Your life may be the only Bible some people read

This past 2 years I have been a praying machine. As my husband got ready to deploy I prayed the Lord would give me guidance and strength. He would allow me to be both mother and father. That I would be able to manage a household alone for 14 months and that he would fill the empty spot in my heart while my husband was away.
Then he deployed and I prayed the Lord would both go before him and come behind him and serve as his shield and mighty protector. I prayed with all my being that he would come home with all his pieces.
Then my husband came home and I found out I had gotten pregnant that week and I threw up prayers of thanks and gratitude to the Lord, thanking him for the blessing of another child.
Then 3 days into my pregnancy when I started bleeding I prayed the Lord would spare my child and not let his life end as a mass of tissue. I prayed for a heartbeat and hope. Which I was given a week later when the bleeding stopped and my pregnancy continued on "normally".
I prayed for acceptance when we believe our child would have Down's Syndrome, I prayed for hope when my water broke. I prayed the Lord would subside my feelings of jealousy and anger when I got put on bedrest and my pregnancy spiraled out of control almost faster than I could handle. I prayed on my way to the hospital to deliver that he would breathe life into my son. And when my son later passed away I prayed the Lord would grant me peace and understanding and hope for the future.

I pray a lot.

Now I have a new prayer.

My prayer is that I will positively reflect Jesus in my life.Throughout this pregnancy and my loss, I have had an audience of people watching me, many of them non-believers. However, thanks to the Lord I have found peace in the middle of a storm. I have found Jesus in a new way and my desire for others to know him has increased in a way that never before existed. I want my actions to reflect that. I refuse to let my circumstances break me but rather to turn glory back to the Lord. I want to turn my pain into something good. I want people to see the peace I have been given, that can only be found through Jesus and have a desire to find that for themselves. I want them to see the amazing outpouring of love Jesus has for us, and to be aware of the many blessings he has given us and that no matter what life may bring, the Lord will always be there to lean on and renew our strength.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. " Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

  --2 Corinthians 12:9-10

coffee

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.



Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to a boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.



In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.



Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see."



"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.



Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.



Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"



Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. It's thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.



"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knock on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?"



Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?



Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship, or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?



Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, and egg, or a coffee bean?



May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy.



The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.



When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.



Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.



May we all be COFFEE!!!

Ways you can help me

So, a lot of people have asked me lately what they could do to help and until now I haven’t had an answer. But as I was laying in bed at 6:30 am this morning unable to sleep, I finally came up with a few ways that you CAN help me, and this may sound rude but here it goes:

1. If you are a chronic “glass half full” type of person chances are I won’t want to see you right now. I am a realist. I understand that the glass is not always half full, nor is it usually half full. Sometimes the glass falls, spills red wine on your new white carpet, shatters, cuts your foot wide open causing you to leave a blood trail across your house that leaves a permanent stain. Then you get a staph infection in that cut which causes you to need your foot cut off but that still isn’t enough and infection gets in your blood stream and kills you. This is life. When a child dies it’s not a “glass half full” type of situation and your attempt to find optimism for me will just make me resent you.

And while we are on the topic of resentment…..

If you don’t have kids - STOP SAYING YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL!!! You don’t know, you couldn’t possibly know. You can imagine how it would feel, but until you become a parent you could never fathom the crazy love you have for your babies. I don’t tell cancer patients I know what chemo is like. I know it sucks but that’s about it. If you want to allow my misery company than tell me that this blows and buy me a beer. When you try and say you know how I am feeling those are considered fighting words. Spare the stories about your dog, your uncle or your cousin’s friend. This just shows a lack of sensitivity (and understanding) to the unique loss of a child.

2. Furthermore, even if you do have kids, you still likely don’t know how I feel. Because if you did, you would understand that you don’t. This is not a one size fits all shoe. Every family is different, and the loss of a child changes every family dynamic differently. For some that means the loss of an only child after 20 years, for others it means the loss of a "baby brother" and having to explain death to a 2 year old. For some it means years of watching your child suffer with a disease, and for others it happens in the blink of an eye.

