Blighted ovum? Miscarriage? or Miracle babies times three!

On March 30, 2008, I discovered I was unexpectedly pregnant. Since I'd already suffered multiple miscarriages and had been through a lot of testing, I knew I needed to be on blood thinners as soon as I got pregnant. So I called my doctor and asked him to call in a prescription for Lovenox and made an appointment for two weeks later for a dating u/s. It took 2 days before the script finally got called in, so on April 2 I picked up the script and another home pregnancy test. I got home and took the test-negative. So I didn't take the Lovenox, thinking I'd had a missed implantation (early miscarriage). That night when I did my devotions, I got a strong 'nudge' to take the Lovenox despite the negative, so, I didn't ask why, I just did it. The next morning I took another test, got another negative, got another 'nudge', so I did the Lovenox again. Same pattern for the next two days. I finally stopped doing tests because it was getting expensive, I kept getting negatives, and God kept telling me to do the Lovenox anyway.

A week later, on April 11, I got sick while out, impulsively bought another test, took it in the middle of the day, and got a very immediate and dark positive. On April 14 I had my 1st u/s which showed two areas of implantation bleeding and dated me at about 3 to 3 1/2 weeks. (Apparently I'd gotten pg, m/c'd and then immediately gotten pg again, with multiples!) A later u/s showed I'd conceived spontaneous triplets! There were two gestational sacs, but one of them had two yolk sacs (the 'nourishment sac', one for each baby)

Then on May 31, at 10 wks 1 day, I had a sudden gush of bright red blood. Since I was on blood thinners, there was a significant danger of hemorrhage, so I went to L&D. After that one gush, the bleeding stopped. The u/s at the hospital showed one fully developed baby (head, arms, legs) but no heartbeat. The baby was in the sac which had had two yolk sacs, but at this point there was just this huge sac with the baby tucked in the corner and no yolk sacs, no debris, nothing but this huge sac and one little tiny baby with no heartbeat. The other sac was still perfectly round and still growing but completely empty (blighted ovum). They sent me home with a diagnosis of impending miscarriage.

The next night, Sunday, I suddenly started bleeding extremely heavily for about 3 hrs, then for the next week just some light spotting with no cramping. And, through it all, my morning sickness continued as well as all of my other pregnancy symptoms. So, hmmmm???

So now, here I am a week later, still 'sort of' pregnant at 11 1/2 weeks, no bleeding, still sick, haven't passed the 'products' of conception, and I am still, in spite of everything, praying for a miracle, actually THREE miracles. I don't have any medical reason to have hope. I saw the u/s myself. There were no signs of life. And yet I do hope. I hope that all of my babies are still alive. I hope that the baby I saw with no heartbeat was just in some 'odd' position that blocked the u/s from seeing it's little heart beating. I hope that my other two babies were just 'hiding' behind the other baby. I hope that God will bless me with the privilege of bringing these babies into the world and raising them in Christ. I hope. That's all I have.

Hebrews 11:1
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

Hebrews 11:3
By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God's command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.

I'll have another u/s at 12 wks which was my original plan. I'll update then. For now I leave you with what I've learned through many, many losses including this possible (most would say definite) loss:

Every life is created by God. Every life has a purpose. Some accomplish their purpose in days, while others take decades. All are precious and loved by their Creator.

Faith is believing that God is right even when you don't agree with Him. Faith is believing God loves you even when you are hurting. Faith is believing God is with you even when you feel lost. Faith is believing God is good even when it doesn't look that way.

God bless.

'Sort of' pregnant means that, although I have to wear maternity clothes because triplets make your uterus pop out way early, I can't answer the question, 'When are you due?' with a simple answer.

'Sort of' pregnant means that, when I meet 'real' pregnant women, I quietly chat with them about their babies without ever mentioning that I am also pregnant, even though I am visibly expecting.

'Sort of' pregnant means that I walk past baby stores with the briefest of glances because I don't feel I have the right to go there.

