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.
Showing posts with label their story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label their story. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
A Letter to Evan
To my little baby Evan,
Oh, sweetheart, how I miss you. You were such a tiny little thing, such a beautiful baby. You were so delicate and perfect.
You showed me your personality even before you were born! You were so active, and blessed me with so many sweet moments during pregnancy. The first kick I felt was from you. I felt you moving inside of me often. One of my favorite memories of us together is in the mornings when I first woke up. Before getting up, I would place my hands on my belly to see if you would move for me. More often than not, you did! Sometimes your brother joined in, too, but you were always my squirmy baby.
Evan, we only shared 4 minutes together outside of my womb, but I treasure every single second that we had together. I gazed at you, and held your tiny body for so long. My sweet little boy.
I imagine that you would have been my mischievous boy, my little rascal. You were smaller, but I think you would have been the tough one, and the trouble maker, between you and Asher. You would have been messy, and loud, and rambunctious as a little boy. You would have gotten in lots of trouble, but you would still be a sweetheart in the end. Evan, I imagine cuddling up with you to read you a story before bed. I imagine teaching you things about the world. You would have been smart, and you and Asher would have made up all kinds of stories and schemes together. Oh, how I miss being able to see you grow up together.
Evan, your name means "God is good." And even though I am heartbroken that you are not here, I praise God that you and Asher are safe and whole in Heaven. I am thankful that in your short life, you only knew love. I can't wait to see you again someday.
I love you, baby,
Mommy
Oh, sweetheart, how I miss you. You were such a tiny little thing, such a beautiful baby. You were so delicate and perfect.
You showed me your personality even before you were born! You were so active, and blessed me with so many sweet moments during pregnancy. The first kick I felt was from you. I felt you moving inside of me often. One of my favorite memories of us together is in the mornings when I first woke up. Before getting up, I would place my hands on my belly to see if you would move for me. More often than not, you did! Sometimes your brother joined in, too, but you were always my squirmy baby.
Evan, we only shared 4 minutes together outside of my womb, but I treasure every single second that we had together. I gazed at you, and held your tiny body for so long. My sweet little boy.
I imagine that you would have been my mischievous boy, my little rascal. You were smaller, but I think you would have been the tough one, and the trouble maker, between you and Asher. You would have been messy, and loud, and rambunctious as a little boy. You would have gotten in lots of trouble, but you would still be a sweetheart in the end. Evan, I imagine cuddling up with you to read you a story before bed. I imagine teaching you things about the world. You would have been smart, and you and Asher would have made up all kinds of stories and schemes together. Oh, how I miss being able to see you grow up together.
Evan, your name means "God is good." And even though I am heartbroken that you are not here, I praise God that you and Asher are safe and whole in Heaven. I am thankful that in your short life, you only knew love. I can't wait to see you again someday.
I love you, baby,
Mommy
A Letter to Asher
To my baby Asher,
My firstborn. Asher, you are so loved and so missed. I remember when I first laid eyes on you, it was love at first sight. I was filled with so much joy and pride, even in the midst of tragic circumstances. Despite the pain of the outcome, all I felt was love for you, more than I ever knew was possible for one person to feel.
Asher, you were a fighter, and I bet you would have been a typical oldest child in many ways. Maybe you would have been bossy, like I was. Maybe you would have had your daddy's strong, gentle personality. I bet you would have been creative. Maybe you would have played guitar, and followed in your dad's footsteps. I know that you would have been a great brother to Evan. I imagine that the two of you would have come up with all kinds of games and plans together.
You made quite the dramatic entrance into this world! You lived for almost an hour, and even kicked when you were born. The nurses were all surprised at your strength. One of my favorite memories of you is when I held you for the first time and you grabbed my finger. My baby, my love. You knew me, and I knew you.
Another memory we shared is when your daddy held your tiny little foot, and said that it looked like mine. You were so beautiful, with your tiny little hands and feet, and the beginnings of fine little eyebrows. You had your daddy's mouth. Asher, you were absolutely perfect.
Asher, I am so lucky to have had you. I am blessed to call you my son. I am grateful for the time we spent together. You will always be my oldest child, and I hold a special place in my heart for you alone.
I love you, I miss you,
Mommy
My firstborn. Asher, you are so loved and so missed. I remember when I first laid eyes on you, it was love at first sight. I was filled with so much joy and pride, even in the midst of tragic circumstances. Despite the pain of the outcome, all I felt was love for you, more than I ever knew was possible for one person to feel.
