Thankful

I know it's been a while since I've updated the blog. I felt like I just couldn't find the words to write recently, even though I wanted to.

Grief comes in waves. It's not a constant companion like it was before. I feel like it's more intentional now. Something I know I need to do, and in some way, I enjoy doing. It's the difference between a good cry and a bad cry. When I look at his pictures and weep for a while. Or touch the spots on his blanket. Or when I go through the messages I received during and after my hospital stay. Or telling a friend my story. It's a good cry. I want to feel it when it happens. I feel better when I'm done.

Day-to-day I'm doing better. I keep myself busy with housework and a new love of cooking that I honestly can say I've never had before.

I am so thankful. Thankful for support and caring friends. Thankful to God for His grace to get through each day. But most of all, I'm thankful for the few good memories I have of my experience. Memories I can look back on with a smile and a feeling of peace.

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant. I was so happy and excited. I couldn't believe it. I took the test on my lunch break at work because I really didn't think I was pregnant, I just wanted to check. I remember calling Matt and his response being "Oh man...Ok...Oh man." An underwhelming response, but that's just how he reacts to things. It didn't hit him until we were watching What To Expect When You're Expecting. At the end, when they were (spoiler alert) all having their babies, he started crying (a very rare thing) and realized that he was going to be a father. That was such a wonderful evening. It was probably one of the last times that I wasn't stressed during my pregnancy. I look back on it and feel happiness and excitement for what's to come, not a longing for what could have been.

I remember a few weeks before I lost him, we went to the beach. There was a scare in the beginning, but when we were in the ocean I had fun for the first time in a long time. I splashed in the waves with Matt without a care in the world. I look back on it and remember how relaxed I was, not how stressed and anxious I was the rest of the vacation.

Finally, I remember holding him in my arms. Expecting to feel shattered and broken, but somehow feeling peace for just a few hours. I got to know my baby boy in a way that some mothers never get to do with the babies they lost. I was able to give him kisses and tell him how much I loved him. And I wasn't scared for those few moments. I wasn't scared of trying again. I had hope in the middle of a raging storm of emotions and pain. That time with Matthew was, without a doubt, a gift from God. And it was the greatest gift He could ever give me. The memory of holding my son will never leave me. I remember it and feel peace and hope, not brokenness. And for that, I'm eternally grateful.

Looking Forward

The future is scary. Tomorrow marks two weeks since my water broke and since my son died. It almost feels like it happened forever ago, but at the same time I still can't believe it ever happened. I feel like I'm at a point where I don't know how to feel. On one hand, I want to be happy and plan for the future and get a job. On the other, I still want to be sad and sit around and cry.

I should have been 20 weeks along today. I wonder if I'm going to think about that every Thursday. Maybe after his due date (February 26th) it will stop. Maybe I'll be pregnant again. It almost seems too strange to think about that.

His pictures still make me cry. I'm almost worried for the day that I look at them and I don't cry. I want to remember him. I don't ever want to forget.

I've started individual counseling and group counseling. I always feel more upbeat after these sessions (which are both, incidentally, on Thursdays) but almost hollow? Like I've just shared a bunch of information and it feels great to get the weight off of my chest, but it also left a hole in my chest. After my counseling appointment today I felt like I was in a fog. I couldn't think straight and I felt like I really needed to take a nap. Maybe it's just being emotionally exhausted.

I don't really have much else to say. I know I have more life to look forward to. I just wish this part wasn't so confusing and sad.

My Favorite Birthday

As most of you know, yesterday was my birthday. I've had 22 of them so far, and while I'm thankful for all the birthday wishes I received, yesterday was my least favorite. The only thing I truly wanted was my baby boy. But I wanted to write about my absolute favorite birthday. My 18th birthday.

Pretty much all of you know I was a huge band nerd, and very proud of it. It was seriously my favorite thing in the world. Some of us loved it so much that we ate lunch in the band room. Well, more specifically, Mr. Webb's office, because absolutely no food was allowed in the band room...Anyways, I remember I was walking to eat lunch in Mr. Webb's office when I was stopped by my good friend Alyson. She wouldn't let me in! She said that something wasn't ready yet. So I had to take a walk until she let me in.

