I have wanted to write more often, but I've been busy, and overwhelmed by the sheer number of thoughts that go through my head each day. Literally from joy to panic and back again, with some grief thrown into the middle. Such is my "new normal," I guess. I'm going to attempt some coherent updates, but be warned... this will be a long one!

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Christmas was really good! We enjoyed seeing family, watching our nephews and niece run around like maniacs all weekend, opening presents, resting, and soaking in the joy of Christmas. Christmas Day itself was a bit tough... I was concerned that I would lose it during the marathon two-hour gift-opening that morning (I had visions of me crying while trapped in the room by piles of gifts, forcing me to sob in front of everyone), but I was OK. I was OK until we (inconveniently) were at someone else's house. And then I lost it. And spent over half an hour sitting in a bedroom and crying. I couldn't even put into words what I was feeling... my tears were the only way to express how much I missed Asher & Evan. I am lucky that our family is more than understanding, and no one made a big deal of it. And I was fine the rest of the day. I think I just needed some time to acknowledge and feel the pain, in the midst of all the happiness.

J kept asking me if I "had an OK Christmas" like it really sucked but I managed to get through. I tried to emphasize that Christmas was actually really good. My new normal means that I can spend an hour sobbing, and still have an OK day. I'm (sadly) used to it. If that weren't the case I would be completely insane by now.

::

I'm slowly catching up on blog reading—and will be even slower to catch up on commenting—but I am so thrilled to see all the rainbow pregnancies lately! I am praying for happy, healthy, normal, uneventful pregnancies for each of you.

::

So, the "joy-to-panic-and-back-again" thing. Of course this has to do with Baby 3, who is happily growing in my belly and giving me all kinds of digestive issues. :-) I am thrilled, thrilled, thrilled, and so thankful to be 16 and a half weeks pregnant with this little one. When I am able to focus on the joy I am moved to tears by how thankful I am. However, it's a daily struggle to focus on the joy over the terror that sneaks into my mind. I've had so many thoughts that I would never voice aloud, but have wanted to share here, as I'm sure many of you can relate. I worry how much time I have left with this baby, and feel like a ticking time bomb. Quick refresher: I was admitted to the hospital at 21 weeks, delivered at 22 and a few days. I was most definitely showing signs of pre-e at my 20-week appointment. So, yeah. Did I mention I'm approaching 17 weeks??? As we get closer to 20 my blood pressure will probably rise just from the stress.

I had lunch with my mom yesterday and we talked about being nervous. She commented that I have to try not to be too nervous, but then said, "But how can you do that? How is that possible? Meditation, what? How do you do it?" I shrugged. I just do. What choice do I have?

Aside from praying and surrendering my worries to God, I haven't found anything else that really helps me calm down. Honestly it helps me to remind myself that I have absolutely no control over how this turns out. I. Have. No. Control. This helps because it allows me to stop dwelling and worrying so much about things. It's wasted energy. All I can do is enjoy each day that I have with this baby. I hope and pray that I will have years with this child, but even if it's only today, I'm striving to be thankful just for that.


::

And lastly, I know that many babyloss moms out there have "goals" that they want to reach in their pregnancies. Whether or not these dates mean anything, it somehow helps to have small victories to reach. Here are the dates I'm praying for. I will be ecstatic to reach any/each of them:

• January 22: the week of my birthday, 20 weeks pregnant.
• February 9: 22 weeks and 4 days pregnant. This will be the most pregnant I have ever been, and past the day when we lost the boys.
• February 19: 24 weeks pregnant

I can't even think beyond 24 at this point. If I get to 24 with no pre-e I will be crying and puking and sobbing with joy. (Seriously. Thanks to Baby 3, if I cry too hard I start gagging, and you know what comes next....)

This is silly, but I somehow feel like I'm tempting fate by listing these days. Isn't that weird? I mean, I'm a Christian, so I believe God is in absolute control, and He doesn't work that way. Yet every step I take to "commit" more fully to this pregnancy, I feel a little nervous that I somehow jinxed myself. As Mich.ael Scott would say, "I'm not superstitious... but I am a little stitious."

Merry Christmas!

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. ~ Luke 2:8-11

Merry Christmas to all! I know today will be tough for many of us as we wish our babies were here to receive gifts, play with wrapping paper, and enjoy the wonder of Christmas morning. I'll be thinking of you all today, and wishing you strength and peace. I hope that you can take comfort and joy in the birth of Jesus, and the hope that He brings. Our babies are probably enjoying a party in heaven today that we couldn't even imagine!

Birthday Recap

Well, we made it. Through their birthday, I mean. The day was about what I expected—tough, with lots of tears, but also sweet in some ways. Here's a recap:

We slept in really late (as late as I possibly could) on Thursday morning, then had cinnamon rolls for breakfast. As we lazed around wondering what to do with ourselves I checked my phone and received a few kind voice mails, emails, and Facebook messages. Cue tears. I was so touched by the responses of family and friends.

For a while we just sat on the couch and cried. We looked at all of their belongings—their tiny blankets and hats, footprints, hospital bracelets, photos, ultrasound pictures. I was glad we hadn't planned too much for the day because I couldn't predict how I would feel or react, or what I'd want to do.

Eventually we got ready for the day, and I put the finishing touches on the blankets and hats I'd crocheted for the hospital (I'll update with photos if I remember). The ones we received when Asher & Evan were born are one of my most treasured possessions. I remember feeling so cared for, that a stranger would take the time to make these items specifically for tiny babies. I plan to donate a set of hats and blankets each year.

After lunch we went to the hospital to donate the hats and blankets. I really wasn't sure how this would go, as it was our first time back there since we left with empty arms on December 18th. But it actually ended up being the most satisfying part of the day! It felt really good to do something in their honor, and to know that another family will benefit from the blankets the way we did. I also felt somewhat resolved and almost empowered walking through the hospital, like Yes, I am here, and I'm not sick. I can do this. We plan to deliver Baby 3 at the same hospital, so it felt good to have some closure before we go back again.

What else can I tell you? Overall the day was very low-key, which was perfect for us. We felt supported by all the messages, gifts, and emails we received, but we spent the entire day by ourselves. No pressure. It was just right.

Although we spent the day alone, I was very concerned that we involve other people in the boys' birthday, and invite them to participate in it in some way. So the week before, we sent out cards with Asher & Evan's footprints on them (again, I'll post pictures later). The cards asked our friends and family to do an act of kindness in their honor and let us know about it. We've gotten a really positive response, and a few "reports" back so far, including donations to charities, a letter to a soldier, and a visit to an elderly relative. People also really liked seeing the footprints, which we printed at actual size. Most people haven't seen photos, so I think they appreciated seeing something of our boys.

As I've said already, I feel a lot of closure and satisfaction with how the day went overall. It was so, so tough, and I dreaded it going in, but by the end I felt OK. We survived, and were reminded by many that our boys are not forgotten.

Happy First Birthday Asher & Evan

"The sorrow I have from losing you does not overshadow the joy I have from being able to love you." ~ Laura "Schuna" Richert

The Worst Day

A year ago today was maybe the worst day of my life.

The twins were born on the 16th. But I honestly can't say that the day they were born and died was the worst, because it wasn't. It was the day I met them, and despite the tragedy surrounding us I was filled with joy and pride as I held my little babies. It's the one day I held them in my arms. We were blessed to have our parents, my best friend, and our pastor with us, and I know we were bathed in prayer that entire day. So no, it wasn't the worst.

