Jocelyn's Story: An L&D nurse on the loss of her son Sam

Jocelyn, thank you so very much for sharing your story with us. I'm sorry it took me so long to post it. I hope your story of your son Sam can reach out and encourage someone who understands all too well. Thanks for the beautiful Bible verses you included. Sending love, Rachel



July 30th was probably the hardest day of my life. Writing down what happened that day and leading up to losing our baby, I believe, will be therapeutic for me. I feel that this topic is taboo, and although I understand why (because I really don't like to talk aloud about my loss), I also wish that it was more spoken about because up to 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. Many women go through this alone, feeling like they have no one to talk to. I was lucky to have some very close friends and my sister-in-law for support, since they themselves had experienced pregnancy loss and were willing to help me through the process by sharing their personal stories.

On Friday, July 26, I found out, while performing sonogram on myself at work, that our baby no longer had a heartbeat. I was crushed. My midwife came and confirmed my fears. My baby had died. I called my husband and could barely get out the news to tell him why I could be home late from work. My midwife held me, cried with me and let me take the lead on the plans. I wanted to go home, talk with my husband, celebrate my oldest birthday as scheduled the next day, and come back to see her at what would have been my next regular appointment. Of course unless I started to have signs or symptoms of miscarriage. 

During my follow up appointment on Monday we saw that our baby was still without life and I was still without symptoms of impending delivery. We considered our options; surgical removal in a hospital of our baby by d&c, taking cytotec to induce delivery either at home or in hospital, or waiting up to 2-4 more weeks for the baby to be born naturally. My husband and I knew immediately that for us having surgery to remove our baby was not an option. I did not feel that waiting was the best decision for our family, especially because I would not be able to be a fully functional mom for our two young sons. So, we decided to use the induction medication at home.

My mom took the boys to stay at her house for 2 nights and my husband took off work to stay home with me. Bright and early Tuesday morning I started taking my medication and our sweet perfect baby was born at 11:30 am. I experienced little pain or bleeding those first few hours and we were able to spend time together. It was a huge blessing for me to be able to hold and see my precious baby. 

We were surprised to see that our baby was obviously another perfect little boy. I had been sick the first 11 weeks of the pregnancy, and we were convinced baby was a girl. But here he was, all 10 fingers, all 10 toes and an angelic little face. He even looked like he was calmly resting with a slight smile on his face. 

During the morning before his birth my husband and I had been considering Bible verses to use in memory of our baby. There were a few I had written down that really spoke to us. Once he was born the verse for our son was clear to us. 1 Samuel 1:27-28. Therefore it also seemed obvious that we name him Sam.

Sam - July 30, 2013
"I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me
what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord.
For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord."I had a little bit of a harder time delivering the placenta. It took about 6 hours and I lost more blood than we had hoped. I had a few hours where I was very light headed and spent my time lying in bed drinking poweraid and eating whatever little bites I could hold down. When I was up I was very weak and ended up fainting a couple times. 

My husband took excellent care of me and was so strong. I think it was very good for him to feel involved and have something he could do. He was such a blessing to me and I am so thankful we could go through this trial together. Once I delivered the placenta the bleeding immediately and dramatically slowed, and I began feeling much better. After a warm lavendar salt bath and a little more resting we decided it was time to have our memorial service for Sam.

My husband had purchased a small pine box, a jasmine plant and some wood for a trellis. I wrote Sam's name, birthday and the Bible verse on the box, and we buried him in our back yard, planting the flowering vine (one of my husband's favorites) over our son. We then took some time to pray and cry together. It was such a special time for us, and I am so glad we chose to have Sam at home so that we could give him and his life the respect it deserved. For us, this was the absolute best way we could go through this awful day.I am heartbroken. This is the most sorrow and grief I have ever felt. Yet, I know I will survive. God has been with us so much throughout this trial from the moment I found out on that Friday evening until now. He has surrounded us with loving support. 

My mom and sister cooked delicious meals without being asked, and took excellent care of my boys while I was unable. So many people prayed for us, offered help and support, and we were overwhelmed by the peace that gave us. My midwife went above and beyond to check in on me and help us do what we felt was right for our family. She cried with me and prayed with me.  I will never forget that.

Sam will always hold a special place in our hearts, and I know we will never forget him. We wish we could have gotten to know him and see him play with his brothers. However, even in his very short life, he has changed us so much.

I thank God for the blessing of his life knowing it has made me stronger, given me the opportunity to be a support to someone else in the future, and helped my husband and I see the beauty and importance in every day. 

Thank you Lord for Sam. We can't wait to meet him and You one day in Heaven.

I'd like to share a few special Bible verses that have helped me through these last few months. Some were shared by friends, others I found on my own, all given by God to provide us comfort:Romans 8:26 - "In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans."

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

2 Corinthians 12: 9-10 - "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

Psalm 34:18 - "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

2 Corinthians 1:3-4 - "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God."

I hope that one day with God's help I am able to help a friend who is suffering through a miscarriage. My friends who were honest and open with me about their experiences with miscarriage have been a huge help and comfort. One particular friend acted as God's hands and voice to me as she shared her experiences losing her baby at 12 weeks less than a year ago. Her support and advice about how she and her husband made the same decisions we did, and how her experience was as she lost her baby were immeasurably helpful to me. I hope I can be that for someone one day. Perhaps, through this sharing of the story of Sam, someone will find comfort knowing they are not alone. Moms need to stick together and break the silence. 