3.Although I know this is meant well, this is just a personal request. Please don’t tell me Noah is an angel. While highly religious, I don’t believe that dead babies become angels. This sentiment brings me zero comfort and actually starts to creep me out when people tell me that he’s my guardian angel that watches my every move. The thought of my child being an everlasting creeper just doesn’t cheer me up. If you want to fill my head with ideas that bring me comfort then let’s be real. My son is sitting with the angels, hanging out with Jesus and will never know pain. He got to meet his maker blameless as the day the Lord knit him together. Like my Facebook profile picture, I LOVE to imagine him in the arms of Jesus feeling comfort that neither I, or this world, could ever give him.

4. Say his name and say it often, PLEASE don’t make my precious baby the elephant in the room. Although his birth is forever associated with the worst night of my life, it doesn’t change the fact that my second child existed. I love that little boy every bit as much and as strongly as I love Nathan. I am proud of him the same I would be of a living child. He was a fighter. Although he died, he beat some crazy odds against him. He breathed for 2 hours with no lungs. He was considered a miracle and brought me great joy, even if his life did end in tragedy. It doesn’t bother me to talk about it. I didn’t have a lifetime full of happy memories to talk about, but I love to tell you what he looked like. That he had his dad’s nose and his brother’s enormous eyes. He had a little hammertoe just like his big brother. He looked like an exact, albeit tinier, replica of Nathan which thrilled me beyond belief.

5. Please don’t forget that I just had a baby. He may not have come home with me, but my recovery has not been an easy one. I just didn’t get the option to come home, crawl into bed and enjoy my baby like a mother deserves. So please understand when I don’t want to do things right away. I likely wouldn’t want to do anything even if I did bring Noah home with me.

6. And as long as you’re being understanding—I have an overabundance of pregnant friends right now. More of you are pregnant than not it seems, and you are all due right in the ballpark that I was. That said, it’s nothing personal but it’s just too soon to have your blossoming baby bellies and perfect pregnancies paraded under my nose. Let me enjoy your pregnancy from afar. I’m not painting my nursery and picking out baby booties. I am packing my son’s life away in a blue tote. While I am happy for you all and wish you the very best , it feels like salt in a wound to see how perfectly everything is going for everybody else when I had enough things go wrong for 15 pregnancies to be ruined. Please don’t pressure me right now, when I want to hang out I know where to find you. Until then let me grieve alone.

7. To those with kids: please hug them a little closer, kiss them a little more- or if you choose not to, at very least don’t blast all over Facebook what a major inconvenience they are to you. Don’t complain about your kids to me. I see my children as the greatest blessing imaginable. My kids are not a burden on me, they aren’t an inconvenience. Motherhood is not a thankless job. I would lay my life down in a second for my both of my kids. I want my sons like I want air. I had to work hard for them. To me infertility and child loss are not things that happen to other people. They define my life. So, forgive me when I don’t pity you for getting accidentally knocked up…again. Or when your newborn is getting up too much at night, or when you can’t find a babysitter to hit the bar. Let me see you loving your kids and appreciating them because it’s next to impossible for me to watch non-deserving parents being repeatedly blessed with children that they don’t care about or want.

8. Please don’t tell me that at least I have Nathan. He is not a spare car. They are not dogs. If your mom died I wouldn’t tell you “at least you still have your dad” because they are not interchangeable people. While I find a lot of comfort in Nathan, he also has made me aware of the power of a mother’s love and what joy my children bring to my life. It makes my loss seem even more real to me. Please don’t tell me I can have more children either. First of all, kids are not a guarantee to me. Both my boys were miracle babies that I should have never been able to conceive. And even if I was popping babies like a rabbit, my next child will not replace Noah and fill his spot in my heart. He was a unique life that was lost. If your husband died would knowing that you could get a new one make it any better?

