November 14th 2013

     I haven't neglected my blog by choice and certainly haven't failed to blog in light of what would have been Larissa's third birthday.  Instead, we were celebrating this year in a new way.  I was a day shy of 38 weeks pregnant three years to the date that we learned the devastating news that our precious firstborn had no heartbeat.  So, on this sad date, I was in the hospital for a scheduled C-section, following an amnio that was completed two days prior to determine lung maturity. 
     Yes, three years to the date of the worst day of my life, we were back in the same hospital ready to deliver our third child.  We arrived at the hospital with our usual anxieties surrounding our baby's delivery and this year I had a new fear of something terrible happening to me during the surgery.  How can I not have a fear?  Up to the delivery of this little baby, we have never experienced a 'normal' delivery per say.  We entered the labor and delivery unit and passed that awful and familiar room in which I delivered Larissa.  We were greeted by my OB and were told we were the only ones delivering at that time.  Turns out, I was the only delivery that entire day. 
     Surprisingly, as they prepped me for my scheduled surgery, I felt oddly calm.  Perhaps it was the date of our little baby's delivery or perhaps it was all that my baby had endured and survived in utero that made me feel it was going to be okay.   Either way, I was calm and almost felt Larissa with us.  The date of our baby's delivery was too ironic to not feel that Larissa had sent us this blessing. 
     Fast forward three hours after arriving at the hospital for prep before my surgery.  We went into the surgery room and at 12:21pm, a little boy (yes, a boy) arrived safely and healthy, screaming (despite the cord being wrapped around his little neck).  He was a healthy 8lbs 5oz and 20.5 inches long.  We named him Austin...a name we finally agreed upon a few weeks prior to delivery.  I had a feeling it was a boy as we never had agreed upon a boy's name with my previous pregnancies.  It certainly didn't eliminate any shock from us, however, as during the amnio twice our baby was referred to as a 'she' which really made us ready to deliver another little girl.  So, needless to say, we were surprised and had to adjust to having a boy.  Boys diaper changes certainly are more of a challenge and man, can that little guy eat. 
     So, yes, three years to the date of learning the unthinkable about Larissa, we welcomed a new bundle into our lives.  I sit and look at my little man in awe.  His pregnancy brought with it many 'concerns' all of which turned out to be nothing.  He truly is our little miracle and I have a new confidence that Larissa is truly with us.  Like I said before, it's almost like I felt her presence during his delivery.  She sent us this little miracle and Ambree just adores him.  She is constantly giving him kisses and wakes in the morning asking for 'the baby.'  If you asked me three years ago what I thought about life my sentiments were "Life is shit."  This year, however, I've come to accept that life is filled with good and bad.  Right now, things are good.  I'll always long for my precious firstborn and miss her daily.  However, we have a choice to stay in that horrific cycle of grief or to try to move on and somehow accept what we have been dealt.  Well, I owe it to my two living, precious children to be present and alive for them and to embrace the joy that they have brought me.  A joy I never thought possible to feel ever again...

All too Familiar...

