an epidural.

Surprisingly, the anesthesiologist was in there within five minutes. When he walked in, I was so relieved and happy to see that it was the same guy who had put in my epidural with Alma. I knew he knew what he was doing, he cracked jokes the whole time, and he helped calm my nerves a lot. Once the epidural was in, I knew it was a home run from there. My body could relax and progress, and I could mentally prepare myself to give birth to a healthy baby boy. I wanted him to be okay so badly. I just kept hoping and praying for that miracle.

The bottom half of my body started going numb, and I couldn't feel the contractions anymore at all. The nurse came in and checked me around 10:00, and said I was ready to start pushing. That happened fast!

They began prepping me to push. As each contraction came, I pushed with all I had. They got the doctor, but right before he came in the contractions stopped coming. So I couldn't really push without the contractions. He came in, but left soon after because I wasn't progressing as fast anymore. A few minutes after he left the contractions started coming again, and I kept pushing with all I had, just thinking about the baby and wanting him to come out healthy. The nurses and Jayze kept encouraging me. It was hard to know how to push because I was so numb, but the nurse kept helping me and I was finally able to figure out how to do it.

At one point during pushing, Jill walked in. She was the woman who was there for Alma's birth. She was the one who gave me the baby blue blanket, Alma's memory box, my matching necklace to Alma's bracelet, and Alma's casts of his hands and feet. I was so happy to see her. She gave me a hug and told me how happy she was for Jayze and me. I couldn't keep the tears from pooling in my eyes knowing she was going to see me give birth to a living baby this time. She knew this was my second baby, and she knew how much I wanted this baby to be okay. She understood without me having to explain anything. 

Finally after an hour of pushing the nurse who was helping me out the most said she could see the baby's head. They told me to stop pushing and called the doctor. At that point it was hard not to push. The doctor came in, prepped for delivery, and told me to start pushing again. It took a few more pushes, but then the baby's head was out! The doctor and nurses exclaimed, "Do you see him?" I looked down, and there was my baby's head and it was chock full of dark hair just like Alma's! I felt like there was something wrong though, because he wasn't moving and it looked like he wasn't breathing. Anxiety began filling my heart, but when I looked around neither the nurses nor the doctor seemed concerned. The doctor began suctioning the baby's nose and mouth, and while he told me what he was doing I asked him, "Is he okay?" The whole time I had been envisioning and hoping for a crying baby to come out, not silence. The doctor reassured me and said, "Oh yeah! He looks great!" and the nurses were all nodding in the background looking happy. Once the doctor was done suctioning the baby's nose and mouth, I pushed a few more times, and our baby boy made his complete entrance at 11:13 a.m.

After that, everything happened so fast. Jayze cut the umbilical cord, then the doctor sort of dried the baby off and placed him in my arms. 


I had expected to cry, but all I could do was sit there and hold my baby. After nine long months he was finally here. I couldn't stop looking at him. He was all mine, and he was moving. He was alive. He really was alive.

He kept making these squeaking noises. After a few minutes, Jill asked if she could take him and get his weight and measurements. She took him over to the bed warmer, and I was glad he kept making those squeaking noises because it helped me know he was still okay. It was all still so surreal. My baby was here! 

The clock was going haywire, so that is not the accurate time. :)
Aidan didn't start crying until Jill gave him his first bath. Hands down, it was the best sound ever. When he started crying, Jayze and I looked at each other and smiled. That was the sound I had been craving to hear for almost two years.


The Spirit was so strong in the hospital room. Jayze and I couldn't stop smiling, and I felt such peace. Everything finally felt right.



Proud daddy




We were going to get to take this baby home with us. We weren't going to have to say goodbye and walk away from him. We were finally going to get to raise a child born to us here on earth. 

Heavenly Father blessed us so much. I know that He was with us throughout our whole pregnancy as well as during the labor and delivery. He gave me the healing experience I needed through Aidan's birth. I know He will continue to be with us as we learn how to raise Aidan.  