When I came in, I saw that a bunch of people in the clarinet section had decorated my chair and almost everybody gave me a reed! I know that doesn't sound huge or anything, but I seriously never had extra reeds and I always went through them so quickly. I was always asking if someone had an extra. It was just really thoughtful. And they had decorated my chair with balloons and ribbon and confetti. I think that Mr. Webb's gift to me was letting me keep my chair decorated during band class that day, even when it got distracting...

And then after marching band practice that night, me and like 6 friends went to a VeggieTales Live concert. I still have the T-shirt.

I think what I loved most about that birthday was how thoughtful everyone was. I love getting gifts, but I can tell when someone wasn't really thinking about what I would specifically want or like. When someone takes time out of their day to plan something out or sees something and thinks "Wow, Sarah would love that", I just feel so loved. I think that's what birthdays are for. Celebrating ordinary people and showing them how much we love them.

So even though this past birthday wasn't very good, I will always remember my 18th birthday and smile and remember that I'm loved and cared about.

Depression vs. Grief

I was diagnosed with clinical depression when I was 13, though I remember feeling symptoms as early as age 10. I've mostly treated it with counselling and medication until I became pregnant. Then I weaned off my medication (even though it's considered safe for pregnancy) because I didn't want to cause my child more problems than they may already have.

So, for my entire pregnancy, I was very depressed. I know what those feelings are. Not wanting to get out of bed, not seeing the point of doing day-to-day activities, always having a heavy feeling in my heart. It's how it feels when you're wearing a heavy coat, but the weather is much too warm. A smothering feeling of sadness that comes and goes but never really leaves for good.

And then there's grief. Grief is a completely normal but painful process that pretty much everyone will experience at one time or another in their lives. It's missing who you've lost. Thinking about that person and wanting them back more than anything else in the world. Being angry and upset. Sometimes it's hard to see the difference between depression and grief.

Grief is when I look at the pictures of my son and weep. Depression is waking up every morning and wondering why I have to live another day without him.

Grief is looking at my belly and wishing that it had all been a bad dream. Depression is the little voice telling me "Why am I even eating? There's nothing in there to feed and take care of."

Grief is sleeping with my son's blanket and teddy bear at night. Depression is dreading going to bed every night knowing I have another day ahead of me that will be just as hard as the last.

This is just something that's been on my mind lately; I'm obviously not an expert. It just feels good to sort these things out in front of me.

The Hole in my Heart

It almost seems like things are back to "normal". The memorial service is over, parents are going back home, I even went to church today. I watched TV, ate dinner. Perfectly normal things to do. But when I look down at my belly, or look up at the shelf with all his pictures, I know I will never feel normal again. A week ago I was giving birth to my dead child. That's the farthest thing from "happy" or "normal" I can think of.

My heart feels so empty. I feel my grief come in waves during the day. Sometimes it almost feels like I'm happy again, but it doesn't last for long. Night time always brings everything back the pain.

This week was hard, but I almost think that this next week will be harder. I have an appointment with the midwife tomorrow to make sure there's no infection. My birthday is on Tuesday. People want to meet up and hang out. That's all great, but I guess that they're all unwanted signs that my life must go on without Matthew Paul. All I truly want is my baby back.

I know we want to try for another baby. And I honestly don't want to wait long to start trying. But I'm also terrified that I'll have to go through this all again. Not just miscarrying, but bleeding for weeks, never knowing if today is the day that I lose my baby. I just can't take it all again.

I can't say that I don't have a great support system, though. My mom and my husband have been so helpful, even when there's nothing they can really do. Mostly I just cry and they pat my head or hug me. But I guess that's all I need right now. Matt repeats 1 Thessalonians 4:13 to me constantly. " But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope." 

That's all I can hold on to. 

In Memoriam

Today was Matthew Paul's memorial service. I want to thank everyone who came. It was very nice to see friends and family come to support us.

At the service, I read a letter I wrote to Matthew. I would like to share it with you all here.

"To my beautiful son-

   When we found out we were pregnant with you, I was so scared. Scared about how my life would change, but mostly scared about if I would be a good mother. These fears seem so far away now.

   

   Even though we could not keep you for long, we love you so much. We were so excited to raise you, see your first steps, read you bedtime stories, and so much more. We don't know why God decided it was time for you to go to Heaven, but I know that you are much happier there than you would be here. We take comfort in knowing that, no matter how much I want you in my arms, that you are far more loved and cared for in the arms of our Father.

