Not a crib but a casket

I know they always say having a funeral and burial is helpful in the grieving process, but I didn't realize it would be this helpful.

Almost every day this week I didn't get out of bed until about 1pm (I am embarrassed to even type that!) Tuesday because it was the day we had to drop her casket (or as we have been calling it, her "bed") off at the funeral home, and Wednesday because it was her funeral.  I just kept getting a pit in my stomach, and as silly as it sounds, a little voice in the back of my head kept saying "maybe if I don't go, it won't happen...maybe if I don't go, none of this actually happened"  But eventually I did get out of bed, and although the days were hard, preparing her "bed", going to her funeral and to her burial, they really did help in my healing.

Tuesday I completed her "bed".  I mentioned in my last post, that my uncle made it, and it was beautiful.  And it was so wonderful to know so much love went in to making it. The first half of the day (in bed)  I was also feeling down because I felt like I didn't have anything personal to give my baby girl in her bed.  We had a lot of things planned to go in it but nothing hand made/personal. I had planned on making her a hat, but ran out of time while she was still alive, and honestly did not have the strength to do it in the last week.

So, Tuesday morning laying in bed I finally decided what I wanted to do for her.  I decorated the inside lid of her "bed" so she would have something to look at.  It included a picture of Mr V and I holding her at the hospital, so she could see us forever, her name and birth date (last name removed to post here) and a painted whale and message of love for our "Baby Beluga".

Once that was done, I felt a lot better, like I had made something special for my daughter.  It gave me the energy to put the rest of the things together to go in her bed, and get it ready to go to the funeral home.

In her bed we included: A little mattress and pillow that my aunt made, including the whale baby beluga theme. We also included rosary from my mom, one of Mr. V's father's handkerchiefs, an itty bitty teddy bear, and small pink whale stuffed animal.  We also provided the funeral home a dress and hat to dress her in and a blanket to wrap her in.  No socks, since I am notorious for NEVER wearing socks :).  Her dress and blanket are duplicates of what she wore at the hospital, but I kept the ones she wore then, because they smell like her.

In this way I am grateful for the fact that we had some time to prepare for the fact that she might be leaving us early.  Having her diagnosis in November, we kept hope and faith that she could hang on, but it also gave us time to prepare for the worst.  I decided to get two of everything we bought for her for the hospital (blanket, dress, hat etc.) just in case , so I could have an identical set with me (and if she made it, it wasn't like it would be a bad thing to have two of the same blankets!).  This was a recommendation from one of the Carrying To Term groups I joined.  Being a planner, it helped to have something to prepare before her birth, but I didn't realize how truly healing and helpful this would be until I started to put her "bed" together. And, now, after she has been laid to rest, I cherish that everything she has with her, I also have here with me.

I would highly encourage any other parents in this position to do the same.  As hard as it was to think about I am so glad I have a blanket to cuddle with that is exactly the same as the one keeping my baby girl warm right now.

My baby's funeral

Yesterday I went to my daughter's funeral, and today we buried her.

I thought having to bury one baby, a year and a half ago, was the hardest thing I would have to go through in my life.  But I had to endure it again.

Despite the immense the grief and sadness I feel right now, I am eternally grateful for the support we have received over the last week. Our service for Elisa yesterday was absolutely beautiful and we could not have done it without the amazing support of our friends, family and church community.

We are so grateful for the amazing support of our friend Chris, who is a funeral director. Both Mr V and I knew Chris individually before we even knew each other. He was also in the chapel choir where Mr V and I met 10 years ago.  Having Chris there to hold our hands and guide us through this difficult time was such a blessing and something we can never repay him.  Not only knowing he was a friend who would not try to take advantage us in our time of grief, but Chris has an amazing way with both being incredibly spiritually deep and supportive, but then also know the exact moment to say something slightly inappropriate that would make us laugh :)

We are also so grateful for the support of our choir director Bill, and the members of our chapel choir that sang. As you may have picked up, Music is very important to Mr V and I.  Bill met with us to go over all the music we wanted to incorporate (and it was a lot!) and he helped us plan the service.  He also printed the worship aids, coordinated with the choir, and the priest and was just a wonderful friend through all of this.

The Choir, wow the choir.  When we walked in to the church, Both Mr. V and I almost lost it.  As we walked in they were practicing "Jesus Christ The Apple Tree" (we chose this because it was a song Mr V and I had sung in choir when we first met, and Elisa's plot at the cemetery is just below a little tree) And wow was the singing beautiful.  Then we rounded the corner where we could actually see the choir and there were 19 singers...19!   Plus a pianist, a guitarist and a violinist.  Some were friends we had sung every weekend with for years and years, others had left the choir years ago, and we had not seen them in a very long time and one brand new member, who we had never met even came.  It was so humbling the outpouring of love and support.

