Won't you light my candle?

We recently honored/observed (not sure what's the right word) the one year anniversary of our miscarriage. I started, but didn't really have the words to write a coherent blog post about it. To make my thoughts more scattered was the fact that right before the anniversary, my old roommate caught me up on what was going on in her life.

At her 19-week ultrasound, she found out their baby didn't develop kidneys. That basically meant that her baby couldn't survive outside the womb. Before the ultrasound, the baby appeared to be growing well and thriving. She could feel her kicks. So finding out her baby was sick was devastating. At that time, the doctors told her that the baby would continue to grow to full-term and then die within hours of being born. But, their baby actually died one year and six days after Chubby.

Her situation is no doubt more complicated than mine was. But it's still a loss of a baby, and a loss of hopes and dreams for that particular child. But not all hopes and dreams of having children have to die.

I pray for my roommate and for others who have experienced such a loss that not all hopes and dreams for the families that they want to have are lost.

As Dave and I talked about Chubs and the anniversary of our miscarriage, the thing that really touched both of us was how much can change in a year. After the miscarriage, it just seemed like our journey to have a family was such a long road -- and we were moving on that road painfully slow. I was hopeful we would have a family someday, but I just didn't imagine it could happen within a year. But it did. And we're so thankful.

And for some twisted reason, being pregnant again and preparing for our little guy has helped the grieving and healing process. That's another thing we talked about. From the loss of Chubby, we were given the gift of Boo. "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."*

Chubby is part of our story. He always will be. Our dream was to be parents, and he made that come true. He taught us about hope and preserverence. He taught us about grieving and healing. He taught Dave and I that we need to rely on each other for support, especially during difficult times.

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, so I'm inviting you to take a moment and think about all those who were lost. Today I'm taking this moment to finally publish a post of scattered thoughts of my miscarriage experience. And, tonight I'll be lighting a candle in memory of Chubs.

J.B.

Dates

Isn't it funny how sometimes an anniversary or birthday or other important day arrives and you remember it, but sometimes a day just as important comes and goes and you just totally blank.

This August I've had a lot of those important dates coming and going without even noticing the significance of that day.

I forgot Cooper Joe's 3rd b-day. I forgot my friend Michelle's b-day. I forgot my 2-year anniversary at work. (Thankfully, I remembered Stevie's b-day and Diana's b-day!)

But there is another day that I did not forget.

Today. August 23.

Dave got up early and went fishing with his friend, Sean. I got up several hours later and decided to take a pregnancy test. I had taken one a couple of days before that had been negative, but I guess intuition told me to try again. And so did the fact that a monthly visitor hadn't arrived yet.

The test was positive. I was pregnant. After close to a year of trying.

Unable to wait until Dave came home, I called him. He told me to take another one. You know, just to be sure.

I did.

I remember feeling like I was on a cloud that day. I didn't know what to do with myself. Life was so beautiful. I was going to be a mommy. My life was forever changed by one test.

The truth is. I couldn't forget this day. Not when I still think about Chubs almost every day. Especially lately. There is something about being pregnant again during allergy season that reminds me of my first pregnancy. The pain isn't so raw anymore. In fact, being pregnant again has definitely brought a lot of healing. Although Chubs is still missed.

Even though that pregnancy didn't end the way we wanted it to, that doesn't take away the happiness and excitement Dave and I felt on this day one year ago. We were so excited to find out we were going to be parents. And today, one year later, we're ecstatic to be parents. That day is coming so soon. And while Chubs won't be the little boy that's in are arms, Chubs will still be in our hearts.

I love you, Chubs.

J.B.

Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear

A friend of mine on Facebook announced that she is expecting a baby this summer. A little boy. She's one of those friends from high school -- that I haven't really spoke to since graduation. We became "friends" on Facebook, but we don't interact with each other very often. She was a girl I always liked. Spmeone I always kinda wished I took more time to get to know better. She was nice to everyone. She was friends with a lot of the boys. She was pretty, but not stuck up like some of the other girls at the all-girls private high school I attended.