9. Please don’t think this is something I need to “get over”. My dreams have been shattered. My family is forever broken. Noah was not an early miscarriage that I could only imagine what would have been, he was not a stillborn, he was not medical waste, he was not just a “fetus”. I held him, he looked just like his brother. He lived from August 6 to August 7. He has a birth certificate and a death certificate, he needed to be buried. I held him in my arms and watched helplessly as his heart stopped beating and he took his last breaths. I held him as he grew cold then I gave him to a nurse that took him away forever. While he wasn’t alive long enough for you to know him, he was very real to me. Don’t expect me to get over this quickly. I am doing the best I can but this has changed me in a way that I won’t bounce back from. Don’t try to cheer me up. Grieving is a process of healing.

10. Finally, thanks to the people out there that have supported me and showered my family with love and generosity. I didn’t know there were so many people out there that cared about us this much and your kindness has been remarkable. It touched my heart to see how many people loved our sweet Noah so much and to know that his life did matter to so many. Thanks for your support and love :)

Psalm 55:22

Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.

John 11:1-57

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. It was Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent to him, saying, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it he said, “This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. ...

2 Samuel 12:23

But now he is dead. Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.” (King David speaking of his infant son who died)

Hanging in there

So tonight is the first time in almost 3 months that I have been left alone with my son. My husband and sister wanted to go catfishing and they were going to wait until Nathan fell asleep but the little boy just wouldn't give it up so I finally just told them to go. I kind of have felt like the fun crusher the past few months and I figure we'll take baby steps back to recovery and to me being able to take care of my son again.

Fortunately he fell asleep before they pulled out of the driveway, I just get so nervous that something will happen and I won't be able to help him. The last time my husband left, Nathan got stuck behind the couch while trying to retrieve a toy. My sister was home fortunately and I woke her up to fish him out. I just hope he doesn't pull any shenanigans tonight and that he really is asleep!

Post-partum recovery is about as good as it probably can be. My last steri strip fell off tonight (actually I helped it fall off because I was tired of looking at the one random strip in the middle of my belly). My scar doesn't look too bad actually. I am surprised. It's huge. Way bigger than anybody else's I have seen. It must be 7 inches long, but I have heard that they shrink down as they heal. It grosses me out that I can feel the stitches they put in my muscle through my skin. And if I pull my skin tight I can see a huge lump where the stitches knots are. But that should get better as they dissolve if I understand correctly. My pain has been pretty good too. I have been off my pain pills completely for several days now which I am glad for. I am finally down to just one pill a day (my prenatal) as opposed to the 30 pills a day (no joke) they had me taking when I left the hospital. I must have spent an hour a day trying to choke down pills. Although I was usually able to avoid a few of those pills by skipping pain pills when I could.

Today was a pretty good day. I was able to get a lot done around the house with minimal pain and took a little trip to Walmart with David. I know it's lame but it is nice to get out and have a little alone time with him once and awhile. My sister spends more time with him alone lately and I am getting antsy for some hubby time!

I got the pictures and some video footage from Noah's funeral today. It took me awhile to get the strength to pop in the disc. I had already seen most of the photos thanks to Facebook but there were a few in there that I hadn't seen. It was hard to look at them again, but also encouraging to know how far I have come in just 2 short weeks. I have to thank my husband for his constant encouragement through this. He is confident of Noah's purpose on this earth. And he reminds me daily that our little boy's life was not a waste,and also reminds me of my strength when I'm just not feeling it. It's so wonderful to have such a supportive husband who can build me up so much.

I really am looking forward to getting the pictures from the photographer, I pray that she captured at least one image that I can have enlarged and hang on my wall that will actually look nice, and not be a sad picture to look at, or make guests feel uncomfortable. I still have about 2-4 weeks to wait though.

Well, I should sign off. Need to hop in the shower and head to bed. Apparently the apartment manager is coming tomorrow between 8 and 5 (don't you just love how specific they are?) and that means I need to be up and have all of the under-sink ares cleaned out by 8 because they need to check for a water leak. Lucky me!!

Bring my sons from afar and my daughters from the ends of the earth—everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made (Isaiah 43:6-7).

New ink coming soon

So, I do know these aren't the exact words to the song, but I took a little creative liberty with this masterpiece song, moved a few lines around, and came up with a verse that really sums it up for me. I am having it tattooed on me along with Noah's footprints:

For me, be it Christ,be it Christ hence to live;
The sky, not the grave is our goal
No pang shall be mine,for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper thy peace to my soul

A rant

I really feel like nobody understands me. And not in some emo, teenage girl way, but I just don’t think anybody really “gets” what is going on for me right now.

