Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The next day Jen came to pick me up for a day at Como Zoo with the kiddos. I hopped into her van and saw the same book sitting on the middle console. I picked up, about to tell her that I just saw it last night and wanted to read it, and she told me she brought it because she thought I'd like it. Weird, huh?
It was a great and quick read. I always believed in heaven and heard believable stories of people dying, visiting heaven and coming back to life, but this book really solidified it. One part really sang to me:
The little boy, Colton, went up to his mother and commented that he had two sisters. She corrected him, that he only had one. Then he corrected her, he also had the sister that died in his mommy's tummy. Colton's mom had a miscarriage before Colton was born that he never knew about. Wow. He went on to describer her and said that she was okay, and that God adopted her. His mom inquired about her name, and he said that she didn't have a name because their parents never named her. The miscarriage occurred in the first trimester, so they didn't know they were having a girl, so never named her.
I imagined that someday I would meet my 4 other children in heaven, but book made the concept seem much more real. We may not ever have the three children we hoped to raise here on earth, but we will sure have a big family once we get to heaven. We will have 4 kiddos to meet, and name. As wonderful as that moment will be, I'd like to stay planted here for quite a while and take good care of our little miracle here on earth.
Colton described heaven as very colorful, with lots of rainbows. Now when I see rainbows (and I have seen a lot lately thanks to our rainy summer weather!!), I think of heaven and the 4 children we have up there that are adopted by God, and are truly safe.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Today I got an email from our daycare provider that an infant is starting in September.
It was followed by an email telling me that she informed the family that she has another family (US!) that is going through an adoption. If we were placed with a baby, they would need to find another daycare provider. Wow. What a huge weight off of our shoulders (OK, my shoulders, Jamie always had faith that it would work out). A true blessing. Our baby will be in the daycare we love, right along with his or her big brother.
Sigh. Of. Relief.
Monday, June 13, 2011
G-man enjoying a "bite" of cotton candy at the Como Zoo.
My boys riding on the Schlegel's motocross track, in their front yard!!
Griffin watching the high jump at the State Track Meet.
My good friend and encourager, Jenny, at the Como Zoo with our friend, the gorilla.
I don't know what hit me today, but I was, and am, literally overcome with grief. It's part of the process, right? I don't like the process. I want to be me again. The Polly Anna, half glass full (ok, overflowing) gal that I used to be. I feel like I have been robbed of that. But, I don't know who robbed me.
I went to work and don't know what triggered it, I couldn't stop crying. Ok, I stopped when someone needed to talk to me, I don't even think people knew I was crying. I got work done, talked to people, finished some projects, left messages, but between it all I was crying. I left for lunch and thought I'd feel better, ya know, buck up. But, I kept crying. So, I drove home. And cried. Then I cried some more and cried on the phone with Jamie and cried on the phone with a good friend. I felt hopeless, that our dreams would never come true. And, our dreams don't even seem so outlandish, we just want what people do everyday, to grow our family. Maybe we should give up. Maybe all of this is a sign, a sign that we shouldn't have more kids. But, why do we both have the desire to be a mom and dad to more kids? Why do we want our son to have a sibling or two and why do we want our parents to be blessed with more grand kids? These are all good, happy thoughts, but we can't seem to make the thoughts come to fruition.
So, I'm stuck with these ugly feelings of grief and want them to go away, but I know they never will. They'll fade a bit, not hurt so much, but they will always be there. Part of me will always mourn the 4 little ones that I never got to meet, got to hold, got to know what they looked like.
I'll take the grief head on, even though I don't want to. I need to accept and deal with my feelings so that I can be a better mother, wife, daughter, friend and employee. So, accept and deal, I will. And, pray for much happier days ahead. Happy days with more pitter patter of little feet. It's what I want, but today, am not sure I will ever have.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
We went over to my parents and celebrated our sweet little guy. He was so excited to have a balloon, a party, a cake and presents. He blew out his candles and we told him to make a wish. He wished for another nerf gun (I caved and bought him one and gave it to him when he woke up--don't worry there are plenty of rules with it!) We told him that since he had a nerf gun already, he might want to wish for something else. So, he wished that "Nonna and Poppa wouldn't go back to Florida." What a sweet boy. My parents had a super fun gift for him--a motorized 4 wheeler just his size. But, they wrapped up some other things and told him it was his present--socks, underwear, a swimsuit and a toothbrush. Griffin commented on everything and said thank you and then talked about the movie we were going to. No big deal that he got necessities for his birthday! My parents laughed. They showed him his real gift and he was thrilled! It even has a "Griffin" license plate on it. He's one lucky boy.
We all went to a movie, and laughed as we heard Griffin giggle. He's helping us all to heal.
The medication is working faster than I imagined, it was a tough night, but I know that there will be brighter days ahead. Right now I feel very little hope, I feel a bit lost and confused. But, I know someday hope will be restored.
So, we headed back to the clinic and walked to the dreaded ultrasound room once again. I think I have had a dozen ultrasounds in the last year, I am a regular there. A dozen ultrasounds and no baby. I remember when I was pregnant with Griffin and couldn't wait for my next ultrasound. Now, I drive to my appointments wishing I had the courage to drive past the clinic and land up at some happy place. But, avoidance doesn't change the outcome, it only changes my need to have to face it.
Luckily, we had my favorite ultrasound tech. She struggled with infertility for years and has three children. She gives me hope and is absolutely one of the sweetest people I have encountered at the clinic.
We followed her to the room and I noticed her shirt, it was a pretty fitted scrub shirt, and had white embroidered words on it. My eyes focused on the word "heal". Yes, that is what I needed to do, heal. I saw the word hope and my eyes moved back to healing. It's too hard to have hope right now, I need to concentrate on healing first.
She talked through the ultrasound and told me to ask any questions I wanted. At first all I could do was cry. No flickering heartbeat. I wasn't expecting it, but was praying that some amazing miracle took place, but all along I knew what the reality was, the baby had passed away and my body was holding on to him or her for dear life. I started to ask questions and she answered them, supported us and comforted us. We didn't leave with images, we left empty handed. Nothing changed, but my body was still holding on.
We walked down the long hallway to the waiting room. I commented that if felt like the walk of shame. The poor tear stained couple that has walked this walk too many times empty handed, or with images of babies that didn't survive. In the waiting room I noticed a pregnant woman who saw us and diverted her eyes. It's not hard to figure out what our tears were from.
We sat in the waiting room and I reminded myself that we had support--Jamie was close--we had each other. I thought of the flowers on our table at home and remembered that we had people that cared in our lives and that would support us through this. It's part of the healing.
We met with our doctor. We had choices, I opted for the medication. We have no idea how long my body would hold on, and although I still wanted to hold on, I know that I need to heal. We talked about all sorts of things, and he decided to do some blood work.
So many decisions ahead, but for now, we need to focus on healing.
I left and I reflected on that exactly 4 years ago, 11 minutes before my ultrasound, our perfect miracle was born.
I needed to spend some time grieving, then had to help my little boy celebrate his 4th birthday. Our precious miracle that continues to give me hope.