Kim's Story: meeting her baby who was miscarried 20 years ago

I miscarried a baby in 1984. I was in my first trimester. I too heard all of the "at least" comforts.

I did have two more children, but never got rid of the little white dress with
purple flowers I had hanging in the closet. I didn't know the gender of my
baby.

I was in prayer one night, twenty-two years later, grieving the loss.
In that moment, I was able to take the little dress out of my closet. As I was
praying, The Lord (in the Spirit) laid my baby in my arms. I wept. I rocked
my baby.

The Lord spoke to my heart and said, "Her name is Anna Elizabeth, and
she has raven hair."

He allowed me to love on her for a while and then I lifted her to Him and
had a peace I hadn't known. It wasn't until many years later that I learned
my great-grandmothers names on one side was “Elizabeth” and on the
other side was “Cinncianna” (Anna).

Wow! I know I will see her one day.

I hope this comforts someone.

Love, Kim

Thanks, Kim, for sharing this beautiful story. And for reminding us that God has not forgotten us or our babies. Much love. Rachel

In the midst of it all

Several of you have been calling or texting to see how I've been. And maybe you've noticed I'm not responding super quick. (OR maybe you haven't noticed. After all, being slow at communicating is kinda my M.O.)

I'm honestly not sure where to start. I have so much to say, and yet how do I say it without making you worried about me?

So in no particular order . . .

I'm super struggling with failure.

I know it's not like I've purposefully failed in pregnancy. And yet, I have failed. My body has, and I'm made up of my body. Saying my body failed but I didn't is splitting hairs.

I have failed to keep this last pregnancy -- or any of the last 4 pregnancies -- going. I have failed to even create a baby with a heartbeat. I have failed my husband. I know we said for better or for worse. But neither of us thought "for worse" would be me becoming a "habitual aborter." Yep, folks, that's the technical phrase for what I am.

I kill my babies -- out of habit.

I know it's not true -- yet how do you NOT take that personally?

As a result of this so-called failure, I am seeing failure everywhere in my life. I'm not trying to look for it. It's just what I see when I open my eyes.

You know how they say, "OK, try NOT to think about green. Look around the room, and whatever you do, DON'T THINK ABOUT GREEN!" Well, what are you going to find? Suddenly, you realize your room is covered in green things.

So that's me -- but with failure. Looking around my life and noticing all the places that I've come up short.

My business has been at the top of the list. I know that I know that I know I'm not a failure, because I don't quit. BUT. That doesn't mean I don't feel like one.

I feel as though I have failed my friends. I have a lot of friends, a lot of people I thoroughly enjoy and care about. And yet, I can only think about the ones I've disappointed. The people I haven't stayed in touch with, or the friends I've hurt by not being as supportive (as they deserve) in their own pregnancies.

It's not just a notice of failure. It is a deep-seeded fear.

As I look around my house, I don't see all the places where I have kept the clutter out. I only see the clutter I've failed to clean.

I have struggled my entire life seeing the glass half-full. Being wracked by anxiety since I was a kid.

I have made major strides in growing personally to be more optimistic, hopeful and confident in myself. And yet each loss has just brought all those old feelings right up to the surface.

When the bleeding starts -- when the pregnancy test comes back lighter than before -- when the nurse calls, and the first words out of her mouth are "I'm sorry . . . ",  the wind is knocked completely out of my sails.

Depression sets in again, and again, and again.

The last two years feel like a roller coaster of completely the wrong kind. The one where as soon as you get on and are strapped in, claustrophobia claws at you, convincing you you'll never get off. And when you're at the scariest points, terrifyingly defying the vast space between you and the ground, you just know that those pesky straps you've secured your future on will prove to be weak and broken.

I'm on that roller-coaster now. And I don't know when, if or how I'll get off.

Sometimes when you are with me, I look to be just fine. When I am with family, that tends to be the easiest for me.

Ryan's grandpa (who will be 101 in a few weeks) is not doing well and was placed in hospice today. We've been visiting him almost every day for the last week, and I think seeing the kids really cheers him up.

So when we are around grandpa, or Ryan's family, I try try try not to think to much about Sophie. About the fact that I hate my body. I try to remind myself to just be present, to enjoy grandpa while we can, and to not burden anyone anymore with my feelings.

And so there, I can play "happy wife, happy mom" quite well.

But other times, actually almost ALL other times, not so much.

Today I went to a birthday party. I stuck by one women, pretty much the whole time, because she knew what was going on with me and she cared. As I sat on the couch, silently observing, I could see the old me flit about the room. "OOOH, a whole room full of people to get to know!," old me seemed to be thinking. She'd walk up to a stranger, start a conversation, and by the end of the day, they had a playdate or coffee date on the books.

She looked inviting to me. Beckoning me to come, just be like her. It's not so hard . . .

But I couldn't.

I sat glued to the couch, coffee cup cemented to my hand, silent and watching. And feeling my heart break.

I am not who I used to be. That person is a stranger to me. I wondered what it would be like for life to feel light again?

An acquaintance at church asked how I was today. I think I said "fair." (My usual answer when the more accurate -- less socially acceptable -- one is, "I'm tired of life.") She prodded gently a few times, and then it came out. Like vomit. All the stuff I'm worried about and, of course, the miscarriage.

