Sent on another journey... with Grace

So here I am again, a mother grieving for another lost child. It's been a while since I've written and I feel bad, but sometimes it's hard and I want to keep my thoughts to myself. I think in doing that perhaps I'm keeping my child to myself; holding on to him tightly.

However, it is time to write again, because we have been placed on another journey of a family with another child taken too soon. On November 10, 2011 we delivered our daughter. Another child born silent into this world. Another part of my heart torn to pieces. We were 18 weeks into the pregnancy.

The story of Marlena Grace...

She snuck up on us and we were surprised! Our hearts were still aching over the loss of Myles and some how we were quickly blessed to have another child coming into our lives. We were on a quick trip to Wisconsin Dells. Ugh, I was so sick with a head cold. I had taken a Benedryl on Saturday and one on Sunday. I really wanted to take a different medication, but I wanted to make sure I wasn't pregnant first (just a gut feeling). In the early hours I woke up before the rest of the family and told Tom I was going to Walgreens for some different medicine and a pregnancy test. I arrived back at the hotel room as the girls were still sleeping and quickly took the test. To our complete surprise, it was positive. We were expecting again.

Oh the rush of feelings. Happiness for another opportunity. Sadness for the reminder of our child taken from us. We were planning on trying again, this just happened a little quicker than we thought it would happen. Would the pregnancy be viable since it happened so quickly? It was so hard to keep our secret for the remainder of the trip. I wanted to share our news in hopes that it would bring some happiness into the lives of those we hold dearly. Quickly I took a picture and texted it to some friends. They were surprised and so happy for us, and, I'm sure scared for us too. Probably not as scared as we were though.

As soon as we returned home I called the doctor and made an appointment. First blood work though. All levels were good. The doctor was rather surprised too. I sensed a little caution in her voice at that first visit. We'd watch the pregnancy closely at the beginning, appointments every two weeks. Heck, I'd go in everyday if necessary. I'd do anything for my children. It was hard going only every two weeks. About 10-11 days after each appointment, I'd start to get that nervous feeling again. I swear at each appointment I nearly hyperventilated. I anxiously waited in the room. Even more anxiously anticipated as we would wait to hear the heartbeat. What made it worse - this one was stubborn. Every time we'd listen to the heartbeat, it was difficult to find.

This was the easiest of all pregnancies. I was never sick. I had energy. It was great. At my appointments with the doctor I would tell her I was worried because I wasn't sick. Can you believe that? Complaining because I'm not sick? I was just worried that my lack of nausea was an indication that the pregnancy wasn't viable. That my hormone level was too low. Needless to say, my doctor that it was funny. That she had women in and out of her office all day long complaining about being ill and here I was complaining that I wasn't ill.

Those women had the ability to be naive about the possibilities of a pregnancy going wrong.

Finally we hit the second trimester and my doctor wanted one more ultrasound done by her. She felt everything was going well and released me to the 1x/month visit. To which I replied, "What happens when I start completely freaking out in two weeks?" Her response: No problem. We'll make an appointment for two weeks. :) Two weeks later everything is still good. Ultrasound were great. Amnio results looked great - it was a girl! We're in the second trimester and moving along wonderfully. Well, except for the fact that, after a loss, you never believe in 'great' again. I did my best to keep hope though. I mean, what's the chance of having two second trimester losses? Very slim.

We told our family. It was difficult to hide the belly anymore. Our daughters were excited. They knew I was pregnant. Apparently, our youngest had been snooping in our room and found some of the freebies from the doctor. I guess I'll have to watch out with Christmas gifts now!

Two weeks after that, things went to hell.

Tuesday, November 8: All day at work I had been having cramps. They started off pretty mild. They type where you think, "Are these cramps or just muscle stretching pains?" At the end of the day, I was quite uncomfortable. My entire mid section around to my back was in pain. I felt like I just wanted to wrap an ice pack around me. Fortunately, I had an appointment with my doctor already scheduled for that afternoon. My husband was meeting me so we could go to it together.

Finally called back. The dreaded no heartbeat again. Changing doppler routine, again. It's not the damn doppler! Put me on the ultrasound. Oh this routine is just too, too familiar. I tell the nurse I've been cramping all day. My doctor wanted to do the ultrasound. The baby had her back turned towards us, so it was hard to tell on the screen whether there was a heartbeat or not. The doctor didn't seem hopeful, but wanted to send us to the hospital to have an ultrasound there to make sure.

We get to the hospital and the ultrasound tech actually said she'd rather my husband wait in the waiting room for us. Are you kidding??? I told her I'd rather he come with. Did she really think he came along so he could just sit in a room by himself and send me to another room to be witness to hell by myself?

