It's strange to be 24 and to think, for what seems like the first time, so deeply about one's own life. I feel so silly in a way that I've always been so caught up in thinking about what I want and what others have that much of my own life has passed me by in ways. There's a country song that always touches me when I hear it that talks about a man watching his daughter grow up and at different stages of life, she is always talking about the future and the chorus goes something like,
"You're gonna miss this. You're gonna want this back. You're gonna wish these days didn't go by so fast. Cause these are some good times. Take a good look around. You may not know it now. But you're gonna miss this..."
And what hits me about the song is that it says that about every stage in life- high school, living in a little apartment as newly weds, having kids... it's not like there's one point in life where "you've arrived" that gives you permission to now be happy or one stage in life you want to go back to for the rest of your life.... Maybe I'll be 30 or 40 or 85 and think back to how great it was to be 24- just starting my career, just starting my marriage, in love, young, healthy, full of energy and passion, when life seems full of possibilities and hopes and dreams and plans....
I need to let go of my tendency to compare myself to others, especially others who are where I think I want to be, pregnant and raising young children. Although I always wanted to start a family young, younger than I am now, I need to recognize that I made the choices I did for a reason. I need to pull myself away from watching everyone else's life and focus back on mine. I have my own story and I don't do it justice keeping it in the shadows of others.
Someone I knew said on her blog that she finally stopped comparing herself to others after she had a child. Maybe I thought that would happen to me too- that a child would finally liberate me from this ridiculous game I've been playing since I was a child myself and I could get on with life. But, in reality, as Carlos pointed out last night, and my mom has pointed out before, having children is just another level on which to play the "comparing" game if you don't get out of it beforehand. You can compare everything from how many hours your child sleeps to how many dirty diapers you have to change to how soon your child walks, talks, and gets potty trained and on it goes for the rest of their lives.
I never want my children to be victims of my own insecurity, so I guess that during these months that God has given me to reflect and heal, I should take a closer look at that and start learning how to live my own life.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Feeling lost...
Yesterday, a very long 40 minutes after my scheduled telephone appointment, I finally heard from the doctor about the results of the testing they did. He told me the baby was a girl and that in all the testing, they couldn't find what went wrong. There were 46 chromosomes, as there should be. It's common to find 47 or 45 in these cases, but they were all there- no more and no less. It's also common for girls to be missing an X chromosome (Turner's syndrome) but both of those were there as well. The bad news is that there is still no apparent reason the baby couldn't make it. The good news is that the unexplainable is unlikely to happen again...
I hesitate to write when I feel this way as I don't want to bring others around me down, but I also feel the need to be real about this. If I was moving forward at some point before, I feel like I've now lost my footing and fallen back. I'm left asking the same questions I've asked so many times before: Why me? Why my baby?
I don't understand people who find comfort in statistics. 75% of women never face this- out of the 25% who do, most have miscarriages before they even realize they're pregnant. How can I be comforted by "chance" when I've already been on the wrong side of it? It shouldn't have happened- everything says it shouldn't have happened and it did.
I feel myself losing faith too. I don't know what there is to have faith in. I can't trust God to protect me or the people I love most. I feel like He's just watching from the sidelines. What is comforting about that? Whatever is going to happen will happen either way. What have the prayers been for? Where are the miracles? Where is God's intervention? I feel so disillusioned and lost.
I know people say we can try again, but I can't even think about that. I can't even imagine being happy about another pregnancy. In so many ways, I just want Juan Carlos to find someone else who can be the wife he wants and needs, who he can start a family with and I just want to hide away and not have to face life anymore. It hurts too much to want what I can never have- my baby girl... to wonder what she looked like, if she had Carlos's green eyes or my curly hair, if she would have been shy and quiet or bubbly and outspoken, about how much we would have loved her....about how much we did love her...
I don't know how to go on, how to find hope, how to be happy again. I know I can't continue to be so dismal and negative, but how can I convince myself "it's for the best" or "it wasn't time" How can I be comforted about something so senseless? How do babies just die? I want to tell myself we weren't ready, that something wasn't right, that somehow some way this is "better", that it's better to wait... but every time I'm unconvinced. We could always save more money, be more mature, be a little more prepared and yet I feel like our hearts were ready and I don't know what else matters as much as that, especially to God.
I pray someday I may be able to look back on this with some sort of peace about the whole thing- maybe when I'm less self-centered and less focused on my own suffering and my own loss and the senselessness and unfairness of it all. Maybe my narrow vision is holding me back right now. I recognize I'm not where I would like to be forever and yet, for now, this is where I am. I don't know if I've hit bottom yet- I don't even know if I care. All I can ask is that you keep me in your prayers. If God is listening, maybe He'll help to pull me out of this in time. I hope time will be the great healer that people say it is.
I hesitate to write when I feel this way as I don't want to bring others around me down, but I also feel the need to be real about this. If I was moving forward at some point before, I feel like I've now lost my footing and fallen back. I'm left asking the same questions I've asked so many times before: Why me? Why my baby?
I don't understand people who find comfort in statistics. 75% of women never face this- out of the 25% who do, most have miscarriages before they even realize they're pregnant. How can I be comforted by "chance" when I've already been on the wrong side of it? It shouldn't have happened- everything says it shouldn't have happened and it did.