I know this is a big world, and that in actuality there are plenty of people that actually know how I feel. But in my community, there is nobody that understands. I am aware of the forums and online support groups but I don’t really want to be part of some cyberspace dead babies club. That is one thing I wish to be excluded from. Somehow talking to strangers that type in all caps and misspell so many words you have no idea what they are even saying isn’t going to make me feel any better…

I feel like way more is being expected of me than should ever be expected of anybody. Before a lot of mothers who had a C-section even try and take baby steps to the bathroom, I had already been up and out the door and buried my child. Everybody told me they couldn’t believe how well I was doing, well I wasn’t doing well. But I didn’t have the luxury of relaxation. I had a funeral to plan, and clothes to buy, a 2 year old to take care of. I needed to pick out a casket and apply for a death certificate. I had a house full of family members from out of state. I had to meet with the pastor, pick out Bible verses, make a slideshow of my son’s short life to play at his funeral. It wasn’t that I didn’t hurt…but I had to “walk it off” because I had no choice.

I feel like I am being very rushed to get over this. Like people think I need to just move on and they forget that it hasn’t even been 2 weeks since my son died. I think people forget about my part in this whole equation. Because Noah isn’t here I feel like people forget that I just had a baby. I think if Noah was here with me, I could have come home from the hospital and laid in bed for 2 weeks straight and nobody would have said a thing. But I pushed myself as far as I could and I didn’t let this slow me down, I ultimately shot myself in the foot.

Then there are the people who think they know exactly what I am feeling. These are usually the people that have no children. Or the ones that have kids that they do nothing but complain about because they are hard work. Or the ones that miscarried at 6 weeks. Now, I am not trying to downplay people who have miscarriages. But I had one myself, and I can tell you that these are two completely different cups of tea. I carried this child for 6 months. 6 torturously stressful months in which I fought tooth and nail for this child. I felt his kicks and turns and hiccups, I knew I had a second son. I prayed for this child. I had hopes and dreams. I prepared my toddler for the arrival of his baby brother. Then I had to explain death to that same little 2 year old when he didn’t understand why his baby brother wouldn’t stop sleeping. I gave birth to that child all alone while my husband was hours away, and then I held onto that little boy when he died 2 hours later in my arms because my body had failed him. How many of my friends really do know what I am feeling?

I am guessing the answer is very, very few. Very few of them know this aching feeling I have in the core of my being. Very few of them know what it’s like to put their little boy in the ground and walk away. What it’s like to have a 6 inch scar across their stomach that will be a permanent reminder of the worst night of their life. They think their life is tragic when their baby daddy gets stuck working the weekend shift. If you really knew how I felt, you wouldn’t tell me you know how I felt because you would know better. You wouldn’t tell me that my baby is an angel, or that every time it rained I could hear his footsteps in the storm. Or to look at a butterfly and imagine it’s him.

Yah….thanks but no thanks. I find no comfort in a bug, my son reincarnated.

I feel like I am in a weird spot anyways. Noah didn’t live long enough for people to know him and validate him as worthy of my grief. I didn’t bring him home from the hospital and so people forget that I had a baby and expect me to just get on with life. I can’t do that. Noah was a real person, he was my child. I have two children. I gave birth to him and fought harder than most people will ever have to fight for their kids. The only difference is that at the end of it all, my son didn’t get to come home with me.

Also, am I the only person in the world that’s not pregnant right now? I’ll just go ahead and say I am jealous. I wanted this baby so bad. I know the frustration of infertility and I would have done anything for this child. Meanwhile I have about 50 friends having “oops” babies. I have several friends that got pregnant on their first try that are having perfect pregnancies and perfect babies. Why was it so much to ask that my baby live? I really believe that I long for my children in a different way than most. I don’t take them for granted, I don’t look at them as an inconvenience or a burden. I don’t see motherhood as a “thankless job”. I saw my sons as the biggest blessing I could ever receive. I would have died on that operating table for my baby to have his life. I put my life on the line to even stay pregnant with him. I knew the risks of it killing me were relatively high. I knew that I could have bled to death before an ambulance could make it to my house, I knew my risk of infection was basically guaranteed. But that wasn’t even a blip on my radar. I wanted my son that bad.

