Chapter Eleven: "The Hardest Thing"

Want to hear something hysterical?

When I was 15 almost 16, I thought the hardest thing I would ever have to do was to move from where my family lives in Virginia Beach to where we live now. I thought I wouldn't survive it. I thought I would hate my parents forever.

When I was 19 going on 20, I thought that the hardest thing that I would ever have to do was to get through college and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I thought I wouldn't ever know "who" I was and I spent a lot of time figuring that out, and not always in the best ways.

When I was 22, I thought the hardest thing I would ever have to do was find a man who would want me after all the crap I had done. I didn't think it was possible for a man to love me. I made fun of those who tried. I gave up when I realized Blair actually did love me.

When I was 22, I thought that the hardest thing I would ever have to go through was losing a baby at nine weeks. I thought my heart would irrevocably break and I wouldn't ever be able to function again. I spent months crying and asking Why, and forgetting God's control. I was terrified when I found out we were pregnant with Ellie, convinced that if "it" would happen again, I'd never recover.

When I was 23, I thought the hardest thing I would ever have to do was to survive the birth of my daughter. I thought that I would never feel like me again and thought that Blair and I would never be "us" again.

When I was 24, I thought the hardest thing I would ever go through was a second miscarriage. This one I would push down, hide my feelings, run away so that I didn't have to feel. I felt jaded, cheated...this had already happened once...I couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that it was happening again.

Now. Here I am at 25, with a month old son still in the hospital after he had open heart surgery.

Why is this hysterical?

Because each of those things were the hardest things when I was going through them. Each thing stretched me and pushed me and amazingly, I got through EACH thing. Regardless of that fact that I thought I never would. Looking back, I realize how short term each of those things were. How temporary. How amazing. How God used those things to shape me into be more like Christ. How I grew.

"For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison". 

-2 Corinthians 4:17

The days have dragged on for us. Each one blending into the next. I cannot believe we've been here for a month. I cannot believe my son is a month old. I keep thinking that the "hard" parts are over only to get slammed with another hurdle we have to overcome. Another hurdle my son has to overcome. Some days, man does this get to me. 

Monday was so rough for me. I'm not sure where my heart was or my head were, but it wasn't right. It certainly wasn't focused on the Lord. I felt defeated, scared, frustrated, and weary. I crawled into my husbands arms and he held me while I cried, while I told him over and over again, "I just wish we were all home, I just feel useless, I just want to take this from our son." 

In those deep secret moments it is hard to remember that this is a light momentary affliction. It is hard to remember that one day, something else will come into our lives and I will think, "This is the hardest thing I've ever gone through." It is hard to remember that one day I will look back on this and see God's hand through it all, not that I'm not seeing it now. 

In the midst of the storms though, we often forget that sun light ever existed. 

It does though. 

Already I am seeing God shape me. Already I am seeing God use our son's life to touch others. Already I am growing from this experience, in ways I never thought possible. God's glory is profound and will not be stopped. I see it. 

Seeing it and feeling it though are two different things. 

I am fighting every day to make sure that my heart and head collide, and when they do, I make sure that the Truth is there. I have to or else I'd go mad...

When I think of how I felt that summer I was 15...I laugh at my younger self. How silly...to think moving would break me. I want to tell my fifteen year old self, "Just wait, ten years from now you will watch your child struggle to hold onto his very life...shut up and move. You're fine." At the same time...for me, then, it was the hardest thing I've done. I needed to go through that to know how to process my emotions. Do you know what I did then, to help myself cope? I wrote, painted, and colored. 

Do you know what I am doing now, to help myself cope? I am writing, painting, and coloring. (Seriously...I hand out coloring pages to his nurses all the time...they think I'm a genius and I let them think that...) 

My point is...life is hard. We go through things that we think we will never make it through. We struggle and cry and rage and have good days and bad days. We think our hearts will break and never be whole again. We think that we have nothing left to give. We think that we are at the end of our strength. 

But...we do make it through. We do survive. We do love again. We are made Whole. We do have more strength than we could ever imagine. 

On the worst days here, I repeat that verse to myself. Light. Momentary. 

The Glory that this little family will see at the end of this...all I can hope and pray is that we bring people closer to Christ. We share our struggles and joys and I share these thoughts and emotions. Don't miss what I'm saying. Don't miss Who is getting me through this. Don't miss Who is healing our son. 

