Footprints On My Heart

Sigh…here it goes. I’ve been dreading this post for a few weeks now. Posting this now isn’t my attempt at trying to get this over with, but it’s me trying to heal as the days pass and I continue to both remember and be reminded.

As I sit here typing this post, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I should be sitting here pregnant. Right now, I should be about 9 weeks and 6 days pregnant with my first baby. Tomorrow would have been 10 days. Although I’ve been able to reintegrate into life after loss, I can’t help but feel like every day that passes is a reminder of how far I would have been.

On August 11, 2013, I had a thought. I said to myself, “Self, I think you are pregnant. Take a test.” So Myself said, “Ok,” and took a pregnancy test. After taking the test, I looked at it in the way that many women look at them…in every possible lighting and angle there is to look at it. I thought I saw a line but I wasn’t completely sure so I asked Jay and he said he thinks he saw one but he isn’t sure either. So after a few days passed, I took a First Response test at about 8 a.m. while we were away on vacation. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to put the test down before I saw the brightest positive on the side of Tennessee. My mouth dropped, my heart fluttered, and I was hungry. Cravings, blissful soreness, nausea, and sleep overcame me over the next few days. Those were some of the best days I’ve had. I remember throwing up and feeling a sense of joy overcome me for the reason of my regurgitation.

Shortly after we returned from our vacation, things started going south. I was bleeding, some of my symptoms began to disappear, and I was very afraid. Every day that passed felt like time itself tripled in length. I communicated with doctors who couldn’t tell me very much because it was so early on in my pregnancy. I had my HCG tested every other day and it seemed to be doing a tormenting dance, going up and then dropping. When I tried to make peace with a miscarriage, it went up again. The doctor concluded that my pregnancy is ectopic and they were worried because those can be very dangerous.

On September 5th at 1:30 p.m., I showed up at the doctors office distressed, tired, and defeated. I was 30 minutes late because I couldn’t make myself get off of the couch knowing that I was going to terminate my pregnancy. For 45 minutes, they tried to inject me and for 45 minutes, I cried.

I didn’t want that moment to be my last memory of my pregnancy so I purchased a little chest to place everything from that pocket of time (as Kara would say) to remind myself of God’s blessing of my pregnancy, that it really happened, and so I will never forget. Today, I still cry. I cry because I am sad. I am frustrated and heart broken. I cry when I think about how my little silver chest holds all of the hopes and dreams that my husband and I had for this life, for us as a family, and the future of what would have been our baby.

Though my heart is broken, I will continue to move forward because it is the only choice I have.

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One Drop

 

I had the privilege of having dinner with a really great friend last night. Every time I leave her, I’m able to find more beauty in life and mankind. Let me tell you why. My friend and her husband experienced an extremely difficult loss on April 25, 2013. They met their sweet daughter much sooner than intended. They loved her in the most humbling and beautiful way that a parent loves their child and had to say goodbye in the same moment. Through their personal loss, she is starting a support group for women dealing with loss and infertility. With everything that their family has been through, she is extending her love and support to others. What could be more redeeming than that?

Sometimes we treat our lives as if our desires are the only thing that matter and our decisions don’t effect others. We don’t realize that we can actually have an affect on the world. That one decision to smile at a stranger, to be kind when no one notices, or to reach out to people in need in the face of your own suffering has a ripple effect. As much as western culture would like for us to believe that we are all independent, this simply is not true in the grand scheme of things. We are all woven together in this beautiful tapestry called Life. It isn’t always simple or easy, but the one thing we do have is each other. I’m not naive, not every person has good intentions, however, there are also very good people with good hearts out there as well. Learn to love and be loved. Give and receive. Support and be supported.

This is a beautiful explosion of a life-giving lesson that I’ve been able to learn through the life of a wee little one and her parents. I hope that a piece of our interlocked life was able to give you a glimmer of hope.

xo

P.S. You can check out their blog here.

To Those Who’ve Loved & Lost

This specific blog post goes out to those TTC-ing after loss, had to give birth to your baby knowing that you’d only have a few precious moments with them, and to those that experienced the loss of a child.

My dear friends Kara and Andy had this experience and they are sharing their process in the most authentic way through their blog Journey to Baby. I hope that this post from there blog serves as a comfort or as a way to possibly put words to help with your process. If you get a moment, please check out their blog and bid them adieu.

Everlee.

 

She was beautiful. She is my joy. Her tiny little life awakened love in me so deep it renders me breathless. We spent 5 long months together. She is the only person who knows what my heart sounds like from the inside. While every mother’s worst nightmare came true for us, I was still overwhelmed with joy and pride on the night of her birth. It was a strange feeling, like I had stepped outside of myself as I watched my family weep over her. I couldn’t really grasp in that moment why everyone was so sad. I wanted to shout, “But just look at her, she is perfect.” I waited so long to meet her and here she was in my arms. Obviously, it could go unsaid that I would have given my left arm to have waited even longer. Regardless, she is ours. Her little combinations of wonderful will never be repeated. She is a work of The Lord and we were amazed. She had Andy’s mouth and my nose. Her ears were marvelous in all their tiny folds. She had light blonde eyelashes and a dusting of the same on her head. We wondered about her hair since mine was jet black and Andy’s was blonde as a kid. She had long little legs and big feet. We laughed because her second toe was longer than her first, just like her dad. She was just under 10 inches and weighed not quite a pound. She was our tiny but perfect little girl. Sometimes, I’ll catch a glimpse of Andy and it takes my breathe away how much she looks like him. I’m so thankful for the hours we spent with her, but I could have held her forever. She isn’t a tragedy, she is our daughter. She continues to inspire me to dig deeper, be kinder, and to live in the moment. You truly never know how quickly things can change. She has brought so many amazing people into our lives and has given me a second family amongst my support group. She motivates me to help others and to share the hard stuff in life, too. I’d give anything to have her back, but until we are reunited in our restoration through Christ, I will remember her every detail. I will honor her with my tears and my laughter. I will be present. I will live with her in the deepest parts of my heart. She is my one and only, Everlee.