   Please know that if I could have done anything to save you, I would have. I would have taken any medicine, had any surgery, or have done anything the doctor said if it meant I could hold you in my arms again. You are such a precious child and your Mommy and Daddy miss you and think of you every day. You will never be forgotten. 

   We thank God you were in our lives, even for such a short time. We would never trade that time for anything else in the world. We love you, Matthew Paul and our hearts ache for the day we will hold you in our arms again."

One Week

My son died a week ago today. Well, technically I'm a few minutes late, but it has been on my mind all day. I don't know the exact time he died, but by noon there was no heartbeat.

I have loved having visitors and I even went out and got a pedicure today (thanks to Amanda Minnie!). But at the end of each day I still have a Matthew-sized hole in my heart that will never be filled by anyone else. As I go through his pictures my heart still aches for my son. I clutch his blanket and teddy bear as tight as I can and weep. No matter how good the day is, the night always brings sadness and tears.

Tomorrow (October 4th) is my baby's memorial service. It will be at 5pm at Redeeming Grace Baptist Church. I would be honored to have any of you come.

Baby Pictures

The nurses and midwives at Virginia Baptist Hospital were so kind to me during this time. Some of them had also lost their babies. Their kind words and prayers were invaluable to me in the middle of my suffering.

The best gifts of all, though, were the beautiful pictures they took of my son. I want to share them with you all. Now, he hadn't developed all the layers of skin, so he is very red. Otherwise, he is a completely normal, beautiful baby. I don't want to upset anyone with these photos, because that's not what they're for. They're to remember a sweet baby boy whose life was much too short.

These are some of my favorites:

I hope that these are as beautiful to you as they are to me. He was my precious baby boy and I will never forget him.

Phantom Kicks

There are so many painful emotions raging inside me. Every time I wake up I remember. It wasn't just a bad dream. This is my life and it's honestly horrible right now.

I think about eating. When you're pregnant, everything you eat is so important. All those nutrients fuel the growth of your baby. Now I just feel like it's pointless. My husband reminds me to eat but in my head I'm thinking "For what? My baby is gone." I only feel like eating when I get so hungry I can't take it anymore.

I dread going to sleep. So many things I couldn't control happened in my sleep. When I would bleed, I would usually wake up covered in it. My water broke in my sleep. My precious son was born while I was sleeping. Sleep is terrifying.

My milk has started to come in. I'm doing everything I can to stop it but no matter how many cabbage leaves I put on myself, I'm stuck with the physical and emotional pain that comes with it. This was meant to feed my son. To help him grow.

I think the absolute worst thing is the phantom kicks. Or in my case, phantom flutters. I was never able to feel a strong kick. I wasn't far along enough. But I would feel these small flutters in my abdomen. I always got so excited and happy when they came. My husband would put his hand on my belly and try to feel them, though he was never able to. I wasn't far along enough yet. Now I get these flutters from time to time and my heart breaks every time. I read that a lot of women who lose their babies feel phantom kicks. I honestly don't know why they happen. It's cruel. It briefly sends me back to that hopeful time, only to remember immediately that there is no baby to cause the flutters.

I've loved seeing everyone who has visited me, though it's been getting exhausting. My husband has to go back to work on Thursday and I have no idea what I'm going to do. I'm very much in deep mourning and I'm scared.

The teddy bear

I want to post pictures of my son, but I'm not ready yet. But in my last post I talked about a teddy bear and blanket that I've been carrying around. My son had been wrapped in the blanket for photos and had photos taken with the teddy bear as well. They're so precious to me and I wanted to share them with you.

Matthew Paul Brazell, my sweet son

Unfortunately, this blog will probably not be an uplifting one for a while. I'm trying desperately to cope with the loss of my son, who was only with me for 18 weeks. I feel like I need to get out some of these feelings. I will start by introducing myself.

My name is Sarah Brazell. I'm 21 years old, but I'll be 22 on October 7th. I've been married for 6 months to an amazing husband. After roughly 2 months of marriage, I became pregnant with Matthew Paul Brazell. At 5 weeks, I was rushed to the hospital because of heavy bleeding. We thought we had lost our baby but I had suffered from a subchorionic hematoma, which is bleeding underneath the gestational sac. The doctor told me there was a 50% chance I would still miscarry, but if i made it out of the first trimester (12 weeks), that the risk goes down to 5%. 

