Is treating an ectopic equivalent to murder?

 

A few days after I had surgery with Olivia, I was researching ectopic pregnancy blogs and came across this one:

http://inashoe.com/2008/06/ectopic-pregnancy-and-the-sanctity-of-life/

[WARNING: if you have had an ectopic, this might be the worst blog to read. So you may just want to stay away.]

For the rest of you, you can absolutely read . . . but I'll sum up the big points:

-Treating an ectopic with surgery or methotrexate before the tube has ruptured, or the baby has already clearly died is morally the same as a regular abortion. Heck -- it's morally the same as if I had brutally murdered Maddy, my 4-year-old (according to this blogger.)

- Watch and wait is the best approach, because even if your tube ruptures, you have a better chance of getting struck by lightning than by dying of tubal rupture. Hence, tubal rupture is really no big deal.

- The Bible is VERY clear on what to do in these situations. According to this blogger, there is no gray area in the Bible.



As you can understand, this post made me very upset -- especially because it appears to be written by a very popular blogger. And I'm afraid that someone might believe that EVERY Christian pro-lifer believes this.

A year down the road, I thought I'd try reading this again -- to see if I could take it from a more intellectual level now that the emotions aren't as prevalent. I saw there was a follow up post, as well, which made me hopeful.

But I was wrong. And I ended up feeling like my blood was boiling, I was so upset.

Here is the follow up:

http://inashoe.com/2008/06/ectopic-pregnancy-clarifications/



Here is one quote:

We would personally pursue any treatment for both the mother and the baby that would treat both as viable patients, even if it only gave the baby infinitesimally small odds of survival. We seek to preserve both lives no matter how feeble our efforts are instead of self-consciously ending one life.  At the present, this might mean no more than waiting for surgery until we had an indication that the child had died – a ruptured tube and/or internal bleeding would be a very good sign that it was time to proceed. In the near future, we might have more and better options.

And another:

Lastly, if you have suffered an ectopic pregnancy in the past and dealt with it by terminating the pregnancy, please understand, I didn’t research and write my post to make you feel guilty about the past.  We have all made poor choices, often under poor advice with the best intentions. If a decision is made in ignorance on our part on the bad or immoral advice of a doctor then the doctor will stand before God for the advice he or she gave. This is why we are warned to “let not many of you become teachers for teachers have a stricter judgment.”

But we are still accountable for our decision, and because all of our decisions are inescapably moral – Christ said you are either with me or against me -there is no neutrality in life.  If any of us makes a decision that is sinful- and preemptively taking an innocent human life is a sin – we must repent.  After all, if we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

I read Ryan both articles last night just to make sure my outrage at these blogs were justified.

I think he may have been more outraged than I was.

And since I can no longer comment on the original blog -- here is my response.

Dear Kim,

I absolutely believe that you have the best of intentions in both of your posts. However, I must say that I thoroughly disagree with many of your conclusions. Not only do I disagree, I find them downright hurtful.

First, a little about me. I've been a Christian since I was 3 years old. I went to a conservative Bible school, where I double-majored in Bible and Theology.  I've always been pro-life, through and through. I believe that life begins at conception.

My mom was a great example to me. She has spent years as a volunteer for crisis pregnancy groups. I've researched abortion, and the effects it had on women.

I also had an ectopic pregnancy last year.  

No, let me clarify that.  

My daughter, Olivia Joy, died because she implanted in my tube. (Yes, she was a baby. Not just a pregnancy.)

I understand your wanting to figure out the ethics of ectopic. It really is the dark horse in the pro-life world. The one time when things really do kinda seem gray, and the decision is not as black and white (at least, not for most of us.) I understand you wanting to figure it out beforehand -- and not in the throes of having an ectopic yourself.

I get it.

But I cannot understand how you wield the tone you do, with the conclusions you reach.

Perhaps it is the non-chalant way you handle a tube rupture. (The way you throw around statistics like "a person is 3x more likely to die from a lighting strike than from a tubal rupture" as though the whole idea of actual danger seems silly to you.)

I suppose you feel safe in those statistics. And I can't blame you. I don't necessarily go around worrying about getting struck by lighting.

But perhaps because I find myself on the unfortunate end of ectopic statistics, that I don't feel so safe.

Perhaps because I am the one who had to drive myself and my then 3-year-old to my parents while internally bleeding and vomiting from the pain. Perhaps because it was my dad (the physician's assistant) who I saw who looked scared while he carried me from car to car, and wheelchair to hospital room because I could no longer stand. Perhaps because I was the one whose husband broke down in tears at work after getting the call from me. Apparently I sounded like I was dying -- and as he drove to the hospital, he was trying to figure out how to say good-bye to his wife of 5 years and the mom to his preschooler.