This is hard. As of right now, it's the hardest thing I've ever gone through. 

So I can't help but be on the edge of my seat to see what God will ask of me next...

I can't help but wonder...will I ever think back on this time and think "Man, that was nothing compared to this!" 

Maybe. Maybe not. 

All I know is that I wasn't promised that it would ever be easy, only that He would walk with me through it. I take a lot of comfort in that. 

Ok

This is my second miscarriage. Everyone wants to know how I am.

Here's how I am. I'm ok.

Just ok.

My first miscarriage was my first pregnancy and it hurt my heart like no other. It came fast and swift and a week later it was all done and my body had healed physically. It was the emotional scars that I had to deal with that first time.

This time, it's not so much an emotional turmoil as much as it is a physical thing.

I'll spare you details that are better meant to be told to a doctor, but I am going to tell you that this time it has been painful. And it has lasted a long time. In fact, as of right now, losing this baby is still not over. I am reminded constantly that my body rejected another baby. I live with that everyday and I doing my best to accept it.

My heart was prepared to lose this little one. For weeks I'd been telling my husband that we needed to see if this baby had a heartbeat. I had many nightmares about waking up...well, not in a good state. When I started spotting, I knew right away. When we went to see the doctor, I knew that even though she was hopeful that when we went for that ultrasound that I would not see a heartbeat.

I prayed that I was wrong.

I begged to be wrong.

Fact is though, I wasn't.

And I'm ok.

I haven't been to work much because like I said, there's a fair amount of pain this time. Last Wednesday I was afraid I wouldn't make it home.

What you might not know about miscarriage is that my body is in labor. A much milder form, and the baby is (understandably) much smaller, but labor none the less. It hurts. It is not something I wanted to ever know about.

I was mad for a split second, because we just got comfortable enough to announce and tell people. Not even a week later and we were telling people there was no heartbeat. I think that because of my reaction to my first loss everyone...I don't know....expects something from me. They expect me to be sadder. More upset. Vocal. I don't feel that way this time. I feel analytically and factual. I feel tired. I take a lot of Tylenol. I've asked Blair for a lot of alone time.

I'm ok.

I still find all these beautiful things to look at every day. Things to be thankful for and that touch my heart. Every day with Ellie is still a miracle and there are some amazing people who are here for me and who love me. I have already started receiving cards from people reminding me of the love that Christ has for us and how we are not alone.

I don't feel alone.

I just feel...well, at the moment, I don't feel much. Maybe I will. Maybe this will hit me in November when I realize that I'm not preparing to give birth to a full term baby. Maybe I'll get sad when I look into Blair's eyes and realize how sad I am that we don't have a little boy with his eyes and dimples. Maybe it will hit me like a ton of bricks and my world will fall apart.

That's not where I am right now though. Right now, this night, (when I should be sleeping because Ellie is....) I'm just ok.

So thank you. Thank you for your love support well wished condolences all of it, thank you.

But God knew what His plans for this baby were, and He prepared my heart. So while I am giving my body time to heal, for the most part, I'm ok.

Really.

I'm ok.

Baby Growing, Mother's Day, Middle of May!!!

Well friends I feel like it's been a long time since I last wrote anything to you. We've been awfully busy. My new job, Blair's new job, growing a baby, no biggie. :) Not to mention that when I DO have days off I feel this incredible need to be SUPER productive. So I end up scheduling myself for about a billion things. I promise you I'm trying to slow down...it's just not so easy.

As always, I've been thinking about five million different things that I want to share with my few friends who follow this blog (are you following me? I would love for you, I really love sharing my thoughts). I am trying to think of the best way to organize these thoughts and make them coherent. It's not easy, especially with the Ellie STEALING MY BRAIN. Seriously, Baby Brain, it's real. In fact, let's start there!

I have become VERY dyslexic as my pregnancy progresses. I mix up letters and numbers and words like it's my job in life. When I'm researching something for the Library or looking up a book for a patron, I end up typing it all backwards. I have to re-try quite a bit. So in advance, I apologize for all grammatical and spelling errors. I should let the Fairy Godmother read these before I post them...it would probably cut back on me sounding illiterate.