Anyway, her status caught my attention. A baby boy. In June. I wrote my typical "That's really exciting! Congrats!" message. But that may or may not have been exactly what I was feeling inside. I hadn't checked out her profile and wondering if this was the first time she mentioned her pregnancy. Curiosity caught me. Especially when I noticed that she had a blog that was something about a baby.

So I decided to check it out.

I kinda felt like I was snooping. Reading up on this old friend. But hey, she put the link to her blog out there, right?

But I learned something about her. She and her husband didn't get pregnant right away. It tooks six months. And through her words, I could feel her worries and fears. Many the same of my own.

It just reminded me that just because someone posts that they're pregnant doesn't mean that it was an easy journey for them to get there. With anouncements on Facebook about expectant families coming onto my news feed almost everyday, it's easy to forget.

After this miscarriage, it seemed like I walked around going through the motion of life. Outwardly, I appeared normal, but people couldn't really see the pain I felt within. It made me realize that you never know what difficulties people are facing or what they're really dealing with at home or what thoughts are running through their mind.

Life is more complicated than what appears on the surface.

Not just for me. For everyone.

While I get caught up with my own hopes and worries about pregnancy, and while I let myself get a tiny-bit jealous a little too easily, I've forgotten to remember what I learned after the miscarriage. I don't know others' complete stories. I just have a fraction of it. And, most likely, that story is just a little more complicated than it appears on the surface.


J.B.

A bit better

I'm exhausted, but I'm feeling a bit better than I was on Monday.

On Tuesday, I was driving to meet a friend for lunch. The sun was out.

I realized it had been a LONG time since I'd see the sun. Generally, I drive to work in the dark. I don't leave the building for lunch. I don't have any windows in my cubical. I drive home in the dark. It had been rainy all weekend. Anyway, during that drive, I could honestly feel my spirits rising as the sun reflected off the snow and into my car. Apparently, I may need to increase my dosage of my vitamin D supplements...or go on vacation somewhere sunny. But the vitamin D option is more likely.

I was reading my church newsletter last night. In her column, my pastor wrote about courageous hearts and winter, where trees and animals bravely endure the harsh weather. I loved the sound of the phrase, courageous heart. Courage, according to my pastor, doesn't mean holding on tight to make it through. It means you rely on God's strength to give us the confidence we need. Pastor Joy wrote,

"It is not until we have faced some winters in our lives, some challenges and struggles, that we are able to know our own courage and understand just how brave we can be when it is necessary to have a courageous heart."

In light of my feelings and my attitude the other day, these words really resonated with me. The miscarriage and the amount of time it's taken us to have a baby is really one of the few big trials in my life. Even though I obviously have my moments of weakness, I have surprised myself at my courage to get through these struggles. I believe that I have this courage because of the support of my family, friends and also, very importantly, my faith. It's my faith that makes me know that I have the strength to make it through. It's my faith that gives me hope that there will be a day when we're blessed with a child. 

J.B.

Help please...

One of the things that I was looking forward to this Christmas was buying presents for our baby. Earlier this week I was thinking to myself, well, maybe I could just buy some sort of present anyway -- like get a present for the next baby. But, that just didn't seem right. I thought maybe we could get a present that would give us something to remember our baby, but we already did that. So that didn't seem right either.

I started thinking about how I wish I could deliver a present to heaven and give it to our baby. But what could you give a baby who doesn't live in this world?

Then all of a sudden, I had an idea.

What if we took the money we were going to spend on physical presents for our baby and instead bought a virtual present -- per se? What if we gave a present in honor of our baby to an organization that needs our support?

Dave and I talked about it and that's what we're going to do this year. I told Dave, "We're parents without a child, so maybe we can help a child without parents."

There are lots of children in this world who don't have enough and we want to share with them. We haven't choosen the organization yet, so we might choose someplace that doesn't exclusively help orphans. We just want to help kids that need support.