Perhaps because I am the one left with the grief. The what-ifs. The devastation an ectopic can have. I am the one left with a damaged tube, and a higher incidence of another ectopic. I am left with the terror of getting pregnant again. Perhaps because I have lots of friends who have been through ectopics -- many treated before rupture, and many treated after. Maybe because I actually have friends who very literally almost died from the "watch and wait' approach.

Perhaps for all those reasons, I come to very different conclusions than you.

First, you claim that a tube must rupture, the mom be in immediate danger, or the baby must clearly die.

My questions is -- besides the tubal rupture -- how exactly do you know when the time to treat is? How can you tell a baby has died when there was no heartbeat to stop? (Besides, we would all argue that life happens before the heart even forms.) How can you qualify life when the hcg is bouncing up and down? How can you tell when most ectopic babies can't be seen on ultrasound until the tube has rupture? 

I know that my baby died before I was in surgery because my doctor told me know life could withstand all that blood. I know that because Olivia had already passed, you (nor the Bible) find any fault with me. But you do find fault with my friends. You have called them murderers. And not just you -- you have claimed that God calls them murderers.

I read in your comments that you had a stillbirth. I am absolutely so very sorry for the death of your child. I have several friends who have suffered the death of a child through stillbirth, and I can only imagine your (and their) heartache.

But imagine for me, if you will, meeting with some of your baby loss friends, and telling them that God -- and the Bible -- called them murderers because their bodies were unable to keep the baby safe.

To say such a thing would be absolutely heinous.

And to say such a thing to women who had NO CONTROL over where their babies implanted, whose bodies were unable to provide a safe place for baby to grow, is equally heinous.

Do I believe that every ectopic needs to be dealt with the very moment that it is suspected? No. Do I believe that women should be able to get a second opinion in most cases. Yes. Do I think doctors need to be super careful in diagnosis. Yes. (Although you need to understand that diagnosing an ectopic is very difficult.) In a future pregnancy, would I personally wait until the ectopic was absolutely confirmed before I took any action. Yes.

But I do not judge those who have made different decisions as making a poor decision. And not just a poor decision, but a sinful one that necessitates God's forgiveness and mercy.

You argue that the word "abortion" was chosen for you by the medical community, and that you had no choice but to use it for accuracy. That's hogwash. You know, as a writer, that you choose every word very carefully. Word choice is everything. You chose that term.

But let's just stick to your argument. I'm assuming you know that the medical community also refers to miscarriage as an abortion, or spontaneous abortion. If you were to write a post on those who have suffered miscarriage, would you wield the big "A" word with so much authority then? 

You and a few commenters mentioned that doctors need to find other ways of dealing with an ectopic. I don't disagree. I would love for doctors to find a way to move a baby from a tube to healthy uterus. But just because we WANT them to figure out how to do it, doesn't mean they can. Just because we demand, doesn't mean they can supply.

We demand the cure for cancer. We demand the obliteration of AIDS. We demand that doctors figure out how to prevent SIDS. 

W can demand all we want. And while we hope and pray that in the future these demands will actually accomplish something, we are still stuck in today. What choices do mothers with an ectopic pregnancy have today? 

Methotrexrate. Surgery. Or watch and wait. 

You seem convinced that there is only one way to treat an ectopic biblically. And I would argue otherwise. Actually, I would argue that the Bible doesn't specifically address ectopic. That God says all life is important. And that we are to treat all life reverently. But that doesn't mean we have to go to all costs to save a life.

Just like the Bible doesn't cover when a person should pull life-support from someone who is beyond human healing -- it doesn't cover how and when to treat an ectopic.  

My hope in writing is that you will reconsider your tone. You'll reconsider your word choices. And you'll consider the 1 in 50 women who face the very real physical threat and devastating choices you seems so blissfully safe from.

Rachel 

 

 

 

 

An open letter

To those who who have had friends and family die, or you lost your home or livelihood, in the Texas factory explosion . . .

To those whose lives have been rocked forever by Boston Marathon bombing . . .

To my friend Dionne, whose amazing boyfriend unexpectedly died in his sleep . . .

To all my readers who have recently lost a baby, and there is no headline news, no outpouring of support -- but you've suffered a death just the same . . .

To YOU who may have suffered a death or a loss, and you are new to this thing called grief . . .


I am so very, very sorry.

You need to know that people care. So very much.

But they won't always know the right words or the right way to show you how much they love you, and how much they hurt with you.

Their grief is real. It's just not the same as yours. It's not all-consuming. It's not their new normal.


And so people will tell try to encourage you in ways that you might not always find encouraging.