This past Saturday I took pictures for some of my very favorite people (side note, why, at the END of my pregnancy have I decided that spending all this time taking pictures for people is a good idea? Oh yeah, I love it...got it...). We walked FOUR miles. And I did the WHOLE thing. I won't lie, for me, this was a big deal. It helped me sleep and walking is such an amazing thing to help with labor. What's more, those pictures turned out amazing and I love them. Plus that family is one of the best. No joke. I even let the mom use my camera to document me. My husband has been on a lot of my photo shoots lately, and I love it. I love when he comes with. We both got thousands of bug bites, but it was so so so worth it.

I feel very big now. We're almost 34 weeks and man...I marvel at how big she is, and that she will just get bigger. How did God DO this? This right here, what I'm doing, makes me feel like more of an artist than anything I've ever created before. I'm helping to MAKE a HUMAN. How...how can this not blow your mind? Even on the worst of days when I just want to skip to the part where I push her out...I can't help but think about her in there growing and moving. She's so funny, so full of personality. We went to see Shrek the musical (which my younger sister Evie was in and who did an AMAZING job) and Eleanor LOVED it. Very rarely does she move that much! I think we have a future theatre/musical geek on our hands.

I celebrated Mother's Day, and herein lies a small rant. While at Church, I heard someone make a comment when I raised my hand to signify that I am mother. While it was not the right time or place to call said person out, I so badly wanted to. Being pregnant, counts. You. Are. A. Mother. What's more, even if I hadn't been as pregnant as I am, I would have raised my hand. Cara counts. To tell the mother of a lost baby, whether miscarriage or still born, is to deny that she had life inside her. To deny that life...is unacceptable. And mean. And cruel. Being pregnant with Ellie certainly helped this year, however, I still felt the sting of our loss. Because my plan for this year, was to actually have a physical baby to hold, and not just a memory.

For the record, if you know a woman who suffered a loss in any way, and it's mother's day, make damn (yes, I used that word, get over it) sure to tell her Happy Mother's Day. And if in your opinion said person is NOT a mother, keep it to yourself. You have no idea how your comment will affect her. I'll get off my high  horse now, but that one comment I heard behind me really...well, it got to me.

We are doing really well. Pregnancy wise, moving, in general is getting harder and harder. Even flipping from side to side at night takes a lot of me. I think it's hysterical, Blair sometimes...not so much. I'm pretty sure I woke him up last night because I moved his pillow because it was "trying to eat my face"? He grumbles, but he will always scoot over or help me adjust the thousands of pillows I sleep with. He's a trooper, I love him.

Stretch marks have finally decided to REALLY show up. It seems as though in the past two days I've gotten these beautiful lines marking up my belly. I love them. I love the evidence that I am carrying life.

Let's talk about yoga for a second, because I love yoga. I wish I was going more frequently. I feel very good about myself and my baby after we go. Everything hurts less. :) I also like that most of the poses are things I can bring home and do on my own. My instructor is wonderful and adorable and makes me feel incredibly at peace. (In fact, after this, I'm gonna go do some stretches...things be tight up in here yo!)

All in all, we're just getting more excited. I keep praying about labor, and trusting in my midwife and listening to Blair when I feel crazy (which has been rather frequent I must admit...) I'm drinking lots of red raspberry leaf tea and another tea called NORA tea (Nettles, Oats, Raspberry leaf, and Alfalfa) and I feel strong. Most of the time. Sometimes, when I'm still for too long and then start going again, I get weird and move really slowly. I've got the pregnant waddle down, even though I try really hard to walk normally.

It's already the middle of May and June is almost here! I keep in mind that Little Miss might decide to come in July (which I can TOTALLY see her doing because she's half Blair and he's stubborn like you would not believe) just to mentally prepare myself that I might not be "done" when the calender says I should be. Babies come when they're ready. I'm ok with that.

I will really try to post more! I have lots of things that happen and I think, "That would make a great blog post" and then I get home....and Eleanor says "SSSSSSSSSLLLLLLLEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPP" and I must admit, I'm willing to oblige the little goober. :)

Mental Health

I hope there is always room in my life for random trips to the beach with my best friends. I hope that I always remember that sometimes, you have to forget what's going on, and just go. I hope that I always remember Adventures, and Talks, and Walks, and Singing out loud in the car.

I feel refreshed and renewed this week, and it's all because of my weekend. I had two very good friends take the time to take the time for me.

See I've been waiting 40 weeks for a certain day to come around. While this may not seem so big to others it was big to me. I'm an emotional person, I wear my heart on my sleeve, I cry openly, and I get angry openly. If I am passionate about something, I'm open about it. So when, this Friday, I celebrated the "what could have been" I needed to have a few moments.