I think this idea brings a smile to our baby's face. It brings a smile to mine as we've found a way to make good out of our bad situation.

Here's the criteria we decided upon:

• A large percentage of the money we give must go to the children, not administrative costs
• The organization must help children in need (can be a local, national or international organization)

Now here's where we need your help. We need ideas! I have a couple of ideas already, but we haven't made any decisions yet. We want to research and discuss the options to make sure our money is going to make a difference.

What organizations do you know that help kids in need?

Thanks!


J.B.

Emotions

Whenever I'm at church, I think about Chubs more than I do the rest of the time. Not a lot more, because honestly I think about our baby a lot. Maybe I just feel closer to him there. Maybe church is one of those places where I really center myself and feel safe enough to let guard down and let my emotions run free. It just seems that whatever the sermon's topic, whatever Bible versus' we read, whatever songs we read, they just relate to our baby in my mind.

So when I left church today, I felt sad. It's weird -- my whole life church was never a place where I left feeling sad. I know it's okay for me to feel sad about this. But it's not an emotion I like to let show. It's an emotion that I fight against...because I don't want to feel sad. I have so much to be thankful for in my life and I'm hopeful that we'll have another baby. But right now, when I go to that place where I let my emotions run free, I'm still sad about our loss.

So as I was driving home from church today, still thinking about Chubs and I heard a song I've never heard before. The words, "I’ll never get to hold you, I’ll never hear your sweet voice sing," caught my attention and I turned up the radio, curious what this song was about. I listened to each word as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“One More Day (For Faith)”

I’ll never get to hold you
I’ll never hear your sweet voice sing
I’ll never get to say ‘I told you so’
I’ll never read to you, or get to teach you anything

But you’ll always be my hope
You’ll always be my first light
You’re always gonna be daddy’s little girl
You’ll always be the strength I need to make it in this world
I only wish for one more day

I’m gonna miss your first day of school
I’ll never see you turn that page
I’ll never see you in your graduation gown
And I’m never gonna see you coming of age

But you’ll always be my hope
You’ll always be my first light
You’re always gonna be mommy’s little girl
You’ll always be the strength I need to make it in this world
I only wish for one more day

Sweet angel of mercy
Coming down to comfort me
Faith, sit right here beside me
I never want you to go away

I’m always gonna wonder how you’d look
Always gonna wish I took your place up there

You’ll always be our hope
You’ll always be our first light
You’re always gonna be our little girl
You’ll always be the strength we need to make it in this world
We only wish for one more day

We only wish for one more day

(c) 2009 Wrongway/Wrongtimer Music (BMI) and Saylesound Music (ASCAP)

Here's the actual song being sung, if you're interested in hearing it...

Even though it hurts, I'm going to savor this feeling of sadness right now. I've got a candle lit. I'm going to say a prayer and read from my reflection book. I'm feeling close to Chubs right now and I don't want to let that feeling go.

J.B.

Tryouts

I was trying out for a co-ed hockey team. One boy and one girl would be cut from the team. It was clear that I was the least skilled girl on the ice. But what I lacked in skill, I made up for in effort. I could actually feel myself push beyond my limits each time it was my turn. But when it was scrimmage time and when the line with all the girls except me scored a goal against the boys, I knew my chance of making the team were quickly fleeting. And sure enough, my best efforts just weren't enough. I didn't make the team. And it broke my heart. I wanted to make the team so bad. Even though I was still in front of everyone, I cried. (And I never cry in front of people.) I couldn't. stop. crying.

And then I woke up from the dream. But there were real tears.

The dream made me think about when I didn't make the traveling soccer team in fifth grade. But I vaguely remember the day, talking to the coach on the phone in my parents' bedroom. Listening to him tell me that it was close, but I wasn't going to be able to play on the team. He told me to keep practicing and that he wanted me to try out again next year.