People are going to tell you to stay strong. They will promise you God's peace and His comfort. They will tell you you will heal. They show you a crazy amount of support for a few days -- maybe even a few weeks. One day you will wake up, and wonder where everyone has gone.

Before you have even wrapped your brain around your loss . . . Before you even can get through a day without the constant heartache of your loved one lost . . . Before you start eating, breathing and sleeping without MAKING yourself take one more breathe, prepare one more meal, or face one more day . . .

They will talk about moving on.

They will ask you when you plan to start dating again. Or when you will get pregnant again. They will remind you of all the things you should still be thankful for. They might suggest that something is wrong with you, because you still hurt so much. They will try to fix things -- fix you.

They just won't understand.

And they can't. Not unless they've been there. And none of us would wish that anyone else would ever have to be "there." 

And it's not that they are trying to be callous. Or uncaring.

The truth is they care so much, they just want to see you happy again. They want some sort of sign that through this storm, you will eventually be OK again.

 

So I want to tell you a few things I've learned in my journey of grief, in hopes that it may help.

"Staying strong" is a farce. That assumes you are strong right now -- and you aren't. Grief -- loss -- has changed all that.

Embrace your weakness. Let other people care for you, prepare meals, do your laundry and clean your bathroom. This is as much a service for those around you who want to help as it is a service to you.

Let your tears come as often and intense as you need. Do not judge your tears -- wondering if you are crying to much or too little.

Do not judge your grief at all, for that matter. Just let it be.



As for peace, one day, you may feel at peace again. But not now. And maybe not for a long, long time. And that's OK.

A person whom you love so very much has been forever taken from your world.

There's no peace in that.

An existence you always took for granted is simply gone -- and you can not reclaim it.

There's no peace in that.

A world that once felt safe is now unpredictable, tragic and scary.

There's no peace in that.

When Jesus was in the garden of Gethsemane, I doubt any of us would have had the guts to recite back to him  "Peace I give to you, my peace I leave with you." He was so overcome with grief that that He was literally sweating blood. I doubt very much He was "claiming God's peace" right then.

And I think that's OK. He was about to bear every single sin of the world on His shoulders, while facing a tortuous death, and He was doing it without the presence of His Father.

I think we (Christians especially) want all of God's blessings, and the wonderful support He promises -- and we want it, NOW.

But even as God promises us His presence, His comfort, His peace . . it's not always immediately there. Sometimes we have to go on a journey before we realize God's blessing.

Sometimes, we aren't OK with grief being a process. A journey. We forget that peace and comfort are not the appropriate feelings for every occasion. We think peace has to be present ALL of the time in order for it to be real.

And that's just not the case.

God is clearly OK with process. He took 7 days to make the universe when He could have done it with the snap of His fingers. He had the Israelites wander in the desert for 40 years to meet His purpose, instead of letting them experience the Promised Land right away. God asked Jesus to wait for 30 years before officially launching His ministry -- and only had Him minister for 3.

If God doesn't need an instant fix -- instant peace, instant comfort, instant hope . . . . If God is OK with a process . . . I think then it's ridiculous for us Christians to expect you to have an instant fix too.



As for hope, it is still there. Even if you can't feel it. Even if you don't want to feel it.

But hope does not take away or ease the pain of what you are going through.

 "For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, a

nd sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."

-- Hebrews 12:2

When Jesus hung from the cross, sure He knew that God was in control.

But He still ENDURED the cross. His hope for joy did not numb the very real pain of the nails holding His body to a cross. That did not exempt Him from feeling completely abandoned by God in His hour of greatest need.

If Jesus still felt pain, and grief, and abandonment . . . then it only makes sense that we would feel it too. And that's OK.



And as for moving on . . .

You won't. You can't.

The person you are grieving is forever woven into your existence, into the very fabric of your heart. You will never leave them behind.

Will you learn to put one foot in front of the other? Yes. Will you go forward, even if it feels like it will kill you? Yes. Will you go from moment to moment, hour to hour, and day to day? Yes.

But you will never move on.


For all of you who have been wounded by loss, my thoughts and prayers are with you.

Rachel

Good babies

I was on a shuttle in Las Vegas recently, and overheard a conversation between the parents of a "good" little baby and another passenger.

"She's such a good baby," they said of the child who was quiet and content even though she was on a shuttle at 4 am. "We keep expecting her to act up at some point, but she's just so good."

"I had two good babies," the other proud momma said. "It IS possible. They both slept so well on their own."

"Well, some days I have to rock her to sleep when we catch her on a bad day" said proud momma #1, "but most of the time she just sleeps on her own."

As a mom to two strong-willed, opinionated, GOOD babies myself... I really wanted to chime in.

"I had two good babies myself," I wanted to say...