It didn't help that Blair was gone at Drill, again, during this time. I have two very beautiful people though, who instead of letting me be alone and sad, said "Hey, let's have an Adventure." Really what it turned out to be was a Mental Health Trip. I need those. We need those. You need those, even if you don't think that you do.

Basically, we got to go be. To just exist somewhere else, where no one knew our names, where no one knew why we were there.

I sat on the beach and felt small. I sat there and soaked in the sunshine because I'll be honest, the worst part of winter, for me, is that there is less sunshine. I love me some Vitamin D friends. So I took it, all that I could to store up for days like Sunday and Monday, when it snowed.

Grief in and of itself is such a hard thing. Doing it alone is even harder. Me? I have friends and family who rallied around me and made me feel so much less alone. These two? It's like they know that sometimes, I just don't want to talk about it. And sometimes I do. And sometimes it means nothing. And sometimes it means everything. Sometimes things are just so big and you can't handle it. Sometimes you need to run away to the Beach. 

See, I'm gonna have a little one (on the outside of me) soon. It won't be so easy to just drop it all and go. It won't be so easy to stop thinking. And even when I do manage to find someone to watch the little booger (I have plenty of people who would...ahem...Grammy and Grumpy) I know I would be a little sad the whole time being without her. I'm taking advantage of these last few months of being just a Maddie, because I am selfless enough to know that when she comes, it all changes.

Beware the Ides of March

I don't think any person ever intentionally gets sad about something. If you do, that's silly. I'm not sure there is any person who sits down and says to themselves, "Tonight, _________ will make me sad."

So when I say that tonight, I just got a little sad, know that it was not intentional. But I need to write about it. I need to make this make sense, and I just don't mind.

I was looking in my calender that I keep now like an adult, writing things down in the month of February. February is not what made me sad though. It was March that did it.

Oh March. It was these two dates that got to me man...

It might seem silly to other people, it might not make sense, and I'm sure there are people who would tell me to move on and get over it and be thankful for the little girl who is growing now. But the thing is, I'm still not over it. I still think about the fact that if I were pregnant with our first baby I would be HUGE now, I would be nearing the end, I would be preparing for the work that is labor and delivery. We'd have a nursery set up in our apartment, we would have had a baby shower, Blair would be freaking out a little.

I'm very thankful for Ellie. That I have carried her long enough to feel her move, to see her profile, to hear her heartbeat, to need new clothes. I love her very much. She was not what you would call a "planned" baby, or whatever that means (I mean, honestly, can you really "plan" to be a mother? To carry a baby? To conceive? I mean....really...)(well ok, we didn't plan her, God knows exactly what He was doing, you know, like normal) so finding out I was pregnant so soon was a little rough for me. Getting so sick didn't help. Honestly, I haven't felt "connected" to my growing baby except for the past month or so.

I guess seeing those dates, knowing what could have been, it just made me pause a moment. It's the same as seeing the first year anniversary of someone's death, you get a little sad. It affects you. This just affected me.

I don't know if we/I ever shared this here, but we named that first baby. For what ever reason, we both felt that baby was a girl, and we came across the name Cara. It means Beloved in Latin (or so the internets tell me) and that's what she was and is, to both of us.

Because no matter how small a life is, or how long a life is, it's important and it matters.

And Cara?

She mattered.

The Art of Loss: The Stories We Hold Near And Dear

Here's what happens to me sometimes, I get these ideas. And they are ideas that are so far from what I think I know that they were planted there by someone else, who wants me to do whatever that idea is. Let me preface this blog post by telling you I've been thinking about and dreading it all morning. I tend to share a lot, people tell me its a gift, I think people are annoyed and want me to shut up about my feelings. Most of the time. Every now and again though, I realize that maybe someone else needs to hear my stories. Maybe they need validation, or strength, or just to know they aren't alone. We praise those who step up and step out and speak their minds, right?

What I want to share today is deeply personal. It's my Art. From a very painful time in my life. It hurts, and it feels weird, like I'm inviting people to look straight into what God only sees. It deeply rooted in my faith, and centers all around the dates June 25 and July 20. It has to do with infant loss, miscarriage, what happened in my heart after that. It's my story, and no one's will be the same. Keep that in mind. Know that this is a hard issue, for many woman, and I can't for the life of me figure out why I need to write about this now, when I'm almost 18 weeks pregnant with our second child. Lord willing the first baby we hold in our arms, but yes, our second child.