A year ago today, December 14th, was the worst day. It was the day that the doctors stopped sugarcoating things and told us we had to make a decision. I say "decision" but honestly, what kind of a decision is it when the question is "Would you like to die along with your babies, or let them go so you can live?" It was the day reality hit, and I was told in no uncertain terms that our time was up. It was a nightmare. A day that no one should have to live through. I felt like I was in a movie... these things don't happen to real people. As much as I'm used to living this "new normal" on a daily basis, sometimes it still shocks me, as though I am an outsider looking in... oh my GOSH, you lost TWO children!?!?

I've been doing OK so far this week. Thankfully we have plenty going on at work, and holiday preparations, which have kept me busy. I really don't want to sit and relive every moment of my last (mag-induced haze, HGTV-filled, miserable hospital bed-rest) week with them... I relive moments of it every day, as it is. I'm trying not to put any expectations on myself about how I should feel, or what I should or should not do. Just take it as it comes.

I know I'll get through this week, because it's only a finite number of hours long. If I got through the real thing, surely I can get through the memories.

Happy News!

Over the past year, I have felt a mixture of emotions like I've never experienced before. Who knew it was possible to feel so many different things at once? But the bitterness of the bitter sometimes makes the sweet all that much sweeter. There is great beauty in contrast.

It's with that intro that I share one of the newest, sweetest things: I am pregnant!

The quick details: I'm 13 weeks and some odd days along. I'm due June 11th. One baby, all looks great so far! You can expect to read a lot more about my shifting emotional state over the next several months as I try to maintain sanity. I am already so in love with this little one, and so thankful for each day with him or her. Thanks for sharing in our excitement!

The Beginning of the End

One year ago today, I was admitted to the hospital on a Monday afternoon. I was 21 weeks pregnant, and my blood pressure was 180/120.

I had gone into the clinic over lunch for some lab work, and decided to have the nurse check my BP while I was there, "just in case." Other than crazy swelling I wasn't having any specific symptoms that anything was wrong, but I am a bit of a hypochondriac and thought I would have them check me out for my own peace of mind. I had no idea that my BP would be so high, that the nurse would have me lay down and immediately summon my doctor. No idea that he would tell me to go to the hospital, right now, without returning to work. No idea that I would place a tearful call to my husband to come get me... a call that he will probably never forget.

One year ago today, even as we arrived at the hospital and they gave me a room in Labor & Delivery, I had no idea that it was the beginning of the end. I had an inkling that I might have long weeks of bed rest ahead, and maybe babies in the NICU... I wish I were still blissfully unaware that sometimes babies do, in fact, die.

I am thankful that I will not be admitted to the hospital this afternoon. That I am much healthier and feeling much better than I did that day. But oh, how I miss them today. I hate that I am so busy lately... because I don't have time to deal with all the emotions. I still think about them every day, of course, but I do not have time to rest in these feelings of loss, to fully acknowledge how much I still grieve for them. My brain is so full of so many things.

On another (happier) note, I do have something to share, but I'll save it for another post. Take this as your cue to skip the next one if today isn't a good day for you. I will more than understand!

ETA: I forgot to say thank you to those of you who left helpful comments/encouragement on my last post. I really appreciate it. We're still up in the air about the day, but I am focusing on not making myself feel guilty, whatever we do or don't do.

"Happy" Birthday?

It is 6 pm, and I am still at work. Got here at 8:30. Probably won't leave until at least 6:30. That's the kind of busy I am these days! It leaves little time for anything else, like holiday shopping, blogging, etc. Hopefully soon we will be past our deadline and things will slow down.

I cannot believe that Asher & Evan's birthday is in less than one month.

Sometimes I feel weird using the word "birthday," like it isn't quite right to describe the magnitude of that day. Yes, it is their birthday, but it is also they day they went to Heaven. Sometimes I say "the one-year anniversary of the day the boys were born and died," but that is 1) quite long, and 2) still doesn't quite do it. It is the day I became a mother. It's the day my whole world changed. I need a new word or phrase to describe this day.

I also need to figure out what we're going to do on that day. J and I have the day off of work, and we've discussed going to the hospital to drop of the tiny hats and blankets I've crocheted in their honor. We've also discussed doing some kind of service project. I know that I will need to keep busy, and stay out of the house. But I don't know what I will really need, and how I can truly honor them.

Originally, we thought about ideas involving lots of people... but then I wasn't sure how many people I want to spend the day with. No matter what I would feel like a "host," and I'm not sure I'll be up to that. Anything resembling a party felt awkward, both because of the circumstances, and because of the random group of people we would invite (my divorced parents, random church people, etc). It all started to feel like an awful lot of work and burden for a day that I may just want to be left alone.

But of course, that day isn't about me. It's about them. It's about Asher & Evan, my beautiful firstborn sons, and a celebration of the short time we had with them. It's about remembering, and honoring. It feels wrong not to do something HUGE and momentous for such a momentous day. And yet, I think our celebration/memorial will be fairly low-key.

But I am struggling to be OK with that. I feel like a bad mother because I have nothing planned yet. Because I don't have some great idea. Because work is keeping me too busy to think of much else. Because I would rather be planning a loud, messy, hectic party filled with family, cake, and two adorable one-year-olds.

We do have something in mind... a vague idea of a card commemorating their birthday, along with a prompt to do some kind of good in their name. We would send this to close family and friends, and invite other people to participate, as well. Basically, make their lives have an impact, even though they are not here.

If anyone has any other ideas, I'd love to hear them! I'm sure I'm really worrying too much about it. But as many of you know, it is incredibly difficult to figure out how to parent children who are in Heaven, when you are still on Earth.

11 Months

Today marks 11 months since Asher & Evan were born and died. The day kind of snuck up on me, and then hit me like a pile of bricks. I can't believe it's been 11 months. In some ways it feels like just a few days. In other ways it feels like a lifetime. I am a different person than I was that day, and yet here I am at about the same place. Same job, same house, same weather... different heart.

I know I posted this song once before, but it came on my Pan.dora station today and it gets me every time. I can't listen to this song without crying. It's one of those songs that (obviously) is not about losing a child, and yet, it seems to speak right to my situation. Oh, how my heart aches for them.


"The Scientist" by Coldplay

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are.
I had to find you, tell you I need you,
Tell you I set you apart.

Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions,
Oh lets go back to the start.
Running in circles, Comin' in tails
Heads on a science apart.

Nobody said it was easy,
It's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be this hard.

Oh take me back to the start.

I was just guessin' at numbers and figures,
Pulling the puzzles apart.
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart.

And tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start.
Runnin' in circles, Chasin' tails
Comin' back as we are

Nobody said it was easy,
Oh it's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be so hard.

I'm goin' back to the start.

Thank You

Hello! Sorry for the long absence... life has gotten awfully busy lately, and I'm not able to sit down and blog as often as I'd like to.

I want to send an overdue BIG thank you to two ladies in blogworld who have touched me with their thoughtfulness.

First I'd like to thank mommy4boys from Sweet Button Names, for thinking of my boys and writing their names. So thoughtful, and such a sweet surprise. It made me smile when I saw it!

Second, thanks to Melissa from Amazing Mikayla Grace, for including Asher & Evan's names in her beautful tribute at Faith's Lodge. It means a lot that someone else is thinking of them, especially in that place.

I've said it before, but I will say it again: I am so thankful for this online community, and the instant bond we have. It means a lot. :-)

One Lovely Blog Award

Thanks to Jill at Footprints on our Hearts for nominating me for the One Lovely blog award. Jill's blog has been a great source of encouragement and support in the months since we lost Asher and Evan. Many other blogs have helped me, too. I am very grateful for the online babyloss community. It's so helpful to know that I'm not alone!

So without further ado, here are the rules of this award:

1. Accept the award and post it on your blog with the name of the person wo has granted the award and his/her blog link.

2. Pay it forward to 10 other bloggers that you have newly discovered.

3. Contact those blog owners and let them know they have been chosen.

And here are the lovely ladies whose blogs I've nominated. Some are relatively new finds, some are blogs I've followed since the beginning of our journey. I am thankful for all of them, and many more than are listed.