Asher, you were a fighter, and I bet you would have been a typical oldest child in many ways. Maybe you would have been bossy, like I was. Maybe you would have had your daddy's strong, gentle personality. I bet you would have been creative. Maybe you would have played guitar, and followed in your dad's footsteps. I know that you would have been a great brother to Evan. I imagine that the two of you would have come up with all kinds of games and plans together.
You made quite the dramatic entrance into this world! You lived for almost an hour, and even kicked when you were born. The nurses were all surprised at your strength. One of my favorite memories of you is when I held you for the first time and you grabbed my finger. My baby, my love. You knew me, and I knew you.
Another memory we shared is when your daddy held your tiny little foot, and said that it looked like mine. You were so beautiful, with your tiny little hands and feet, and the beginnings of fine little eyebrows. You had your daddy's mouth. Asher, you were absolutely perfect.
Asher, I am so lucky to have had you. I am blessed to call you my son. I am grateful for the time we spent together. You will always be my oldest child, and I hold a special place in my heart for you alone.
I love you, I miss you,
Mommy
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Scattered Memories
It's funny the things I remember about the time surrounding the boys' births. There are the obvious things that anyone would want to remember, but the "funny" things are those that pop into my head randomly throughout the day. They are mostly insignificant details, odd thoughts that ran through my head, little moments. They may not be important, really, but it is so important to me that I remember every single little thing, so matter how silly or small.
I remember...
I remember...
- ...asking the nurse whether I would have to dilate to 10 centimeters before I could deliver the boys, and the nurse and my mom saying, "That's a really good question."
- ...being told by nurse Maureen that the babies' heads would be about the size of a tennis ball.
- ...the feeling of the narcotic entering my body through the IV. I said to Jason, "I can feel it kicking in. There it is...."
- (this is funny) While pushing, the doctors were holding my legs in the air, and I remember thinking that my thighs looked really nice at that angle.
- ...laying in bed on that morning, breathing through contractions and trying to let Jason sleep for just a few more minutes. Eventually I said, "Honey. It's time for you to get up now."
- ...seeing a news story on TV about the Duggar family. The mom had delivered her umpteenth baby at 25 weeks, due to preeclampsia. I said hopefully to J, "Look honey, she had preeclampsia and had her baby really early. And the baby is doing OK!"
- ...my dad arriving at the hospital for the second time, after J called him and told him to come back because we had to deliver. He came in to my room and just lost it. We held each other and sobbed. I have never seen my dad cry like that.
- ...sobbing uncontrollably after Dr. Wagner came to talk to us and give us the bottom line. I was absolutely wailing, not caring at all who heard me. My mom was sobbing, too. And then she left to call someone, and when she came back she said that she wasn't sure it was the right room, because the woman in the room next to mine was crying, too.
- ...feeling SO grateful and happy when the nurses produced beautiful knit blankets and hats for our boys to wear, because obviously we didn't have clothes for them. I felt "happy" that they had them to wear, and plan to send blankets and hats to the hospital every year, to ensure that other moms can have that comfort.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Two Months
Two months today. Two months ago I gave birth to my beautiful boys, Asher and Evan. Asher at 6:50 am, and Evan around 7:20.
Admittedly, the pain is not quite as sharp as it was on the 16th of January. But it is there, a strong ache, threatening to pull me down into complete despair. My grief is still very real, very rough, but perhaps the sharpest of edges are beginning to get worn away. It washes over me like a wave sometimes... my grief has tides, though they are not as predictable as the ocean.
This morning I was walking through the hallway at work, thinking about their births, and I was so distracted that I walked into the wrong part of our office, rather than back to my own space. Yikes! Hopefully I don't have to make any important decisions today. I was remembering holding Asher, and touching his skin. I remember both wanting to wrap him up in his receiving blanket to keep him warm, and leave him uncovered (how they gave him to me) to see more of him, all of him. I remember taking Evan from the nurse... he was so light, not much heavier than a can of pop. I remember the strangest mix of emotions flooding my heart... the oddest sense of pride and even joy, even though my boys were dying. And so much love. Deeper emotions than I have ever felt in my life.
I will stop for now so I don't get too upset at work... but one last thing: it really sucks that I am the only one thinking about them SO much today, and remembering this mark in time. I am the only one.