     I felt compelled to blog as I have been meaning to log on for a few weeks now as I am approaching the end of my pregnancy, currently at 36 weeks pregnant.  This is the time of pregnancy that first time moms are overwhelmed with the typical fears of delivery and bringing home baby.  My fears go beyond that and my mind is constantly racing.  Sleepless nights, irrational thoughts, constant worry and deja vu to my delivery with Larissa. 
     This Thursday, we will schedule an amnio to see if our baby's lungs are mature to deliver a few weeks early being that we lost Larissa at 40 weeks gestation.  I did an amnio with Ambree, so my fears of something going wrong during the procedure are minimal.  Instead, I'm overwhelmed with the fear that something is going to happen to either the baby or me during delivery.  It will be three years on November 15th that we were forced to say 'hello' and 'goodbye' to our firstborn daughter on the day we finally got to meet her.  Now, with the temperatures getting cooler, Thanksgiving and my due date approaching, I can't help but wonder, "what will go wrong this time?"  Three years ago, I had no life in me and would have wished that I could leave this world.  This time around, I'm so fearful something is going to happen to me during delivery and that my wish will be granted and I won't be here to raise Ambree and our newborn.
     November, to me, is tainted.  It's mind boggling to me the number of birthdays celebrated this month.  In my head, it's an impossibility that any baby can be born alive during this month.  Couple losing Larissa with my trauma and superstitions of the month of November, that I am now convinced I will be taken from this world in order to bring a newborn into it.  I'm petrified.  I'm hoping its just the trauma of my experience because believe me that trauma stays with you.  For example, I'm uneasy when my husband takes Ambree out without me.  I always think something terrible is going to happen and I won't be there to protect them.  The irony of that situation is that Larissa was inside of me and I failed as her mom to protect her.  
     People keep commenting about Ambree adjusting to a newborn and Mike and I adjusting to two.  What these people fail to realize is that after a full-term loss, those 'normal' fears are not what crosses my mind.  Instead, I worry about my baby being healthy, arriving here alive and me surviving the C-section.  Flashbacks to November of 2010 keep crossing my mind: being told there's no heartbeat, my husband crying beside me, me in denial and laboring and delivering to have my precious firstborn silently enter this world.  And worst of all, cradling our baby in our arms to have less than a day with her before we had to say 'goodbye.' 
     I'll end this by saying that anyone whom has not walked in my shoes would think its crazy to think some of the thoughts I'm experiencing right down to thinking I should have a will prepared in case something were to go wrong.  However, for any of you whom are reading this because you personally have experienced my pain, you know these fears and irrational thoughts are all part of the trauma of giving birth to death.  I can only hope that these are indeed irrational fears and that my next post will be one of joy after our newborn's safe arrival. 
     

Hope...

     Hope, a four letter word that packs a powerful punch.  People often asked me how I got through the trauma of losing Larissa.  Initially, I  always believed I had no choice, but looking back, I did have a choice.  I could have succumbed to my grief, refusing to look toward the future and staying in that horrific cycle of grief and despair.  However, it was hope that gave me the courage to move on.  Hope, that one day we would have another little blessing in our lives.  Hope, that one day we would find a new normal.  Hope, that one day our house would no longer be so quiet, but rather, filled with the cries of a newborn and later the sound of pitter-patter of little feet.
     Without hope, I would have given up on the idea of becoming pregnant again and bringing home a healthy newborn.  Believe me, it was easy to lose any hope, especially since we struggled to get pregnant again and everyone around me was giving birth to perfectly healthy babies.  Once pregnancy was achieved, there was a huge part of me that felt I wouldn't really be bringing home a child, but it was hope that we would that kept me focused on a happy outcome.  So, without hope I wouldn't be sitting here typing this while my almost 18 month old sleeps by my side.  Nor would I be relishing in my expectant child's movements inside of me.  Hope is what enabled us to welcome Ambree and it is hope that enabled us to be expecting another bundle of joy.  It is that same hope that I cling to, that keeps me going during this current pregnancy, refusing to succumb to my past traumas and hoping that all will be well this time around.
     I recently received an email from a very inspiring lady, named Heather, who came upon my blog and wanted to share her story of hope.  She was diagnosed with cancer when her daughter was just 3 and a half months old and given 15 months to live.  She refused to accept those odds, knowing she had to be around to raise her daughter and held onto hope that she would survive.  Our minds are a powerful thing...Heather is 7 years post her devastating diagnoses and shares her story on the following link:
     http://www.mesothelioma.com/heather/
Her story of hope is truly inspiring.  I hope each reader takes a moment to check out her link and are inspired by her journey.
     Anyone whom has experienced a traumatic event knows that devastating news is life altering and it's easy to give up hope.  Heather mentioned in a email to me that her hope made her battle easier.  My hope made my dreams of a family come true, so no matter where you are in your journey, don't lose hope.  None of us can predict the future, but we can envision how we would like our lives to be.  Envision a brighter future and hold onto that hope, even if it's just a little bit you feel right now...