My Uncle, who hand made her little Casket, or as we like to call it, her little bed.  It was so beautiful and we could tell the love he put into it while he made it.  He Even made a little cross to go on top of it.

Everyone who came to the service.  We were so humbled by the number of people who showed up. Friends, family, co-workers.  Some people we had not seen since our wedding, others members of our church community who we had seen and talked to, but didn't know they knew us, Friends all the way back from high school an their parents.  It just seemed like a testament to our little girls life that she was bringing people together.

The music was beautiful, the setting was beautiful, and Mr V even sang a song to our little girl, the Faure Pie Jesu (I totally lost it when he started singing) Although it was very hard it was healing to see the love everyone had for her, and to see how many people have witnessed her short but beautiful life.

She's been gone a week

My post about Elisa's delivery promised this next one to be about our time with Elisa at the hospital, but honestly, I can't get myself to write about that right now.  It has been one week since our baby girl was born, born after her death, and I can feel myself slipping into the Pit (see post The Pit) that so many baby loss mommas describe. (Before I get too far on this post, I do want to make it clear that I know this road ahead is going to be hard, and I do have a counselor that I am seeing)

Tomorrow is her funeral service at Church and then on Thursday we will bury her, so I know I am dealing with heavy things these next few days, but I have lost my motivation.  I know I need to finish up preparing thing for the funeral.  Like gathering what we want to put in the casket.  My uncle hand made a beautiful casket for her, and we plan to add to it a picture of Mr V and I, her little whale stuffed animal (our baby beluga) and also a rosary and some other memorabilia.  We also want to write her a little note on the inside of the casket.

I know what I want to do, and what needs to be done (after all I am a planner by nature), but I just can't get myself to do it.  It is all just so final. I know we will have to take the casket down to the funeral home this afternoon, regardless of if I am ready or not, so I just need to get up and do it.  But it is easier to tell myself to do it, than to actually do it.

To add insult to injury, my engorgement pain has been excruciating since last Wednesday evening.  I am basically limited to laying on my back, with ice packs or cabbage (weird, right?!) and taking pain medication. I am alternating between Advil and Vicodin, and even that isn't enough to relive the pain.  It is to the point where I cant even lean over to get my own pain meds, Mr V has been having to wake up in the middle of the night to give it to me because even moving my arm to reach the bed stand to get medication hurts too much.

It just doesn't seem fair, that on top of all of this, I have this horrible physical pain, which feels like my body mocking me.  This whole pregnancy I feel as if my body has not done what it was supposed to do.  The placenta never gave my baby the nutrients she needed (I know, not my fault, and I did everything I was supposed to, but still it feels like my body betrayed me). Now that she is gone, my body still hasn't figured it out, and is producing milk for a baby that is gone.

It is just like a slap in the face, or a punch in the gut. And on top of it all, all I really want right now is to be held, to just have Mr V hold me while I cry, but instead I have to have him just hold my hand or rub my arm, while I lie in pain on my back trying not to move and agitate things more.

On Sunday it finally got to be too much, and the on call nurse finally had me go in.  I was able to talk to a nurse practitioner, and I guess the silver lining is that she has not seen engorgement this bad before (so yay I wasn't just being a baby!) and that when we do have a living child I will be able to provide for them very well.  She also OKed me to express a little, to at least help with temporary relief (at the hospital after delivery they were strict that I should not express any,  but I don't think they expected it to be this bad)

Although the appointment on Sunday was good to get some relief, it was also hard, because there was a newborn getting checked the room over.  And she just kept crying and crying, which caused me to cry and cry.  Then I saw on the schedule that the baby girl was only 4 days old, and her name was Ellie....My Elisa, MY Ellie, would have been 5 days old if she had lived. So I just started sobbing more.  The physicians assistant seemed confused as to why I was crying (why don't people read backgrounds!?) but luckily when the nurse practitioner came in she said she had read our background and she was so very sorry for our loss.

As I lay her writing, I am still in a lot of pain, but I hope starting on the road to recovery (psychically).  I just don't know how I am going to handle these next few days.  Having a funeral service for my baby girl and then burying her, just a few plots down from her older sister Luca. Burying one baby is enough pain for a lifetime, why are we having to bury another?

The Pit

I wanted to share this reading I came across in one of the baby loss groups I am a part of.  I am definitely feeling this today.  I remember "the pit" and how it changed me when we lost Luca, but I have a feeling that this time around "the pit" is going to be much deeper

The Pit

The day my child died, I fell into the pit of grief. My friends watched me struggle through daily life, waiting for the person I once was to arise from the pit, not realizing "she" is gone forever.

The pit is full of darkness, heartache and despair, it paralyzes your thoughts, movements and ability to ration. The pit leaves you forever changed, unable to surface the person you once were.