I feel myself losing faith too. I don't know what there is to have faith in. I can't trust God to protect me or the people I love most. I feel like He's just watching from the sidelines. What is comforting about that? Whatever is going to happen will happen either way. What have the prayers been for? Where are the miracles? Where is God's intervention? I feel so disillusioned and lost.
I know people say we can try again, but I can't even think about that. I can't even imagine being happy about another pregnancy. In so many ways, I just want Juan Carlos to find someone else who can be the wife he wants and needs, who he can start a family with and I just want to hide away and not have to face life anymore. It hurts too much to want what I can never have- my baby girl... to wonder what she looked like, if she had Carlos's green eyes or my curly hair, if she would have been shy and quiet or bubbly and outspoken, about how much we would have loved her....about how much we did love her...
I don't know how to go on, how to find hope, how to be happy again. I know I can't continue to be so dismal and negative, but how can I convince myself "it's for the best" or "it wasn't time" How can I be comforted about something so senseless? How do babies just die? I want to tell myself we weren't ready, that something wasn't right, that somehow some way this is "better", that it's better to wait... but every time I'm unconvinced. We could always save more money, be more mature, be a little more prepared and yet I feel like our hearts were ready and I don't know what else matters as much as that, especially to God.
I pray someday I may be able to look back on this with some sort of peace about the whole thing- maybe when I'm less self-centered and less focused on my own suffering and my own loss and the senselessness and unfairness of it all. Maybe my narrow vision is holding me back right now. I recognize I'm not where I would like to be forever and yet, for now, this is where I am. I don't know if I've hit bottom yet- I don't even know if I care. All I can ask is that you keep me in your prayers. If God is listening, maybe He'll help to pull me out of this in time. I hope time will be the great healer that people say it is.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Happiness
I've been talking to Juan Carlos lately about happiness. We were talking about how it's easy to get excited about things and to have that excitement consume you and keep you going for awhile, but that the excitement never lasts, so once the house or the truck are bought and the trip is over and things end, you have to go back to life again and it's easy to feel like you're going back into a rut or to get addicted to wanting new things and new experiences so you can be excited about something all the time.
How do I take this crossroads in my life and make a decision to be happy- not because I feel secure about my future or I'm excited about plans I have for myself, but just because I'm alive? I told Juan Carlos I have to move on but now that I've experienced tragedy, I have to move on knowing I could experience tragedy again, maybe even worse than before. How can I go forward and try to enjoy life, yet know that anything or anyone could be taken from me at any time? What's enjoyable about that? How do I let go of the fear, knowing nothing is forever?
But as Carlos says, we have to live in the present because if we don't, we never really live. And what could be worse than spending your entire life in your future or your past- worrying, regretting, wishing for what never was, hoping for what might not be... This would be a life of true tragedy.
On Monday, the doctor will call to tell me what the results were from the tests they did on the baby's remains. It's possible they did not find anything, it's possible they did not find anything that would affect future pregnancies- these are the two most likely scenarios. But in the back of my mind I carry the new reality that it's also possible they found something that would have serious implications about our ability to have healthy children in the future. I have always dreamed of having children, of raising a family, of having things a certain way.
For the first time in my life, I think I am beginning to understand that my life is not my own. Life is not a game with clear rules and boundaries- it is not a math equation like 2 + 2 = 4 and even all the discipline and good judgement and morality in the world cannot guarantee you a life free of suffering. My life may turn out to be very different than I had always dreamed. It's so hard to face that, but it's true.
So, now the question is not so much what will happen to me or what I will do but who will I be regardless of what happens and in the midst of what I do? Who will I be and where will I get my strength? Juan Carlos says I'm so good at comparing myself to others, but I always compare myself to people who I think have it better than me, rather than people who don't. He reminds me that although we have women in our lives with many children, we also have women in our lives who would love to have children and can't. Yet, they still find joy in life, probably more than me most of the time. Some of them live with much less privacy, work in a job they don't enjoy, don't have the opportunities and freedoms that come with having a legal status here and yet, they still find happiness.
They, along with so many other examples, prove that happiness lies somewhere beyond our physical status, even beyond what we hope and dream for ourselves. Hopes and dreams are not innately bad, but when their completion becomes our only path to happiness, they can destroy us. It's as if happiness lies suspended in a very uncomfortable balance between dreaming and wanting and working and fighting for something and being able to accept whatever comes anyway.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Regardless of your plans for me, I am yours. Give me the strength to face this life head on, to feel, to hurt when necessary but always to ultimately choose happiness.
How do I take this crossroads in my life and make a decision to be happy- not because I feel secure about my future or I'm excited about plans I have for myself, but just because I'm alive? I told Juan Carlos I have to move on but now that I've experienced tragedy, I have to move on knowing I could experience tragedy again, maybe even worse than before. How can I go forward and try to enjoy life, yet know that anything or anyone could be taken from me at any time? What's enjoyable about that? How do I let go of the fear, knowing nothing is forever?