 


And I know that Alma was rejoicing as he watched his little brother enter this world. I know that he was happy that Aidan's birth was so similar to his. Me being induced with Aidan and Aidan being born on a Thursday morning after a relatively easy labor and delivery was Heavenly Father's way of helping me know that Alma is still a part of our lives. It kept Alma in my mind as Aidan was born and helped me connect with both of my children. Aidan's birth helped heal a part of my heart, and I know that even though Alma isn't here with us, he will continue to watch over us and will forever be a part of our family.


Friday, October 3, 2014

Aidan Nelson Flake

He is here! And he is ALIVE! Jayze and I love him so much already. I want to hold him all the time.

Introducing our second baby boy, Aidan Nelson Flake. He was 7 lbs 13 oz and 20 inches long. He has a head full of dark hair, dark bluish/green eyes, and cries like a champ (which was the best sound to hear ever at the hospital).






Birth story to come later! (in the midst of taking care of a new baby and trying to do homework at the same time, my blogging time might suffer a little bit, haha)


Monday, September 22, 2014

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.




Thursday, September 4, 2014

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. 



Friday, August 29, 2014

Dear Alma,

 

When August 1 came, I knew today was just around the corner. Part of me has been dreading it, and the other part of me is excited to have a whole day to remember you by.

Lately I have watched other one-year-olds, imagining you walking around with them at church and having to stop you from stealing another baby's toy. I wonder if you would have cute, chubby cheeks that I wouldn't be able to resist kissing all the time.

It seems like this whole week leading up to today was full of reminders. I think it was Heavenly Father's way of letting me know that He remembers you too.

August 27 was just the beginning - exactly a year after we found out you died. I woke up, ate breakfast, took a shower, got ready for the day, and headed out the door to a dentist appointment at 11:00.  I had forgotten when I made the appointment that it was the same time as the doctor's appointment last year when I went in to listen to your heartbeat - the heartbeat that never came. I miss that sound.

As I drove to the dentist office, I tried not to think about that doctor's appointment, but then I saw that the dentist office was right across the street from the funeral home where I saw you last. I couldn't help myself and parked in plain sight of that funeral home. My mind flashed back to when last year your dad and I parked in the funeral home parking lot, and it took me about five minutes to walk from our car to the door because I had just given birth to you the day before. As that memory flashed in my mind, I was surprised to find that I was smiling instead of crying as I got out of the car again, this time across the street, and remembered something your dad said when we drove past the funeral home earlier this week, "Isn't that a special place?" It took me aback at first when he said that, wondering how in the world a funeral home could be a special place. But looking back, it really was. 

I walked into the dentist office, and having never been there before, began filling out the paperwork. As I stood up and gave the receptionist the paperwork back, one of the workers walked in to get me, saw that I was pregnant, and asked me when I was due.

I responded with a smile, "October 2."

She looked shocked and said, "You look great! You are tiny!"

I kind of smiled inside because that is what I heard all the time when I was pregnant with you. Yet another reminder. But the conversation didn't stop there.

"Is this your first pregnancy?"

I have had such a hard time with this question. Answering no and then having to explain about how you died has made the situation awkward so many times. But I feel like I'm betraying you if I say yes. I just couldn't bring myself to deny your existence, so I said:

"No, this is my second pregnancy," 

She said, "Yep, you are tiny! A boy or a girl?"

"A boy."

"Well, congratulations!"

I followed her to the back and slowly slid into the dentist chair. She asked me some routine questions about x-rays and when my last dentist appointment was. Then after a brief silence, she asked me, "Do you have a little boy or a little girl at home?"

I was a little thrown off by the phrasing of at home, but I responded, "Um, a little boy."

"How old is he?"

I knew I couldn't keep this up, so I said, "Well, he would be one-years-old."

But she didn't catch it and said, "Oh, how fun!"

Then the dental hygienist came in, and there wasn't a chance to talk about it again. However, at the end of my appointment, the same worker turned to me and handed me two toothbrushes - one for my little boy at home and one for the little boy inside me. I stared at the toothbrushes in my hand for a moment and mumbled a thank you. 