20 Week Ultrasound

As I mentioned earlier, we had our 20 week scan today.  I don't need to reiterate that with the exception of my bleed, all looks normal.  I use that term loosely because pregnancy is not normal after a full term stillbirth.  Last night, prior to my scan, I went on my good friend Google researching Trisomy 18 and 21.  I somehow feel better knowing as much as possible about potential problems rather than being completely shocked when given the devastating news.  The problem with my traumatic mind is that I can't let myself relax.  I knew our baby is alive as I am able to frequently feel him or her move, but I didn't know what they would find on the ultrasound.  So, I do research to be prepared.  Prepared for those words..."sometimes these things just happen."  I was told that with Larissa, after my miscarriage in the fall (a secret I kept very quiet, hence why I never posted about it), after my bleed, and when they thought I had an extra placental lobe during this pregnancy.  I learned today, I don't have an accessory lobe, it's just my bleed still there. 
     En route to the maternal fetal medicine, I tried to calm myself down by thinking there's nothing I can do to change any outcome.  However, that's just a coping mechanism.  Had I been given terrible news today, I wouldn't have been calm.  I would have been devastated.  I try to emotionally distance myself from any pregnancy since Larissa, but that's hard.  After all, my body is changing and my baby is wiggling.  It would be against human nature not to feel some excitement and anticipation. 
     That being said, I'm due November 29th and with an early delivery like we had with Ambree there's a possibility of delivering on or around Larissa's birthday, November 15th.  At my 8 week scan when we learned the due date, I was petrified.  Now, I calmly try to tell myself we need something happy in November and this is what we were given.  But, realistically, I keep hearing the prenatal nurses words stated to me when Larissa passed away...."You are number two.  We always have a death in November, December and January."  I can't help but think daily, am I going to become yet another November statistic?  Will the nurse hand me my informational packet they now pass out to bereaved parents at the hospital?
     Yes, 20 weeks pregnant with potentially 18-20 more to go.  I haven't calculated that down to hours and minutes but it's a lot of time for me to worry and think the worst.  This time around, when I'm thinking irrational thoughts, I admire my now 16 month old daughter, and try to believe that it is possible.  She's here and well.  We deserve it again so I need to start believing that.

Here We Go Again...

On March 22nd my husband and I found out we were expecting another bundle.  We had been trying to conceive so it didn't really come as a surprise.  However, it was a little bit of a shock when I peed on that stick and two pink lines had appeared.  I guess I hadn't been expecting it so quickly.  I'm always torn with emotion when I take a pregnancy test.  I struggled with my luteal phase defect after Larissa and had to use Clomid to become pregnant with Ambree.  Anyone whom has experienced any type of infertility at all knows its stressful peeing on that stick.  Combine my history of infertility with loss and things become even more complicated.  One pink line makes me think "Am I infertile again?"  Two pink lines is followed by maybe five minutes of elation which is quickly replaced with "Oh shit, here we go again." 
     Yes, "oh shit, here we go again."  Clearly, that is not a natural response to an upcoming pregnancy.  I would assume only a few women or a pregnant teen experiences those same sentiments.  However, pregnancy is terrifying for me.  I relish in my growing belly often becoming larger than I should or at least larger than I care to be, but for me with each gained pound I feel reassurance that my baby is okay.  Lets ignore the fact that often if 4 pounds are gained in a month, maybe one is my belly region and 3 my thighs, but I'm a trauma victim so it's expected one should gain weight when pregnant so that helps the battle of horrific thoughts racing in my mind.
    I'm currently 20 weeks pregnant.  I had my 20 week scan today and surprisingly all looked well.  However, this pregnancy has not gone uncomplicated.  At 11 weeks, I was at work (on a weekend, the Saturday before Mother's Day) and started to bleed.  I called my husband and we went to the ER.  Another problem with loss is that I hide my pregnancy as long as possible so we had to take Ambree with us to the ER since we couldn't ask anyone to watch her.  I was there from 11:30 in the morning till 6:30 in the evening, finally learning at 3pm that our baby was still with us.  I was absolutely prepared for the worst but weirdly I knew that at the time it wasn't the end of this pregnancy.  I was just able to feel it.  Believe me, it didn't stop me from crying or screaming "why me?" en route to the ER, but even through that I had a good feeling.  Turns out I have a subchorionic bleed.  It's a bleed that forms in the chorionic membrane.  I actually had two, one up high by my placenta and one down low by my cervix.  Now that I'm 20 weeks pregnant I can say that these typically cause no complications for the pregnancy.  However, I bled again at 13 weeks from the bleed lower in my cervix and my bleed higher up is still with us.  They typically reabsorb by 20 weeks, but can hang on until pregnancy.  Of course, mine is hanging on.  It's a little unnerving but I'm really trying to believe that we deserve this baby and have endured enough trauma and all will be well. 
     So, here it is for the world to read.  I'm expecting again.  Those are words I have yet to state to my co-workers, some friends and family.  Our close family just learned we were expecting a few weeks ago.  It all goes back to trauma.  Most people pee on a stick and shout it to the world.  Not a victim of full term stillbirth.  We keep silent until people are gutsy enough to ask "is that a baby bump?" 