But as Carlos says, we have to live in the present because if we don't, we never really live. And what could be worse than spending your entire life in your future or your past- worrying, regretting, wishing for what never was, hoping for what might not be... This would be a life of true tragedy.
On Monday, the doctor will call to tell me what the results were from the tests they did on the baby's remains. It's possible they did not find anything, it's possible they did not find anything that would affect future pregnancies- these are the two most likely scenarios. But in the back of my mind I carry the new reality that it's also possible they found something that would have serious implications about our ability to have healthy children in the future. I have always dreamed of having children, of raising a family, of having things a certain way.
For the first time in my life, I think I am beginning to understand that my life is not my own. Life is not a game with clear rules and boundaries- it is not a math equation like 2 + 2 = 4 and even all the discipline and good judgement and morality in the world cannot guarantee you a life free of suffering. My life may turn out to be very different than I had always dreamed. It's so hard to face that, but it's true.
So, now the question is not so much what will happen to me or what I will do but who will I be regardless of what happens and in the midst of what I do? Who will I be and where will I get my strength? Juan Carlos says I'm so good at comparing myself to others, but I always compare myself to people who I think have it better than me, rather than people who don't. He reminds me that although we have women in our lives with many children, we also have women in our lives who would love to have children and can't. Yet, they still find joy in life, probably more than me most of the time. Some of them live with much less privacy, work in a job they don't enjoy, don't have the opportunities and freedoms that come with having a legal status here and yet, they still find happiness.
They, along with so many other examples, prove that happiness lies somewhere beyond our physical status, even beyond what we hope and dream for ourselves. Hopes and dreams are not innately bad, but when their completion becomes our only path to happiness, they can destroy us. It's as if happiness lies suspended in a very uncomfortable balance between dreaming and wanting and working and fighting for something and being able to accept whatever comes anyway.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Regardless of your plans for me, I am yours. Give me the strength to face this life head on, to feel, to hurt when necessary but always to ultimately choose happiness.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Happy (late) Anniversary!
Well, Juan Carlos and I celebrated our 1 year anniversary on October 27th. We went out to dinner on Friday night (yes, Halloween). We had to get out of the house because I was too lazy to buy candy for trick-or-treaters and Juan Carlos did not want to have to hide from them, as he has done in past years...
On Saturday, we celebrated with some friends and family (mostly Juan Carlos's friends and family) though I did have a couple good friends of mine from work over and we laughed and had a good time.
Being married has been really incredible. I have gotten to know Juan Carlos so much better. It's strange to find ourselves in moments when we can finish each other's sentences and read each other's faces...we can guess how the other person will react to good news and bad, what kind of house (or truck) the other person would like. I used to hate mornings but Juan Carlos's daily songs and dances always make me laugh and put me in a good mood for the day. We laugh with (and at) each other all the time. I think often of something someone said to me at a bridal shower: "Marry someone who makes you laugh and you'll always be happy." It has rung true on many occassions in the past year.
Though, you can tell from my blog entries, it hasn't all been easy. Lately, I've said that this past year has been the most difficult year of my life.
I have spent so many years in school, so blessed to have such a "normal" healthy family, that I guess I've been sheltered from lots of life's lessons and lots of life's tragedies. However, in the midst of everything, I can see why God gave me Juan Carlos- a man who can always see the sun through the clouds, who looks beyond himself, who takes life as it comes, gives thanks to God and patiently waits for and works towards whatever lies ahead.
In my desire for a child, he reminds me that children do not make a marriage- we do. And marriage is the vocation we have been called to right now. In spite of our loss, he reminds me that I still have him and all his love. What more could I want?
Over the past year I have grown up in so many ways. I hold fewer grudges- why wait to move on? I take myself less seriously and laugh at myself more often. I am more honest with myself and others. I am more confident about handling things - from grocery shopping to crazy landlords to being victims of a crime and to losing someone dear to us. Although I wouldn't mind having less experience with some of these things in the future, I do feel like Juan Carlos and I are wiser and stronger because of it all.
I know that I had (and still have) a lot of "growing up" to do and I am eternally grateful to have such a great partner to share everything with along the way. I know we still have a lot of joys and challenges ahead of us, but this past year gives me confidence that in the face of difficulty we can find strength and love in one another and move forward.
God Bless our marriage, our family, our vocation and our love. May it be fruitful, may we strive to influence others for the better, bring laughter and joy to those around us, and live in gratitude for each day we have together.
On Saturday, we celebrated with some friends and family (mostly Juan Carlos's friends and family) though I did have a couple good friends of mine from work over and we laughed and had a good time.
Being married has been really incredible. I have gotten to know Juan Carlos so much better. It's strange to find ourselves in moments when we can finish each other's sentences and read each other's faces...we can guess how the other person will react to good news and bad, what kind of house (or truck) the other person would like. I used to hate mornings but Juan Carlos's daily songs and dances always make me laugh and put me in a good mood for the day. We laugh with (and at) each other all the time. I think often of something someone said to me at a bridal shower: "Marry someone who makes you laugh and you'll always be happy." It has rung true on many occassions in the past year.
Though, you can tell from my blog entries, it hasn't all been easy. Lately, I've said that this past year has been the most difficult year of my life.