But at that point, I wasn't really listening. After he said goodbye, I started crying. I felt like I failed. I knew it was going to be so humiliating at school the next day when my friends and teacher asked me what team I made. I'd have to tell them I didn't make any team -- or I made the "c" team as in cut. I didn't want to disappoint my parents. My dad coached and practiced with me, so I was sure that I had disappointed them even as they assured me that I hadn't. They told me they still loved me and gave me hugs.

When I didn't make the soccer team in fifth grade, I felt like an outsider. At my friend's birthday party that summer, it was basically the whole soccer team plus me. They had their inside jokes that they laughed at and I just sort of chuckled along not knowing what they were laughing at, but I didn't want to be the only one not laughing, either. I just felt like I didn't belong.

This morning as those memories from so long ago flooded my mind, the tears flew harder and faster. Why was I crying about something that happened almost 20 years ago? I looked at the clock and it was 6:00 a.m.

It wasn't the first time I was awake at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning. Four weeks ago, I awoke to terrible cramping and pain knowing that the time had come for my baby to miscarry. The pain was almost unbearable. I lay there whimpering as my husband slept soundly next to me. I guess I could have waked him, but he was sleeping and I knew if I woke him he would worry. So instead I said a little prayer asking God to take my baby. And I seriously felt my baby be pulled from me. And sure enough, the pain subsided and I slipped back into sleep.

Realizing the significance of the time, my dream started making a little more sense. Many of the feelings that I felt when didn't make the soccer team, I've felt since the miscarriage.

For a long, long time Dave and I have wanted a baby. I did everything I was supposed to do. I took my multi-vitamin and I didn't eat lunch meat. But something out of my control happened and I didn't make the team this season. Instead, I'm watching the baby bumps on my co-workers grow bigger from the sidelines. I'm looking at pictures of ultra-sounds and brand new baby pictures on Facebook. Believe it or not, I'm happy for every one else. Still, when I ask about the latest doctor's visit, I can feel the caution people make towards me as they talk about their baby. It's like they're hesitant and don't want to hurt my feelings. Yes, I'm sad about my baby, but I can still be happy for you. I still want to celebrate your moment with you. But please don't ignore me and make me an outsider. It hurts more to not only lose a baby, but also to feel like you don't belong.

I didn't quit playing soccer in fifth grade. I went to some camps and kept practicing. I tried out for the team again in sixth grade and I. made. the. team. Just like I overcame those struggles as a kid, we will come back and we will have our baby.

We are not alone

Did you know today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day? I had no idea such a day existed. But really, before September 25, 2009, I never had any reason to be aware of such a day.

Will you remember my baby with me?

Even though our loss is still so fresh to me, I don't think I could ever forget about our baby. I'll never forget how I told Dave the news. He was actually gone fishing the morning I took the test. I have to share this conversation, because I loved it. I called and casually asked him a few questions...

Me: I was just calling because I was wondering what time you think you'll be home?
Dave: Why?
Me: I have a surprise for you.
Dave: What?
Me: It's just a surprise.
Dave: Tell me.
Me: I took a pregnancy test.
Dave: What'd it say?
Me: Well, it wouldn't be a surprise if it was negative.

I'll never forget what is was like to tell my parents or Dave's parents or our sisters. I'll never forget telling my grandparents or my nieces. My niece, Amanda, asked me why I wasn't fat.

I'll never forget the day we found out and Dave and I went to Kohl's and bought an outfit for our little baby. It was a little sleeper with elephants and giraffes on it.

I'll never forget the emails we looked forward to getting each week that said the size of the baby and explained what was developing that week. It was the size of a kidney bean.

I'll never forget catching myself smiling, lost in a daydream, just being so content that our dream of becoming a real family was coming true.

I really don't need a day to remember my angel baby. I remember every. single. day. But I find comfort in the fact that right now men and women throughout the world are remembering their loss and that right now you are remember my baby with me and I know that we are not alone.

A little overwhelmed...