Some of my pre-grief friends gather around the top of the pit, waiting for the old me to appear before their eyes, not understanding what's taking me so long to emerge. After all, in their eyes, I've been in the pit for quite sometime. Yet in my eyes, it seems as if I fell in only yesterday.

Not all of my pre-grief friends are gathered around the top of the pit. Some are helping me with the climb out of the darkness. They climb side by side with me from time to time, but mostly they climb ahead of me, waiting patiently at each plateau. Even with these friends I sometimes wonder if they are also waiting for the pre-grief me to magically appear before their eyes. 

Then there are the casual acquaintances, you know the ones who say, "Hi, how are you?" when they really don't care or really want to know. These are the people who sigh in relief, that it is my child who died and not theirs. You know...the "better them, than me" attitude.

My post-grief friends (and a rare pre-grief friend) are the ones who climb with me, side by side, inch by inch, out of the pit with me. They are able to reassure me when I need reassurance, rest when I need resting, and encourage me to move forward when I don't have the strength. They have no expectations, no memories and no recollection of how I "should" be. They want me to get better, to smile more often and find joy in life, but they also accepted the person I've become. The "person" who is emerging from the pit

Author Unknow

Elisa's Birth

Elisa Josephine was born sleeping Tuesday January 20th at 11:05am.  She was 9.7 ounces and 9 inches long.  She had her daddy's nose, and my lips and she was so beautiful.  We are grateful for the time we had with her, but we miss her so very much.

Below is the story of Elisa's birth, it is long and detailed, mostly as a documentation for myself but feel free to read if you are interested.

Monday Afternoon January 19th - Doctor Visit

On Monday January 19th, we went in for our next growth and ultrasound at the high risk doctor.  We were so blessed that the ultrasound technician we had this time was so very sweet.  She started the ultrasound by looking to see what was happening with my cervix.  She moved the probe around a bit, and we could tell she was trying to be careful not to show the baby.  Finally Mr V asked, "are you able to tell us if she is ok?" And the tech responded very sweetly "That's what I am trying to do right now.... but I am sorry, I am not sure". Then she turned on the Doppler, and there was nothing........where waves should have been moving to show her heart beat, there was just black. She then tried to look at blood flow, and there was nothing.  Finally she zoomed in on her precious little heart, and it was still, no movement.  She said she was so very sorry.

I squeezed Mr Vs hand and the St Gerard novena medallion we were holding. Mr V. said "we knew this was going to happen one of these days, it is just so hard that it is now" and the technician was so sweet.  She said she was so very sorry, and we could tell she really meant it.

She then asked very respectfully if it was OK if she could take a few pictures.  We said yes because we wanted to know as much about her as we possible could.  On the ultrasound we could tell that our baby girl was not there any more.  In addition to her motion-less  heart, the lack of amniotic fluid was starting to put pressure on her little body.

The ultrasound tech finished up and went to go see the doctor.  Mr V and I just held each other and cried.  As much as we were prepared for this day it still didn't seem like a reality.  Even in our immense sadness we both said how we somehow knew she wouldn't be there today.

After about 10 minutes, the ultrasound technician came back and walked us down the hall to meet with the doctor.  Once again we were meeting with a different doctor, we have seen a new one every single time at the high risk office.  We were blessed again that the doctor we met with was so compassionate.  He came in and said he was so sorry for our loss.  He talked us through our options, that labor was really the best option, which is what our plan was anyway.  I knew I wanted to birth my baby and wanted to avoid surgery as much as possible.  He also reassured us that we did everything that we could have for her, and that this was in no way our fault. I knew this already, but it is always so nice to hear it.

He also said he knew that we would have loved her no matter what, or if she had disabilities (finally a doctor that read our file before meeting us!!) but that Elisa would have likely had severe complications if she had made it to weight to be delivered, because oxygen had not been reaching her brain for some time.  He also said if she had made it to delivery alive, she likely would have passed shortly after birth, which was one of my biggest fears, that she would pass away alone away from us, while I was still getting sewn up.

He let us know we could go to the hospital right away to be induced, or we could come back later that evening or tomorrow.  We decided we wanted to go home and get a few things and have some time to take everything in, and we would head back to the hospital that evening.  I asked him if he could tell me the size of her head because I wanted to make her a little hat.  His facial expression as he read the measurements told me he really did feel sorry for us and his heart ached for our loss.  I was so appreciative of his compassion.

We headed back home and the reality set in.  I had to call my mom to tell her the news, and was somehow somewhat calm.  She told me she would come over a little while after we got home to see if we needed anything.  When we got home we both had to tell work what was going on and then we called Mr. Vs mom and some close friends so that they could pray for us.  We started packing, to make sure everything we needed was with us and at 7:30 we headed back to the hospital.