I have spent so many years in school, so blessed to have such a "normal" healthy family, that I guess I've been sheltered from lots of life's lessons and lots of life's tragedies. However, in the midst of everything, I can see why God gave me Juan Carlos- a man who can always see the sun through the clouds, who looks beyond himself, who takes life as it comes, gives thanks to God and patiently waits for and works towards whatever lies ahead.
In my desire for a child, he reminds me that children do not make a marriage- we do. And marriage is the vocation we have been called to right now. In spite of our loss, he reminds me that I still have him and all his love. What more could I want?
Over the past year I have grown up in so many ways. I hold fewer grudges- why wait to move on? I take myself less seriously and laugh at myself more often. I am more honest with myself and others. I am more confident about handling things - from grocery shopping to crazy landlords to being victims of a crime and to losing someone dear to us. Although I wouldn't mind having less experience with some of these things in the future, I do feel like Juan Carlos and I are wiser and stronger because of it all.
I know that I had (and still have) a lot of "growing up" to do and I am eternally grateful to have such a great partner to share everything with along the way. I know we still have a lot of joys and challenges ahead of us, but this past year gives me confidence that in the face of difficulty we can find strength and love in one another and move forward.
God Bless our marriage, our family, our vocation and our love. May it be fruitful, may we strive to influence others for the better, bring laughter and joy to those around us, and live in gratitude for each day we have together.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Footprints
"Some people come into our lives and quickly go; others stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never ever the same."
At the beginning of September, Juan Carlos and I were ecstatic to find out we were expecting a baby. It was a bit of a surprise, as I had been going through testing for infertility all summer. Turns out I was "infertile" almost the whole time because I was pregnant. It also explained why I was feeling tired and all around awful for a lot of the summer... I was glad to have an explanation and even happier to have a baby on the way. When we found out, we weren't sure how far along I was, but a couple weeks and several appointments later, we were finally given a due date of April 1st. I had my first ultrasound at 14 weeks.
The month of September- October seemed to fly. I was planning to present my capstone at the beginning of November and starting to think about all the preparations for the baby. We were well into our ongoing search for a house and finally talked and decided on one we wanted to buy.
Then, all my plans came crashing down... my advisor wrote to me and told me he would not approve my capstone paper for the November presentations. He had different expectations than I did about the assignment and requirements and so I was stuck trying to justify my paper and delayed in getting the necessary approval. I came home one Wednesday crying because I was so upset about the capstone. Juan Carlos comforted me, told me I should do what I could to go in November, but in the worst case, we could make it work to go in February. I didn't want to go in February, because I would have to pay to extend my time in the program and I would be about 7-8 months pregnant- not an ideal time for travelling and presenting...
Then, the phone rang. It was a midwife from Group Health, telling me that they found some abnormalities in the ultrasound I had had 10 days before. She said she wanted me to go to UW medical center in the next two days to get better ultrasound pictures taken so they would have some more information. She said it seemed the chest and abdomen had some slight swelling but they couldn't be sure. I was devastated. I could not get an appointment for the next two days: Thursday or Friday, though I spent most of both days on the phone between doctor's offices, trying to get in as soon as possible. The next Tuesday was the soonest they could get me in. The weekend was torturous- I tried not to worry but couldn't help myself. Every possible thought went through my head- would the baby have some lifelong health issue, a deformity, a sickness- would they be able to do anything for the baby? Was the cord wrapped around the body? Was my RH negative blood attacking the baby? What was happening? Would the baby live?
On Tuesday, my mom took me to UW. When I got in the car, she gave me a silver bracelet with footprints on it. She said if the baby kept me awake at night kicking, the bracelet was to remind me it was all worth it. I turned it to the other side: "it was then that I carried you" - from one of my favorite poems- Footprints... I started to cry. God was carrying me- what was I going to face today? When we arrived, Mom treated me to a chai tea, we talked, tried to stay calm. I'm sure both our minds were racing. They called us in- our first appt. was with the genetic counselor. She spent the better part of a half hour telling us it could be any number of things, that if it was something serious, it was unlikely the doctors would be able to do anything and taking a family history, which led her to the conclusion she still didn't know what could possibly be wrong. I went back for the ultrasound. I was excited to see my baby again. This time, if the picture was clearer, we might be able to tell if it was a boy or a girl... The sonographer, a young, pretty woman with long, black curly hair came in. When she started the ultrasound, my mom watched the pictures. I glanced at the pictures. I couldn't recognize anything... I watched the sonographer's face. She was serious and thoughtful, taking measurements diligently. I waited to hear the heartbeat. Nothing. Maybe it was on mute- maybe she hadn't checked it yet. The last time she told us when we would hear it. This lady hadn't said anything. But she was bringing up the image that had to show the heartbeat. Where was it? What was going on? She stopped, looked at me sadly and said quietly: "I can't find a heartbeat. I'm going to get a doctor to be sure. I'll bring some tissues."