Why? I think. Why do I even bother going to church when I just become socially awkward? Why can't I just keep my mouth shut, and stop wearing my heart on my sleeve?

And so today, and yesterday, and the day before that, the thought is heavy on my heart . . . How many more times can I endure this?

After Olivia, the doctor told me that I can't think about how many losses I might have. I just need to figure out if I can handle one more.

This whole journey, that's what I'm thinking. Can I just handle ONE more?

And today, my answer is, I don't think I can.

I. Am. Not. Strong. Enough.

When we shared the news that we were pregnant with Olivia, it was met with great excitement and joy. Now when we share the news, I often must share it with tears. And there are very few congratulations. Mostly people look at me with trepidation, wondering whether to say "I'm sorry" or "I have hope for you." Sympathy describes the looks I receive --- not joy. Very rarely does anyone take my pregnancy announcements to mean "We're having a baby." Mostly, I feel it with a sigh, "Here she goes again . . ."

How many more of these announcements can I get through?

How many more due dates? We have enough. 8/4, 5/14, 1/15, and 11/12. All empty. Do I really want to fill the whole calendar?

How many more shoes do I want to buy? The one and only thing I have bought for my last 4 babies.

How many more kids do I want to name? I have named 6. Madelyn Jane, Olivia Joy, Caleb Michael, Elliott James, *little miss*, and now Sophie Grace. I will likely run out of names before I run out of room in my house for my kids.

How many more times will I ask my friends and family to support me through a loss? Through the subsequent depression/grief/general suckiness?

How many more times can I fight to get on top of these feelings of failure and hopelessness, just to find myself drowning in them again?

How many times can I hole myself up at home because I don't have the energy to make others around me feel good?

How many times can I put my Arbonne team and business through a leader who is inconsistent at best?

How many times can I ask our finances to pay one more medical bill? Cover one more test? Endure one more month of me not working?

How many times can I ask my body to try so hard to get pregnant, watch my boobs swell, feel my abdomen bloat, and feel the exhaustion of making a baby -- only to fail? To watch my body quickly become un-pregnant?

Today, even one more time feels like one time too many.

One baby too many.

One "You were not far along at all" too many.

One "I'm so sorry" too many.

And yet, I still can't tell myself I'm really done.



To make myself not TOTALLY be a downer on this post, I'm going to write a few things I AM thankful for. I have to. I have to remember that I don't own the rights to misery, and that my life really IS good, even if I'm struggling to see it.

-I'm thankful for a beautiful piece of art that a then stranger, now friend, has created for me:

Miss You Memorials, by Rachel Davis

-For a gift card to one of my favorite places ever, Trader Joes, from a dear friend. (And for the yummy flourless cake said gift card bought me today.) :)

-For a family day yesterday to Mount Rainier:

-For my friends and family who keep calling and texting, even when I don't respond. Or being kind to me when I respond with how I'm really feeling, and I know that's not what they want to hear.

-For my mother-in-law, who fully believes in retail therapy, and is happy to share some of her therapy with me. (Yay for cute, new clothes!)

-For my mom, who brought me snacks from Trader Joes (catch a theme here??), made my family dinner, has talked to me almost every day, and has folded clothes and washed my dishes. Love you, mom.

-For my sister Judy who just knew I was sad by the say I said "OK." For her wrapping her arms around me, tears down her face, when I wept for the little baby I desperately wanted. For her taking me to the doctors, and sitting in the waiting room for an hour, without complaining. For making me feel not so alone.

- For my sister Sarah who has called to chat. But mostly for her sending me this beautiful song that helps me to cry. (Wait, do I really need help in that area?) Still, it's a beautiful song, and it helps me know that she gets how I feel:

-For my two precious girls that DO call me mommy. They may keep me on my toes, and sometimes I'm not the mommy I wish I was. But they love me all the same. And I'm forever grateful for my two miracle kids.

-For Ryan, who holds my hand when I cry, and doesn't blame me when I blame my body and blame myself for each loss. Who has also lost so much of his family -- but he still takes care of me and doesn't complain. (At least, not usually.)

-For Stacy, Joanna and Katherine for holding me and letting me cry after our last MEND meeting.

-For Anna, for reading and editing some of the guest stories that I can post on here.

-For the encouragement of Mel at Stirrup-Queens, for encouraging me to start my book.

-For Randy Alcorn reposting my blog. I'm thankful for Crosswalk, iBelieve, Life News, Eternal Perspective Ministries, Live Action News, and every.single.one. of you bloggers/facebook people that shared my post.

-For every comment I receive on this blog -- and all those thoughts and well wishes I know so many of you have, even if I never hear them. I read them all. I know that none of us wish we could relate. And as much as I wish none of you knew my heartache -- I'm so thankful I'm not alone in it.

-For the meals that our foster care director has brought to our house the last two losses.

-For Cari and Deb who have watched/offered to watch my kids so I could have some time to take care of myself.

-For Elizabeth for meeting me for coffee when I just needed out of the house, and needed a good cry.

-For strangers who care. And for friends who care.

-I'm thankful to God that death does not have the final say. That he has some sort of redemption in all of this. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Isa. 55:8-10)

-I'm thankful for Robin. You stick with me through thick and thin, and chase after me just like I should chase you. Love you.

-I'm thankful this life is not all there is. I'm thankful that I will one day meet all my precious babes, and all tears will be gone.

-I'm thankful for heaven.