I don’t understand why this happened to me. Why didn’t this happen to a teenage girl that left her baby to die in the trash on prom night. Or to a drug addicted, crack head that neglected her child. Or to the parents of a child that would molest their babies or beat them to death mercilessly. Why did this happen to me? I am a good mom. I feel like my son’s life was wasted. I know God has a plan, but for today I am very discouraged.

I have tried so hard to stay positive but today I just needed a rant. I still need your prayer through this. Please pray that I can learn to delight in other’s children, because currently I am having a hard time not feeling resentment towards all the other parents around me. I also pray that the Lord can open my eyes to Noah’s purpose on this earth, I need to know why my baby was taken away from me. I also need some peace of heart and restoration of my body. I want to enjoy the rest of my family which is hard right now. I am hurting too much. Both emotionally and physically.

My next blog won’t be such a rant, I promise. But for today thanks for listening to me!

The night Noah was born

Today is my 6 year anniversary. It also marks a week since I handed my son over to the nurse to be taken away forever. This has been the hardest week of my life and I am amazed by how life can literally change in the blink of an eye.

Last Saturday, August 6^th, I spent the day on the couch like normal. David was at drill 5 hours away and I was online reading about baitcasters so that I could order him the perfect one for our anniversary. I ordered a card from Hallmark and was amazed by how much I could accomplish on bedrest. It was about 9 pm when I stood up to go to the bathroom. I felt a big gush as soon as I started to walk, but thought nothing of it since I typically gushed amniotic fluid every time I stood up. When I got to the bathroom and realized it was blood I was a little disappointed but was so used to bleeding that it didn’t seem like a big deal.

When I realized it wasn’t stopping I started to get a little nervous. I texted my mother-in-law and my husband a little precautionary heads up, but figured it wouldn’t turn into anything. Suddenly I had a horrible cramping pain in my back and then I started gushing blood. I knew instantly that something was wrong so I told my sister to get Nathan dressed. I tried to reach my husband but couldn’t get a call to go through so we raced out the door and off to the hospital which was about 5 miles away. About 2 miles from the ER I started having contractions. I tried to stay as calm as I could, and tried telling myself it wasn’t really labor pain. I still hadn’t talked to my husband and I told myself this just couldn’t be happening.

My sister dropped me off at the entrance and took the SUV to find a parking spot. By the time I got in the front door I was gushing blood, it was running down my legs and soaked through my pants. I was contracting harder and harder. They rushed me up to Labor and Delivery and hooked me up to monitors and told me that yes I was having contractions. They were less than 2 minutes apart already by that point.

A doctor came in and asked me a few questions than told me that I was going to need a C-section immediately. I begged him to please wait until my husband could get there but he told me he wasn’t going to wait for anything. He said there was no time to wait because I was going to bleed to death. They were only waiting until they could let Marshfield Clinic know to send over a NICU team by chopper. They couldn’t transfer me they said because I would crash in the ambulance. Then my doctor was gone, at that point my mother-in-law showed up and my husband called. I didn’t know what to tell David other than that this was it, I was having a baby at 24 weeks. I just remember being heartbroken that he was 5 hours away and knowing that he was going to miss this. Just then my doctor showed back up wearing scrubs and they started wheeling me away. My mother-in-law and son walked with me and he gave me a kiss then I was brought into the surgical room.

They transferred me onto a table and it suddenly hit me. I was terrified. I have this fear of being put under and I was scared that I would die, and my baby would die and that I would never hold my sons again, never see my husband. I regretted how nonchalantly we said goodbye to each other the day before when he left for drill. The anesthesiologist was explaining to me the risks of my breathing tubes flooding my lungs with stomach acid since I had a full stomach and suddenly I couldn’t see.