Monday January 19th Evening - Admitted to the hospital

We were admitted to the hospital at 8pm.  Walking into the maternity ward, with my tiny little bump, I just started feeling like I was in a dream, a horrible nightmare, that I just wanted to wake up from.  I was trying everything to hold myself together but it was so hard.  We checked in at the front desk and they told us to walk down the hall to Anti-Partum where I would start my induction.  Thank God for Mr Vs good since of direction, and his clear head at this point, because I could barley tell left from right at this time.

When we got admitted into anti-partum, we met the nurse that would be taking care of me all night. And man, was she NOT compassionate at all.  I am normally the type of person that can get along with almost anyone, but this lady was so cold and unfeeling, I almost asked for another nurse.  The only thing that kept me from doing that was knowing that she would not be my delivery nurse.  She brought me into the room, not smiling at all and said " you can change into the hospital gown, or not, it doesn't really matter"  She put my bracelet on and then handed me a pill to take.  She said, "here take this, this will start the induction".

I knew at this point that our baby girl was gone, but looking at that pill it just felt like poison. I just couldn't get myself to take it. Mr V was sitting in the chair, which was close, but felt like he was so far away, and he was emailing to tell friends and family that we hadn't talked to yet what was going on.  I just felt so alone and like I was about to willingly poison my baby. So I just had to ask, I turned to the nurse and in a desperate voice asked "so they are certain on the ultrasound that she is no longer there?" to which no-compassion-nurse replied "Are you asking me a question?" in the most annoyed and harsh tone ever.  I replied with tears in my eyes "yes, I know it's silly, but yes" to which her reaction was just to hand me the water and go back to typing on her computer.  So I got Mr Vs attention and said I just needed him to be with me when I did this. I took his hand, and took the pill and just started crying. And the nurse left the room.

A few hours later the nurse came back in and said she needed to check my cervix and just said to take of my pants.Again, great bedside manner....she check and said nothing had happened yet, so she was going to give me the next dose vaginally.  She did that and then said someone would be in to give me my IV.

A little bit later another nurse came in to do the IV.  Immediately I could tell she was a kinder spirit. As she leaned over to scan my bracelet I saw her crucifix on her necklace.  Out of habit I grabbed my necklace.  I did it in a way as a sign to her of our common bond, but also along with my crucifix my necklace has a little L charm with the date of Luca's birth, and I often find myself clinging to it in times of distress (we will be getting another one with an E for Elisa).  After setting up the IV this nurse did one of the most compassionate things anyone did for me my whole time in the hospital.  She grabbed my hand and looked me right in the eye and said "She is with Jesus now, and He is holding her and taking such good care of her, I know this is hard and you miss her so much, but I will pray for her and you tonight"  She also noticed the two candles we had "burning" (they were the fake battery ones since they don't allow flames in the hospital).  For my birthday this year (two day's after Elisa's diagnosis) my mom bought me a white glass candle holder for Luca and a Pink one for Elisa (baby beluga then :) ) and we brought them to the hospital with us to have our angles with us.  We also told the nurse about Luca and she said "Now she will be with her sister, and the both of them are looking out for you"

When she left, Mr V and I both said how she was God showing us compassion and a sign of love an hope in what was such a hard time.

After the IV, which was around 10pm, we decided to watch some TV.  We both cuddled in the hospital bed and watched TV as the very small, short contractions started. Around 11:30 I knew I was tired and that we had a long day ahead of us, so I decided to go to bed.  I got about an hours rest before contractions really started to pick up.

Tuesday January 20th - Induction Continued and Elisa's Birth

Around 1am the contractions started getting a lot more intense and close together.  no-compassion-nurse brought me some pain medication that she said would work for 6 hours so I could sleep, well it only lasted for 2. And so I spent the rest of the early morning hours praying and trying to work though the contractions. Around 4:30am they came back to give me more induction medication and a little more pain meds.  I didn't want to get too many pain meds, because I wanted to make sure I was completely aware of what was going on when the delivery actually happened.

I continued to labor through the early morning and around 8am my parents came to see us.  It was around then that things started speeding up.  Contractions were about 45 seconds to a minute long and less than a minute apart.  Right after my parents got there they decided to move me from anti-natal to labor and delivery.  Our labor and delivery nurse, "nurse K" came to get me.  She was so kind, and was really my saving grace through a lot f what would come next. I was in so much pain by then, I barley remember the transfer to labor and delivery.  Just that I was in a wheel chair, and the contractions kept coming and but that nurse K was already kind enough to take the back way, specifically so we wouldn't have to see any other pregnant ladies or babies.

We got to our delivery suite and they had me change.  By that time, the pain was so intense I was feeling nauseous, and so my mom helped me change and then get in the bed. Nurse K came back in and so did the two Drs who were on call and would be delivering.  We met them, Dr. S a younger woman and Dr G, a middle aged male doctor, who was obviously more senior.  My parents went to go on a walk for 30 minutes as they said they still thought it would be a while until delivery.