-I'm thankful my babies will never know pain or heartbreak.

-I'm thankful that the first face my babies saw was Jesus'. I'm thankful that they will never know anything less than love.

So I guess, in the midst of it all -- there is still good.

Rachel

A day in limbo

Several of you have told me you are praying for me and my family, and it means the world to me. So thank you, thank you, thank you!

Today was a blah day, and the weather of rainy (close to) Seattle really matched my mood.

I haven't been sleeping well this week (a shock, I know). Every time I've woken up, I can't fall back asleep. So Maddy came in at 5 this morning, and I laid there for 2 hours just waiting to fall back asleep. As soon as I started falling back asleep, little miss woke up.

At least little miss was a little balm to my heart . Maybe she just knew I needed some extra love or something, but she was absolutely adorable this morning and made me laugh so many times. Her new favorite thing to say is, "Awww, man!" I think it's a revised version of "Amen," but she has impeccable timing when she breaks it out.

Later tonight as I was folding laundry, she wanted me. A LOT. She kept asking for hugs, and would squeeze her little arms around my neck so tight. Not in a clingy way, as she was actually quite happy. But usually, I'm the one offering more affection than she wants, so today was really out of the ordinary in a really good way.

Maddy, not to be outdone by her sister, gave me equal amounts of attention. At times, there was definitely a "fight for mom's lap" going on.

At least I didn't end up like this today.

Ryan graciously let me take a long nap late this morning. After I woke up is when the melancholy kicked in. I realized I didn't want to get out of bed at all. I didn't really want to do anything.

Ryan made me go take a shower. (Thanks, babe.)  Maddy picked out my outfit, and did a pretty good job. (You guessed it. Leopard print. In her words, "You can never have enough leopard print.")

I tried VERY hard not to take a home pregnancy test as the results of those kept freaking me out, and caused a lot of stress. The nurse I talked to said that they weren't that reliable for measuring the amount of hcg, and I should stop.

I'm going to try to heed her advice again tomorrow.

As for the rest of the day, I felt mostly numb. I don't think I've cried a single tear, which is probably making up for yesterday, where I cried buckets of them.

I cancelled all my plans for this weekend. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be around people or not, but my husband is definitely someone who likes to be alone when upset, so I knew that I should just cancel everything.

I know I can't cancel all of my life right now, as we could still be waiting for weeks. (Or maybe just till tomorrow. Who knows?) But I am really afraid of being out of the house when the pain or bleeding starts.

It probably won't just start with a bang. I'm sure I'll spot, or get cramps. There will be signs. But I'll never forget passing what I knew to be my baby at a gas station off the highway with our last miscarriage. I want to do a better job this time of protecting myself from added stress (like being away from home when it happens.)

I guess I've given much more thought to this ending up as a loss, and not as a viable baby.

A few of you are holding on to hope for us right now, and by all means, please do. Today I maybe had a tiny, tiny bit of hope. But it's hard to ignore the fact that my only viable pregnancy had me soooo nauseous by this time. And with all my losses, I felt exactly like this.

I guess that's the update for now. No signs of miscarriage or ectopic. But no signs of pregnancy.

It's just a crazy day in limbo.

Pics on life, loss and love

Ryan and Maddy have been using Olivia's name more recently, and that is very nice.


Some of it might be because after the fallout from my FB note, Ryan and I have been talking more candidly with each other about our loss.


Whatever the reason, her name is really nice to hear.


Today I wore the necklace my friend Emily sent me.

Madelyn plays with that necklace more than with any of my other necklaces. Today, while fingering the "O" charm, she says, "Mommy, this is 'Livia's necklace." She held up the footprint charm. We compared her foot to the charm, and we both decided Maddy's footprint would never fit on a necklace.

I asked her who Olivia was. She answered, "My best friend." I told her Olivia was also her sister, but that we wouldn't get to know Olivia for a very long time.

The other day she told me, "Mommy, Audrey is my favorite friend. And 'Livia is my second favorite friend. And 'Livia has a special tree."

She sure does, baby.

On Sunday, Ryan, Madelyn and I planted the willow oak tree seedling my sister gave us in honor of baby Olivia.

Once we finished planting the tree, we looked up to see a deer pass through our yard. I don't think it's symbolic or anything . . . but it was peaceful.



It was a nice moment. I wish the rest of the day could have stayed peaceful.

It will be nice to watch her tree grow . . .even though I still wish I were watching her grow, and not just a tree.

One more thing I wanted to say . . .

I keep this blog mostly related to pregnancy loss. But I know most of you don't know much about my life outside of my loss. You don't know how I take care of Maddy, take care of my husband and take care of my business.

I still take care of important things in my life -- and Maddy and I still have fun together. So here's a glimpse into the rest of my life . . .

Maddy's favorite breakfast: Alphabet pancakes!

Maddy wanted to do spa night with the girls. Instead, I convinced her to do spa morning with Mommy. She was the perfect little client!



Maddy loves to take pictures around the house. Here's one she took of me:

Maddy's artwork on display in her room:

This was taken right before she dumped the flour in and turned the mixer to 10.
You can imagine the fallout . . .

Showing off her pretty nails . .

Snow time fun! (Sorry it's sideways! I don't know how to fix that!) :)

So, now you know. My blog is mostly about pregnancy loss. But my life is a mix of loss and love, grief and joy.  Sometimes the picture of my life is bright, cheery and happy. Other times, it is murky, dark and desperate. And sometimes, it's all of the above all at the same time.