Madelyn was a such a good baby, she knew that she felt most at peace and safe when in her momma's arms. So she made sure I knew that's where she wanted to be ... All the time.

She was such a good baby she knew that her acid reflux hurt her when she was flat on her back ... Even when her mommy didn't know what was wrong. So she communicated her need in as strong of a way as she knew how.

She knew that mommy's milk made her tummy feel better, and helped her feel comforted when she was overstimulated or overwhelmed. So she rooted and nursed often (I mean, she rooted and nursed all of the time.)

She was such a good baby, she experimented with her communication (how loud can I go?) until the desired effect was reached. She knew herself well enough to know what she needed, and trusted that her mommy would provide. So she made sure her mommy always knew how she was feeling.

She was such a good baby she still developed well, even when I was exhausted from meeting her constant needs, and didn't respond to her in the most peaceful, loving ways at times.

She was such a good baby because she didn't give up on herself, her needs, or her mommy and daddy.... Even when we were all exhausted.

She was such a good baby.


Little miss is also a good baby.

She gets passed from person to person. Sometimes it's too much for her and she shows us when she needs peace and quiet.

Little miss doesn't like diaper changes ... She doesn't like being held in one place. She's so curious about her world that she just wants to crawl around and see what everything feels like ... In her mouth of course. She's so good at discovery.

Little miss is good at letting us know when a transition is too sudden for her. She is good at letting us know what food tastes good and feels right in her mouth ... And what doesn't. She's good at telling us when she wants to be rocked, and when she wants to be put down.

Little miss can't say words like most 1-year-olds. She doesn't eat like most 1-year-olds. And she sees more specialists than most adults I know. But she charms everyone who meets her. Every day she tries, and tries, and tries again without getting discouraged.

She is such a good baby.

My babies may not sleep on their own or through the night like most babies. They may not have gone to other people well. They may not transition from arms to floor, or arms to carseat, or arms to other arms without a lot of fuss.

They both may have needs that make me feel overwhelmed at times, and under prepared.

Both my babies may be high-needs. But they have been good babies.


But even if they didn't do anything ... Even if had had nothing to offer... Even if they never reached one milestone.... They are good.

Just because they're babies.

Baby Nolan's Story

I am so honored to share precious Baby Nolan's story. I so hope that you will take a few minutes to read about this sweet little boy.

Dayna is a brave momma who had to make a decision no one ever wants to make. Her story deserves to be told.

I am helping Dayna through my business to raise funds for her March of Dimes walk in honor and memory of precious baby Nolan. If you'd like to help, click on the link below to shop for Arbonne. 35% of your retail order will go to March of Dimes, in honor of Nolan.


https://www.arbonne.com/cm/a/external/invitation/showInvitation?presentationId=765388&attend=Y&language=en&country=US


April 24 is the last day donate funds for Nolan's walk.

 -- Rachel

Baby Nolan's Story



 



I found out a week before Christmas that I had placenta previa and placenta percreta. They said they usually don't detect it until about 24 weeks. Most cases don't hemorrhage/bleed as early on as I did.

I hemorrhaged two times in the beginning of November, one of which times I passed out in the bathroom, while home alone with the kids and had to call 911. One set of paramedics had to watch my kids until my mom got there. My kids were freaked out. I ended up staying 3 days in the hospital and having 2 blood transfusions.

I was then sent to a high risk doctor at St. Joseph who sent me to have an MRI. When the results came in, she called and said I had to go to UW medical that week. I went and they said my placenta percreta was basically like having a rapid growing cancer. When the placenta grows through the wall of the uterus it invades other organs. Because they can't leave any kind of placenta tissue or it will just continue to bleed, they would have to take all of what it invaded.

The MRI showed the placenta had already invaded a good amount of my bladder and also looked like it had started growing into my bowel. They told me my best chance to live was to deliver under a controlled surgery and told me there was a very high chance I still might not make it. I had to make the choice which made everything even harder.

How is a Mother supposed to kill their baby?

 I begged them to wait till 25 weeks so he could have a chance. They said I would have to be admitted in the hospital for the rest of the pregnancy and if I choose this then they would have to push the pregnancy till I started bleeding again or at 30 weeks. I could bleed out at any time.

They said if I started bleeding again the would have to do emergency surgery and would not have all the specialists needed for the surgery. They also said Nolan would not be like a normal preemie because if I start bleeding he would be losing his blood too. And because I had already had a couple of major bleeds and one that needed 2 blood transfusions that early on, it scared them. She said she didn't even think I would even make it to 24 weeks without bleeding out.

I know I made the best decision, but still one I regret every day. I will always have the what if’s.