Within a few minutes after the doctors and my parents left I was in so much pain, contractions were coming very close together and were very very intense.  Nurse K said "OK I am going to go tell the anesthesiologist that we need him, I think things are going to move fast. labor soon.  She came back and said he was just finishing up with someone, and would be here soon. It was about another 20 minutes before he got there and by then I was in immense amount of pain.

When they sat me up to start the epidural, I started hyperventilating, and could feel like I needed to start pushing.  Mr V held me, and nurse K was so good at keeping me calm.

As a funny side note throughout all of this, the anesthesiologist saw my name on the chart, and asked my husband (in Spanish) if I spoke Spanish.  Mr V being a little distracted by the fact that I was practically ripping his hand off in pain, responded "si" thinking he was asking if Mr V spoke Spanish. It also probably didn't help that the only word I was really saying at that time was the F word, over and over again.  Well then the anesthesiologist started talking to me and trying to calm me down in Spanish! Under normal circumstances I probably could have understood, but trying to understand a second language when you feel more pain than you ever had in your life, is a bit difficult.  Mr V kept translating to me and finally the anesthesiologist picked it up and started to speak in English again.

When they were about to put the needle in my back is when the contractions were at their worst.  This is when I guess I stopped breathing, because they got the needle in, and all I remember saying is "I can't hear anything, what is going on!?" I had lost hearing because I wasn't breathing, not because of the epidural!


Delivery

They laid me back down and before the epidural medicine had even started to flow I felt that I needed to start pushing.  So Nurse K called back in the two doctors.  They checked me and then started having me push.  It was such a surreal experience.  I could still feel most of the pain at this point.  Dr G the middle aged man, was obviously instructing Dr. S in what to do.  I even heard him say "yes, now remember, it is just like what you saw in clinical" great I was a science experiment.... Well they had me start pushing and things were going well for a while.  Mr V told me he could see her, and that her legs came out first.  That was when things took a turn for the worst.

I kept pushing, but it was obvious something was wrong.  Finally Dr G said, "we have a problem, her head is stuck"  He then proceeded to tell us, in what I still feel was the most horrible way, what was happening.  He said her head was stuck and that the cervix had started to close on it.  He blatantly said we had two options, one, they would first try to up my dosage of induction medication, and then they would have to wait two hours to see if anything happened.  If it did not, they would have to go in with forceps, crush her skull, and cut my cervix in order to get her out.  He also added that this would mean I would have an incompetent cervix for any subsequent pregnancy, and the chances of having other children would be minimal. He stopped talking, put in the medicine, and walked out. I am fairly certain I caught Nurse K giving him a very dirty look as he left.

Then I lost it. Threw my head back and started whaling crying.  Hyperventilating crying. Saying, I just want to hold her, to see her face, to take pictures! And why? how? how could future children be in jeopardy too?! haven't we endured enough?!

Mr V had to leave the room shortly to tell my parents the bad news. And I just collapsed my body on the hospital bed. Through my tears I prayed and begged, God, Luca and my baby girl to please, please not let this happen.

Mr V came back in the room and we just held each other and prayed.  Then I started feeling the urge to push again. I turned to nurse K and asked what I should do.  She said to relax, and they didn't want me pushing, that they would be back in two hours to see how things were. So I tried to relax.  Then about two minutes later, I felt something and just new, my baby girl was here.

I turned to nurse K and said "Umm I think she is here" and sure enough Nurse K lifted up the blanket on my legs, and there she was, our little Elisa.

I had the overwhelming feeling that this was my baby girls last sacrifice and act of love for us.  From the very beginning she has been a fighter, and defied the odds, and this was her way of saying "there is no way any doctor is going to tell my mommy she can't have more children" and so she came in to the world on her own without any help, to defy them!

After she was here, Nurse K called in the doctors who were very surprised that anything had happened, let alone so fast.  They then worked to deliver the placenta, which they were sure I would have to go into surgery to have removed.  But nope, again out came the placenta with just a small little tug.

Then however Dr G did something not compassionate again (surprise) he cut her cord, even though we had told them specifically that we wan't Mr V to do it.  I know a minor thing and we should be happy I was OK, but still just an added insensitive act.

 With that, they took the placenta off for testing, the two Doctors left and nurse K started to clean up and wrap up Elisa so we could see her.

I was so overwhelmed with what had happened.  All of the fear and shock we had when things went wrong, and then how quickly they turned around again.  I really truly feel our baby girl was looking out for us through all of this and that she didn't want anyone telling her mommy she couldn't have more children.  I am so proud to be her mommy.