P.S. I apologize if I brought anyone pain  by posting pics of my life with Maddy and Ryan. But I did want to give you a little bit of a bigger picture of who I am and why I write they way I do. I still do love those around me very much, even as I grieve the lifetime I lost with Olivia. Since I post so often about the hard times, I wanted to include a few of the good times we've had since our loss.

A big lesson from a little potty

Sometimes God chooses weird times to talk to us.

Mine happened to be while Mommy and Maddy were having Mommy/Maddy pee time. (Now that she's potty training, that's what we call it!)

I was struck by how often I complain these days -- at least mentally. Complain that I'm not pregnant with Olivia. That babies die. That I'll never know my daughter this side of heaven.

Really, I could go on forever about these complaints, but you get the gist.

As I was thinking about my complaints, I realized that I was missing out on everything God WAS doing in my life.  Maybe I have been physically there for it -- but I certainly haven't been recognizing it, or even praising Him for it.

I focus on being terrified of when God will take Maddy . . . instead of thanking Him for her life and health for this day.

I stress about when I will get pregnant next and how that will go . . . instead of trusting that He will be in control, and that His will is always best.

As I grieve the loss of a relationship with my little girl . . . I've failed to recognize the many beautiful, and, I hope, lasting friendships I've created since starting this journey.

In everything around me, I've been focusing on what I don't have or what I'm afraid to lose . . . instead of seeing God's providential hand still working on my behalf, even when I'm angry and bitter at Him.

As I was thinking about this, I thought about how much I do for Maddy, and she has no idea. She complains to me when she doesn't get ice cream or when she doesn't get an extra bed-time book . . . but she doesn't realize how much I do for her, and how much time I give her every day to make sure she's as healthy and as happy as a 3-year-old should be.

I guess God does that with me, too. Works on my behalf, while I don't recognize the half of it, and only tell him the things I'm mad at Him for doing.

I struggled with this idea earlier this week in small group. We talked about giving thanks in all circumstances, and I just didn't know how I could do that. The examples the author of our study gave were too petty, I felt. What about when your child dies?? How do you thank God in THAT circumstance?

But still . . . the idea of giving thanks in ALL things in scripture.

". . . give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. "

1Thessalonians 5:18 (NIV)

I have a feeling this idea of giving thanks in a loss is going to be a lesson I'm going to have to learn over, and over, and over again. Because, for those of you who don't know, I've been really struggling with anger toward God. And it's really easy for me to focus ONLY on what I've lost.

Seeing glimpses of God's hand does not negate my need to "focus" on my loss through grief. And I think this day is more of a respite, but that the anger, hurt and feelings of betrayal will all come again. But I think having His gentle reminder today really helped me trust, even just a little, more in Him.

And that little bit of trust is giving me some peace and comfort tonight. And for this moment, I am very grateful for the things and people He has given me. And I'm grateful for a God who doesn't give up on us, even when we give up on Him.

3 rays of light in an impossible day . . .

Yesterday was a very good day to open my mail box.

Mixed in with ads, bills and insurance letters claiming to save me $100 a month on my coverage, I found 3 very sweet pieces of mail.

The first was a thank-you letter for attending a friend's baby shower. It was my first shower after my loss. And it didn't go without a complete breakdown from me, followed by my inability to read a blesssing to the baby, and tears for the rest of the day.

However, I love my friend and her sweet baby-on-the-way. And I'm glad I went. The act of going was more of a gift than the onesies and baby wash. I guess, in my own way, my presence (albeit, broken and teary-eyed) was the best gift I could give.

My second piece of mail was from my best friend, Robin. There was no letter, no note. Nothing but a ring.

She didn't need to have words. The ring was enough. The pearls stand for Maddy and Olivia. The diamonds are for Ryan and I, hemming in our precious little ones.

She doesn't know this, but my promise ring my grandparents gave me when I was 16 was a white gold ring, with a pearl and 2 diamonds on the side, just a little askew like this one. I love that my first ring symbolized my commitment to my husband. And this one symbolizes our love and commitment to our girls.

I have the best, best friend ever.

My third piece of mail is from my second mom in Jr. High -- Robin's mom, Judy. She wrote me the sweetest letter, and since there is no way to sum up her words, I'm just going to let you read her words yourself . . .

Mar. 24, 2012

Dear Rachel,

As you know, our beloved Robin can be sort of urgent, at times. "MOM!" she says. "You have to read Rachel's blog so we can PRAY!!" Rachel has a blog? I didn't know that . . .

So now I am reading your blog. And Rachel, it is amazing. You are so coherently and beautfiully expressing your season of grief. I am drawn into it because I know and love you, but that is not the only reason. Your writing is powerful. Someday, when it all doesn't hurt quite so badly, you could publish it.

So my mind and heart have been occupied this week with the "story" Rachel and Olivia. It so happens that Bob and I attend the annual Gideons Banquet. It comes to me that I could donate Bibles in Olivia's name. Anyway, that someone could find Jesus through her seems so fitting to me.  I love imagining a scene in heaven when you and me and Olivia and some Gideon who handed out Bibles in India are gathered around a woman with an amazing testimony of coming to faith through a Gideon Bible. This whole scenario delights and comforts me and I offer it to you in the hope that you will find comfort in it, too!