All I could think was "oh my God, oh my God, this isn't happening" It was that fast- one minute I had a healthy beautiful living soul inside of me and the next... there was no heartbeat. My mom was crying, holding my hand, I broke down. The next moment I was angry- God did this. " I feel like God just wants to destroy me." I said out loud. "No, no he doesn't, Janelle. God did not do this," my mom said confidently. I said, "He could have saved the baby and He didn't." There was no way to make sense of this. No way to make it better. The doctor came in. She had to check one more time...maybe there was a mistake- I doubted it. I didn't look. No, nothing. She said she was sorry. She told me I was young and I could have more. She said it happened to her too, so she knows it is hard. I felt so alone- it happens to doctors too, I thought. For some reason, it surprised me and also comforted me, strangely, to think I wasn't the only one.
The sonographer told us there was another room where we could go to wait for the follow up appointment we had scheduled for after the ultrasound. The doctor came in to talk to us about what had happened. She explained that based on the genetic history and the information they had, the most likely cause was just a mismatch in the chromosomes. She explained chromosomes have to divide so many times, so many things can go wrong, that the real miracle is that a healthy baby is ever born. She said they could do testing on the remains. My thoughts shifted, now my baby was not living- what would happen to the baby, what would happen to me. The doctor said ultimately my body would probably release everything but to avoid more trauma, she recommended doing a D&E, where they would open my cervix and take everything out of my uterus. This would help avoid infection, be less painful and much less traumatic. It was all surreal. Instead of labor, this is what I would go through. She said she would try to make an appointment with Group Health for me, so I wouldnt have to.
A social worker came in. She said the same kinds of things other people did. I can have more. It happens to a lot of women. It takes a lot to make a healthy baby. She gave me some resources.
Group Health wouldn't let the doctor make an appointment for me. They insisted I call. We couldn't believe it. My mom called on my behalf with me in the car. First it would be a consultation. From there, they could schedule the D&E. More appointments just to make more appointments. Why would they put me through this? It seemed so uncompassionate and insensitive.
I was nervous getting home, knowing I would have to tell Juan Carlos. He knew it was bad when he saw my face. "What happened?" "We lost the baby" I answered. "The baby died?" "Yes" Shock and despair covered his face. We held each other and cried. Then came more questions, more answers, more tears.
Juan Carlos, my mom and I went to the appointment the next day. The OB Gyn explained more about the procedure. We asked if she could do it Friday so i could recover over the weekend. She said she didn't work on Fridays. It would probably not be for 1-2 weeks. I was horrified. How could I go around carrying this lifeless baby, how could I return to work still with the baby inside and then how could I take more time off? I really did not want to drag this out... my mother insisted she find a way to fit me in. Then the doctor did an examination to see if my cervix was open and how big my uterus was. It was so uncomfortable- every kind of touch felt violating. Why? Why? After the exam, she said she thought my uterus was too big for her to do the procedure. She would refer us back up to Seattle. We would need to go Thursday for a consultation and again on Friday for the procedure. At least it would all be done for the weekend.
My mom was great enough to take a ton of time off work to drive me to Seattle twice and take care of me after the procedure. I was grateful to have kind and considerate doctors and nurses up in Seattle. They made everything much easier. Friday, I was starting to feel a little more calm and peaceful.
Saturday, I talked with someone who had also had a miscarriage many many years ago. It was helpful to talk through some of the feelings and realities of the experience that it would be nearly impossible to talk about with anyone who hasn't been through it. I held myself together pretty well and felt like I was doing pretty well.
That night, though, I went to pick Juan Carlos up from a restaurant where he was with his friends and I cried all the way there. When I got out of the car and saw a friend of his coming out of the resturaunt, he came over to me and gave me a hug and I cried. It was strange seeing people I had seen nearly every weekend, but now, after everything had changed...
Sunday was hard. I woke up with my breasts feeling incredibly painful and rock hard. I called my mom. My breasts were engorged because my milk had come in. I would have to wear a sports bra, take pain medicine and ice my chest for the next week. It was so frustrating that my body didn't know what happened. My body thought I gave birth, that I would need to nurse. But I didn't have a baby to nurse and I had to force my body to stop producing milk because no one needed it. Sunday, my sister came to be with me. We talked about politics and laughed at Saturday Night Live episodes with Tina Faye pretending to be Sarah Palin. We talked about her life and my life and every once in awhile, thoughts would set in and I would cry, and she would cry and my mom would cry- we cried together. One time my sister and I were crying and my dad came in from working outside. He came over to hug me and the three of us cried together. I was devastated but felt so loved and supported at the same time. It was so good for me to mourn and for me to be with them as we mourned together.
Monday I went back to work. It was good to be distracted and to get back into the swing of things. But the next week was hard- full of emotions- first mornings were the hardest, later nights were hard. Juan Carlos started to get upset, wanting to see me better, wanting me to move on, but I couldn't and I couldn't explain to him why. When I would cry he would ask "what happened? Why are you crying?" I didn't know how to tell him it was the same reason I was crying a week ago. He didn't know how to support me or make it better. I didn't know how to be happy, especially when I just wanted to dwell in my sadness and sometimes my self-pity. Thoughts of my baby and my future came up over and over again sometimes the same things as before and sometimes different. Every time I was faced with a new challenging idea- envy, self-pity, loss of purpose, loneliness, anger, sadness for myself, sadness for my baby, fear, etc. I had to learn how to face it in a new way. I had to find new hope, new wisdom, new comfort each time until the next.