The next few hours were both the best, and hardest of my entire life. I got to meet my baby girl and say goodbye all at the same time.  I will write more about that experience in the coming days

Another Angel in Heaven

Our baby is gone. Today, the ultrasound showed no heartbeat and my heart broke in two.  

We felt her move yesterday, so we think she left us within the last 24 hours. We knew this day was likely to come, but it still doesn't make it actually being here any easier.  

We had a wonderful 28 weeks with her and we are so grateful for the time, but we are so, so sad she is gone.

We have a name for her.  We we have had a name for her since she was conceived.  We just didn't want to share it, not even on here, until she was born.  We have always said that with any of our children, no one gets to know their names until they are born, and we wanted it to be the same with her.  Well, today her soul was born to heaven, and so today I want to share her name.

Elisa Josephine

Elisa  - This was always our name for our first baby girl (and since we didn't know if Luca was a boy or a girl, we chose a more androgynous name for "her") Elisa is a mixture of  Mr V's mom's name Elsa, with my mom's middle name, Alice.  It also means consecrated to God, which now means more than we ever though it would.

Josephine is the american translation of my Italian middle name, and was also my great grandmother's first name (the Italian translation) 

Today was a very hard day, but we know the next few days are going to be hard too.  We went home after our appointment to gather our things, and make some phone calls, but now we are back at the hospital, and they are going to start to induce me.  They think the process could take anywhere from a day to several days.  So now we wait for our baby to be born. Born after her death, which just symbolizes how much of this whole situation is backwards and upside-down.

Please pray for us and our sweet Elisa

"When are you due?"

When are you due?

It should be a simple question, but what I have realized recently is it is anything but.

It goes hand in hand with the other unknowingly complicated question, "is this your first?".  Both are questions I have asked nonchalantly to people before.  But now I know first hand the answers to these questions can be anything but simple. They are both questions that most people ask because they want to show they care, that they are interested.  So in no way do I ever blame anyone for asking, it just amazes me how those words now stop me in my tracks.

When are you due?

Four simple words leave my mind racing.  I am filled with so many emotions.  Happiness, and joy that someone is acknowledging my pregnancy, and the beautiful baby I am carrying.  Sadness and anger that I know she will likely not reach her due date, that we have been robbed of the blissful ignorance so many people have, and finally, fear and confusion on how I should answer.

Do I pretend everything is OK and just answer like anyone else would? Some days I do.  Either because I am just too exhausted to explain the situation, or sometimes I just want to enjoy the excitement. To somehow pretend just for a minute that everything is OK.  Sometimes those conversations leave me feeling better, like I have highlighted my baby girl and showed that I honor her life, and sometimes I am left feeling more alone in my situation.

Or there is the other option.  Do read the person, and tell them the true story? Burst their bubble with "she is due in April, but she isn't expected to make it to term".  Sometimes I do this, and I somehow feel bad for them, like they have unknowingly walked into what they saw as a field of roses, but is actually a field of landmines.  Or worse, I feel that by saying it out loud that I am giving up hope, that I don't believe in my baby girl. But most times I tell them anyway, I say "screw it!" I am done pretending for other peoples comfort, and if I want to tell the truth I tell the truth.

Throughout this journey, losing Luca, and then now with this high risk pregnancy, I have learned a couple of things.

First and foremost, is I need to do what I need to do for myself.  Protect my heart.  If that means pretending everything is OK in a conversation, I do it, if that means spilling my soul to a complete stranger, I do it. But I also have to gauge that other person, so I don't open myself up to hurtful words.

Second, is the majority of the time people don't really realize the actual situation.  Sometimes in sharing my story I end up connecting with someone who has been through a similar situation, and I am so glad we are able to open up together.  However, most other times, people just don't really get it.  They do their best to say something supportive. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.  And yes, it might make them sad, or think about things differently, but in reality, the next day or a few days later, they are back to their normal life, and don't think much about my situation.  Again, I don't blame them, these are my baby girls and I think about them every movement of every day, those people have their own lives that they are thinking about.

So I don't need to worry about what other's think. Yes, I need to protect myself in who I tell, just to avoid hurtful comments, but if I feel like talking about it, I have the right to talk about it.  It is my life story, and my baby girl.

I read somewhere a great example of this from another baby loss mom.  She said, the story of her pregnancy with her son, and his birth, is the only story she has about him.  Other moms get years of stories to re-tell about their children.  Their first words, their first steps, their baseball games or the time they had a solo in the school concert.  My Journey in pregnancy with my babies may be the only time I have with them but I am a mother, and I am proud of my babies, and honored to be their mom. So, I will tell their stories.  For myself, to honor them, and to break the silence on pregnancy and infant loss.

"Absolutely"

The last week or so I have started to try and navigate the confusing world that is time off in preparation for a pregnancy that is anything but standard.  I received the FMLA paperwork from my company, and had no idea where to start (seems fitting that I could just drop the A, call it FML paperwork?)