'Sort of' pregnant means that, whether my babies are dead or alive, I cling to every moment they are still inside me, because it may be the only time I get with them here on earth.

'Sort of' pregnant makes heaven very real and very close, because that's where my babies may grow up.

God bless.

Why is it that doctors are so reluctant to 'get our hopes up'? They'll say, "I don't want to give you false hope" or "I'd rather prepare you for the worst case scenario." It's like the first requirement for getting into medical school is to have a 'glass is half-empty' personality!

So what's the problem with having hope? Isn't hope what we all live on? When I drive my car, I 'hope' no one hits me. When I use my credit card, I 'hope' it goes through (lol). When I get on a plane, I 'hope' its been inspected recently! Hope is a part of our daily life, isn't it? It's not a disease or mental illness or product of an over-active imagination or symptom of denial. It's what gets us out of bed each morning and through each day and back in bed each night to start over again the next day.

And, when we're faced with tragedy or loss, hope can help us 'float' a little more gently into the valley we have to walk through, instead of crashing headlong into the ground.

Another thing about hope. Isn't it strange how incredibly fragile and yet miraculously resilient hope is? Take my situation: every cramp, every twinge, every drop of blood, every decrease in symptoms can crush my hope completely. And then, a little later, hope seeps back in, easing my despair, lighting my way, calming my spirit, preparing me to face whatever comes next.

One last thing about hope. I think a mom's heart is made entirely of hope. We hope for that miraculous moment of conception to take place. We hope for a healthy, happy baby to be born. We hope our children will grow into good and successful adults. And, along the way, when problems arise, we hope for the best. It's not just what we do. It's who we are and what we were made for.

"Ask for whatever you want me to give you." That was God's charge to Solomon. Last night in my devotions, I suddenly felt that was God's charge to me. And I was terrified. What if I asked for the lives of my babies and God granted that but it would cost me my life and leave my children motherless? What if I asked for financial freedom and God granted that but it would come in the form of a life insurance check after the death of my husband? So many 'what ifs' ran through my mind. It wasn't that I thought God was trying trick me; it was that I was realizing that His will is based on perfect wisdom and knowledge and mine on...well, nothing but my own desires. And I was startled to find that I suddenly knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the ONLY safe, practical and wise answer to "Ask whatever you want me to give you" is "Father, give me Your will and not my own."

God bless.

My babies are gone.

I go on, but I'm not living. I function, but I don't feel. It's the only way I can get through each day, pay the bills, do the shopping, clean the house, and a thousand other things that engage my body, but not my heart and mind. It amazes me that no one can see death in my eyes, that they talk and interact with me like life hasn't changed, that they have stayed the same when I've been changed forever. And I can't help but wonder how many other people I see throughout the day feel dead like me. The clerk who messed up my change and then was rude about it, were her heart and mind turned off like mine just so she could get through the day? The fast food window guy who messed up my order and then wanted to argue about it, was he bleeding to death on the inside where no one could see it? How many other wounded souls are wandering around like the living dead, hiding their pain behind empty eyes and empty smiles, concealing their despair inside a body that functions but doesn't feel, and hoping that someone somehow will see and care.

This living death only lasts as long as there are needs to be met and activities to engage in, but then comes the night, the quiet, the stillness, and the pain. I am shattered. I can't breathe. The pain is suffocating. And I cry silently. Somehow I can't share this pain. It's too overwhelming, too powerful. It doesn't have a voice, just a deep and broken moaning of the spirit, a silent communion of the soul with the very God who willed this path for me.

I KNOW that God is good. I KNOW that God is wise. I KNOW that God is love. And I KNOW that God's will and purposes are formed in perfect goodness and perfect wisdom and perfect love. I know this, and I accept His purposes for my life. But that doesn't stop the pain. And that doesn't stop the questions. Why did He create life in me when I wasn't even trying to conceive and then wait just long enough for me to fall in love with my babies and then take them right out of my womb? Why?

Loss after loss I've asked the same questions. And loss after loss I've received the same answer--Trust Me. Love Me. I am here.