One last thing. When Bob is talking to someone who has just lost a loved one, he tells them, "Expect that people will say the wrong thing. Your friends and family do not intend to hurt you, but they will. This also is part of the grief process." Being in the ministry for so long, Bob and I have developed sort of a macabre sense of humor about the well-intentioned-but-awful things people can say sometimes!! Laugh them off whenever you can!

We love you, Rachel. Carry on. There's light up ahead!

Judy

I love that while I'm struggling with my faith, others who are stronger are carrying that faith for me, and are creating a spiritual legacy for my daughter.

Needless to say, I cried a lot yesterday. It was a really hard day full of anxiety and fear. I think God knew I needed these precious gifts of support yesterday to help carry me through.

To those of you who are supporting someone through a loss, please don't EVER question the impact you can have on a grieving mom! Your gifts and letters might seem like so little to you in light of the loss -- but trust me when I say they can make a difference between an impossible day, and a day where a little light and hope burst forth.

To everyone of you who has ever given a note of encouragement, a gift of rememberance, a thoughtful word, prayer or a hug to a woman with empty arms . . .

THANK YOU!

Sweet gifts!

I have received a few very special, very thoughtful gifts in honor of our Baby Olivia.

Here are some of my favorites:

We received this kit containing an oak tree seedling to plant in honor of Baby Olivia, from my sister Sarah.

We've been faithfully taking care of it -- but we haven't seen any signs of growth until this week. More than two months of watering, and finally, new life sprouts!

This new sapling reminds me of my grief a bit -- weeks and weeks of feeling like there's not "progress" and feeling like you'll be stuck in a rut forever . . . only to have a little bit of hope burst forth unexpectedly.

Today I received this lovely necklace from a friend. It is PERFECT. I have wanted a necklace to remember Olivia by, but never found the right one. I love how tiny the footprint is because I imagine that's how tiny her feet might have been. I love that it's just a little bit longer than I normally wear my necklaces, so it falls close to my heart.

                                                         

My friend Meredith sent me this book, and it came right when I was starting to get angry at God for losing our baby. It was perfect timing. I loved reading about how Jesus also heard God tell him "no." How he, too, knew the unspeakable grief and sorrow in separation and death. How he has also felt the loneliness in grief. This book helped open my eyes to a new side of Jesus and his Father that I hadn't really seen before. And it helped me trust my Savior, and love him, even more.



Last, another favorite gift of mine was the gift of time and hard work that my sister Judy gave me. (Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of this!)

A week after our surgery, she and her family "moved in" for a few days to take care of housework, laundry, cooking and planning Maddy's birthday party. Although I felt guilty watching her slave away at my house, it was so nice to have a clean home to recuperate in! Also, Maddy's birthday might have been a complete flop if it hadn't of been for her.

Thank you all, for the sweet, thoughtful gifts over the last 2 months!


 Here are links in case you are wanting to purchase these gifts for yourself or a friend:


Tree:  http://ww10.1800flowers.com/product.do?baseCode=4867&cm_cid=SEARCH#readmore

 Necklace:  http://www.etsy.com/listing/86335916/baby-foot-necklace-sterling-silver

Book: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_14?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=hearing+jesus+speak+into+your+sorrow+by+nancy+guthrie&sprefix=hearing+Jesus+%2Caps%2C196

Gratitude

Dear God,

Today, I caught myself feeling anxious, stressed . . . and well, grumpy.

I don't believe that's how you want me to feel or act. Especially when those feelings are over insignificant things like feeling frustrated with potty training, Madelyn being uncooperative, etc.

I need a change in perspective. A new attitude. A new heart.

Lord, I ask that you please change my heart, and forgive me for giving in to fears and anxiety, when that is not your plan for me. Please give me a gracious, calm and caring spirit -- especially in relation to Madelyn.

Today, instead of being grumpy -- I want to be grateful.

Thank you for . . .

• The health and wellbeing of my family.
• The knowledge that you are in control of all things, and that I can trust you.
• A naping girl.
• The fact that I even have difficult days with Madelyn. Having difficult days means that I actually have days with her -- and that in itself is the greatest blessing, even when it's hard.
• The delicious coffee I'm drinking right now.
• A business to run, and the people on my team. Thank you for their lives and the work they put into Arbonne. Thank you for the encouragement they give me. Thank you for what you will accomplish in and through each of them.
• A loving, understanding husband.
• Your provision.
• Our minivan.
• Your Spirit that leads us, heals us, reminds us when we are not following your plan, and guides us back to you.
• Friends that have been so supportive during this time.
• Church and small group.
• Your promises in your word.
• Hope.
• Freedom from fear.
• Victory in you.
• Life.

Father, as I continue through my day, please remind me of your word. Help me to trust deeply in you, have a firm foundation, and live out the rest of my day in glory to you. May you be pleased with the work of my hands -- but more important, with the attitude of my heart.

Love always,

Your daughter

My story -- Baby O's life and legacy

This post has been the hardest to write.

But my story, and my healing, will not be complete until I visit this place of pain. It is the place where I have treasured the memories of my daughter, however brief and few they are. In this place, Baby O is still alive. She is bringing me hope, and deep joy.

Writing about loss in and of itself is easier for me. But this secret place in my heart is what gives meaning to the loss, pain and grief. Here, grief is no longer just a feeling to discuss, dissect and divulge . . .

Joy makes the grief

Real.

Living.

Breathing.