• Kerry @ Our New Normal 
• Stephanie @ Carried Through Grief 
• Trisha @ Such a Short Time - Such a Long Road 
• Laura @ My World 
• Courtney @ Cloudy With A Chance of Hope 
• Beth @ Little Bluebirds Fly (Beth has since moved to a private blog, but you can find some great pre-e info here, and instructions to access her new place)
• Christy @ Almost A Mother 
• Ashley @ Nolan's Story 
• Betsey @ Too Beautiful: Living After Losing Olivia 
• Ciaran's mommy @ All the Little Ponies

This Ache (ttc)

So far, fall has been kinda rough for me. I am feeling such opposing emotions all the time, and it's wearing me thin.

By now last year we knew it was twins, and all our families knew. I don't know exactly what week I would have been. I am purposely not figuring it out. My grief most often takes the form of a deep ache. So deep that it feels like it's coming from something outside of me, like something is dragging me down to the center of the earth (cue John Mayer's song "Gravity"... maybe that's why I like that song??).

I am at a loss for words on a regular basis. I've lost the ability to precisely describe anything, let alone my emotions.

And at the same time, there is hope of things to come. Hope of the future, and new beginnings, and another try. And while I am incredibly happy to be at this point, I am sad that we have to be. It's the ultimate happy/sad experience.

The last time I spoke to my mom on the phone (just a brief call to check in) we chatted for a bit, and I was distracted because I was at work. Toward the end of the call she said, "Well, anything else exciting going on?" and there was this pause as her words hung in the air. I wonder how much my family wonders when we'll be pregnant again (we're pretty private about our plans IRL). "Nope, just working," I replied. Nothing exciting going on yet. Maybe there will be soon.

P.S. I've been thinking about this blog lately, and am considering going private again. Of course, any babyloss moms that read would be welcome, and anyone else outside of my family/close friends.

Talking about my kids

Several weeks ago I met up with a new and dear friend who lost her baby daughter around the same time we lost Asher & Evan. Of course we instantly connected over our losses. It was wonderful to see her again.

As we walked and talked, various circumstances and details surrounding our babies, and losses, came up over, and over, and over again... which is only natural when talking to another babyloss mom. But it struck me, because we weren't specifically talking about our children or our losses the whole time. We would chat about something entirely different—HGTV, the park we were in, food... and our grief wove in and out of the conversation, naturally. Neither of us felt the need to qualify any of our statements, or to dance around the subject. I cannot have that kind of conversation with anyone else in my life except someone who has lost a child. It was such a gift to talk in that way. To fully acknowledge what we've been through, how it affects our every breath... and not worry that the listener will recoil or get uncomfortable.

And it also made me sad, because what we were doing was simply talking about our kids. Like any parent, one's children come up often in conversation. We were just a couple moms chatting about life. But it's only with other babyloss moms that it is socially acceptable to casually mention our (dead) children. When I speak with others I probably only mention Asher & Evan 1 out of every 10 times they cross my mind.

I wish I could describe how freeing it was, how good it felt to talk this way. For a short time, I felt almost "normal."

Thankful Thursday

Last week I had my annual performance review at work. I've worked for my company for almost 4 years, and I really enjoy my job. Like every job it  has good days and bad days, and plenty of things to vent about. But overall I work at a great company with great people, and I love what I do.

So, my review. I'm always nervous going into a review. But I was particularly nervous this time because this past year has been such a roller coaster. At best it's been filled with doctors appointments and odd hours, both before and after my pregnancy. At worst, I was unexpectedly out of the office for 8 weeks, while hospitalized, and after the boys were born. Granted, I knew my boss wouldn't hold any of that against me. But on top of it all, I have been distracted (putting it mildly) and feel that I've lost much of my focus this year (with good reason, but still).

Well, long story short, my review went really well! As it turns out, I have met all of the goals I set at last year's review, and grown in my job, amazingly. I know it's only through God's grace that I've done so. I honestly feel like I've been phoning it in until just a couple months ago, and I still feel that way sometimes. So... yeah. God is good, for protecting my job and helping me succeed in the midst of grief. And I am thankful for that.

Getting Ahead of Myself... (ttc)

So. I need some advice!

There are many, many things about a future pregnancy that worry me ("worry" being an understatement). But there is one thing that I can't wrap my mind around, can't picture happening. And that is how to announce a new pregnancy at work.

With the twins, I shared the news at our weekly office meeting (I work in a small office of about 15 people). It was like something out of a TV show—women shrieked, jaws dropped, everyone was sublimely excited. Then I added the kicker that it was twins, which just about sent everyone into hysterics. The memory of it still makes me smile.

But I cannot for the life of me think of how I would announce a subsequent (as of yet hypothetical—I tend to get ahead of myself with details like this) pregnancy. If I had it my way I would hide it from the world for nine months, then just show up with the baby once everything (hopefully) turned out OK.

So I'd love any stories or ideas from those who have been there, or hope to be there one day. Thank you!

I think I need some new clothes

The weather turned suddenly to fall this morning, with a strong wind and crisp air. Minnesota doesn’t mess around with changing seasons! Time for fall clothes, even. I don’t have a very large wardrobe so am thankful for the opportunity to wear more long sleeves.

I stare into my closet, mentally sorting through my options. I select a brown shirt that I bought last fall from Old Navy. Kind of a loose, blousy style. Haven't worn this in a while. As I pad around the bedroom in my slippers and robe (put on at the first sign of a chill) assembling the rest of my outfit, I start to feel very disoriented. Fall always makes me nostalgic, but now I am thinking to this time last year. This time last year I was almost 8 weeks pregnant. This time last year we were about to visit J’s family and share our news.

This time last year I went shopping at Old Navy to find some clothes to ease me into pregnancy. Not maternity clothes, but styles loose enough to hide my stomach until I was ready to spill the beans at work.

This time last year I was padding around the bedroom in my robe, thinking of the new life inside of me. Feeling so hopeful and overjoyed. We didn’t even know it was twins yet. This time last year I bought this brown shirt.

I put the shirt back in the closet.

Instead, I am wearing a shirt I bought after my pregnancy. Also purchased to hide my stomach. I am somewhat cheered to see how much better I look in the shirt than I did in February, but I can tell fall is going to be rough. So many memories of last year. Every memory of pregnancy is the absolute definition of bittersweet. We were so, so happy. We had no idea what was to come.

Friday Again

The end of summer is going by so quickly! Actually, the whole summer, even this whole year, is going by so fast.... So many days early in the year were filled with nothingness, simply trying to survive. So many days are a complete blur in my mind. And yet, this year, despite being the most painful of my life, has also held a lot of good (to my surprise).

There is much beauty in the contrast.

I am really looking forward to this weekend! My sister will be in town, and we've got plans for the fair (I am a HUGE fair nerd, and so is she) among other things. I feel actually excited, like I'm looking forward to something. I honestly did not feel that way about anything until our vacation. Now, it's slowly coming back... the feeling that life may have something to offer, after all.

A Long, Random Post on a Friday Evening

I received three comments yesterday when I posted a link to the August 19th Day of Hope site. Two of them I appreciated very much, but the first one pictured above gave me a weird reaction. It's from a close family member who is normally very thoughtful and careful about communication.

When I think of Evan and Asher, I get sad.

I'm sure she meant it in the best way possible, but it honestly put me in a funk from the time I read it. Like, "Yeah, and...?" Does she avoid thinking of Asher & Evan because they make her sad? Is she saying I shouldn't have brought this up because it's sad?