You know the feeling you get when you stand up too fast and you get tunnel vision for a second? That happened over and over. Everything would fade into a little pinhole, then back out so that I could see again, then back into a little pinhole and back and forth it went. I couldn’t breathe very well and they had a mask strapped over my face, my arms were tied down and I panicked because I felt like I was suffocating and I couldn’t get the mask off my face. Suddenly I was being poked from every angle. They inserted a catheter and started scrubbing my stomach, I was being stuck with needles in my arms and legs and had a team of about 15 people around me. Then I heard a ringing in my ears, it sounded like a school bell. It was so loud I could barely hear anybody talking around me, I couldn’t see anything. I heard my doctor yelling to put me under now and the anesthesiologist told me to count to three. I barely said “one” and that’s all I remember.

The next thing I remember was hearing someone call my name over and over. In my head it sounded like she was singing my name, although I know she wasn’t. I struggled to open my eyes and when I did there were bright lights shining all over me, but the rest of the room was dark. I saw my mother-in-law standing there and she immediately told me that Noah was alive, and that he had been alive for just over two hours. She told me that surgery went well and that they didn’t have to do a hysterectomy and that David was on his way. My heart soared when I heard my baby was alive. They told me he was such a strong little fighter. I remember in my groggy stupor thinking that someone told me to nurse him. I started begging that they bring him to me to be nursed.

As I slowly started coming to , I realized that him being alive was not the good news I thought it was. They told me later it was a miracle he lived as long as he had. They had done a chest X-ray that showed no lungs. They had somehow managed to keep him alive for 2 hours but his heart rate was failing and he only had a heartrate of 35 bmp. They said all they could do was chest compressions and that wouldn’t save him, but would keep his heart beating until they stopped. My husband had told them on the phone not to do that, his tiny little frame couldn’t handle it and they were scared they would break his ribs. David told them to bring Noah to me.

I hate that this next part is so groggy to me and that I will never really remember the three minutes I spent with my son. I remember them handing him to me, I couldn’t believe how tiny he was. He was 1 lb ,7.6 oz and 11 ½ inches long. He had suffered IUGR (growth retardation). I couldn’t believe how much he looked like Nathan. It was almost like they handed me a tinier version of the same baby. I took a few pictures with him then the neonatologist began removing his tubes. I didn’t realize that signaled the end of his life. Had I known that I would have held him closer and told him how much I loved him but instead I just held him in the corner of my arm and stared at his tiny little face in disbelief. David was on the phone and he asked that we put the phone up to Noah’s ear so that he could say hello and goodbye. Then the doctor put his stethoscope up to Noah’s chest and I asked if he was alive and the doctor told me that he wasn’t.

I will never forget that feeling. It makes me nauseated to even remember it. I felt like I was in a horror movie. My son, my tiny, sweet, precious little baby had just died in my arms and there was nothing I could do. All the dreams I had for this little boy, and the hope I had the past months that if I just tried hard enough he could beat the odds, everything just disappeared and was replaced by the most empty feeling I have ever experienced.

I had heard losing a child if the most severe grief a person could ever experience, and I had tried to prepare myself for it. But what I thought it would feel like, and what it actually felt like weren’t even close. I just imagined the deepest sadness imaginable. What I was feeling was a desperation. I realized that everything else in my life that was ever hard or a struggle was temporary; that if I could just wait it out it would get better. I can’t wait this out. My baby will never be brought back to me. This will last forever.

I crave for my little boy like a drug addict. There is this anxious empty feeling in the pit of me that sucks the breath out of me. People keep saying that at least I still have Nathan. I almost think makes it worse. I now know what kind of love you are capable of as a parent. I know what Noah was capable of bringing into my life. The joy that he would have been to me. And instead he laid there cold in my arms.

I don’t really remember much else about that night. I know that David got there about 90 minutes after Noah died. I don’t remember anything between the moment that the doctor told me he was gone and when David walked in. And it pisses me off that I can’t remember it.