I struggled with the anxiety that came with every time I bled after that, but after I made it to 12 weeks I felt much more calm and happy. Like I was actually able to enjoy my pregnancy. I started taking pictures of my belly, so happy to see it was growing ever so slowly. We had a few scares but I always had a peace about me. I truly felt that everything was going to be ok. 

At about 16 weeks, I passed a huge clot in the middle of the night while we were on vacation. I was so scared. When I called the midwife, she said that as long as I wasn't still bleeding that I could wait until the next morning to go to the hospital. We went the next morning and had an ultrasound. Little Matthew was moving and kicking and even yawning. He had a strong heartbeat, and they said there was just a small clot left near my cervix, and that pieces may come out over time.

 I was so relieved. I thought that the hematoma was finally gone and I could truly relax for the rest of my pregnancy. I passed a few small clots over the next two weeks, but they never worried me. 

On September 26, 2014, exactly 5 months before I was due, my water broke in my sleep. I didn't realize that was what had happened. I thought it was just more bleeding. I was almost calm while i sat in the bathroom, letting the rest come out. But I thought to myself "This might be too much blood, I should call the midwife." So I did. As I was talking to her I realized what was happening. I tried to maintain hope on our way to the hospital, but I knew in my heart that this was the beginning of the end of my sweet son's life.

They checked me and analyzed the fluid to make sure, but ultimately my kind midwife had to look me in the eye and tell me the awful truth: My water had broken and my son (though at this point we did not know his gender) would not live.

I cried and I wailed, feeling like I had shattered into a million pieces, wondering how I would put myself back together. I asked to look at him in an ultrasound. He was still alive but you could tell he was fading. I knew it would be the last time I would see him alive. His heartbeat was going up and down and he was very still. 

I asked if it would hurt him when he died, or if anything I did would hurt him. She told me that he would fall asleep and not feel any pain. It was almost comforting to hear.

We talked about inducing labor, and we decided that I would try to do it without inducing, unless he had no heartbeat. They checked me thoughout the day and I had some small contractions, but nothing came of them. At around noon they did another ultrasound to check for a heartbeat, and this time there was nothing. I felt myself shatter again. I was crying out, yelling, asking God why he had let this happen. I had thought that maybe I would be able to deliver him alive. But all my hope was gone. 

All I could feel was anger and sadness. I had absolutely no control or say in my own son's life. Why did He have to take him? 

We started the induction process shortly after. It was very painful and took a very long time for it to be effective. I labored for 37 hours. I tried to go through it without pain medicine but it became unbearable after about 24 hours. Eventually, I gave in and had an epidural. It relieved so much pain but completely numbed my right leg. My left leg had some feeling (I was able wiggle my toes and change the position of it), but I began panicking that I couldn't feel my right leg. I screamed, feeling once again that I had no control over my body. 

The nurse had to give me something to make me sleep and calm down. She turned down the medicine so I wouldn't be as numb, but getting the feeling back took about 45 minutes. I slept fitfully and woke up at around 12:30am, feeling pain in my back. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but it became more and more intense. At 1:03am, I lifted my sheets and realized that I had given birth to my precious baby boy and I had never even felt it.

I was upset that I never felt anything. I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel my son leaving my body. I wanted to remember what it felt like. Again, the feeling of helplessness overcame me. I couldn't even control when he left my body?

But then I felt oddly at peace for a while. The nightmare was ending. My son was in my arms, perfect as can be. He looked like he was asleep. I love him so much. I told him I would have done anything to save him. I never wanted to let him go, but at the same time it was so draining to look at him, knowing he went to heaven 37 hours ago. 

My husband was so overwhelmed. I knew that this was the first time he realized he was really a father. And his wife was a mother. But his son was gone.

My parents and my sister all got a chance to hold precious Matthew. But eventually we had to give him to the nurse, never being able to hold him again. 

I thought seeing him for the first time would be the hardest part. But the hardest part was leaving the hospital. It was over and I was no longer pregnant. My son is in a morgue or something. I was being wheeled out, clutching the teddy bear and the blanket they gave me. My son had been wrapped in that blanket. It almost smelled like him. 

I've been home for a full day now. I'm in a very dark place. I keep looking at myself and wishing for that small bump to be there. Aching that it is gone. It's very difficult to let that teddy bear and blanket go. I've been sleeping with it and walking around with it. Maybe I'm going crazy. But it makes me feel like I'm still connected with my son somehow. He touched this bear and this blanket. Now I'm touching it. Wiping my tears with his sweet blanket.