 

 

Even with the controlled surgery, I lost 6 ½ liters of blood and I had to have 14 blood transfusions. I had a 9 ½ hour surgery, 2 days in the ICU and 8 days total in the hospital. I had to have a full hysterectomy, and half of my bladder removed.

In the recovery room, I was able to hold my sweet baby boy, although he was already gone. He was perfect in every way. He looked just like his older brothers and sister. He was tiny, only weighing 9.2 oz. I didn’t get to hold him long because of just being out of surgery. They told me I could ask to have him anytime during my stay, but I could not bring myself to ask again. I was afraid . . . but I now wish that I held him more.

10 perfect, tiny toes.

I had a rough recovery while in the hospital. I had low spinal fluid from the epidural which caused the worst headache of my life and nonstop throwing up. They ended up giving me 3 different blood patches, each worked for a short period of time. During one day/night I got so bad they sent me in for a head CT (that I don’t remember because I was so out of it) and pumped me with  IVs to help my body replace the fluid, which finally started helping. I had to have a catheter in for a little over 3 weeks while my bladder healed.

Nolan Mason was born on January 5, 2012, and passed shortly after. He was just about 21 weeks gestation. We found out he was a boy at 14 weeks, and his brothers were so excited to be having a baby brother. We buried Nolan Mason on Feb 3, 2012. We know he was with us that day because the weather was blue skies and sunny and 60 degrees out.



Always remembered.

 

We miss and love him every day. He is talked about and thought about every day in our house.

Walking in the March of Dimes last year in honor of Nolan.

On being a (crappy) foster mom, and other misc. musings

I should be cleaning my kitchen right now.

Ha ha . . . that's how every blog post of mine should start.

I should be doing laundry . . .
I should be finishing emails . . .
I should be relaxing or reading a book . . .
I should be sleeping . . .

I always have things to do, and every time I sit to write, I think about how I SHOULD be doing something else.

But I know that I really SHOULD be writing, because when I don't my mind gets jumbled with thoughts and feelings, and I have a really hard time processing how I feel.

One thing that's been on my heart is that I feel like a crappy foster mom.

There. It's out.

There are things that I didn't think I would do as a foster mom, and now, I've done them. And I feel super guilty about that.

Mainly, this revolves around respite. But also day care.

Maddy and I have been sick. I had a cough last week, but it was manageable and not really concerning to me. Once Ryan came home from being gone for a week, I think my body finally gave itself permission to REALLY get sick.

I started having coughing fits that brought me to my knees and made me feel like I might pass out or suffocate. Sometimes at night, I really wondered if I would be able to breathe. Every deep breath (and by deep, I mean not intentionally shallow) brought on crazy spasms, and I just coughed, and coughed and coughed. (Those of you who saw me, or talked to me on the phone, you know it wasn't pretty.)

On Easter Sunday, it got better during the day, but at night at my mom and dad's, I was just plain miserable. Maddy started complaining (hmmmm, that's the understatement of the year) . . . Maddy started crying, whining, and throwing fits (much better) for hours and it was hard to console her.

For a few minutes, we got her calmed down and we had a short and sweet Easter egg hunt, but then it was back to the crying and writhing around in pain.

My mom suggested we try to get respite the next day for little miss . . . and while I am opposed to it on a conceptual level (I would NEVER let a complete stranger come pick up Maddy and take her for the night), I knew I really couldn't handle both girls on my own. Or even with Ryan. (Honestly, the four of us adults had a hard enough time taking care of both kiddos.) So I arranged for respite care for the following day and night.

That night was horrible and reaffirmed my need for respite. I think I finally went to sleep around the time the sun came up, and Ryan took the girls and let me sleep till 10:30. At some point, the respite woman came and picked up little miss, and I didn't even have it in me to crawl out of bed and say good-bye or talk to the mom. I stayed in bed with Maddy till after noon, because she was still throwing fits and writhing about in pain. (And of course, all she wanted was mommy.)

Ryan played nurse and brought us everything we could need, and doled out the meds.

I took Maddy to the Drs, and that took about every ounce of energy I had. Turns out Maddy had another ear infection, and her ear drum likely ruptured --- which accounts for the writhing around and inconsolable crying. (I've had my ear drum rupture before, and man does it hurt!)

Besides the trip to the drs, and a short stint on the couch to watch a movie, I pretty much slept for a day and a half. And Maddy spent all that time with me. When she starting throwing up as a result of her antibiotics, I thought, "Yep . . . there's no way I could've handled two tonight."

And today, when I got up again after noon. . . I really felt like the rest did both of us good.

But it bothered me that little miss was at some stranger's house. No, that's not entirely it. What really bothers me is that having little miss with a stranger didn't bother me ENOUGH.