I was very confused by her comment, especially because she is someone who weighs her words so carefully. Was she trying to empathize? I still don't get it at all.

Also, it makes me so, so sad that my children make people sad. I don't need anyone to remind me that it is a sad subject. I have spent more than enough hours sobbing to be well aware. In fact, I spend a great deal of energy trying to remember of them in ways that are less sad. I also don't need anyone to remind me that my speaking of the boys makes people uncomfortable. I am keenly aware that it makes people uncomfortable, and I am constantly fighting an internal battle over how often to mention them and what to say. I already weigh every word for fear of causing awkwardness. I hate that I have to worry about that, and I don't feel like I should have to. And so, this comment irritated me. Hmmph.

Well that's my vent for tonight.

:::

This evening has been tough. I've had the whole night to myself. Any time I am alone for some time my grief tends to resurface, especially when I'm at home. The silence is deafening. A constant reminder of what is missing. The sounds and chaos of two baby boys. Sweet baby noises as they sleep. Even the crying that would certainly frustrate me at times. How I wish to hear those things.

When I feel overwhlemed by grief I often cope by going through their things, holding their blenkets and hospital bracelets. But tonight I just did not want to do it. I don't want that stuff, I want them. It's a hole that nothing can fill.

:::

Tomorrow I get to see a friend from out of town and her new baby! I'm excited to meet him, but I know it will be tough. It always is. I hope I can focus on my happiness for her, rather than the ache inside me.

August 19th: Day of Hope

8 months + 1 day

Yesterday was 8 months. 8 months since my boys entered and left this world. 8 months since they changed my life in a matter of minutes. 8 months without.

I'd been thinking of the 16th several days earlier, but yesterday I didn't consciously realize the date until after work. I felt "off" all day, really distracted, but I didn't make the connection until that evening.

Not much new to say. Not much has changed. I miss them. I wish they were here.

Holding Pattern (ttc, or lack thereof)

Well, we've decided to postpone things a bit.... I'm bummed about the delay, but I know it's for the best. I realized that, under ideal circumstances, this month would put us at 20 weeks right around Christmas. Christmas was awful last year as we had just lost the twins, and it derailed everyone's travel/visiting plans for the holiday. My fear of a repeat occurrence would add a lot of extra stress that I simply don't need.

I think the delay will help separate the pregnancies in my mind, and hopefully take away some tiny part of stress. And anything I can do to be less stressed, I will do! I promised myself that we would not move forward unless we both felt 100%, and with this time frame out of the picture I think I'll feel much better.

Some days I feel fine. Other days I feel terrified. Some days I am trusting and sure, other days my heart is in my throat and I think I must be crazy to walk this path again. I realize that the path to good things is not always easy. The best things take work. To have children, you must get pregnant (or adopt, but that’s another discussion). For me to have the baby in my arms that I so long for, I must walk this scary road.

I believe that God is with me. I believe that He desires for us to try again, and to fully trust Him on this journey. I know that if I just fix my eyes on Him, it will be OK. I don’t mean I know things will turn out the way I want them, because, unfortunately, I can’t know that. But I know that focusing on Him gives me peace, and more strength than I have on my own. I know that He brought me through circumstances worse than my mind could have possibly dreamed up, and He will bring me through whatever happens next time.

Usually the times that I feel most anxious and lost are the times when I sit and think, and try to work things out in my head. I play different scenarios over and over, each with different outcomes and strategies to handle the cards we are dealt. I play “Choose Your Own Adventure” with my life, as if in the end I will have any say in things, anyway. I waste my time worrying... it’s a waste because it WILL NOT CHANGE A THING. My worrying is not productive.

And so I have to remind myself to STOP, and fix my eyes on Jesus. It is a constant struggle, with all the distractions and worries and thoughts around me. Taunting me to focus on them instead. Tempting me to try and talk myself through this, to rely on my knowledge and strength. And so I tear my eyes away from those concerns, and look only at Him. Only Him.

"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed." - Luke 10:41-42

random thoughts on a Monday

I like...

...when someone refers to my boys by name.
...when someone asks how I am doing, and really means it.
...when I see someone for the first time since my loss, and they acknowledge it even thought it's been "a while".
...when a friend asks to see pictures of them.

I don't like...

...when I see someone for the first time since our loss, and they act like it never happened.
...when a friend or family member never acknowledges my loss, ever, even with a card.
...when someone refers to our loss as a miscarriage (my babies were as alive as you or I am when they were born).
...when someone looks at me with pity.

Waiting Game (ttc)

I received the results of my labs today, and everything is normal!! This isn’t a huge surprise since they were simply re-running labs from when I was in the hospital, but it’s a nice assurance. Full speed ahead to Baby #3! Yipes!

I am really so excited to move forward, but I’ve felt really odd the past few days. I feel like I’m in limbo...moving forward, yet being pulled back at the same time. Part of it is the timing—today is 2 days from when I found out I was pregnant last year. So I’m feeling a definite sense of déjà vu. Part of it is the feeling of moving forward, yet not being “finished” with the last pregnancy. The pregnancy ended, of course, but not in the way I expected, so it feels unfinished. I don’t expect to feel totally resolved in my grief for a long time, and I’m not waiting on ttc for that. Emotionally, I am in a good place to move ahead, but I still grieve and miss Asher & Evan deeply.

I just did some pregnancy math, since today is CD1… if I got pregnant this month, I would be due May 13th. And—my heart skipped a beat—the baby would reach viability on my birthday, January 20th. Oh how I hope and pray that we make it that far.

It’s a very slow afternoon at work, so I have a lot of time to think. I am so anxious to get started and get pregnant, but at the same time I have so many unanswered questions. I guess that’s how it’s going to be. A waiting game from here until (hopefully) we have a healthy baby in our arms.

Summer Vacation Part 1: Faith's Lodge

At long last, here is part 1 (of 2) of our recent vacation! Our hopes for this time were to relax, get away (that was a biggie), honor and remember our boys, and reflect on the past 7 months. Also to just have FUN and breathe. I think we got all of that and more, and we are so thankful.

The first week of our vacation included three nights at Faith's Lodge in Wisconsin. Faith's Lodge is a nonprofit retreat center for families and couples who have lost a child, or are dealing with the terminal illness of a child.

I cannot recommend Faith's Lodge enough. If you are anywhere in the Midwest (or want to come here) you must visit this unique and serene place. While there we felt both lifted up and supported, and also allowed to sink into the weight of our grief.

The lodge itself was gorgeous! 12,000 square feet, 4 floors. It includes a large commercial kitchen, eating area, wraparound porch, library, craft room, "Eagle's Nest" with beautiful views, and plenty of cozy areas to sit and read or talk.

While there we met 5 other couples who have lost babies. No two stories were alike, but for the first time we experienced a community of others who have truly "been there." J and I have both found encouragement through blogs and the online community, but it was almost surreal to meet people "in real life." It took a little time for everyone to warm up, but we left with new friends and the feeling that we'd known some of the couples for years, rather than days. Slowly, everyone shared their stories, and we connected through similar experiences, while reflecting on the uniqueness of each situation.

There is something incredibly bonding and healing about sitting with people for hours, who you hardly knew until a couple days before, and talking about grief, and pain, and the hardest things in your life, without having to qualify your statements. Everyone just seemed to "get it." I can't describe the feeling, but it was so, so welcome.

There were a few activities planned each day, but we were free to do as much or as little as we chose. We created a bird house and a mosaic stone to add to the boys' garden. We hiked the Inspiration Path. We canoed on the pond. We spent lots of time reading and reflecting.