Expected departure date...I have no idea...that could be next week or it could be a month from now. Due date, April 14th, but we know we things will happen way earlier.

After a lot of canned responses from list serves (I work for a large company)  I was finally able to get a hold of someone in my HR department to actually talk to.

It was during the process of emailing with her I was completely blindsided by my grief again.  In addition to the logistics of maternity leave if baby girl miraculously makes it, and needs time in the NICU, I also wanted to prepare for the worst, if she doesn't make it. I had done a lot of research and unfortunately bereavement leave in the case of stillbirth is a debatable issue in companies.  In some companies and states, since the baby is not actually born alive, they don't consider it a family member death, and thus you don't get bereavement leave (I am not trying to worry anyone out there who is in the same situation I am, my recommendation with you is just to check before hand, as hard as it is, to make sure you know what is covered and what isn't).

So anyway, I emailed and asked the dreaded question, "if she doesn't make it, does that allow me to be eligible for bereavement leave as well?"  While writing this, I was very much in my "Maria the planner mode" saying I need to figure out the logistics, so at least that is one less thing to worry about.

Almost immediately, I received an email response from the HR department saying "absolutely!" I don't know what it was, perhaps I was partially expecting them to say no, or if they did say yes, it would be some super corporate response.  But reading those words "absolutely!" just made me break down in tears.  I cried more than I have in days.  It was just another small reminder of the reality that we are facing, that there is a very good chance I may need bereavement leave because my child, my baby girl might die.

While I was crying, baby girl started to move around again. And so, I took a deep breath, and told myself to pull myself together.  That I needed to stay calm for her.  I hold her I loved her, and I was so proud of her for fighting as long as she has.  This little girl is teaching me so much and I am so proud to be her mommy.

A Gloomy Sunday Afternoon

Grief is a weird thing.  For no apparent reason, today has been a rough day.  Nothing really out of the ordinary happened, it's just been hard. The last few days I have been surprisingly OK.  Not that I was dancing up and down the streets, but I had started to get a bit of hope back, and was also feeling a little numb.  Perhaps it is just I hit my threshold and the numbness is wearing off.

In addition to feeling sad, I am also feeling guilty that I am sad (oh Catholic guilt!).  I feel like since baby girl is still here I shouldn't be sad and I should enjoy the time I do have with her.  Like last weekend, when we took our road trip.  But right now, I can't get up the energy to do much.  I know I need to give myself a break, this is hard, possibly one of the hardest things I will go through in my life (knock on wood, I am not trying to tempt the fates to bring me more challenges!).

I am sure it doesn't help that I am still on bed rest.  I know myself, that if I could get up and go for a run, or even a brisk walk, that would shake me out of the way I am feeling, at least a little bit. I know it wouldn't get rid of the sadness, I have a feeling that is going to be around for a while, I mean no matter what, we know we have a hard road ahead of us, but it would at least get me out of the house and I'd be able to get some physical activity.

But if there is one thing these last few years have taught me, is sometimes you don't have the perfect working conditions.  Sometimes you have to make do with what you have. And I need to remember that what I do have is a wonderful husband who knows when to let me be sad, and hold me and when to force me to get up and about.  A husband who I can talk to about anything, who I can cry to about my fears and he will cry and be sad with me.

I need to remember I am doing the best I can.  And if last week that meant taking her on a trip, and this weekend it means laying on the couch and just holding and talking to my belly, then I need to be OK with that and cut myself some slack.  My mom always told me growing up that I was harder on myself than I am on other people, and she used to jokingly (and with part seriousness) say "Maria be nice to Maria" and well that's what I need to do today.  Be easy on myself.

So now I am going to get up and get ready to go over to my cousins to watch the Golden Globes. A little Tina Fey and Amy Poehler is sure to cheer me up a bit.

More appointments

We had to take an unexpected trip to the doctor yesterday  because my blood pressure spiked. Because little one has IUGR I am more prone to developing preeclampsia.  For the last few weeks the doctors have told me to check my blood pressure daily and keep track of any increase in headaches. Since around Christmas time my blood pressure had been hovering on the higher end of normal and the last week or so I had been having headaches.  Yesterday  my reading spiked over the 140/90 "you need to call" mark and so we called and they said they wanted me in ASAP.

Luckily when we got in to the office my blood pressure was below the 140/90 alert, but still on the higher end (how I was MORE calm going to the Dr. quickly? I have no idea! :) ) But because of the headaches and it still being on the higher end of normal they did some blood work. The said they would call last night or today if it was a bad result and if I didn't hear anything that "no news is good news". I didn't hear anything today so, I hope that means we are OK for now (knock on wood), but I am going to call tomorrow to double check.