I wasn't up all night worrying about her. I wasn't calling or emailing or texting. I wasn't being the helicopter mom I imagined I would have been if it were Maddy.

And THAT is what bothered me.

I mean the girl was picked up by a stranger, spent the night at their house. Then was picked up by a case worker I hadn't met, and taken to see bio parents. Then taken by same (new) caseworker and brought to us. It seems like that would be confusing to her.

Am I not as attached to little miss as I am to Maddy? Why do I assume she can handle being with strangers just because she's a foster child? Does that make her a different breed of human  . . . the kind who is more resilient and less in need of security? Why would I think it's ok for little miss but NEVER think it would be OK for Maddy?

Which is the exact same struggle I have with day care.

I am very thankful Maddy never had to go to day care. But here I send little miss off for a few hours twice a week, and I wonder why in the world I'm doing it.

Ok, Ok,  I know why. So she has some sort of stable place. Because if I don't, then I'll lose day care for good. And what would happen if I really needed it after all?

But if we were to have one of our own, I'd never send one off to day care, and keep the other one home. So why am I doing that now?

When little miss got home today, she looked more confused than happy to see us. She warmed up to us again after a bottle and bath, and seemed to enjoy our walk outside. She played cute games and smiled and giggled.

But I wondered if passing her off this soon would affect her attachment to us. Is day care affecting her attachment? Is she just getting passed around too much?

SO there you go. I feel like a crappy foster mom because I've always wanted our foster child to feel as much like our family as any of our bio kids. And treating one different than the other just feels wrong to me -- but I keep doing it.

So what to do?


In other news, I really do want to write a book. It's been on my heart and mind for some time. But sometimes a book seems so big, and my blog seems so small.

I thought about submitting an article for an online magazine. But the thought of it scared me, and I wondered, "Who am I to write for a magazine??"

Then I thought, "Silly me. Why would I think people would want to read an entire book if they couldn't stomach an 800-word article?"

It's so easy to dream big -- but when it comes to the small things that lead up to your big dream, it's just as easy to feel daunted and back away.

If my business has taught me anything -- it's that the small things lead to the big things.  So I guess I need to write that article.


One last thought -- I still really want to be pregnant.

I know that sounds weird, because I have a baby in my arms and I love her so very much. I don't understand this need to have a child in my uterus. But there you go. It's still a longing I feel every single day. I can't get rid of it, and I can't explain it. It just is.

But we definitely aren't trying. After stupid period from hell last week, we (I) decided I had had enough. Every month, it gets worse and I feel so out of control with my body. So birth control it is.


Ok, Ok, one last thought -- for real this time.

I just want to say thank you. Thank you, mom, for the laundry and food. Thank you friends for the amazingly delicious meals you blessed us with last week. Thank you Bethany and Kristin for helping me with laundry. Thanks Kristin for the awesome babysitting, and clean kitchen -- and time watching "Call the Midwife."  Thank you Jessica, Jeanne and Cherie for the clothes. Thank you Stevie for the gift card and absolutely precious peapod. Thank you Syndi for always offering to help. Thank you Deanna and Darin for giving little miss an awesome first family, and for being so supportive to our family throughout this time. Thanks for trusting us with your little girl. And thanks Deanna for arranging meals!

Thank you to everyone who has prayed for us, or kept up on my facebook page, or followed my blog, or encouraged me in so many, many ways.

Thanks everyone for being the hands and feet of Jesus by ministering to us in so many special ways.

Love to you all,

Rachel

Baby Sophia

Today is the third anniversary of baby Sophia's death and birth.

Death... Then birth. I really wish life never happened in that order.

My very dear friend, Stacy, had quite the journey before she was blessed with the short life of Sophia.

It took her and her husband years of trying and treatment to fall pregnant with their son. Complications arose and little baby boy was born a few months early.

During their quest to expand their little family, Stacy suffered 3 miscarriages. After the miscarriages, she discovered she had cancer. Thankfully it was caught soon enough that it was treatable.

Stacy and her husband pursued adoption, and were chosen by a mom to adopt her baby. They prepared for months, only to have birth mom change her mind after the baby was born.

More trying and more treatment later, a precious miracle began to take shape.

Little baby Sophia was their miracle.

She was wanted and loved more than anything in the world. At 32 weeks, Stacy noticed she hadn't felt Sophia move. She had a feeling of dread, and knew she might be facing bad news, but still hoped it was nothing.

When they went to the hospital, they had the worst news a mom could hear. Her baby's heart stopped beating.

3 years ago today, little baby Sophia was born still. Her life brought more love into Stacy's family's heart than they thought it could contain. Her death has brought more pain than someone should ever have to face.







Stacy has a long list of tragedies. 3 miscarriages. Cancer. Failed adoption. And stillbirth.