There is a bridge at the lodge that is surrounded by small, heart-shaped stones. Each of the stones has been decorated and placed in memory of a child. It was actually pretty overwhelming—like stars in the sky, more and more stones stood out to us the longer we looked. We decorated a stone and placed it under a tree to honor Asher and Evan. It was a very meaningful tribute to them.

Faith's Lodge was so good in so many ways. It was also difficult in some ways. Some parts were both good and hard. It was a time of sharing, processing, and healing. We are so very thankful that a place like this exists, and that we had the opportunity to visit.

And now a few pictures:

Aspirin to Prevent Pre-eclampsia

Yesterday this article showed up in my Google Alert for pre-eclampsia. A recent study indicated that aspirin taken during pregnancy, starting before 16 weeks, can have a significant effect on the risk of pre-e. Taking aspirin is a common recommendation, but I'd always heard that the effectiveness was questionable. So I thought it was interesting to see a current study about this treatment. This study showed that the risk was decreased by almost 50%!

MFM appointment update (ttc)

Well, the appointment with the MFM went well! It went as well as it possibly could have. I’m so thankful for that. A part of me wants to be able to point to something and say “It was because of that. If I fix that, next time will be fine.” But so far it looks like that’s not going to happen, so I need to learn to accept that I absolutely cannot control the outcome of my next pregnancy. There is nothing I can do that will guarantee a positive outcome. (On the flip side, that also means there’s not much I could do to completely doom a pregnancy either….)

The biggest challenge of any future pregnancy will be learning to let go. Let go of control. Control that, actually, I have never had in the first place.

The biggest challenge of any future pregnancy will be acknowledging and accepting my lack of control. There, that sounds right.

Anyways, here are the details and highlights:

• I had the same nurse that I’ve had at all my visits to this particular office. I never visited this location until after we lost the boys, so in some ways it wasn’t as hard to go back, compared to my regular OB.
• I had a new doctor! This is saying something, because there are 15 doctors in this practice and I’ve seen most of them. I collect perinatal doctors like playing cards.
• Dr. LS was a fast talker, but very understanding and informative, with a good sense of humor. He even copied things out of medical books for me. I appreciate doctors that will explain things in layman's terms, but also aren’t afraid to give you all the information.
• Dr. LS’s best quote of the day: “If anyone tells you to relax, you can smack them.” Thank you (and I may take you up on that if needed)!!
• They are redoing some of my blood work to check for any changes—specifically, looking for any clotting disorders or autoimmune things.
• Dr. LS instructed me to take baby aspirin, starting when we begin TTC.
• My blood pressure was a bit high when I first arrived, but by the end of the visit it had gone down to normal. That was a relief! I seem to have developed a case of "white coat hypertension." :-)
• Another quote: “If things stay normal, we’ll treat you like you’re normal.” (What I wouldn’t give to have a pregnancy be considered “normal.”)
• Also, Dr. LS said that in early, severe cases like mine, if the woman gets past the time when pre-e appeared last time, many times pre-e will not occur again.

That’s about it! We are very, very thankful for a (nearly) green light from the docs, pending blood work. We are thankful for their optimism, wisdom, and the chance to try this again. I have some hurdles to face, and I anticipate a future pregnancy being very stressful and difficult. But I know that there are so many women who are facing, and have overcome, obstacles much greater than mine. Those women will be a source of strength and inspiration in the months to come.

FYI on TTC

Another blogger recently added "(ttc)" to her posts about trying to get pregnant again, out of respect to women who may not want to read about those topics. I think it's a good idea, so I will do the same. If you see (ttc) in a post title, that means it contains info about pregnancy/future stuff.

Note: we are not yet actively TTC, but an upcoming post talks a lot about plans for it. I don't want to upset or surprise anyone who doesn't like to read about that.

I totally understand if you choose not to follow my blog, or that part of our journey, or even if you just have a day where you can't handle it (as I still often do). No judgment here!

Facebook Strikes Again

I have to say I've been doing really well with Facebook lately. I can handle about 85% of all the pregnancy/baby posts, pictures, etc. Most of them don't bother me anymore, unless it's a person complaining about morning sickness (several times a day), or whining about day 1 of bed rest. "Pregnancy is SO HARD!" Yes, it is.

But every once and a while, I reach my breaking point. Like today, when I friended a long-lost acquaintance only to promptly be invited to join a page she created for moms in her area. It went something like this: "Are you a beautiful mother who loves her children? Do you want to know about exciting, fun activities for moms and kids in your area?" Thank you, new "friend" for reminding me of the groups that I do not get to join. Thank you for not looking at my page for even 5 seconds, because if you did you would get the gist of what happened nearly 8 months ago, and (hopefully) think twice about what you were about to send me. Sheesh.

vent over

In Other News/Upcoming MFM Appointment

We have an appointment with our high-risk docs next week for "pre-pregnancy counseling."

I don't know if we're ready yet, or will be any time soon, BUT we are at least feeling ready to talk about what it even means to be ready, and what "getting ready" entails.... Sometimes I feel fine when I think of TTC again, and sometimes I want to throw up at the very idea. So.... we'll see.

In the meantime, I have a gigantic list of questions for the doctor. I'm sure he will address much of this list without my asking, but it never hurts to be prepared! Many of these are specific to pre-e/HELLP, but I'd appreciate any input about things I should add! I want to be as informed as possible, and I don't care if the docs get sick of me and think I'm neurotic. :-)

• What's the overall "plan?"
• Will I be provided with a blood pressure cuff to check my BP at home? Should I check it regularly? How often?
• Will I be provided with strips to monitor proteinurea? How often? Starting when?
• Will I do a 24-hour urine collection to get a baseline protein count?
• How often will my labs be taken to check platelets, etc (HELLP)?
  
• How often will I have checkups?
• How often will I have ultrasounds?
• Blood work: have I been tested for all possible underlying things? Can I be tested for anything else (see list)?
• Bed rest? Reduced work hours?
• Vitamins: Calcium, Folic acid, Vitamin D, fish oil, CoQ10... what and how much?
• Baby aspirin? How much, and when to start/stop it?
• Will I be given steroids to help baby's lung development? At what point?
  
• What blood pressure would mean I should go to ER/labor and delivery? What protein?
• What kind of management will I have if I develop pre-e?
• exercise recommendations?
• diet recommendations (protein, dairy, etc.)
• any other treatments/recs: alternative therapies, etc?
• Can I see fewer doctors in the practice, request certain doctors, etc?
• Is there/can there be a note in my file to indicate our previous experience, alert nurses/docs to our situation (worried about insensitive comments, unnecessary worries, etc.)

I'm Back!

Ahhhh......... (relaxed sigh) We are back from our vacation, and I cannot fully express how good it was. It was everything that we needed for it to be, and more. Even though I knew we needed a break, I don't think I realized how much we needed it. Wow. Thanks to everyone who thought of and prayed for us and this trip. We are so, so grateful.

I'm busy catching up at work and home (it is amazing how much havoc a cat can wreak on a house in 2 weeks!) but plan to write more about our trip later this week. I have so many, many thoughts in my head that I need to get into writing! I'm working on it! I'm also catching up on a lot of blog reading so I can be up-to-date.

Vacation!!

It's finally here! The vacation we've been hoping for, dreaming about, and desperately needing for many months is finally here!

We have two weeks off of work. Two weeks! I am just beside myself. I haven't had that much time away from work since college. (Well, unless you count my 6 weeks at home after the boys were born, which I certainly don't. I may have been off from work, but that was anything but a vacation.)

We have felt such a need, such a desire to get away from everything, and we feel so blessed that it is actually coming together for us. This vacation feels like a gift—from God, of course, but also from Asher & Evan. In some ways, this trip would not have happened without them. I hope that doesn't sound weird, because I don't mean it that way! But I like to think of it as a gift from them, a way to help us heal. This trip is not only from them, but because of them, and for them. It is time away to focus, relax, heal, and honor our boys. To soak them in, remember them, and cherish their memories. And also to live again, to feel joy, to live life more fully because of, and in honor of them.

bittersweet.