We're Not Alone

 When Ambree was a few months old while shopping at Sam's Club a middle aged couple approached me, admiring Ambree.  I am always uneasy as strangers approach and engage in conversation centered around Ambree.  It makes me anxious as I know that infamous question "Is she your only?" will follow.  As you may already know, I vowed to always acknowledge Larissa and recognize her as a part of our family.  So, with some hesitation I told these strangers that Ambree is our second as we lost our firstborn at birth.  I only hesitate as death is an uncomfortable topic and infant death is truly taboo.

 However, this couple began to spill their hearts out to me as well noting that they have several grandchildren but that their son and daughter in-law were expecting a very special bundle.  They too, lost their firstborn as he was born prematurely and fought for his little life for in excess of thirty days.  The tears streamed down these strangers faces as they shared their story in the otherwise empty aisle of Sam's Club.  I felt their pain...truly felt their pain and unlike those whom have not walked in our shoes I didn't gape at these strangers with horror thinking "I can't even imagine." I know all too well the pain this couple has endured. 

It's an incomprehensible pain to lose a child.  Those whom have never endured such pain feel maybe in my situation its a little less painful as we never brought Larissa home.  However, she's our baby.  A lifetime of dreams and milestones for our little girl were taken away as we sadly had to say goodbye.  And I know I'm not alone.  All too often on the daily news you hear of a baby or child taken much too soon from this life in a fire and/or accident.  I watch those stories as the journalist interviews family members and all I think is "I feel your pain."  Sometimes people complain about aging and/or old age and my friend recently shared a quote with me, which basically stated to not complain about aging as it is a privilege denied to many.  That's so very true.  Larissa never even took a breath outside of the womb.  She never got to enjoy life.  Nothing...she got nothing.  And sadly, I am not alone as many of you reading this post know firsthand the pain of losing a child and we are not alone...

Hard to believe, its a year...

Our precious little daughter turns one year old already on February 21st.  We celebrated this momentous day with a special birthday party at our house.  Our home was transformed into a cupcake themed party filled with nearly forty guests including family and friends.  I began planning the party shortly after Christmas ended.  I enjoy party planning and entertaining to begin with, but this party was very special.  Most parents view their child's first birthday as a big deal but my husband and I can truly appreciate just what a big deal a birthday is.  It's a miracle any of us are even here and Ambree is truly our special little miracle. 