But she has created (or rather, God has created in her) an amazing legacy.

In honor of Sophia, Stacy has gone on to become the chapter director of MEND -- NW Washington. She invests so much time and energy reaching out to other hurting moms, because she knows exactly what they are going through.

After our loss of Olivia, and then with my subsequent miscarriage in October, Stacy was right there with me, giving me hugs, holding my hand, and listening when I just needed to cry or vent. There are a lot of moms who could say the same thing of her.

I know she gives all she can not because she is just one amazing woman... But because the way she shows her undying love to Sophia now is by loving on other bereaved moms.



Sophia's precious life was so short. But in the last 3 years, she has touched so many lives more deeply than most of us do in our lifetime.

To Stacy.... Today I am thinking of you, dear friend. I remember your sweet little one who was gone too soon. Thank you for all you do to carry on Sophia's legacy. So many of us have been given the strength and encouragement to carry on through grief by your own love and example.

To Baby Sophia -- you will always be loved and missed.

 

Mrs. Frumpmeyer

Remember that box I told you about last year? That pretty little tidy box I always try to present myself in?

Well, I've been working on breaking out of that box over the last year.

And this past week, I'm afraid, I took it a little too far.

I'm pretty sure I accidentally smashed the box to smithereens. Oops.

Let me take you play-by-play into my foray into frumpdom...

Our social worker and little misses' guardian ad litem were visiting the house at 9:30 am this past Friday.

That morning, little miss AND Maddy woke up at 5:40. (Maddy gets such a kick out of getting up in the "middle of the night," as she calls it.) If you don't know this already, life before little miss never greeted me before 9 am every morning.

So, I woke up exhausted ... And still dressed in the clothes I wore the day before that I happened to fall asleep in. I got the kids fed, bathed, dressed, and little miss back down for a nap. My bathroom floor was covered in dirty clothes, my living room floor was covered in neatly folded piles of clean clothes (thanks Mom!!), and my entry was covered in a little bit of everything.

With limited time left before the meeting, I had a choice... Make myself presentable... Or make my home presentable. Since I doubted that they would judge my parenting on how perfectly coiffed my hair was ... I went with the house.

I actually felt proud of myself a little for not being too ashamed to meet someone sporting yesterday's clothes (and makeup).

After the visit, it was time for another nap (oh, how I wished it was for me!). I layered on some new makeup over yesterday's (so against everything I believe about skincare!) and put a few bobby pins in to keep the ponytail in. Then it was off to daycare for little miss (late, of course)... And to the doctor for Maddy.

(And here's where things start to go downhill....)

I forgot they were doing vaccines. So... I am the brilliant mom who brought her kid in extra tired and extra hungry without any preemptive Tylenol. Not a good set up for shots, let me tell you.

The nurse had me hold Maddy down (who proceeded to knock me down twice --- the girl is strong when she's upset.) And before I can request help from another nurse, the lady just starts poking my kid. 4 times!! I have no idea how she got them in the way Maddy and I were struggling.

As soon as she popped the band-aids on, she left. But I had to deal with the aftermath. Maddy screamed into my face for a half-an-hour non-stop. Not in a "I didn't get my way, so I'm throwing a fit" kinda way. This was a "I feel out of control and violated" kind of rage that brought me to tears. I held them back because I was trying my best to just speak calmly and soothing to her. But I hated seeing how betrayed she clearly felt.

A nurse finally came in to the room to try to help things along with promises of stickers and pencils. I think she was trying to help... But more I think she was just trying to get me out of the room so they could stop hearing the screaming, and maybe, just maybe, use that room for another patient.

The bribes didn't work so well.

So another 15 min later I finally emerge holding my whimpering, traumatized kid who I wonder will ever forgive me for holding her down.

I promise her a trip to McDee's for the shots... But she falls asleep on the way. I take her home, and choose sleep myself.

Soon it's time to pick up little miss, so I take Maddy along so I can make good on my promise of pink-slime nuggets and fries.

Except.....


We couldn't find the Tylenol to give Maddy before we go. And searching for it makes me late to pick up little Miss, which the daycare again didn't seem too happy about.

The missing Tylenol necessitates a trip to Walgreen's. I'm still getting the hang of shopping with two kids. The Miss's carseat doesn't fit in the cart, so little miss is half-tilted to the side and back, which looks uncomfortable...but little miss seemed to think it was fun hanging sideways, half-way upside down.

Then I had to stop by the mall to pick up a birthday gift really quick. Of course, neither my stroller nor my Ergo were in the car, so with hands very full, we rush in and out as quick as we can. I kept trying not to stare at the cute moms with their Cadillac strollers, packed out like they were planning to summit Mt. Everest with baby in tow -- not merely score a nice pair of skinny jeans.