I kept Noah with me all night. After everybody left, and David took my sister home , I was left there alone in the dark with my little boy. I cuddled him up in my arms and held him to my face. I wanted to keep him as warm as I could. I know that sounds stupid but feeling him get colder and colder was nauseating to me. I just wanted to be able to imagine for awhile that this didn’t really happen and that my perfect little boy wasn’t really gone. I laid there until the sun came up and my doctor came back in. He told me that I had suffered a placental abruption. 50% of my placenta had torn off in half an hour and I was bleeding to death. Everybody told me to get some sleep but I couldn’t sleep. The time I had with my little boy was precious to me. I didn’t have the rest of my life with him, I had a few hours and I couldn’t sleep that time away.

A professional photographer came in that morning to take pictures of us. Nathan decided that he was just smitten with his baby brother. He kept trying to wake him up which broke my heart. He held him and kissed him and we told him that Noah was with Jesus now. I wanted to spare Nathan of the sadness. We told him how Noah was such a big boy now and he wasn’t sick anymore and that he was playing with Jesus now. Nathan just loved the thought, he still talks to me about what he thinks Jesus and Noah do all day. According to him, they spend a lot of time playing with cars.

I kept him with me for 12 hours. I would have kept him longer but I wanted an open casket funeral and since he was too small to be embalmed, if they didn’t take him soon I wouldn’t be able to have an open casket. Saying good bye to him was so hard. I knew that it was the end of our time together, and that I would never hold him again. I just wanted to hold onto that time with him because it was all I would ever have with my son. Finally I was able to hand him to the nurse, she put him in a carrier and covered him up, he looked like he was sleeping. Then she wheeled him out the door and he was gone. I cried and cried. There was nothing I could do to make it better. I wanted to get out of the hospital so bad so I decided to put all my efforts into proving I was ok to leave. I got up and walked as far as I could, a stupid CNA walked me past the nursery though which was the end of my walking for me. I sobbed all the way back to my room. I took a shower, even shaved my legs and tried to fall asleep. My doctor came back in at 6:30 am. He told me I could go home that morning. I was so happy that in just over 24 hours he was letting me leave. I had to wait until after noon though until my mother-in-law could come get Noah and take him to the funeral home. I had to fill out a birth certificate and funeral home information. Seemed so unfair. I got packets of information on surviving stillbirth but this wasn’t a stillbirth. I had a baby who was alive in my arms and was now dead. I really felt like nobody understands how that feels.

When I had Nathan I felt really robbed that he had to be transferred to the NICU in Neenah and that I had to walk out of the hospital empty handed with no baby. What I wouldn’t have given now for that to be my situation. I had to walk out of the hospital and leave my baby in a freezer. The whole thing seems just sick to me.

This blog has gotten pretty long though, and I really just want to make sure that someday I can remember all of this. I will update more later about the funeral but for now I am signing off.

1 day postpartum

Our sweet baby boy was born last night. He was 1 lb 8 ounces and 11.5 inches long. I was 24.3 weeks pregnant. I had a placental abruption and went into labor. I had to be taken in for an emergency C-section. My husband was 5 hours away at drill when I went in for my surgery.

Noah lived for just over 2 hours, but by the time I came to, he and I only had a few minutes together before he met the Lord. He died silently in my arms. My husband wasn't able to get there until almost 90 minutes after his passing.

He was the absolute spitting image of his big brother. He was the most perfect little thing I have ever seen. My heart aches tonight. Please keep us in your prayers and I will update more when I am feeling better.

We are hoping his funeral will be this Wednesday although all the details have not yet been worked out. His funeral will be at Faith Community in Waupaca and he will be buried in Manawa. I hope to be out of the hospital tomorrow but they say it may be as late as Tuesday before they let me go home.

24.2

Today was a pretty quiet day in the Herman household but you won't get any complaints from me! I am a little nervous because it's a drill weekend for David and it makes me a little uneasy to have him 4 hours away. If something did happen it would take him probably 6 hours to get to the hospital and a lot can happen in 6 hours. But so far all is quiet on the homefront.

