A year ago today, I found myself going back to such a sad time in my life. The below message is what I captured on February 5, 2014 followed by what happened on March 20, 2014:
“With my husband traveling all week for the 3rd, 4th week in a row, I couldn’t handle cooking dinner tonight. Decided to go to tarjay to get a very overdue birthday present…wait, make that two overdue presents. Happened to remember that there’s another b’day party coming up. Maybe I’ll be on top of the gift at the party (thank goodness we missed the other parties).
Anyway, with 3 boys in tow (thank goodness for the Suburban carts @ tarjay), about to check out, I decided to get a PT. Eek! What? What in the hey?
Yep, I knew it could be true. Too much energy my dear, feeling too great. Not needing sleep….here we go again. This is how I’ve typically felt when pg.
Crazy, right? Well, then I took my crew out to good ole Chappy’s and totally forgot about that test. Got home and started unpacking the goodies from the store. Then, I came across that pink box and thought – why not go ahead and take it now. So on to the bathroom I went.
Then those little crumb snatchers came along. J and B can’t really talk so they were just marching along the tile floor in the bathroom. I did my business and was holding the stick in my hand when all of a sudden B tried to grab it. “Yuk!” I said. Then T comes walking in and is like, “what’s that mom?” I said, “nothing, please go away. One day you’ll think this is gross to come in here while I’m going to the bathroom.”
In less than 10 seconds two little lines appeared. I had to take a deep, long breath. Then B tried to grab the stick again – what’s up with that? All three of them were in the bathroom again and there I was staring at the three little stair steps walking around…marching…clueless.
Excited.
So excited.
I love babies. Love them – well, mainly my babies.
Tonight, going through my head is how two days ago, I read an article about how having four children was better than three. Well, maybe not better but supposedly not as overwhelming as having three. Something about becoming more relaxed with four. God willing, we’ll find out in a few months.
But…there’s more. I’m supposed to be President of Junior League in three months. President. As-in-leading over 100 women. This is scary. Not only because I know it’s a lot of work but also because my (now) President of JL is pregnant and due in two weeks. I love her to death but that baby has taken away her very superior brain cells. Or, she’s sucked the memory out of her. Crap, is that going to happen to me? If so, what is most scary to me is dropping a bunch of responsibility on my PE next year. Maybe being more “relaxed” will come in handy! Ha!
Next, I have to figure out how to tell Brian. Did I mention he’s traveling? Oh yeah, I did. I looked for a previously made/embroidered “Big Bro” shirt for Blaine to wear. Couldn’t find it so I’ll have to go back to the drawing board. Yep, this is going to be fun.
So that’s it for now. I at least wanted to capture my thoughts on this day. It’s almost midnight and I’m not even tired.
One thing that’s odd so far is that I haven’t had the aura of a migraine yet. This has happened with each pregnancy I’ve had. I’m praying for this child and hope he/she will be healthy. I’ll love him/her either way, of course.
Four. Children.
Where are they going to fit?”
On March 20th, 2014, I wrote:
“The fourth child. The one he really wanted. The one I was fine with and was on the boat about but still had a hand on the he dock, not quite ready to drift off. Until, at 10 weeks, that baby didn’t have a heartbeat.
With no heartbeat, I was heartbroken. Completely heartbroken. All of a sudden I wanted on the boat, way far away from the dock and on my way through another wonderful pregnancy.
Before I became pregnant, my newsfeed filled up with articles about having a forth child. I knew it was destiny. I just knew it! Most of what I got out of the articles is how the forth child is the easiest because each child has a playmate. A few months before, I’d been studying a book about what it would be like being married to me. Delving into learning more about myself, I’d changed my attitude toward my husband and realized how important it was for us to date, for us to spend time together talking and for us to work on our marriage. To be a good wife and to let him know that I love him and want to make him happy not only with his life but with me. Even in the midst of my labor with our third child, he and the doctor were talking about the “forth” child we should have. You know, to “try” for a girl. I’d periodically remind him to rub my lower back as I labored, drug-free, through the upcoming birth of our 10 pound, 6 ounce son. A third son, mind you. So this past fall when our youngest was about to be a year old, he brought it up again. My desire to honor his desires overcame and I thought, “you know, you can do this. God will work this out for you as long as you’re faithful.” Fast-forward to March 20th. No heartbeat.
“Thank you for letting us know” is all I could say to the ultrasound tech. My doctor put me in the ultrasound room as a nice gesture for Brian and myself. I think he was almost as excited as us and was so sad to have to talk to me about the options.”
The next few days/weeks consisted of seeking God in my sadness, minor surgery, lots of mourning, sharing my experience with friends and trying to make sense of it all. But, it doesn’t need to make sense. My God loves me and will never forsake me. Over the past year, I’ve learned so much. I’ve tried to embrace the need to spend time with my family and prioritize life a little differently. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve had the role of President of Junior League. This has been no small feat and it’s taken my mind off of the miscarriage as well as really made me manage my time. I’ve had to say no to a lot and have had to keep promises I committed to previously. I realized I can’t do it all but I can only do what is a priority and what I feel is the best choice. My friends have been wonderful to me. The loss of a child, no matter if it’s at 4/5 weeks, 10, 16 or 36, it hurts. Period. The pain is real and it makes an impact on your life. Forever. I’ve learned this from my own experience but mainly from friends who have had losses themselves. While I wish none of us ever had to endure such a thing, the community of ladies who have reached out to me during such a sad time has been heartwarming.
Fast forward three months after my surgery, I realized I wanted a fourth child. Brian always did but after that loss, I wasn’t so sure. It was such a painful loss. A year after the surgery, I’m almost 40 weeks pregnant with boy number 4. Elated and excited, I’m waiting patiently for him to make his grand entrance. One little piece of me feels like Graham can’t come into this world until I mention the loss from a year ago. Why? I don’t know, it’s just a feeling I have. So while I talk about having my fourth child, it’s tough because technically I have a little baby in heaven. Shortly after the miscarriage, while doing prayers with Troy, he asked about the baby in my belly. I had to explain to him that Jesus wanted the baby with him in heaven more than on Earth. Out of the blue, Troy said he wanted to see baby “Andrew” here at home. Now, we never talked about the sex of the baby (and don’t really know) but Troy named him that night. So I feel like I have a baby, Andrew, in heaven.