My doctor showed up at the hospital to continue the ultrasound. No heartbeat, confirmed. No blood flow to the baby, confirmed. She spent quite a bit of time looking at all the organs, the placenta, etc. She could see no abnormalities. "You know how we do this Deb. You know what is going to happen. When do you want to go into the hospital?"

Oh God, not again. I don't think I have the strength in me to go through this again. It sucks knowing the 'second trimester pregnancy loss delivery routine'.

Wednesday, November 9: 7:00 a.m. hospital admittance. It was a rainy, cold day. The weather reflected my heart. I was hoping desperately not to have another pregnant woman walking in at the same time I was as what happened with Myles. Fortunately, this one prayer was answered. Why just this prayer? Procedures as before. The nurses remember us. What they don't remember is any mom in the hospital ever being there for two second trimester losses. I'm the only patient of my doctor who has had this happen, and she is the busiest doctor in our area. The doctor offered me something to help me sleep. This time I took it because I knew I had a long day and night ahead of me, but I would wait for a while before I took it. The intake this time was much quicker. We didn't need all the counseling we had with Myles - we knew what was going on. We knew the answers for the questions. Joan, the bereavement nurse we had, was not working that day. However, she was contacted by the other nurses and she came in to see us. She stayed for quite a while. We talked about how shocking this was to happen again; about how even the doctor was shocked and sad.

Thursday, November 10 12:08 a.m.: Marlena Grace made her silent entrance into this world. She was 7 inches long and weighed 5 ounces. Holding her was an all to familiar feeling. Why were we going through this again? Oh, those tiny fingers and toes. Oh, that tiny little nose. She looked like Madison. How can such a small little being look so much like her big sister? It was that button nose. She had Madison's button nose.

We received another memory box. More tiny footprints and hand prints. Another blanket for a baby that will never be wrapped in it again. Another heart pendant to put on my necklace. I find myself holding on to those pendants so often throughout the day. They help me center myself. Holding those, closing my eyes, and taking a deep breath.

We have had so much support - food, phone calls, cards, flowers. Every little bit helps. It's nice to know that, although I feel like I am alone, I'm not. I have some people in my life that I can call and just say, "It's not a good day." And that helps. Just getting those five words out helps some. It eases the burden.

I am sad about this loss. Just as I was sad about Myles. This time though, I have a lot of anger in me also. I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with these feelings. Now we have months of testing to go through. Why did this happen? In nearly 50% of repeated pregnancy losses a reason is never found. That is staggering! If I could only see into the future, maybe it would help if I knew where this journey was going to take us.

Myles sent us on a journey. Grace will see us through.

Get togethers

I've always been a pretty social person. Most of the time I like to be around people. Don't get me wrong, there are times I enjoy peace and quiet also. I've always enjoyed holidays but now holidays are dreadful. I'm happy for my kids. Kids love holidays and they always make holidays more exciting. It's not that I don't enjoy the thought of a holiday, it's just that it's hard to be around a crowd of people.

My mom always has a picnic at her house for the Fourth of July. This year so much of me didn't want to go. I didn't want to be around a bunch of people. I especially didn't want to be around a bunch of Type 3 people. There were a slew of them there who didn't bother to call or send a note. Shame on them. We did go although we went much later than we usually do and I wasn't much of a conversationalist.

In some ways it is difficult to be around others. My preference would be to just stay in bed under the covers day in and day out. I haven't done that yet which, I guess, is good. When I am around others, I do it in small doses. It's not that I don't still love the people in my life. I certainly do. It's hard to explain. As many words as there are in the English language, there is not a single word which describes the feelings one has after the loss of a child.

The biggest get together we have attended since the loss of Myles happened this weekend. We were invited to a party at the home of one of my husband's co-workers. We went - late. We didn't leave our house until nearly 9:00 p.m. That's late for us to leave the house. It was nice that it was dark out. Perhaps the darkness left a little bit of anonymity for us. On our way there I was hoping to not see two things: 1. A pregnant woman. 2. A newborn. I fear these two things like a vampire fears the sunlight. Fortunately, neither of the above were there. Either that or it was too dark to tell. We were there for a couple of hours and I enjoyed myself as much as I could. I was rather quiet. I think people around me are having a hard time with my quietness, they're not used to it at all. One of my husband's co-workers talked to us about Myles. It was nice that he asked and I actually felt some relief when he did. When someone asks about us, how we're doing or the I'm sorry, I don't know what to say, etc. and I'm able to reply it's as if a bit of pressure is released. It's still close enough to the loss of our child that it is still on everyone's mind so when they ask me about it, I can talk about it and feel relief. When they don't ask me about it, I know it's still on their mind and it's on my mind so there is a tension in the air. The tension of unspoken words.