It's been a long couple of weeks. And probably not for reasons you'd assume if you read my previous post. I've been so busy, I haven't had much time to really think about it...which probably isn't the best thing to do, but I have to keep on going with work and school and my other obligations. My fall semester is in full swing now -- for the first time I'm taking two classes. I'm not sure how people do it, but it is EXHAUSTING. And when I get exhausted, it's harder for me to keep things in perspective. I get upset easier. I get irritated easier. I think I seriously hid at least three people from my Facebook news feed because I was so irritated with their political rants or silly drama (silly according to me.)

So even though I missed my "Thankful Thursday" post, I still want to acknowledge how thankful I am for my husband. He's been so supportive of me and our family. He supports me and loves me despite my falling asleep on the couch within 30 minutes of getting home. He supports me and loves me despite my emotional breakdowns. He supports me and loves me despite my mistakes. He supports me and loves me despite my irritability. He listens. He comforts. He makes sure I know that we're going to get through this together. He's exactly what I want and need right now. I love him so much and am so thankful that he's the love of my life.

Update: Dave's mom gave Dave and I a book of reflections and prayers, When I was reading it last night, one of the first things I read was this verse, which was exactly what I needed to read. "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." ~Matthew 11:28

Today

Today was supposed to be a great day. I'd been anxiously awaiting this day for the last ten weeks or so. Today was supposed to be the day of our first OB GYN appointment. I spent a lot of time daydreaming about the events of this afternoon -- holding Dave's hand while we walked into the clinic, going through medical history with the doctor, asking her questions, and all the while anticipating THAT MOMENT when we would hear our babies heart beat for the first time.
Sadly, that's not how today is going to go.

At approximately 3:20 p.m. Friday, September 25, we found out that today, September 30, wouldn't be going as planned. That's when the doctor came into the exam room and said, "You won't be needing your appointment. You had a miscarriage."

The ultrasound measured the baby at 8 weeks 3 days. The was no heartbeat.

Even though I had been preparing myself to the possibility of hearing those words from the doctor, it all seemed so unreal. I was supposed to be in my ninth week and looking forward to becoming a mom for the first time. And now that I've written it here, I'm at a loss for words. I don't know what else to say.

I'll say this.

The plan was that after our appointment today, after hearing the heartbeat, we'd be more public about our expected arrival. We'd tell my work, we'd tell our aunts and uncles and cousins, we'd tell our friends. Dave said he didn't want to post it on Facebook, but I imagined him being so excited that he couldn't resist. I'd post the news on my blog. We'd let the world in on our secret.

And yet, even though this day isn't going as planned. And even though we're no longer expecting a baby at the end of April, I can't help but feel the need to let the secret out anyway....just as we originally planned.

I want the world to know my baby was here.

One of the things I'm struggling with is that there is nothing tangible to say that our baby existed. No pictures. No hand prints. I never felt our baby kick. I never felt our baby grab onto my pinky finger. I haven't been able to clip off the ID tag on my wrist from the ultrasound at the hospital last Friday. It's the one thing that I have that says we've had this experience.

And this experience will impact Dave and I. It already has. This experience is a part of our story and I've been chronicling our story on this blog for more than two years now. That's why feel like I need to share the news here. This blog tells our story and this is a part of us now.

And if you're learning about this for the first time....I'm sorry you have to find out about either a) the pregnancy and/or b) the miscarriage here. I'm finding that most people don't know how to react to the miscarriage news. Dave and I don't really know how to react either. But hopefully you can understand my need to share our story. Dave and I are doing ok. I went back to work yesterday. Dave's been back at work and school too. We're sad, but we're hopeful. I've never felt so strong and so weak at the same time.

Before this, I never thought I'd be able to manage getting through a situation like this -- I want to be a mom more than anything and that's not going to happen as soon or as easily as I hoped. But I think of this as an unknown blessing...and I really understand now that God give's you the strength to get through your struggles. Our baby is in a good place now alongside some awesome great grandparents. We know we'll be parents someday...welll, I guess we already are...just not parenting the way we expected. I also know that when it happens, we'll cherish our kids that live alongside us in this life all the more after going through this.