I drove home and told your dad about it. How I didn't have the heart to tell them that we don't have you, a cute one-year-old at home. Yet, at the same time it was kind of fun to pretend you were waiting for me at home - waiting for me to scoop you up and show you your new toothbrush. 

Then that same night your dad and I walked through the temple doors, and guess who was there to greet us? The funeral director who took such good care of you. I could tell he didn't recognize us, but it was good to see that tender, caring face again and seize the opportunity to keep you in my mind once again.

And as we were in the temple, the same question popped up again. A temple worker asked me, "Is this your first pregnancy?"

I had said no earlier that day, so I couldn't possibly answer different this time. I said, "No, this is my second pregnancy."

She looked surprised and said, "You don't look old enough!" 

I don't feel old enough to have already had almost two children, but at the same time, losing you has aged me in so many different ways...

And then today did come - your birthday. When I woke up this morning and remembered you're not here to call out to me, to ask me for your birthday breakfast, to eat your first birthday cake, or to play with your new presents your dad and I would have surely bought you, I cried and cried. As I cried, I remembered the same time last year when your dad held me just as he held me this morning as I cried and cried, wishing that things were different. 

But as much as I miss you, I know you are watching over our little family. I know families are forever, and that someday I will get to see you and hold you and kiss and hug you all day long. You are my Alma, and I will never forget you. 

I hope you have a happy one-year birthday and that someone up in heaven is giving you a big hug for me and celebrating this day with you. 

As for your dad and me, despite how hard it is not having your here right now, we will be celebrating you too. Celebrating your existence and influence in our family. Celebrating the memories we have of you. Celebrating the day we got to hold you and feel of your presence all day long. 

Celebrating that because of our loving Savior, the "grave shall have no victory, and...the sting of death should be swallowed up in the hopes of glory..." (Alma 22:14). 

Celebrating that you are safe, happy, loved, and cared for.

I love you,

Mom

Sunday, August 17, 2014

33 Weeks: Update


 ~ Baby Update ~
Size of a pineapple (about four pounds).
His skeleton is hardening.
Acting more and more like a baby outside of the womb. 
Has his own immune system. 


The past couple of weeks have been kind of rough, but there have been so many blessings too.  This pregnancy has been hard - more emotionally than physically, but there is still that physical aspect of it.  I knew that when we got pregnant again it wouldn't be all excitement and happiness.  I have to keep reminding myself that I am blessed to be pregnant again and to have made it this far.  

The hardest part about this pregnancy is the fear and anxiety.  It has been hard fighting the darkness and hopelessness that always seem to linger right by me waiting to make its move.   

After Alma died, my mom sent me a book she filled with quotes.  I was looking through it and one in particular caught my eye:

"Even though we may feel lost in the midst of our current circumstances, God promises the hope of His light....Even after the darkest night, the Savior of the world will lead you to a gradual, sweet, and bright dawn that will assuredly rise within you.  As you walk towards the hope of God's light, you will discover the compassion, love, and goodness of a loving Heavenly Father, in whom there is no darkness at all."

~ Dieter F. Uchtdorf ~

 Follow the light of Christ. 

So, in an effort to throw off that darkness and look to the light, I thought about some positive/funny things that go along with pregnancy.  After thinking about them, I've realized that this almost 9-month journey has had many highlights and joys weaved in, not just darkness.

Kicks:
This little baby kicks a lot, and I LOVE it.  Sometimes it hurts and is uncomfortable, but I don't care because it helps me know he's still alive.  Whenever he's not moving and I'm pretty sure he's just sleeping, I still get out a popsicle, lay on my left side, and count ten movements.  With such a panicky mom, I'm not sure this baby gets much sleep at all.  I wonder if when he's born and sleeping, I'll go up to him and poke him, just to make sure he's okay.  I'm not sure I'm going to like him sleeping so much...hopefully he'll snore. :)

Another fun thing about him kicking so much is I like to put my empty water bottle or my phone on my stomach and watch him kick it around. 