Consuming.

In the last 3 years of processing Madelyn's birth and pregnancy . . . I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that we would probably never get pregnant again. I WANTED to get pregnant again . . . and I felt inklings of sadness when other people announced pregnancies. I wished I had a reason to wear my maternity clothes again. I wish I had showers.  I thought about how wonderful it would be to share my body with a squirmy little girl or boy. I wanted to breastfeed again. I daydreamed of the ways we would tell people we were pregnant again. Of how I would announce it on FB. I longed for a baby.

But I couldn't give myself permission to do it. How would I handle 9 long months of nausea? How could I care for my family? What if I have to go on bedrest again? If those were the only considerations -- I would've gotten pregnant in a heartbeat.

But then -- there's the whole "I could lose my life" thing. Or I could go 20 weeks, get preeclampsia and HELLP and lose the baby. Could I live with losing a baby? Could I willingly put myself at risk? Put Maddy at risk for growing up without a mother? Put Ryan at risk of losing his wife at a young age?

I was at a stalemate -- and so we chose the adoption route.

Perhaps because I never thought I would see 2 lines on a pregnancy test again, that they brought me so much surprise, hope and JOY the Saturday morning that they appeared and changed my life forever.

I knew it was possible that I could have gotten pregnant when we did, but I didn't think it was likely based on my cycle. I casually told my mom (and only my mom) that we were in the 2-week wait, and that I could potentially be pregnant. She was excited, and I guess, I was a little. But I didn't feel pregnant at all, and like I said, I had given up any hope that I would see those 2 little lines again.

After a week went by without any sign of a period, I got suspicious. I took a test, and it was negative. I called my mom who was disappointed, and I moved on. Everytime I thought I might be pregnant, I felt dumb because I had no symptoms -- minus a late period.

At work one day, I just was fed up with the wait. It felt like a cruel joke to be 1.5 weeks late but not be pregnant. I told a coworker friend that I was late and that I thought I might be pregnant, but that I had a negative a few days before. She got excited and told me to try again this weekend, and to text her when I found out.

I pretty much forgot about our conversation that day, and thought I'd give it 2 full weeks before testing again. But that night I had the most precious, beautiful dream in the world. I dreamt that I was pregnant, and there was the sweetest little baby in me, all squirmy and everything. I was blissfully happy, with my hand on my swollen stomach feeling my child move and kick with life.

I woke up, and just knew I had to take a pregnancy test right then. I peed on the stick -- and to my shock, 2 lines showed up right away!!  Any idea of a creative way to tell my hubby (or anyone else for that matter) flew out the window. I got my pants up as fast as I could, ran to the office, and said breathlessly . . . "I think you need to see something!" . . . proudly holding out the positive test.

Ryan was much less surprised than I was, but still super happy. We had to get ready to travel for an Arbonne party together, and I was so happy he was going with me cause we had time to talk in the car. He would tell you I pretty much didn't lose the smile on my face the whole 4 hours there.

I called my mom as soon as we got in the car to leave. "Mom, I'm pregnant!!!" At first, I thought I had lost connection, because she was shocked and didn't say anything for what felt like a few minutes. Then she said, "Are you sure? Because you just called the other day to say you weren't pregnant." I said yes, I was sure . . . and she started crying because she was so happy! I cried, too, and I was just so happy inside.

Then I called Sarah. She didn't answer. I called 15 minutes later. She didn't answer. I called 15 minutes later, and she finally answered. "Sorry for calling so much," I gushed. "But I just couldn't wait to tell you . . . you are going to have a new niece or nephew August 4th!" She was excited, and asked when we found out. I explained about my period being late, and she said . . . "What do you mean, your period was late?" I was like, "My period was late. I'm pregnant!" Again -- silence. I asked if she was still there. She was crying and I could just make out that she thought I had been telling her we were going to have a foster child in August. . . not that we were going to have our very own baby! I made her cry in the middle of Walmart. That was the best.

Telling other family members didn't go quite as expected or as hoped -- many of them assumed that the pregnancy wasn't viable due to my lack of symptoms and didn't seem to be as excited. Others were simply afraid. When they heard, "I'm pregnant . . . " they heard, "Me and my baby might die." In the midst of my happiness and joy, it was hard to see others who were unable to celebrate with us. But I do understand where they were coming from.

Ryan and I agreed that I could tell close friends and family -- but I don't think he knows how many "close" friends I have. :) I told all my friends at work, and that was so much fun! I dreamed of how fun it would be for them to see me grow a big belly. I thought about how fun it would be to bring my baby in to show off.

I had just promoted with Arbonne, and everything felt perfect. I was leaving work to stay home with Maddy, and now we had this new little one on the way!

Several times a day, I found myself with my hand on my belly . . . praising God for this most amazing blessing, and thanking Him for this new life growing in me. I already loved that little baby so much. I imagined how she would be with Madelyn, and how they would be best friends. I just knew this pregnancy would be different.

One of the things that surprised me was the instant peace I had about this pregnancy. I used to imagine that if I were pregnant again, I would be consumed by fear and anxiety. Instead, with Baby O, I was full of the most amazing peace I had ever felt.

Maddy was convinced it was a girl. One day, she lifted up my shirt to see my belly (that was still pretty flat) and said, "Mommy. The baby is so cute! She's so cute, mommy!"

She was so cute. I knew she was. I loved how my daughter already loved her sibling . . . even when all she saw was a belly at the time.