My mother-in-law came by today and gave me a lesson on crocheting. I kinda get it. I think a little more practice and I can be well on my way to making Noah his first blanket :) Well, actually his second blanket because as it turns out my ten year old sister has already mastered the fine art of crocheting and made him a fancy little preemie blanket. Otherwise it's been another stimulating day of laying on the couch!

Just like the past few days I have been leaking more than normal. I hope this stops soon and it's not just another annoyance I am going to have to learn to deal with. On top of it I have been having some weird sensations where I think my cervix would be. I wouldn't even say it hurts, but it's kind of a pinching, uncomfortable feeling. The one good thing about having a complete placenta previa is that I WILL know if I go into labor. So I don't have the added anxiety of sitting around wondering if every little Braxton Hicks contraction and cramp is pre-term labor. I will have a great big gush of blood to tip me off. I will consider that a silver lining lol.

I am happy to have my sister here, Nathan is quite the busy little boy these days and I most certainly could not take care of him by myself anymore. I can barely take a shower without having pain and pressure, so chasing him around the house is out of the question. I have found that even just sitting upright is getting very uncomfortable. Although last night I cheated on my bedrest just a little. I sat up in my bed for about 2 minutes and let Nathan sit on my lap. I have done so well laying here all day so I figured that I would hold Nathan for a minute, it has been over a month since he's sat on my lap and it definitely did my heart some good!

I ordered some beads (and by some, I mean enough to open my own bead shop!) and have big plans to make bracelets with my sister over the next few weeks. I am looking particularly forward to making my mother's bracelet that says "Nathan" and "Noah" on it. If it turns out how I envision it it will be awesome!

Well, that is all for tonight. I am signing off for now and heading to bed shortly. Let's hope for another uneventful night and praise the Lord for watching over Nathan another day.

24.1

Not much to update today, seems life is rather uneventful from the living room couch. But I have committed myself to more frequent updates because someday I want to be able to look back and remember all this. That may sound crazy but sometimes I think it is good to reflect on the bad times so that you can truly appreciate the good days.

I haven’t felt much movement from Noah today which is always worrisome, but I have gotten a few reassuring jabs from him telling me he is ok. I sometimes think he can sense when I have had enough and he gives me a few pity kicks to calm me down.

I had the biggest leak of fluid to date. It soaked through a pad and actually required an outfit change. It was disappointing to lose all the fluid, but also nice to know that I was able to accumulate that much even if it was just for a short time.

It seems the longer I lay here the more time I have to dwell on things, which can be scary. Today I have moved past the constant baby worry after managing to stumble across a page specifically for positive pProm stories (I have managed to block out all the bad ones I read).

But my worry has been replaced with jealousy. I am jealous of all the girls that get pregnant on their first tries, I am jealous that they just assume things will go as planned, I am jealous of all the girls that get to celebrate WITH their husband and plan together to welcome another person into their family. I never got to experience those things. Granted my husband is home this pregnancy which has truly been a godsend. But instead of joyously expecting, we sit here day after day with a cell phone ready to call an ambulance when I start gushing blood, my hospital bags packed at 20 weeks and waiting to go, and the very real and gut wrenching knowledge that I have a 70% chance that after all of this, I will have a C-section that will leave me with a physical reminder forever of the child I lost. And if things really go poorly I will have a hysterectomy and will never be able to have more children.

It’s all a tough pill to swallow.

Throughout it all I feel this presence telling me not to give up though. Almost like God is whispering to put my trust in him completely. I have always been pretty independent and I felt like God gave you the skills to work hard and make life what you want it to be, so, it’s a foreign concept to sit back and let Jesus take the wheel while I do nothing but trust in him. I almost have to wonder if this isn’t all a lesson in faith. I truly have fallen into the one in a million category with everything combined, yet little Noah remains strong and grows bigger and stronger every day.

The week before all this began we named him Noah, which means “peaceful” and “long lived”. I can’t help but feel like that is a message from God to find peace in all this. I just remind myself that the worst case scenario is my sweet baby boy meets his heavenly father much sooner. It really is out of my hands now. His will be done. And if that means he calls little Noah home to him I am confident that my Lord is the master healer and will mend my heart.