I was so grateful for my mother who was willing to listen to me all hours of the night and morning- never told me not to cry, never made it seem less than it was- she was just there with me, holding me, letting me go through the grief I had to go through. I think that's made it easier.
In the midst of some of my hardest times, I found myself writing. One morning, I went in late to work because I just couldn't pull myself together. But that morning, I started writing and I felt like God spoke to me through the words I wrote.
Why did I have to suffer through a summer of not knowing that I was pregnant or if I could get pregnant or not? Why couldn't the doctors figure out what was going on?
"Trust me, not doctors. I know what they don't."
Why would you give me a child only to take him/her away? Why would you give anyone such a short life? Why did you take my baby?
"You can have a baby and you will, but you have to realize that life is mine. It will be in my way in my time."
Without my baby I am nothing and I have nothing.
"You have to be whole yourself before you can give your whole self- you have to recognize what you have before you can appreciate what you have before you."
It hurts so much to lose my child because of all my child would have been for me- purpose, happiness. I was never alone when I carried a child inside me.
"You cannot rely on a child for purpose or company or happiness because you must rely on me for those things."
Now I have nothing to offer. I'm empty.
"Come to me as you are, in your emptiness- let me fill you."
I can't do this- it's too much grief, too much physical pain.
"Let me be your strength when you feel you can't make it through the next hour, when your chest aches, when you can't understand."
What will others think of me? Will they judge me? Will they think I did something wrong?
"Don't worry about others."
Why do you give children to others and not to us? Why do so many women have healthy babies but not me?
"Don't be envious because I am generous."
I'm not strong enough to face this. You made me. You know. You know you did not make me a strong person.
"You are my child- I see you, I hear you, I know you. I know your strengths, your beauty and weaknesses and temptations."
What now, Lord?
"Be patient. You do not know the plans I have for you...."
In the midst of all this, I have tried to find a way to be thankful. The following story is from a book called, "Empty Arms" that my mom bought for me. The thoughts of this woman made me cry.
"I am so thankful to God for my special baby, even though he only lived eleven weeks after conception. Miscarriage was his return call by Jesus. I'll never be tempted to question the goodness of God in giving us a baby we never held. How could anyone be less than bursting with parental pride over a baby who brings you this much joy and expectation? I can't!
When I made the announcement to Michael that our baby was coming he laughed first, then cried, and ended up doing both at the same time. No other news on earth could have brought on this response, and the scene was repeated with grandparents. My baby's life was not long enough to have any pictures to carry in my billfold, but was long enough to fill my heart with wonderful memories.
I was never hurt by my child's rebellion, was never embarrassed by my child's action, and I never had to discipline him. This was my child who brought me only joy all the days of his life. Thank you God, for that kind of child; it was a gift only you could give."
So, I too, thank you God for the gift of our child, for hope that lives on, for the good that only you can bring out of such a painful, difficult loss. I am left without plans, without direction, hurled back into a place of all-encompassing vulnerability, not knowing the way or the destination, left to be open once again to your will, so I pray that during this time, you hold me and you carry me- that you take me, your child, where you need me here on earth, until you hold me, as I hold my baby one day in heaven.
At the beginning of September, Juan Carlos and I were ecstatic to find out we were expecting a baby. It was a bit of a surprise, as I had been going through testing for infertility all summer. Turns out I was "infertile" almost the whole time because I was pregnant. It also explained why I was feeling tired and all around awful for a lot of the summer... I was glad to have an explanation and even happier to have a baby on the way. When we found out, we weren't sure how far along I was, but a couple weeks and several appointments later, we were finally given a due date of April 1st. I had my first ultrasound at 14 weeks.
The month of September- October seemed to fly. I was planning to present my capstone at the beginning of November and starting to think about all the preparations for the baby. We were well into our ongoing search for a house and finally talked and decided on one we wanted to buy.
Then, all my plans came crashing down... my advisor wrote to me and told me he would not approve my capstone paper for the November presentations. He had different expectations than I did about the assignment and requirements and so I was stuck trying to justify my paper and delayed in getting the necessary approval. I came home one Wednesday crying because I was so upset about the capstone. Juan Carlos comforted me, told me I should do what I could to go in November, but in the worst case, we could make it work to go in February. I didn't want to go in February, because I would have to pay to extend my time in the program and I would be about 7-8 months pregnant- not an ideal time for travelling and presenting...
Then, the phone rang. It was a midwife from Group Health, telling me that they found some abnormalities in the ultrasound I had had 10 days before. She said she wanted me to go to UW medical center in the next two days to get better ultrasound pictures taken so they would have some more information. She said it seemed the chest and abdomen had some slight swelling but they couldn't be sure. I was devastated. I could not get an appointment for the next two days: Thursday or Friday, though I spent most of both days on the phone between doctor's offices, trying to get in as soon as possible. The next Tuesday was the soonest they could get me in. The weekend was torturous- I tried not to worry but couldn't help myself. Every possible thought went through my head- would the baby have some lifelong health issue, a deformity, a sickness- would they be able to do anything for the baby? Was the cord wrapped around the body? Was my RH negative blood attacking the baby? What was happening? Would the baby live?