Our house was decked out in shades of pink, turquoise and red with touches of cupcake decorations everywhere.  Balloons, streamers, multiple types of cupcakes, cupcake table confetti, and of course a three dimensional cupcake cake made with love by my mom.  It was certainly a success and the decor and home turned out just as I had pictured.  Most importantly, Ambree truly enjoyed it.  She frequently looked up at each of the floating balloons and banners.  She smiled mischievously while eating her own little 3D cupcake smash cake.  She didn't make a mess though, as she's always been a dainty eater and enjoyed it with minimal cleanup...a mother's dream, especially with an indoor party. She helped unwrap her gifts tearing at the wrappings and tissue paper, squealing with glee at each unveiled treasure.  She enjoyed herself so much that she continued the celebration through the night refusing to nap and finally crashing at 5:30pm after her final bottle and sleeping through the night.  Let it be noted her party began at noon and she was awake at 5am that day with only a 45 minute nap prior to the celebration. 

So, the party was certainly a success.  However, like any other day (special or not) in our lives there is always a sense of sadness I feel as Ambree's older sister Larissa is not here to celebrate with us.  I long to see that little girl celebrate her milestones but I recognize I can only envision each of Larissa's milestones through the growth of her little sister.  I wondered what Larissa would have been like at her first and second birthdays.  I now have a little insight as to how a one year old acts on their birthday and next year Ambree will shed some light on how Larissa maybe would have been on her second birthday.  Again, we will never know for sure, but I see Larissa in Ambree.  Mostly when she's asleep...sometimes the similarities are so striking as my one year old rests, that I find myself shedding tears at the memories of Larissa.  This is now my way of life and as some will say "It is what it is." Which is true and all I can do is continue to honor my firstborn and savor every second with my second born.  Savor is what I do....every single second.... 

New Year, New Beginnings...

With the start of a new year, many people commit to fresh beginnings.  As usual, the gym is packed with many whom have pledged healthier beginnings and vow to lose 'x' amount of pounds.  It irritates me how crowded my gym becomes January 2nd, as I know that only a small fraction of those newbies will still be committed to their new workout regime in three to four weeks.  My gym will resume to the norm at the start of February.  I will grin and bear it for the next few weeks.

I, on the other hand, infrequently make a New Year's resolution.  It's not that I don't believe in them.  I just  feel that year after year we fail to meet the resolutions and find ourselves in subsequent years pledging the same as the year prior. 

However, I digress and will get to the real point of me taking a moment to post on this blog.  On January 1st, I was watching Good Morning America and most of the hosts of the show pledged to slow down and devote more time to their children as their New Years' resolutions, enlightened by the recent tragedy at Sandy Hook.  I was watching this morning show as my ten month old daughter lay asleep across my lap.  It struck a cord with me as I wondered to myself had I not lost Larissa, would I too be pledging the same as a resolution?  I already spend every moment possible with Ambree and even when she's fussy, crying or fighting a nap...I savor those moments.  Was it the tragic loss of Larissa that made me appreciate even the bad moments that accompanies parenthood?  Would I appreciate Ambree as much as I do had I not been forced to say goodbye to my firstborn before I said hello?  I'm assuming that the loss of Larissa most certainly did influence my patience and overwhelming love for Ambree. 

I'm not saying that parents whom have never endured a loss do not appreciate the miracle which is every child.  I recognize that being a parent is stressful and time consuming.  However, it is also the greatest gift given to any of us.  Therefore, I caution any parent who cannot imagine the incomprehensible death of their child and hope that they recognize how truly blessed they are and savor each and every second with their child.  I mean every second...the good and the bad.  In addition to forty fabulous weeks, Larissa gave me the realization that every second here on Earth is precious and limited, so enjoy it.  We all assume the tragedy of losing a child will happen to next parent not us, but we are no less special than the parent standing beside us.  None of us knows the time we have with our children and it goes against the natural progression of life to bury any of your children.  Sadly, though, I am not alone.  Their are many other mothers and fathers who walk in my shoes, with a large hole in their hearts longing for the child no longer here.  So, on a final note, don't wait for another tragedy to cherish your children.  Cherish them always.