Admittedly, the pain is not quite as sharp as it was on the 16th of January. But it is there, a strong ache, threatening to pull me down into complete despair. My grief is still very real, very rough, but perhaps the sharpest of edges are beginning to get worn away. It washes over me like a wave sometimes... my grief has tides, though they are not as predictable as the ocean.
This morning I was walking through the hallway at work, thinking about their births, and I was so distracted that I walked into the wrong part of our office, rather than back to my own space. Yikes! Hopefully I don't have to make any important decisions today. I was remembering holding Asher, and touching his skin. I remember both wanting to wrap him up in his receiving blanket to keep him warm, and leave him uncovered (how they gave him to me) to see more of him, all of him. I remember taking Evan from the nurse... he was so light, not much heavier than a can of pop. I remember the strangest mix of emotions flooding my heart... the oddest sense of pride and even joy, even though my boys were dying. And so much love. Deeper emotions than I have ever felt in my life.
I will stop for now so I don't get too upset at work... but one last thing: it really sucks that I am the only one thinking about them SO much today, and remembering this mark in time. I am the only one.
Friday, January 15, 2010
My Post on The Bump
Here is what I posted on The Bump, letting the ladies there know what happened. I felt so raw when I wrote this. It still rips my heart out to read it, even thought I'm the one who wrote it.
The women on The Bump were incredibly helpful and supportive throughout my pregnancy. More than 130 people responded to this post to offer their condolences and prayers. I was so touched to receive so much love and support from people I don't even know in real life. That will always mean a lot to me, and so I wanted to preserve the original post here.
The women on The Bump were incredibly helpful and supportive throughout my pregnancy. More than 130 people responded to this post to offer their condolences and prayers. I was so touched to receive so much love and support from people I don't even know in real life. That will always mean a lot to me, and so I wanted to preserve the original post here.
Hi everyone,
Warning in advance that this is a sad post, but I want all my Bump friends to know what has happened. I never thought I would be the one writing a post like this.
You may remember that about two weeks ago (at 21 weeks) I posted about swelling I was experiencing. Well, I had to go to the doctor's office over lunch anyway, so I asked them to check my blood pressure, just in case. It was 178/120 (yikes). I was immediately told to lie down, and call my husband for a ride to the hospital.
Once in the hospital, I was given IV meds to prevent seizure, and blood pressure meds. The doctors did many lab tests over the next several days to rule out other problems, and then diagnosed me with severe early-onset pre-eclampsia. I wasn't feeling that bad, considering, but my labs showed otherwise. I had 10 GRAMS of protein in my urine (anything over 300 mg is considered a lot). The docs explained that I was very sick, and my situation could become life-threatening at any time, with little warning.
DH and I were faced with the very difficult reality that our babies were not going to make it. My pre-e would have to hold steady and be managed for at least another 2 weeks to give them any chance of survival whatsoever. The risks to my health/life during that time far outweighed the benefits to the babies. Basically, if we waited any longer the risks to my life only would go up, while the outcome would probably not change for the babies. On top of it all, one of our boys was a few weeks behind in size. After hearing all of the risks/numbers/facts, and lots and lots (and LOTS) of tears and anguish, we made the difficult choice (not really a choice at all) to deliver the babies.
Asher Love and Evan Love were born early on Wednesday, December 16th. The delivery was somewhat dramatic, but overall not as bad as I feared it would be. Both boys lived for only a few moments, but we cherish every second we had with them. A kind photographer came and took a few pictures, and our parents and pastor were there to surround and support us.
Words cannot express the emotions I am going through right now. I know each day will get better, but I miss my sons so deeply. We are very blessed to have tons of support from family, friends, and church. The whole thing feels so surreal, and I honestly don't know how I'm still standing,. The only thing getting us through is the hope we have in Jesus, and that we will will see our boys again someday. I have to imagine that He took them to save them from far worse pain in life. I know His strength is carrying me through, because I feel so weak.
My pre-e symptoms immediately began to clear up after the delivery, it really was incredible. Only as I recover am I realizing how bad I actually felt. This is confirmation that we did what we had to do.
If you're still reading at this point, thank you, and thanks for your prayers and thoughts at this time. I would not wish this experience on anyone, but my thoughts are with anyone else who has experienced a loss.
I will probably be signing off of The Bump for a while, except for maybe the Loss board, but wanted to let you all know how much I have appreciated your support and advice during my pregnancy. I hope to be back sooner than later, once life gets back to normal. Thanks again for reading, I really appreciate it.
Becky
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