On Tuesday, my mom took me to UW. When I got in the car, she gave me a silver bracelet with footprints on it. She said if the baby kept me awake at night kicking, the bracelet was to remind me it was all worth it. I turned it to the other side: "it was then that I carried you" - from one of my favorite poems- Footprints... I started to cry. God was carrying me- what was I going to face today? When we arrived, Mom treated me to a chai tea, we talked, tried to stay calm. I'm sure both our minds were racing. They called us in- our first appt. was with the genetic counselor. She spent the better part of a half hour telling us it could be any number of things, that if it was something serious, it was unlikely the doctors would be able to do anything and taking a family history, which led her to the conclusion she still didn't know what could possibly be wrong. I went back for the ultrasound. I was excited to see my baby again. This time, if the picture was clearer, we might be able to tell if it was a boy or a girl... The sonographer, a young, pretty woman with long, black curly hair came in. When she started the ultrasound, my mom watched the pictures. I glanced at the pictures. I couldn't recognize anything... I watched the sonographer's face. She was serious and thoughtful, taking measurements diligently. I waited to hear the heartbeat. Nothing. Maybe it was on mute- maybe she hadn't checked it yet. The last time she told us when we would hear it. This lady hadn't said anything. But she was bringing up the image that had to show the heartbeat. Where was it? What was going on? She stopped, looked at me sadly and said quietly: "I can't find a heartbeat. I'm going to get a doctor to be sure. I'll bring some tissues."
All I could think was "oh my God, oh my God, this isn't happening" It was that fast- one minute I had a healthy beautiful living soul inside of me and the next... there was no heartbeat. My mom was crying, holding my hand, I broke down. The next moment I was angry- God did this. " I feel like God just wants to destroy me." I said out loud. "No, no he doesn't, Janelle. God did not do this," my mom said confidently. I said, "He could have saved the baby and He didn't." There was no way to make sense of this. No way to make it better. The doctor came in. She had to check one more time...maybe there was a mistake- I doubted it. I didn't look. No, nothing. She said she was sorry. She told me I was young and I could have more. She said it happened to her too, so she knows it is hard. I felt so alone- it happens to doctors too, I thought. For some reason, it surprised me and also comforted me, strangely, to think I wasn't the only one.
The sonographer told us there was another room where we could go to wait for the follow up appointment we had scheduled for after the ultrasound. The doctor came in to talk to us about what had happened. She explained that based on the genetic history and the information they had, the most likely cause was just a mismatch in the chromosomes. She explained chromosomes have to divide so many times, so many things can go wrong, that the real miracle is that a healthy baby is ever born. She said they could do testing on the remains. My thoughts shifted, now my baby was not living- what would happen to the baby, what would happen to me. The doctor said ultimately my body would probably release everything but to avoid more trauma, she recommended doing a D&E, where they would open my cervix and take everything out of my uterus. This would help avoid infection, be less painful and much less traumatic. It was all surreal. Instead of labor, this is what I would go through. She said she would try to make an appointment with Group Health for me, so I wouldnt have to.
A social worker came in. She said the same kinds of things other people did. I can have more. It happens to a lot of women. It takes a lot to make a healthy baby. She gave me some resources.
Group Health wouldn't let the doctor make an appointment for me. They insisted I call. We couldn't believe it. My mom called on my behalf with me in the car. First it would be a consultation. From there, they could schedule the D&E. More appointments just to make more appointments. Why would they put me through this? It seemed so uncompassionate and insensitive.
I was nervous getting home, knowing I would have to tell Juan Carlos. He knew it was bad when he saw my face. "What happened?" "We lost the baby" I answered. "The baby died?" "Yes" Shock and despair covered his face. We held each other and cried. Then came more questions, more answers, more tears.
Juan Carlos, my mom and I went to the appointment the next day. The OB Gyn explained more about the procedure. We asked if she could do it Friday so i could recover over the weekend. She said she didn't work on Fridays. It would probably not be for 1-2 weeks. I was horrified. How could I go around carrying this lifeless baby, how could I return to work still with the baby inside and then how could I take more time off? I really did not want to drag this out... my mother insisted she find a way to fit me in. Then the doctor did an examination to see if my cervix was open and how big my uterus was. It was so uncomfortable- every kind of touch felt violating. Why? Why? After the exam, she said she thought my uterus was too big for her to do the procedure. She would refer us back up to Seattle. We would need to go Thursday for a consultation and again on Friday for the procedure. At least it would all be done for the weekend.
My mom was great enough to take a ton of time off work to drive me to Seattle twice and take care of me after the procedure. I was grateful to have kind and considerate doctors and nurses up in Seattle. They made everything much easier. Friday, I was starting to feel a little more calm and peaceful.
Saturday, I talked with someone who had also had a miscarriage many many years ago. It was helpful to talk through some of the feelings and realities of the experience that it would be nearly impossible to talk about with anyone who hasn't been through it. I held myself together pretty well and felt like I was doing pretty well.