Maxi Skirts:
The best thing that has happened to me in a long time regarding my sparse wardrobe is my black maxi skirt.  It is the most comfortable thing ever, stretches as my belly stretches, and is forgiving to my body as I get bigger.  If they were only $5 each, I would have a closetful right now. 

Waddling:
I have been more achy this pregnancy (probably because I never work out anymore), and I find myself waddling more than walking now that I'm bigger.  It's nice to be entertainment for those who watch me try to walk down the grocery aisle...

Nurses/Doctors:
I have heard four times this past week from both my nurses and doctors that I'm not a "nut job."  It is so reassuring having a great staff who looks after me and my baby and who don't care if I come in for a random heartbeat check or if I think my Braxton Hicks are real labor when they're not.

Stains on Shirts:
My belly is so big right now that when I look down I can't even see my feet, let alone any stains I might have at the bottom half of my shirt.  But those stains just mean that I'm pregnant and there's life inside this big belly of mine.

Dreams:
I have crazy dreams practically every night.  They are always about what happened the day before too.  For example, Jayze always has a pen on him, and I'm notorious for never having a pen.  I always borrow one from him, but I've lost pens so many times that he's a little wary about letting me borrow his pen longer than five minutes.  The other day we needed a bunch of pens and pencils to bring to a party, and we had to hurry and scour our house for them because they are everywhere.  Anyway, that same night I dreamed of Jayze holding up a big bag of his pens and saying to me, "I'm willing to bring all of my pens."

I also had to ask him one time, "So I just remembered something...you did this and then I did that and then this happened.  Did that happen in real life or did I just dream it?"  

And Jayze answered, "You just dreamed it."

Having to go to the bathroom 50 times a day (exaggeration? probably not):
Not much to say about this one except that I now call it my second home.

But the nice thing about this one is I never have trouble taking the urine test when I go to the doctor. :)

Prepping for the Baby:
Despite how hard this one has been emotionally for me, it has also been fun when I let go of the fear and dream of having another person in our home.  We just bought a pack 'n play and set it up in our bedroom, along with the rocking chair and ottoman Jayze's mom and sisters gave us last year.  It was hard having them in the bedroom with us at first - a daily reminder of what might not be - but I also find myself staring at the pack 'n play imagining a baby inside it.  I love that it's so close to my bed.  The fear is still there, but when it's not as strong, I love the feeling of excitement that I get when I think of bringing this baby home.

Talks with Jayze:
I love talking with Jayze about my fears and excitement because I think both of us have really tried hard this pregnancy to connect, spend time with each other, and really be on the same page.  He has been my anchor, and it's been comforting to know I can lean on him during the good and bad times.

Priesthood Blessings:
In times of darkness and anxiety, priesthood blessings have helped me so much.  I used to think that priesthood blessings were only reserved for when you were sick or before school started, but I've come to realize that I can ask for one whenever I feel the need.  Whenever I feel sad, overwhelmed, stressed, or hopeless, priesthood blessings help buoy me up.

Pictures:
It's amazing how gradual pregnancy bellies grow.  Some days I feel huge and other days I feel smaller than the day I did before.  It's fun going back to the beginning of this pregnancy and looking through the pictures, watching my belly get bigger and bigger. 




Ultrasounds:
In addition to pictures outside the womb, I love the pictures inside the womb, too, when I can actually see the baby's basic outline and features.  Ultrasound pictures help remind me that there is an actual baby inside of me full of life, growing bigger and stronger every week. 






















 











4-7 more weeks to go...



 

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Is Time a Healer?

The beginning of August is here, and it's so hard to believe that it has been nearly a year since we lost Alma.  Has it really been that long?  Sometimes it seems like just yesterday when I was in the ultrasound room straining to see any sign of movement on the screen.

I've heard people say that time is a healer.  I've said it myself.  Time should heal all wounds, right?