I found out I was pregnant June 25 2013, while serving at a summer camp. The day I found out, I made this in one of my art journals.

I express myself a lot through art, it's just the way things go for me. I need it, even during the times when i don't think I do. I remember one summer when I worked at a camp, we had a Bible Study based on art and our faith. We were given two sheets and asked to fill them, however we wanted, with a hard time in our life, and with where we were now. We were then asked to get in small groups and talk about our art. I ended up in a group with two beautiful humans who...understood when I started sobbing and couldn't explain. It was like my very soul on display. Talking about it...I couldn't. This just goes to show you that sharing these journal pages with you all, though it is not easy, is something I feel very compelled to do.

In the weeks that followed, I made more art for our little growing baby nugget.

 I don't think that any person prepares for what they never expect to happen. I knew woman lost babies, I knew miscarriage happened, it just...wasn't going to happen to me. But the truth is that it did. On July 20 2013 I was in an airplane with one the best young adult woman I have ever known, on our way home from a conference. I got up multiple times to use the bathroom, and there is where this terrible awful reality came to fruition. While on the plane, I pulled out my journal, and wrote this.

 What is says doesn't matter. Just know that in that moment, I needed to process what was happening to me. It was the hardest traveling day of my life. It's a terrible thing, when you want to save someone and can't do anything about it. I got home, my husband was gone for the week still. I called my best friend and she...was phenomenal. What she did for me that night I will never be able to replay. Never. Not...never.

In the weeks and months that followed I sank into this place of despair and to be very honest, doubt. How could this happen? Why did He, God, let babies die? What was the purpose of this? Didn't people tell me that He wouldn't give me more than I could handle? I couldn't handle this, I thought, they all lied to me. I accepted this water down concept that He said things would be easy. Never did. Not once.

So I did what I knew how to do, I made Art. I sketched and made cards for people. I stayed up late painting and drawing and creating. I cleaned and cried. I hurt. I called people and I begged them to give me answers they didn't have.

The biggest thing though, was that I felt like my faith had just run out. As though, I was Peter, out there in the ocean, holding my hand out to a Savior, knowing, knowing, that He could save me. In that split second that it takes for Jesus to reach out His hand, it can feel like eternity. It feels like you are just drowning. I would cry and think, "What if I'm just like Peter? Where is my faith now?"

 I listened to music on a CD that an amazing woman sent me. I particularly wore out the song "Doubting Thomas" by Nickel Creek. Over and over it played in my mind and my heart. If you know me, you know I have very strong beliefs, and I'm not afraid to tell people about them. It's part of who I am. This once though, I couldn't see, and I didn't know what to think. Me and God...Oh man...it's a good thing He forgives like He does.

 I felt like a fool, and it all hurt so much. And I couldn't...losing our baby like that affected me in ways that I never thought possible. I continued to draw and paint and craft my way through the woods.

 It took me a long time to be able to be in Church without crying. It took me a long time to be able to say, "I lost a baby." It took me a long time to be ok with the thought of ever being pregnant again. It took me months before I could look at my body without hating what it had done.

 I guess I just felt the need to tell other loss moms that they aren't alone. That one day, one day, maybe not today, or tomorrow, or ever, will you be able to think about your baby without crying. We mothers love so intensely, from the first moment, we just do. I made all of these things from a place of pain and hurt that went so far beyond words that I need to paint and craft them out.

I don't know where you are in your grief journey. I don't know if you lost a baby two days ago, three years ago, or 30 years ago. I do know you carry a piece of that baby's life in your heart. I know that you think about that baby, at night, when you're sad, when someone else goes through this terrible awful thing. I do know that you don't forget, and that you just never will. And I know what the Art of Loss looks like. I know the anguish in your soul as you pour your heart in something, anything to make it hurt less.

I hope, Momma's, that you can look at this Art, and take courage. I hope that you can see that though this sorrow lasts for a while, it does sting less with time. I hope that you see the turmoil in these pages, the suffering that they came from. I hope you know you aren't alone. I hope you know that babies can and will be brought into this world, and I hope that you can still embrace that fact. I know your journey of grief and loss won't look like mine, but Momma's, let it out so that it looks like something more than bitterness and anger that affects the people who love you so much.

This is the Art of Loss. This is my story. What's yours?