I still have to keep a very close eye on my blood pressure because preeclampsia could sneak up at anytime.  I am not used to being so "high maintenance".  I have always been so healthy (which I am so grateful for) it is an adjustment to get used to knowing my body just isn't doing what it is supposed to be doing right now.  But I will keep on the look out, I need to do it for baby girl and I need to do it for my own health.

While at the office yesterday they did ask to do another Doppler check on baby girl.  As always I was so nervous.  I am just so scared that one of these days there will be just static from the Doppler and that our baby will be gone.  Both Mr V and I let out a sigh of relief when her little heart beat did come through over the Doppler.  It was about 138, so lower than it has been throughout the pregnancy, but still strong and loud.

Yesterday we were officially 26 weeks. We are thankful for one more day with her and cherish every day after we may get.

Showing "Baby Beluga" the World

After our appointment last Monday, when we received the update on Baby Girl's diagnosis, we realized things might not turn out the way we wanted.  We still hope and pray everyday for a miracle, that she can make it to a point where she could be delivered and be with us here on earth, but we are also slowly trying to take in the fact that that might not happen.

After getting through another few days of shock that things weren't getting better, Mr V and I decided if the only time we have with her might be while I am still pregnant with her, we want to make the best of that time and show her how much we love her.  Still being on modified bed rest, (we are still doing anything in our power to give her the best shot we can) makes grandiose gestures or big outings difficult, but we knew one place we wanted to take her; The Olympic Peninsula.

This is where my grandparents grew up, and where we took family vacations at least twice a year when I was growing up.  It is beautiful out on the Peninsula, evergreen trees, forests, and (cold) northwest beaches.  Throughout our relationship Mr V embraced how important it was to me, and it is where he proposed nearly 6 years ago (we got engaged January 10th 2009!).  If we were going to start making the best of the time we have with our baby girl, what better place to start?

So yesterday morning we got up, popped in the car and headed out.  It's about a two hour trip from our house (including a beautiful ferry ride!) and so we made it there, grabbed some lunch and then headed to the Dungeness Wildlife Refuge.  This is a beautiful area, with a view of the Straight of Juan De Fuca.

First we went to one of the drive up view points, or as my family has always called them, The Cliffs of Insanity! because there is a huge drop off, with the waves below, just like in The Princess Bride (one of my all time favorite movies!).

View looking up at the "Cliffs of Insanity" from below,
that we took later

We only had to walk a few steps to get a gorgeous view of the mountains and water.

We set up the tripod and took a few pictures.  We wanted to document that she came here with us.  It was really cold out but it was really important to me that I look pregnant in the pictures so I shed some layers and left my big puffy jacket behind the camera.  With baby girl having such severe IUGR even though I am nearly 26 weeks pregnant, she is only the size of about a 21 weeker

After getting some pictures, we drove a few minutes within the Wildlife Refuge to the entrance to the Dungeness Spit.  This is the longest Spit in the US; the Spit itself is 5.5 miles long, and near the end of it is a beautiful lighthouse. More family history here, as my great, great grandparents were the first keepers of the lighthouse here over 150 years ago.

There was absolutely no way we could make the trip to the lighthouse with my limited mobility but we were able to make the short walk, very slowly, from the parking lot down to the beach.

When we got to the beach we headed left a bit and found the spot where Mr V proposed 6 years ago. We had a beautiful view of the water right in front of us and the snow capped Olympic Mountains behind the water.  It was nearly 4pm by the time we got to the beach so we started to see the beginnings of the sunset. It felt so good to be out in the fresh air

We set up the tripod again and took some more pictures.  This one below is by far my favorite.  Mr. V down on one knee kissing our beautiful baby girl, in the same spot where he was down on one knee 6 years ago asking me to spend the rest of my life with him.  

It is amazing to think how different we are now than we were 6 years ago at this same place; we had no idea then what life had in store for us.  How in these last 6 years since engagement and 4.5 since we got married we would truly live the words in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, and I am so grateful for the man I married.  Since the joyous time 6 years ago when Mr V asked me to spend the rest of my life with him, his father was diagnosed and rapidly declined from cancer.  We endured the passing and funeral of his father.  We then supported each other during the few years of extremely stressful jobs.  We also held each other in the dismal times of infertility and wondering if we would ever have a family.  We rejoiced when we found we were pregnant in May of 2013 and endured what has thus far been the hardest time in our life when we lost our baby Luca from Misscarriage. We continued to gain strength in our relationship as we once again struggled to get pregnant and were over joyed and scared to find we were pregnant again in August of this year.  Just when we thought we couldn't endure more, and were hoping it would be our break, we some how found our relationship could be stronger as this pregnancy became high risk. And now as we face the real possibility that our Baby Girl could be born sleeping and we will once again have an angle baby rather than bringing one home, I am in awe and so very grateful for the man I get to spend the rest of my life with.