Losing Alma caused this gaping wound.  I keep telling people that yes, time does heal, but then I have also wondered if time will eventually make everything better.  If somehow the wound will magically go away as time goes by.  Realistically, I don't think the wound will "magically" disappear.  The pain has lessened, and a scar is forming where the wound used to be so fresh, but I will always remember the moment I found out my baby boy had died and that I wouldn't get to bring him home.  I will always remember the pain of that moment.  How can anyone be expected to recover quickly from a moment that changed his or her life forever?  I will always wonder what he would be like if he was here.  Whether his hair would still be dark brown or if it would have turned white blonde.  If he has Jayze's hazel eyes, my dark brown eyes, or a pair of shockingly blue eyes.  If he would be tall like Jayze's family or my Mom's side of the family, or if he would be shorter like my Dad's side of the family.  Those questions will always run through my head.  Even now, being pregnant, I wonder what it would be like to be chasing two little boys around, laughing their heads off as they mischievously and knowingly exasperate me.  But for now, all I get to know is what it's like having my firstborn baby boy in heaven and his little brother here with me (I hope) and keep wondering.  People who have lost children say that those same children are still watching over them.  The siblings of that child somehow still have a relationship with the child who is in heaven.  I have been desperately hoping that will happen when we finally get Alma's little brother here.  That they will have a special bond and that this little boy inside me will get to know his older brother through more than just pictures and his story.

Last month on the 29th, I couldn't stop thinking that Alma would be 11 months old.  I didn't think it would affect me very much, because the real landmark is his actual year-birthday, August 29.  But I thought about him all day long.  I came home from work, and I couldn't concentrate on what Jayze was saying.  I just kept staring at him and nodding my head.  In a sudden moment, tears began pooling in my eyes and falling down my face and when Jayze asked me what was wrong, I couldn't get out the words.  I just kept shaking my head.  Finally, I was able to say, "He would have been 11 months old," and then buried my head in my arms and sobbed.

How can I have gone 11 months without holding my little baby boy? 

If the 11-month mark was that hard, I know the year-mark is going to be even harder.  It seems like August 29 is looming, and I'm not sure what to do that day.  It's all such a mix of emotions.  I'm not sure whether or not to celebrate that day or to shut myself in my house and let grief overtake me.  How can I celebrate his birth when at the same time it was his death?

Sometimes time brings hard days, and grief has its victory.

Those hard days are still going to come up.  Time is not going to take those away, and I don't think time will ever change the fact that losing Alma has changed my relationship with Jayze, my relationship with others, the way I feel when I hear of someone who has gone through the exact same thing as me, or the comments I hear from other people who haven't gone through the same thing as me.  Time goes by and life does go on, but the memory remains.

But, as I look back, I do think time has also helped to strengthen my mental, physical, social, spiritual, and personal capacity to deal with this trial.

I can say "stillborn" to strangers without crying anymore. 

I don't cry every day.

I am not on autopilot anymore.

I can look babies in the face again and smile.

I have an appetite now.

Jayze and I, despite everything, are even closer now because of losing Alma.

I don't avoid looking at or walking through the baby section at Walmart anymore.

I can sleep without Alma's baby blue blanket.

I can look back and remember all the earthly angels who helped us out during those dark days.

I know without a doubt that families are forever.

Yes, death has changed so much.  Yet, despite many of the tragic things death brings, it has also let me see what I can do because of it.  It has allowed me to choose to become closer to my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.  Because what I have found is that I am happy.  Not every minute of every day, but I am happier than I was a little less than a year ago.  I can laugh again and not feel guilty because I know Alma doesn't want me to mourn him forever.  He wants me to move forward and live life - to live life in such a way that I will be able to see him again.

I really don't think time is the real healer, but I do think it helps.  God is the real healer.  He uses time to teach me.  

When I read over Alma's story again the other day, I realized that I have forgotten to figure out what I'm supposed to learn from this trial.  Instead, I have been hoping time will go by and that things will just go back to normal and I can be the same as always.  But I know that's not what my Heavenly Father wants.  This life isn't about staying the same - it's about changing and growing and becoming better.  I hope that my wound caused by Alma's death will be a reminder to me to always choose God despite my circumstances and allow Him to change me for the better. 

"Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us."
~David Richo~