Honesty at 18 Weeks

Well, I've reached a milestone in this pregnancy. I've reached the 18 week point. There's a lot of mixed emotions. Relief, anxiety, and even a bit of guilt. This pregnancy has been the polar opposite of my last. No bleeding, no reasons to worry, and at this point, no loss.

 While I'm so thankful, I sometimes find myself asking why. Why couldn't everything have gone right the first time? Why did I have to lose Matthew Paul in order to have this precious baby?

 If I'm being honest, it's been extremely difficult to bond with this baby. For several reasons. I think the biggest reason is that I was afraid to get excited until this point. I know that sounds cold. But I was so, so excited for Matthew Paul, even amidst all the problems I had. I really thought everything was going to be ok.

 I find myself walking into prenatal appointments expecting to hear horrible news, even though I have no reason to. At the first appointment I went to, it took the midwife 3 or 4 minutes to find the heartbeat (that's a reaaaallly long time). I started grieving after the first minute passed. I started accepting that I had lost another baby. Thankfully, she was able to find it and it was very strong. But then, in between appointments, I feel anxiety creeping up on me. Convincing myself that I have lost the baby and didn't know it. I've been torturing myself and in turn, losing the joy that should come with expecting a baby!

I put too much trust in the gifts God has given me instead of putting my trust in God himself. Now that I'm past the 18 week point, I can see that very clearly. I'm realizing all over again that both of my babies' precious lives were/are/always will be in the hands of He who created them. As hard as it is to admit it, that's a much better place to be than in my hands! As much as I want to try to be in control, it's MUCH better for God to be in control.

Romans 8:28 says "And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose". That means, no matter how this pregnancy ends, God is still in control, He still loves me, and He will work it for my good. Even in my grief, He still works things together for my good. Even in my depression, He still works things together for my good. It's easy to forget and wallow in my grief and depression. But even when I forget, He still works things together for my good! What a gracious and loving God we have. 

So, even though I wasn't very good at remembering God's promises through the first half of this pregnancy, I pray that He will give me the grace to keep them in mind for the rest of it, and after. 

What Not To Say

As February 26th (Matthew Paul's due date) approaches, I find that he is on my mind more than ever. I think about how I should be looking right now. 9 months pregnant, big as a house, waddling along. How I wish that were the case. While I am so thankful for this new pregnancy, Matthew will never be replaced. There will always be a hole in my heart. I'm still mourning his short life, almost 5 months later, though the pain isn't as sharp.

I'm grateful that I had so much support in my time of need. So many people, even people
I didn't know, were so willing to make us dinner, send me words of encouragement, get me out of the house, or just listen. I will always appreciate those people.

However, there were a few things that were intended to be helpful, but in the end were quite the opposite. If you ever find that someone in your life is going through a miscarriage (no matter how far along she is), please avoid saying the things below.

1.) "You can always have other babies/At least you have other children." Think about this for a second. Would you say this to someone who lost their two year old? Or their teenager? Of course not. I look forward to having more children, I really do. And I'm excited to be pregnant now. But this baby is in no way "replacing" the one I lost. I mourned HIS life because I loved him.

2.) "Miscarriages are God's way of telling you there was something wrong with the baby." I was told this more than once, and each time I honestly couldn't believe what I was hearing. First of all, in my case, there was nothing wrong with the baby. He was perfectly healthy and growing as he should've been. It was my body that couldn't get it together. Secondly, even if there was something wrong, do you think I'd love him less? That I'd rather have a dead baby than a baby with a disability? I would've gladly taken home a living baby that had autism, or Down's Syndrome, or that was missing a few toes than leave the hospital empty-handed. Please never, ever say this.

3.) "Sometimes God takes the babies that are too perfect for this world." This is pretty much the opposite of #2, but still unhelpful. It's like some strange, morbid compliment. It's a very fluffy, wishy-washy thing to say to someone in mourning.

4.) "I know how you feel. I had an abortion and I really regret it." This was never actually said to me, but a friend of mine. Abortions are never the same. An abortion is a choice; a miscarriage is never a choice. There's a time and a place to express these feelings, but it is never to someone who miscarried.

What should you do or say?

Listen.
Ask how you can help.
"I'm so sorry for your loss."
"I'm praying for you."
Only ask "How are you doing?" if you want a true answer. Be prepared for the truth; it may not be nice.

These are things that have been on my mind lately. Please know that I am so thankful for all the kind, helpful words I received. These are just a few things that hurt rather than helped.

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.