Someone close recently wondered if I had regretted telling people our news. Nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, I wished I would have told everybody. If I hadn't told anyone, I would hardly have ANY memories of my daughter's life. I cling to the memories of celebrating her unexpected yet precious life with friends and family. Besides the picture of the positive test, those memories are all I have of her.

After losing the baby, we chose to name her. It only took a few minutes for me to come up with her name  . . .

Olivia Joy Lewis.

Olivia stems from "Olive". The olive branch is a universal symbol of peace. After the great flood, when God wiped out the world (except those on Noah's ark, of course), hope for a new life came in the form of an olive branch.

Her middle name is Joy because her life brought me more joy inside than I thought I could ever contain.

Olivia was my olive branch. She was the hope that came after a storm. I had despaired that there would never be any other life in me. She gave me that hope. She was (and is) God's gift to me. Peace and Joy are exactly the way I want to remember my daughter.

Perhaps Olivia's legacy won't be her own . . . perhaps her legacy will be that she has given me the courage to have her sisters or brothers.  She has made me stronger. She has made me more compassionate. She has brought me closer to God. She makes me cherish each day with Maddy more. Her little life has already reached hundreds of other women -- and I hope -- has brought them some measure of healing and comfort in Christ.

Baby Olivia,

I miss you more than words could ever express. Thank you for being a fighter. For holding on for as long as you could. I am so sorry that I could not provide a safe place for you to grow. I am so sorry, sweet girl. Thank you for opening my eyes to death, and in that, to the beauty and miracle of life. Thank you for drawing my eyes to Jesus. Thank you for helping me see the beauty and joy to be found in heaven. Thank you for giving me courage.

I love you so much,

Mommy

The beauty -- and pain -- in just letting go.

I'm the kind of girl that has a hard time letting go.

As a kid, that meant my junk drawer was so full it was hard to shut. I couldn't throw any toy away, for fear of hurting its feelings. When I was older, I never wanted to let go of our cars. Yes, you heard me . . . our cars. We would get a different car, get rid of the old one . . . and I would be angry with my parents for putting me through so much change. You can imagine how difficult I was through each of our moves.

I remember when I was 12, I had a girlfriend spend the night, and we shared a bed. I woke her up in the middle of the night because our sheets were messed up. I kicked her out of bed, made the bed, let her back in, and promptly let her know that if she messed my covers up again she'd be sleeping on the floor. Even while unconcious, I just couldn't let go.

As an adult, I struggle to hold on to everything. We just traded in cars this weekend, and I had a hard time saying "goodbye" to a car that I didn't even like. I still get this kind of remorseful feeling when I look at our driveway with the gold minivan and not the white SUV. (Although I have to admit that our minivan's new heated seats are literally warming me over.)

Obviously, holding on tightly to each little facet of my life has at times been annoying, hurtful and just plain painful. But my stubborn determination to hold on has also served me well . . .

I've held on to my faith when I felt like the world (or the heavens) have conspired against me and I can barely get through the day.

I've held on to my business even when I hear "no," people cancel, and I don't see the rewards for my work.

I've held on to my husband even when we fight and "love" could not feel farther away.

I've held on to my dreams and passions even when no one else can see them as clearly as I can.

I'm so used to holding on, that I never questioned whether I should hold on to my pregnancy when all the odds were against us.

I remember the night of my miscarriage, sitting on the couch watching "Finding Nemo" with Maddy. I had been bleeding heavily for 2 hours, and had wave after wave of cramps. We had received good news just hours before that the baby was still alive. If the baby was alive, I should NOT be bleeding. I should NOT be cramping. And this whole thing was just wrong. So, so wrong.

I didn't realize how tense I was, how hard I was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away, until I felt a soft whisper on my heart. Rachel, you need to let go. Let your body work. Let your baby go.

From the moment the bleeding started that evening, I knew deep in my heart it was the beginning of the end. But I still fought against the cramps, against the death that I was sure was overtaking my baby. And then there was that quiet, still moment where I knew that no matter how hard I fought, nothing I could do would save my baby. I just needed to let go.

There was so much release and relief when I surrendered my body, my baby, my hopes and my dreams to the ebb and flow of miscarriage.  Minutes later, I passed what I had believed to be our baby.

I have read that women in labor also must reach a point of total surrender to the work of their bodies. I believe God has created our bodies to work at odds with our minds at times. Perhaps even in this He shows us our frailty and weakness . . . and His omnipotence and strength.

Waving the white flag to God, to my body, to my circumstances has not been easy. And in the weeks since we lost Baby O, I have found so many times where God is calling me to let go  . . . to stop holding on so tight with white knuckles, and just trust Him.

I'm learning to let go of my ideas of success and embrace that I can only do what I can do, and no more.

I'm learning to let go of my pride . . . that there are days where I will not have something amazing or productive to show for my time, and that it's OK.

I'm learning to let go of my need to be in control . . . because, if losing a baby has taught me anything, it's that while I sometimes have the facade of control, it's usually just that. A facade.

And gently, tenderly, He is STILL calling me to let go of my baby. To trust in Him. And surrender to His will, even though I don't understand.

Perhaps, as I move through this life with hands a little more open, I will find that I am no longer just letting go. I'm also opening up my life to the blessings and purpose He has for me. And that is a hope I'm holding on tight to. A promise I will never let go of.