Most people only get to dream of angels, we got to hold ours in our arms.

The story of Myles Thomas…

We learned about him on February 10 – Michael’s birthday. My first thought was, “Who finds out they’re pregnant on their oldest child’s 20th birthday?” Only me. Well, not only me. I’m sure others have had a similar experience, but…

Shocked… surprised… numb. So many feelings went through my head. My husband was excited, of course. He had been wanting another child (or many more) for a long, long time. It took me a little more time. I had to mentally readjust the rest of my life. I did the mental readjustments and realized that this, like other surprises that have occurred, is doable and actually is a good thing. I did begin to get excited, but nervous. Nervous because now, at my age, I had a lot to worry about. I quickly learned to stay away from Google. Particularly don’t Google, pregnancy after the age of 40. Talk about reading scary things. We kept the pregnancy mostly to ourselves. I told people at work as did my husband. We didn’t tell family until we were certain everything was fine with him. Ultrasound after ultrasound, test after test, everything was looking great. I was nauseous almost the entire day each day, which, as hard and as frustrating as it was at the time, was a very good sign.

We finally picked a day to tell the family. We told Michael on Friday, April 22, we told the girls on Saturday, April 23, and let the girls ‘tell’ the rest of the family on Easter Sunday, April 24. I hit the second trimester , everything looked great, it was smooth sailing from here on out, right? It was safe to bring the family in on our secret.

My husband and I found out through the amnio that we were having a boy. Now to pick a name. Names are hard to pick for a teacher. Some names just don’t jog good memories! I liked Madden Thomas. My husband’s instant response was, “Madden? Like the football game?” Others said they liked it. It was a strong name.

Through the month of May things continued to run smoothly with the pregnancy. Well, except for the nausea that was getting better but still a big part of my day. Madison was so excited. She began making a list of names and reading baby articles. Both girls went to my doctor appointment and were able to hear the baby’s heartbeat in early May. Kenzie began to get a little uneasy. She was going to lose her place as baby in the family. I was able to explain to her no matter what, we’d still have as much love for her in October as we have every other day of her life. She was fine after that. I told them they could come to the ultrasound appointment with me on June 1 and they’d be able to find out if they were going to have a baby brother or sister. They were both excited about this. Madison started watching ultrasound videos on You Tube.

Towards the end of May I began to worry because I hadn’t felt a significant amount of movement . At the end of May I began to worry a lot more, but kept trying to put negative thoughts out of my mind and come up with different reasons why I hadn’t felt much. It just means this baby isn’t as active as Madison was throughout the pregnancy – that’s a good thing, right? He’s going to be calm and easy going like is big brother. Good. I tried to tell myself that maybe my due date was later than we thought. Although I knew that wasn’t likely because I had an ultrasound at 6 weeks which gave my due date as October 14. Apparently the earlier you have the ultrasound the more likely the expected date is correct.

Saturday, May 28. Madison was sick so I took her to the doctor –asthma problems. We went to lunch after the appointment and then went to Barnes and Noble to look at baby name books. We found the name Myles and both liked it so Madison added it to her list of possible names.

Wednesday, June 1. Ultrasound day. I picked the girls up from school. They were so excited! Tom was going to meet us at the doctor’s office after work. They called us back to the room. Through all my pregnancies, through all the doctor appointments, the heartbeat of the child I was carrying was always easily found. The instant the nurse placed the fetal Doppler on my belly and all we heard was the deafening sound of silence, I knew. She kept moving the Doppler around trying to find the heartbeat. She checked the batteries. She left the room and brought back another Doppler. Still silence. The look on Madison’s face. She knew something was not right. “What happens if they can’t hear the heartbeat Mommy?” Me, “It means something is wrong with the baby.” The nurse left the room again and brought back another Doppler. Silence again. Different nurses came in and out of the room with different Dopplers. Each desperate to find the heartbeat. At that point I just wanted to scream STOP! Why were they putting me through so much torture? That’s what it felt like… torture. Another nurse came in, “We’re going to put you on the ultrasound real quick Deb. Girls (to Madison and Mackenzie), why don’t you stay here and wait. I’ll have your mom back soon.” I don’t want to go on the ultrasound. I already know what the results will be. “I’m sorry honey, I can’t find the heartbeat.” I had to go back into the room and tell the girls their little brother was gone. Madison was distraught, she wanted her brother. She wanted Myles to be okay. I had to call Tom and tell him they couldn’t find the heartbeat, that his son was gone. I was so angry at the nurses for what they had put me through. I realize now they weren’t trying to torture me, they wanted to find the heartbeat nearly as much as I did. Tom arrived at the doctor’s office. Madison ran to him crying. The doctor came in to tell us what would happen now. Did we want to go in to the hospital that night to induce labor or the next morning? What? I don’t ever want to go into induce labor to deliver my baby. He’s mine and I’m not giving him up. My instant thoughts, although I realize that they are unrealistic. I had to get out of that office before I could make any decisions. More phone calls had to be made. We had to tell our friends and family. We decided the girls needed us at home that night. We’d go to the hospital in the morning.

