For those that like to dream, come in. For those that like to laugh, come in. For those that like to cry and be inspired...please come in. Our family is like any other, but is extraordinary in it's own right. Come and join us at our campfire and laugh a little, cry a little and leave us, but please come back. We love company...

Sunday, November 28, 2010

A year already?

We are just days away from December. I can hardly believe that. I was reading a post from a friend of mine on her own blog about the peace and quiet of this time of year. Or at least it was the time of day she was outside, and she was enjoying it. This time of year can bring peace, love, service and contentment. For me this year it is a roller coaster. A day or so ago I was feeling very at peace with all that has happened, and don't be mistaken, I still do. But that doesn't mean that I don't hurt still.

In September of 09 I lost my first baby. It was early on in my pregnancy and I think my thought process was one of "I have had nine perfect pregnancies...I guess my luck had to run out sometime". So, I thought that was it. My experience with losing a baby, a pregnancy. Boy was I wrong. I was pregnant right away again and this time I thought I would have a baby out of it. Surely I had learned what I needed to learn, and this time I would have another perfect pregnancy. Just not so. We spent weeks hoping and wondering with one ultrasound after another telling us that things "didn't look good". On December 10th I began to lose my second baby. This one hurt so much I thought I could go to bed and not wake up for a month. Christmas was clouded with pain, and I tried to look forward to new things.

Fast forward to January. I had a conversation with a friend that sort of rocked me. I told her I would try "one more time" and that would be it. I couldn't stand the thought of losing another baby and I wouldn't allow myself to be put through that". Her response? "You can't give the Lord ultimatums". I was taken back by her response. She was honest, yet firm. It made me think. We went ahead and tried again, and there we were again pregnant, only to be told the exact same thing we were told in December and by the end of February we were losing another baby. This time I was somewhat numb. I didn't know what to think and how to feel. We ran away to St George the weekend we lost the baby, and I am sure it was my way of masking the pain of what was happening.

Fast forward again to July. Pregnant again. This time things were different. The baby looked good, the heartbeat was strong and he (as it turns out) was growing like a little Loutensock weed. It was beautiful and I thought we had walked over hot coals, but it had paid off with a beautiful baby on the way. At 13 weeks his heart just stopped, I had a d&c and I was left devastated. My heart ached so badly that I didn't think I would ever feel normal again. I sobbed like a baby when I went to see baby Maycie and Angie in the hospital just a few short weeks later, giving her the clothes I had bought for my own baby saying "I am not going to use them, you might as well". It still brings tears to my eyes.

One year ago is when this journey began. One year ago I was a different person than I am today. I have experienced more pain in one year than I ever imagined I would have to. 4 lost babies, months of anticipation, hope and faith laid out, and loss after loss. Heartache after heartache. I am at peace with what's happened, I can never get those babies back in this life, maybe the next, but not now and I may not understand why they were taken away, but I will say that doesn't change my love for them. The joy I did have when hearing their heartbeats and see their tiny bodies forming. The joy of knowing they were inside of me, even for a short time is a pure and precious joy. But for all those reasons I hurt. I ache to hold just one of those babies in my arms right now. I ache to smell their sweet necks and kiss their tiny noses, soft dimples on the bottom of tiny feet and the chubbiness of the cute little hands. I would love to have that right now, and I know I can't. Am I at peace right now? Yes, I am. Am I pain free though? No, pain I do know, I know all too well.

1 comment:

  1. I could be reading a post from my own daughter. I'm so sorry. I've never lost a baby in pregnancy. I, personally, don't know how that feels; but after going through this with Jeni, my own daughter, my dear first girl, my empathy has grown by leaps and bounds. She's writing about it now and I believe that is making a big difference. Her love of the Savior and understanding of the gospel has made the biggest difference though.

    I'm not sure what would be worse, losing a child in pregnancy or to feel you may loose a child because of their choices in this life. That's where I am. Half of my children are wandering in the wilderness, making choices that will only bring them pain and heartache and difficulty. But we are promised that through the sealing power of heaven they will be sought out, and brought home. Our God is a wonderful Father, is He not? No matter what, he has it all in hand and offers a way to soothe all pain and suffering through the Atonement.

    Heaven bless you Julie. You're a wonder.