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'"
-- Mary Anne Radmacher

"Good"

When people ask how I'm doing in passing, I've found myself able to reply "good" again for the first time in a long time. The truth is, we are doing better than a few months ago, and much better than a couple months before that, when I wondered if anything would ever be good again. The most I could manage then was an "OK."

But in addition to feeling a little better, my definition of good has changed.

My new, slightly subdued "good" has a hint of hesitation to it. Like Why yes, I am doing OK today. Thank you for asking because I didn't realize that I feel OK, and am somewhat surprised that I'm not on the verge of tears.

I suppose everyone has their go-to response to "How are you?" that rarely changes, no matter how they actually feel. One of my coworkers responds "Fine thank you how are you?" without fail anytime someone asks. My "good" is no longer an automated response to fit the social norm. I have to think about it.

If you ask how I'm doing and I say, "Good," it doesn't mean Everything is back to normal, or I don't have a care in the world, or I'm not thinking of my babies. It means I am happy that I could get out of bed today, or I am doing better, or I am learning to live with this unending ache in my heart.

I'm still on the verge of tears sometimes. But when I am able to reply "good" I don't feel like I'm lying anymore. I saw this quote on another BLM blog, from the book Still by Stephanie Cole, and it explains this odd feeling. My new "good" is a sign of my increasing ability to deal with my loss, not a sign that the pain is going away. I just have a new standard of what it means to feel good:

"People will tell you that time heals. Those people are liars. The pain doesn't go away, you just build up your tolerance to it. It is like lifting weights. If you try to lift 500 pounds, it is going to crush you. But if you lift it every day of your life, it is going to get easier and easier to do, and eventually you are going to lift it without breaking a sweat..."

Perhaps instead of responding, "Good!" I should be saying, "As good as I can be!"

Distraction

I am so distracted today. I can't seem to focus on anything or make myself be productive! Hate when that happens.

My thoughts are daily occupied by many things. One of the prevailing thoughts today is how badly I wish to be pregnant again. Perhaps it was the news of a friend's new baby, or the time of year (we are almost to the point when we started trying last year), perhaps it's just the desire to get out of this "stuck" place I'm in. I feel so ready to get going, get on with things, try again. I can't explain it. Despite the fear and anxiety that is sure to overwhelm me when it does happen, I still want it so badly.

We are kind of moving in that direction, but no official plans until after our trip in July. This is smart, and good, and waiting on God's timing and for us both to be ready. But I am impatient.

Speaking of the trip..... only 2 weeks until Fai.th's Lo.dge, and then COSTA RICA!!

OK, time to get something done. Geesh.

Ultrasound

I had an ultrasound on my thyroid this morning. The exam itself was unremarkable. The hardest part was that it took place in the same room where we had our first ultrasound with the boys. This was the exam where we discovered that there were two of them! I will never forget that day. I remember the shocked grins on our faces, the excited disbelief, and J saying, "Well, you and the babies have a good day at work!" as we parted ways after the appointment.

I can still picture that first ultrasound image in my head, although I haven't seen it in months. It is one of the cutest things I have ever seen—my two little jelly bean babies just starting to grow. That day at work was agonizing, because I was only 9 weeks along and hadn't told anyone the news. I sat at my desk grinning at my computer screen the whole day, trying desperately to focus on my work. It took a few days before the news really sunk in.

We had only one ultrasound in this room because we switched to a high-risk doctor after that point, so the room is particularly significant to me. It brought back all kinds of memories I hadn't anticipated. Funny how the simplest things are complicated now, especially when it comes to doctor's visits.

Happy/sad.

Confession on Comparison

I've always struggled with comparing myself to others. My journey through loss has been no exception. I realize that it's completely ridiculous to compare myself to others when it comes to grief, because everyone grieves differently. In fact, I've never experienced anything else where those in the midst of it can simultaneously relate so well, and react so differently.

And yet, I have these little thoughts creeping in as I read other blogs, books, articles, etc...

• Wow, she seems to be coping well. I wonder if she's being honest with herself, or fully dealing with her emotions.
• Boy, she's a mess. Maybe she needs more help/medication/counseling.
• I admire how well she's doing with her grief, and how strong her faith is. What am I doing wrong that I can't react that way?
• I'm not as upset today as she is. What's wrong with me that I seem to be coping better?
• Should I be doing more/less? Should I try group therapy/medication/that book?
• Should I wait longer to try again, like that person? Should I be trying NOW, like that other person?

I am constantly both condescending and searching for advice. I am judgmental, and yet worried that others will judge. I worry that I am both "too far along" and "not far enough" in my grief. The uniqueness of grief makes me feel lost. Grief has no map, no step-by-step instructions. There are no progress reports or performance reviews to tell you how you're doing. There is no standard against which to measure yourself, no way to know when the long, lonely ride will be over—or at least slow down so you can catch your breath.

I think that God is really trying to teach me something about the dangers of comparison through all of this. Because every time I compare, I lessen the connection I feel with another person (potentially someone I could learn a great deal from). Comparison eats away at my sense of compassion. And I probably miss out on learning what I could from the remarkable women in this BLM community. I admire you all so much, and truly appreciate your hearts and willingness to share. None of us asked to be here, but many of you are creating something positive from your circumstances.

I hope that little by little I can rid my mind of these comparisons, and comparison in other areas of my life, as well. Hopefully I will come out of this a more compassionate person.

Thanks for listening. :-)

God is Good

When you doubt God’s goodness, you doubt the very core of who he is. Love and compassion and kindness are not his attributes. They are his heart and soul. They are not his hobbies. They are the lifeblood of who he is. They are his fingerprints and his breath. They are his everything.

—Stuff Christians Like blog,
"Having Faith Like Robert Pattinson", June 23, 2010

As long as I've been a Christian, I have believed that God is good. But when the boys died my ideas of faith and God were called into question. For the first time in my life, I felt disappointed by God. If that doesn't shake one's belief system to the core, I don't know what would. Was God really as good as I'd always believed?

For several months after Asher & Evan were born and died, I wrestled with this thought. I could still say "God is good," and know it in my head, but in my heart I felt conflicted. How could a good God take away my precious children? I realize that one day in heaven is better than a lifetime on earth, but why did He do this to me? I knew God was there, but in my heart I wrestled with Him.

"Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him" —Job 13:15a

In the end it all came down to this question: Do I believe that God is who He says He is? For if I could not believe that God is who He says He is, how could I believe Him about anything? It was a pivotal moment for me. For the first time in my life I was asked to really CHOOSE to believe or not believe. My faith cannot rest on my comfort, on some abstract idea that "my life is good, so God must be good." I was confronted with the fact that my faith must be built on TRUTH, and this was a test of whether or not it is. Does my faith in God depend on my circumstances, or the TRUTH of who He is? When life sucks does that mean He has changed? Do I believe God is the same today as He was yesterday?

After much wrestling, I reached a point of peace. My God is the same today, tomorrow, and forever. He was the exact same God the day I learned I was pregnant, the day we learned it was twins, the day my babies were born and died. He is the same. He does not change.

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. —Hebrews 13:8

I finally feel like I can say that again. My God is very good. This fact does not shift or change with my emotions or circumstances. God's character is not dependent on me. I choose every day to believe that He is good, no matter what.