Thursday, June 2. We walk all the way from the parking garage, into the hospital and into the labor and delivery ward behind another couple. They were there to be induced also. They were full term and their baby was fine. Why us and not them? They don’t even look like they like each other. Why them and not us? Why was my baby taken away from me? Haven’t I been a good enough mom? Why didn’t I deserve this baby? Externally I was keeping myself together. Internally I was a basket case. I was a basket case, but at the same time I was calm. I think every mom has had the thought about how heart wrenching it would be to have to go through labor and delivery with a stillborn baby. I know I have. I know I have and thought how cruel it was to the mom. How I could never do that. I could never survive such a tragic experience. Now here I was in that role. I was walking into the hospital to deliver my child, but I wouldn’t be taking him home. I was a wreck and I was calm at the same time. How can that be? Seems strange, doesn’t it? This is my only answer: When you realize the next thing you do for your child will be the last thing you will ever do for your child, the strength you muster to do it is massive. The only thing left for me to do for my son was to deliver him. I was determined to give him everything within me.

The doctor and nurses at the hospital were incredible. They knew when to talk. They knew what to say and they knew when to say nothing and leave us alone. They said the labor and delivery would take up to 24 hours. Are you kidding me? I have been to hell, I am still in hell, and now you’re telling me I’ll be in hell for the next 24 hours? How naïve I was – to think hell would only last for 24 hours. When you lose a child, you are eternally in some sort of hell. Joan, the grievance nurse, sat with us for almost two hours talking us through everything that was going to happen and all the decisions that needed to be made. Have you named your baby? Yes, his name is Myles Thomas. After he is delivered, do you want to hold him? Yes, I want to hold him and I never want to let him go.

Friday, June 3. Myles Thomas was delivered at 12:32 a.m. I would have been 20 weeks that day; half way through the pregnancy. The cord had twisted. He was tiny. He was perfect. Tiny ears. Tiny fingers. Tiny fingernails. Perfect. I will never forget his closed eyes and perfect little nose. I will never forget every inch of his tiny self tucked in that tiny blanket and that tiny hat.

What is normal? Such a simple question, but one I can’t answer now. We have a new normal now and it’s a difficult normal to swallow. It’s a normal I don’t want. In my old normal when a stranger would ask me, “How many children do you have?”, I was able to answer “three”. What do I say now?

I will never know the color of his eyes. I will never get to smell that sweet baby’s breath. I will never get to feed my baby. Never get to sooth him when he is crying. Never get to sing to him. All the hopes and dreams have been ripped out from under me.

My baby died for no reason. Now I have to take care of myself. I don’t want to take care of myself. I want to take care of my baby.

There are three types of people in my life now. Type 1, those who acknowledge my loss and call me to check on me. Type 2, those who call but don’t acknowledge my loss. Type 3, those who have dropped out of my life. Type 1 gets me through my days. They call and ask how I’m doing. I tell them honestly, I’m here. Sometimes I’m okay, sometimes I’m not. Type 2 want to check on me, but don’t know what to say so I think they just talk about everything else to try to get my mind off of my loss. Type 3 don’t know what to say so they have decided saying nothing is best. It’s not. Type 2 and type 3 also don’t say anything because they don’t want to risk making me remember it. There is no making me remember it. It’s there all the time. Myles is always on my mind. A simple “I’m sorry” or “I’m thinking about you” or even “I don’t know what to say” is better than silence.

Myles is missed so much. The hospital gave us a memory box full of different items in remembrance of our son. One of the items was a small heart charm which I wear on a necklace now. When Joan went through the memory box and told us what each item represented, her words about this charm helped at the time. The one constant in Myles’ life was the sound of my heartbeat. From the moment he was conceived, throughout the pregnancy he always had the soothing sound of my heartbeat. He never knew pain. He only knew love and warmth.

Another item in the box was a paper with Myles’ footprints and handprints. Tiny footprints and tiny handprints. I think our children teach us as much as we teach them. Myles has taught me even the tiniest of footprints can leave a huge impression; even the tiniest of footprints can change your world forever. Most people only get to dream of angels, we got to hold ours in our arms.