That night, though, I went to pick Juan Carlos up from a restaurant where he was with his friends and I cried all the way there. When I got out of the car and saw a friend of his coming out of the resturaunt, he came over to me and gave me a hug and I cried. It was strange seeing people I had seen nearly every weekend, but now, after everything had changed...
Sunday was hard. I woke up with my breasts feeling incredibly painful and rock hard. I called my mom. My breasts were engorged because my milk had come in. I would have to wear a sports bra, take pain medicine and ice my chest for the next week. It was so frustrating that my body didn't know what happened. My body thought I gave birth, that I would need to nurse. But I didn't have a baby to nurse and I had to force my body to stop producing milk because no one needed it. Sunday, my sister came to be with me. We talked about politics and laughed at Saturday Night Live episodes with Tina Faye pretending to be Sarah Palin. We talked about her life and my life and every once in awhile, thoughts would set in and I would cry, and she would cry and my mom would cry- we cried together. One time my sister and I were crying and my dad came in from working outside. He came over to hug me and the three of us cried together. I was devastated but felt so loved and supported at the same time. It was so good for me to mourn and for me to be with them as we mourned together.
Monday I went back to work. It was good to be distracted and to get back into the swing of things. But the next week was hard- full of emotions- first mornings were the hardest, later nights were hard. Juan Carlos started to get upset, wanting to see me better, wanting me to move on, but I couldn't and I couldn't explain to him why. When I would cry he would ask "what happened? Why are you crying?" I didn't know how to tell him it was the same reason I was crying a week ago. He didn't know how to support me or make it better. I didn't know how to be happy, especially when I just wanted to dwell in my sadness and sometimes my self-pity. Thoughts of my baby and my future came up over and over again sometimes the same things as before and sometimes different. Every time I was faced with a new challenging idea- envy, self-pity, loss of purpose, loneliness, anger, sadness for myself, sadness for my baby, fear, etc. I had to learn how to face it in a new way. I had to find new hope, new wisdom, new comfort each time until the next.
I was so grateful for my mother who was willing to listen to me all hours of the night and morning- never told me not to cry, never made it seem less than it was- she was just there with me, holding me, letting me go through the grief I had to go through. I think that's made it easier.
In the midst of some of my hardest times, I found myself writing. One morning, I went in late to work because I just couldn't pull myself together. But that morning, I started writing and I felt like God spoke to me through the words I wrote.
Why did I have to suffer through a summer of not knowing that I was pregnant or if I could get pregnant or not? Why couldn't the doctors figure out what was going on?
"Trust me, not doctors. I know what they don't."
Why would you give me a child only to take him/her away? Why would you give anyone such a short life? Why did you take my baby?
"You can have a baby and you will, but you have to realize that life is mine. It will be in my way in my time."
Without my baby I am nothing and I have nothing.
"You have to be whole yourself before you can give your whole self- you have to recognize what you have before you can appreciate what you have before you."
It hurts so much to lose my child because of all my child would have been for me- purpose, happiness. I was never alone when I carried a child inside me.
"You cannot rely on a child for purpose or company or happiness because you must rely on me for those things."
Now I have nothing to offer. I'm empty.
"Come to me as you are, in your emptiness- let me fill you."
I can't do this- it's too much grief, too much physical pain.
"Let me be your strength when you feel you can't make it through the next hour, when your chest aches, when you can't understand."
What will others think of me? Will they judge me? Will they think I did something wrong?
"Don't worry about others."
Why do you give children to others and not to us? Why do so many women have healthy babies but not me?
"Don't be envious because I am generous."
I'm not strong enough to face this. You made me. You know. You know you did not make me a strong person.
"You are my child- I see you, I hear you, I know you. I know your strengths, your beauty and weaknesses and temptations."
What now, Lord?
"Be patient. You do not know the plans I have for you...."
In the midst of all this, I have tried to find a way to be thankful. The following story is from a book called, "Empty Arms" that my mom bought for me. The thoughts of this woman made me cry.
"I am so thankful to God for my special baby, even though he only lived eleven weeks after conception. Miscarriage was his return call by Jesus. I'll never be tempted to question the goodness of God in giving us a baby we never held. How could anyone be less than bursting with parental pride over a baby who brings you this much joy and expectation? I can't!
When I made the announcement to Michael that our baby was coming he laughed first, then cried, and ended up doing both at the same time. No other news on earth could have brought on this response, and the scene was repeated with grandparents. My baby's life was not long enough to have any pictures to carry in my billfold, but was long enough to fill my heart with wonderful memories.
I was never hurt by my child's rebellion, was never embarrassed by my child's action, and I never had to discipline him. This was my child who brought me only joy all the days of his life. Thank you God, for that kind of child; it was a gift only you could give."
So, I too, thank you God for the gift of our child, for hope that lives on, for the good that only you can bring out of such a painful, difficult loss. I am left without plans, without direction, hurled back into a place of all-encompassing vulnerability, not knowing the way or the destination, left to be open once again to your will, so I pray that during this time, you hold me and you carry me- that you take me, your child, where you need me here on earth, until you hold me, as I hold my baby one day in heaven.
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