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever. —1 Chronicles 16:34

It's the Little Things: Observations on Grief at 6 Months

The other day I was working on the layout of a book for preteen boys. The boy in the story had just asked a girl to a dance for the first time, and felt anxious about the upcoming date. Eventually the boy went to his dad for advice. The father gave his son tips on how to dance, suggested where to eat, and said Mom would help him pick out a shirt and tie to wear.

I alternately laughed at the boy's nervous thoughts and teared up at the admittedly cheesy story. At 6 months out, this is how my grief looks. My feelings alternate between wistful, sweet remembrance, and deep, aching sadness. I am caught off guard by the little things, new realizations of what I've missed and will be missing out on. I will never help them pick out an outfit for a dance. I will never watch admiringly as their father gives them advice on how to treat a girl. I will never snuggle both of them in my lap for a story. I could go on and on about the things I will not experience. But I try not to stay in that place too long.

At 6 months out I still think of, remember, and miss my boys every single day. Usually several times each day. If they aren't my first thought upon waking, I'll think of them as I shower or pass by the nursery. I think of them when I take a break at work, when I see a bright blue sky, when I feel joy.

The ache of missing Asher & Evan is less often an all-consuming, drowning feeling. More often it's a constant, deep ache. I imagine it's much like having chronic pain or a missing limb. That ache will never go away, but as time goes on I am learning how to live with it. The ache is becoming a part of me, rather than defining me.

I am starting to be able to enjoy babies again. It depends on the day.

I still feel a knot in the pit of my stomach when a friend announces her pregnancy.

We are thinking more seriously about trying again. The fact that I can even consider the idea and look ahead makes me realize how far we've come over the last 6 months.

Sometimes the grief surges up and overtakes me with a fresh wave of pain. These are the times when I go back to their blankets and photos, and just sit and cry. I cry because I'm so, so sorry all their belongings fit in one small box. And I would do anything to have them back. At 6 months, 6 years, or 6 decades, that will never change.

At 6 months out, my happy memories of my pregnancy and Asher & Evan have increased. I am able to smile more often than cry when I see their pictures. Slowly, very slowly, the rawness of grief is becoming secondary to the deep feelings of love.

Father's Day

We celebrated Father's Day yesterday with my dad and family in the small town where they live. The town was devastated last week by a tornado, so we almost weren't able to make the trip. Thankfully my family is fine, their house is fine, and the Na.tional Gu.ard moved the borders of the disaster area just enough to allow us to reach their house.

J and I had our own little celebration yesterday morning with a card from me, and a Li.sa Leo.nard bracelet (do they call leather armbands for guys "bracelets?" I don't know.) personalized with Asher & Evan's names. I also picked out some cologne for him. I hope he felt recognized and appreciated as a father. I've always known he would be a great dad, and he's shown that to be true. He was fiercely protective of me and the boys while I was pregnant, and has shown such amazing devotion to his family. Our road to parenthood has been incredibly difficult, but he is walking it with strength and courage.

It broke my heart yesterday, though, that no one else acknowledged his fatherhood. I hadn't expected much, since only my mom and a couple close girlfriends said anything to me on Mother's Day. But I'd hoped for something. My own father was saying "Happy Father's Day!" to strangers, but didn't say anything to J.

I know that people just don't know what to say, and that everyone was thinking about it. But sometimes I get angry, and sick of giving others the benefit of the doubt. I guess I feel selfish, like other people should suck it up and do the uncomfortable thing for our sakes. I feel so defensive and protective of our status as parents, and I shouldn't have to feel that way.

As time goes on I'm sure I will feel more comfortable with our unconventional role as parents, and how to acknowledge it with others. We know we are parents, and our babies certainly know that, so that's all that matters. I am proud and thankful to be their mom, as I know J is proud to be their dad, and we'll celebrate that fact even if no one else does!

6 months

Yesterday marked 6 months since my baby boys entered and left this world.

It seems like a very big milestone to reach. Asher and Evan have now been gone longer than I was pregnant with them. (Technically that date passed a couple weeks ago, but I really feel it at the 6-month mark, because I was so close.)

More and more I've been struck by how much the world has moved on. I have moved forward a lot, but I still think of them, miss them, remember them on a daily basis. December 16th still feels like only a few weeks ago. I can recall details of those days in the hospital with perfect clarity. And then I realize it is summer now, and am struck by how much time has passed in "the real world." It's a different season, a different year. My loss is still at the forefront of my mind every day, and I have to remind myself that for others, it's something that happened to me "a while ago." How odd that people can operate on such different scales of time.

I hope to post later about what my grief looks like at 6 months out. And I hope to write a letter to my boys. But for now I just have to say I can't believe it's 6 months long since I held them. And I wish they were here.

Celebrate!

Woo hoo! I reached my We.ight Wat.chers goal today!!




It is an ongoing struggle for me to trust my body again since our loss. Part of regaining that trust and confidence is getting back in shape, and being at a healthy weight. Although I was not technically overweight to start out with, I knew I was not at the best weight for my body. We.ight Wat.chers has really helped me learn what it means to take care of myself through the food I eat. It's also been helpful to reestablish what a "normal" portion size looks like for me, after eating for three for several months (oh, how I miss them). I have felt so good these past several weeks as my weight has dropped and my energy levels have risen. I'm still a different shape in a few places, but so thankful to be feeling healthy again. (Next step: get my butt moving with the exercise side of things... definitely NOT my forte!)

You Should Read This Book!

We all grieve differently, and we all hide portions of it in places we wouldn't dare let others see. I have been reminded that I am daily battling an enemy who would love nothing more than for me to shove all my baggage into the crevices of darkness, slam the doors, and pretend I have it all together while I secretly fall apart. As I lie in bed at night and wonder what I could have done differently, he laughs victoriously. He looks on while my marriage suffers and I play the role of happy homemaker because everyone else seems to have their act together.
-- Angie Smith, I Will Carry You

I am just about finished with the book "I Will Carry You" by Angie Smith. Angie's daughter, Audrey, was given a terminal diagnosis during Angie's pregnancy. Angie chose to carry Audrey to term and this book chronicles her experience, her journey through grief, and how Audrey changed her life.

Although my situation is different from Angie's, our journeys through grief have had many similarities. I really admire Angie's faith and authenticity as she shares her story. She is honest about her doubts, her questions, her wrestling with God. She has struggled with many of the same questions I have, and dealt with many of the same emotions. This book could also be good for anyone who knows someone grieving a loss, and wants to better relate to their friend. This book says things I would like to tell others about my loss, and how to relate to me in light of it, but in a more eloquent way than I ever could.

I really admire Angie's daily efforts to learn how to live in this strange place of loss and redemption. I identify with her struggles to daily choose faith over fear, hope over despair. I share her "clumsy" (she said it, not me!) dance of grief and joy, as I learn how to exist in this world without my children. And I really admire how many lives she has touched through her experience, and the amazing impact her daughter had on this world during her short time here. It's a powerful book, and I hope you'll pick it up! (cue Reading Rainbow music)

:::

On an unrelated note, we're about to go to a graduation party for our neighbor's daughter. The panic is setting in... will anyone ask if we have children? I can almost guarantee someone will. And I still don't know how I want to answer this question. Perhaps I'll just throw up on their shoes... that couldn't be any more awkward than telling them I have two dead babies, right?

Blargh.

We had to put our family dog to sleep this morning. :-(

My mom is in France right now, so I am the “emergency contact,” and they called me right before I left for work. Poor Ursa had a twisted stomach, which apparently is an emergency thing. So it was either really expensive surgery on a 14-year-old dog, or put her to sleep. So I called my sisters, and we all agreed that it was time. She is really old (especially for a standard poodle) and it was bound to happen soon. I tried to call my mom in France (which is the funny part of the story, because I, the one daughter who does not speak French, called the hotel, and managed to say hello and ask the person if she spoke English. Good thing she did, because that was about the extent of my French knowledge!) So anyways. It is sad. And I’m sad for my mom because she would have liked to be there, and it will be really sad to come home and not have a dog to pick up from the kennel. And I’m really really really busy today but I didn’t get in early like I wanted because I was on the phone taking care of all that. And I’m about to switch my mouse to my left hand because my right hand hurts every time I click the mouse. Blahhh.....