Little miss is fussy, and I remember that her daycare won't give her bottles until we have a Drs. note (ugh) so the poor girl is probably thirsty. But I forgot a bottle (of course.)

We get to McDee's and I reach into the scant diaper bag I packed to discover that her baby food was still at the daycare and didn't get packed back in. (Which wouldn't have been a big deal if I had remembered to grab her regular diaper bag -- notice a theme?)

Maddy still feels terrible, doesn't eat her food, tells me to eat it, then goes off to play. Torn between fulfilling my obligation to Maddy to let her play, and wanting to make little miss more comfortable, I begin offering little miss the food I do have that she might eat ...

Which is ketchup.

And since we're trying to teach her to drink from a straw, I keep offering her my cup of half-sweetened tea, knowing full well she won't drink any of it because she doesn't understand the concept of a straw yet.

Meanwhile, I keep catching the sidelong glances from the other moms who clearly have it more together. Little miss is quite small for her age, and looks nothing like the 1-year-old she is. So I do realize for all they know, I'm feeding a 6-month-old ketchup and soda and eating my preschooler's food.

And I realize that on any other day, I probably would BE the one casting the judgmental looks I am now on the full receiving end of.

Not that I ever MEAN to look at people that way, or think those thoughts... But isn't it so true that sometimes they are out before you even realized you thought them?

So, on Friday... I was THAT mom. The one whose cute outfit (from yesterday) was crumpled and well hidden behind a frumpy fleece. Whose hair was slicked back ... Not by fancy product or some fashion design ... But by the oil slick I have to clean up every morning that practically requires a haz-mat suit. My roots loudly cried "get me to a salon," and my eyebrows started to look like Frieda's.

In fact, just to make myself feel somewhat better about the situation, I started referring to myself as Mrs. Frumpmeyer. (of course, not out loud.)

I certainly didn't look or feel like Rachel Lewis, decent mom of two and skincare consultant.

There was a cute mom there, who had it all together (at least in that day) and every once in a while, I caught her eye and would smile. If I had been Rachel Lewis that day, I probably would have struck up a conversation. But something about this chic's looks back to me resembled more pity than camaraderie. So I stayed silent.

Mrs. Frumpmeyer doesn't make new friends with cute moms.

On the way home, I touch the back of my head... Only to realize that my pony tail holder must have snapped at some point. And my hair was so gross, that it actually stayed in place all on it's own without a pony tail holder to be found. It was sticking up, and out, as though I had sprayed my hair with hairspray, and then stood face first into hurricane-force winds.

And it had looked that way for, how long???!!

I freaked.

I called Ryan and said as soon as I pulled into the garage, he was taking the kids. I beelined it to the bathroom, dimmed the lights, put on Miles Davis, warmed the shower, and mud-masked my face. I used every pampering product I had in my bathroom ... Which is a lot.

For the grand-finale, I blew-dried my hair... Which I hadn't done in a week.

It only took me about 30 min... But I couldn't believe how much better I felt.

As I washed Mrs. Frumpmeyer down the drain, I wondered who she really was. Was she sone sort of sacrificial hero ... Slaying her ego for the sake of her kids? Was she to be admired?

It would have been validating to think that.

But I really think that Mrs. Frumpmeyer had things a little backward. She gave, and gave, and gave, and gave... Without really ever giving to herself.

And that had her starting and finishing her day feeling frazzled and half-present... Instead of fulfilled and ready to take on the day.

I think Mrs. Frumpmeyer ignores a very real need. The need kids have for a confident mommy, comfortable in her own skin, who gives because she is full. Someone who takes time for herself, even if it's just a little bit, so she feels more grounded and ready for the day. Someone who has met her own needs, so she can more readily meet their needs.


I'm NOT saying everyone needs to look like they've stepped out of a salon every day. Or even that they looked like they stepped out of a shower.

But I do think us moms need to find what helps us feel grounded, rested and ready to give. For me... That involves a shower, a cute outfit, a blow dryer and some foundation and bronzer at least.

For you, it might look like a cup of hot tea, a walk outside, a few pages in a good book, some worship music, a telephone call to a friend, a Biblestudy, or a few minutes on Facebook.

I'm sure Mrs. Frumpmeyer will be making an encore performance much sooner than I hope. But I hope to figure out the delicate balance between caring for myself, and caring for my family.

So... What do you do when you turn into Mrs. Frumpmeyer? How do you feel about her presence in your life?


P.S. Baby survived the ketchup incident, I'm happy to report. She got side-tracked on the slide, so we were able to extend Maddy's play time a little. And she had a full bottle and some veggies right after getting home.