I came across this quote in an article on the Grieve Out Loud blog today:

Comfort is the one thing you cannot get by looking for it.
If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end:
if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth–
only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin with and, in the end, despair.
~C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Headache. Earache. Heartache.

I'm feeling kind of depressed today, just in a funk. There's not really one good reason for it—I'm just having a down day. Sad about the news about Courtney, sad that there are oodles of women out there dealing with the loss of a child (or children). I am comforted by the sense of community in blog world, but I'm sad that we're all here.

I've always been somewhat hyper-vigilant about my health, always thinking there is something wrong with me. Sometimes it gets laughably ridiculous, the things I might imagine myself having in a given day. Diabetes, MS, arthritis, cancer, tumors, etc, etc, etc.... The list goes on, and really is kind of silly. But since we lost the boys it's only gotten worse. I worry about every little ache and pain, and I wonder if it's grief-related, recovery-from-pre-e-related, or truly a problem? I second guess myself constantly. The past day or so my breasts have been achy. This could be nothing, or something to do with my cycle, or.... what? I get more frequent headaches now. Is there something wrong with my brain? I think I pulled a muscle in my chest recently, which has led to minor chest discomfort, which of COURSE I think is a heart attack.

So what is all this? Am I just a nutcase to be having all these physical issues? I've always been a very healthy person until I got pre-e. Now, nothing is certain. I feel like a ticking time bomb.

I need to feel more confident in my body before I can try to get pregnant again. But it's hard to know where to go from here when my "ailments" change on a daily basis, and I don't even know if they are anything real. I realize this post makes me sounds crazy, but some days I feel that way!

Wyatt River

My heart is with Courtney and Jason, who lost their son Wyatt today. Wyatt joins his brothers Logan and Brody in heaven. Words cannot begin to express my sadness for them.

Today

Today, I was able to go to church.
Today I chatted with a close friend while fawning over her baby.
Today I looked at their pictures and felt more love than sadness. I even smiled at their precious little faces.
Today I went shopping, bought lots of clothes (a lot for me, I'm so picky!), and didn't have a breakdown.
Today I feel the slightest bit of hope, like maybe things will be OK. Maybe some things even are OK. Not everything, by far, but today I can recognize that my life has both good and bad.

I don't know if tomorrow will be better or worse, but I am thankful for Today.

Thankful Thursday

For Mother's Day my friend D sent me a Mother's Day card. It would have been more than enough that she remembered me, and even took the time to find an appropriate card (several people have told me how hard it is to find a Mother's Day card for a BLM, which I understand, but I also appreciate the extra effort). But she did more than that. She crocheted two tiny little hats and two precious little blankets in honor of the boys.

When Asher & Evan were born, the nurses found cute little knit hats and blankets for them to wear. Someone I didn't know had taken the time to make those tiny little things for my boys. It touched me so much that someone else thought of me, and other women delivering very premature babies with nothing for them to wear. The grace of that gift was immeasurable. Those blankets and hats are some of my most treasured possessions. When I need to be with my boys I hold the blankets, and feel their softness. It's as close to them as I can get.

I am so thankful for D, and her thoughtfulness with this gift. I am eager to send the blankets on to the hospital, so they can be given to another family. I hate to think of anyone going through the same thing I did, but sadly I know that it happens. And I hope these blankets from a dear friend will provide a tiny bit of comfort to someone who needs all the grace they can get.

Gulp...

We have our tickets and hotel reservations for our Costa Rica trip in July! We got everything arranged over a month ago, and are SO excited.

But, today I went onto a travel website to see what the latest discussions were about CR, and I found a news article that the Are.nal Volcano erupted two days ago, prompting evacuation of the national park!

Our hotel while we're in the Are.nal area is at the foot of this volcano. Like, we can watch the volcanic eruptions from our bed. Awesome, right? But crap, I don't want to get caught in some kind of natural disaster!

So then, I was looking online for more info about this eruption (which they said posed no danger to anyone, but they had evacuated the park just to be safe), and I found out that there was a 6.1 earthquake a few days ago, in the other town we're staying during our trip!

YIKES!

So now I'm trying not to freak out. Deep breaths.... I'm sure it will be fine, right??

Trust and Trying Again

I spent a great evening with one of my very best friends last night. What was meant to be dinner after work turned into a 4-hour-long gabfest about everything from faith to poverty to poop (seriously). It was so, so good for my heart.

My friend M and her husband are planning to start trying to get pregnant in the near future. I am so thrilled for them, and excited! I was also so happy that she gave me some advance warning. She had the discernment to know that I would be more prepared to react happily (and appropriately) if I knew it was coming.

Today is a slow-ish day for me at work (where did that come from??) and so I've found myself perusing new blogs, including babyloss blogs that I haven't seen before. And thinking. Thinking about "trying again." Trying to have more children. The idea is both exciting and terrifying with a capital T. The stories out there in blog world are not always cherry and happy and "of course the next time will be better." They are real, and hard, and blunt reminders that not everyone gets a happy ending. I find myself pulled between a desire to throw caution to the wind and Just Do It (insert Ni.ke logo here), and a desire to plan everything out, get my affairs in order, and go about things very methodically and slowly. There is no part of me that DOESN'T want to try again. My longing for children on this earth is too strong. Depiste the statistics and the possibility that I may have to endure the same horrible outcome, I can't silence this desire to be a mother to a living child.

I told J last weekend that I am ready to start talking about trying again. I am by no means ready to actually DO anything about it, but I am ready to start the process of, well, processing. I'm the type of person that has to hash everything out, so I imagine there will be many long conversations, many tough conversations. I need to be realistic here. I need to find a balance between realism and hope.

So, I told J I am ready, and I wanted him to know that, but that HE could let me know when he is ready as well. The ball is in his court. He didn't say anything that day. He hasn't said anything since. We have plenty of other issues going on right now, so I would not be surprised if it was quite some time before he is ready to talk. But it's out there.

And all the while, I know God is whispering in my ear, "Do you trust Me??" Because that's all it comes down to. That is all I can control in this whole situation. My life is not my own. All I can do is trust. I say "all," but it is a big "all." And it is so hard to do. But the more I reflect the more I realize that it is ALL I need to do, and all I can do, and it is good enough.

But I am still scared. Lord, help me to trust You more!

Definitely A Vent / This is Why People I Know IRL Should Not Read This Blog

Dear lovely friends,

I love you, I really do. And I love your kids. I am happy for you that you just gave birth to twins, and that they are healthy. I am happy for you that you now have three children. Please believe when I say that I wish you only the best.

But friends, really. Really? How many emails do you need to send me about the birth? I have now received no less than FOUR emails from you, either announcing the birth, sending pictures, or telling the whole long birth story. I realize that the majority of the people you are emailing can't get enough, and are happy to read all of this information. But friends, please think before you send me these emails. I am happy to get the birth announcement and pictures. But all these other emails feel like a punch to the gut. I want to feel happy for you and leave it at that. I want to rejoice with you as you rejoice. Each successive email only makes it more difficult for me to do that.*

Love,
I Wish I Didn't Feel This Way

*Disclaimer: I haven't actually been reading all the emails, but I can't help seeing the subject lines. And I am taking a break from Facebook this week. (Lest you think I am a glutton for punishment)

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

— 2 Corinthians 4:16-18