Yes, I trust You. Yes, I love You. Yes, I know that You are here. But...

Do you ever want to ask God to leave you alone? To let you live your life in peace? I do, or at least a part of me does. A part of me wants to beg God not to teach me His ways, not to mold me to His likeness, not to use me in His service. But then I think, what would life be like without Him? Would there be less pain? I don't think so, life is painful, with or without Him. I just wouldn't have Him to comfort, guide, and carry me. Would there be more peace? No, life is chaotic, with or without Him. I just wouldn't have Him to shelter me in the storms. Would there be more hope? Impossible, life is short and has a clearly marked dead-end without Him. He is hope. He is my only hope.

Every time I conceive a new life in my womb, my heart expands exponentially to create a home for that child and my mind stretches wide open to welcome a new life into my life. Every time I lose a baby from my womb, my heart and mind are left with a gaping emptiness I don't know how to fill. In the past I've taken those spaces and filled them with hope for 'the next time.' Now, after growing space in my heart and mind for three babies at once and losing them all, I'm left with such a huge emptiness that I feel lost inside of it. But my husband and I weren't planning on having any more children. God planned these babies, not us. So now what do I do? If there is no hope for 'the next time' to fill this hole, to focus those aimless thoughts in the night, to hold the pieces of my heart together, then what do I do with those thoughts and the frayed edges of my broken heart? I don't know. I really don't.

How can I feel so safe in God's arms, so sure of the rightness of His purposes, so certain of the wisdom of His will, and still feel so lost?

I don't know. I really don't.

Have you ever read the book of Job in the Bible? It's always been a book I struggled through and didn't really like. It's all about loss and unwanted advice from family and hurtful comments from friends and the reality of God being God. But it's the story every woman who miscarries can relate to. You know what I'm talking about. We've all heard--"That's just nature's way of getting rid of something that didn't grow right." and "It's not like you lost an actual child." And, from the 'churchfolk'--"You shouldn't feel empty. God is all you need." and "God needed your babies more than you did." What I like about the book of Job is that God didn't get mad at Job for asking questions and for wailing out his pain. But God did get mad at Job's friends who acted like they were speaking for God, like they knew why God did things and how God thought. When people make those comments and when they tell me how I 'should' feel, I just remember Job and those comments lose their sting completely (well, almost completely).

Here are some suggestions for you friends and family members out there who need a little guidance on how to communicate with a mother who's just lost a baby.

"I'm sorry."
"What can I do to help?"
"I don't know what to say."
"I'm hurting so much for you."
"I'm praying for you."

And don't let a day go by for the first couple of weeks that you don't say one or more of those things. It's pretty much all she can think of at that point, and you not mentioning it keeps her silent in a world of pain she doesn't know how to share. Don't try to make her talk, just let her know it's okay if she wants to.

Updated to add 'what NOT to say':
"You can always adopt."
"You're young. You can always try again."(Would you go to a funeral and tell the grieving widow, "You can always just get married again"?)
"At least it happened early." (A loss is a loss, minimizing it is not supportive, just hurtful.)

God bless.

I debated about whether to include this part or not, but, in the interest of complete honesty, I had to. I know that anger is one of the stages of grief, but it is the hardest stage for me because I'm a peacemaker, and anger always seems wrong to me...especially when it's God I'm angry with.

Anyway, here goes...after another night of sorrow, I suddenly woke up ANGRY, not a little angry, but really, really MAD--at God. I tried to hide it, even from myself, but it kept seeping and oozing out and when I got a phone call from our realtor that the buyer had backed out of our contract, I lost it. I cried and ranted and raved at God. And once the anger started flowing, there was no stopping it. I spent the whole day in tears, asking God what He was thinking, where He was in all this, if He really thought I deserved to be tortured, why everything seemed intentionally designed to make my loss as painful as possible, and when He was going to finally decide I'd had enough and LEAVE ME ALONE! And, you know what, I discovered some things. First, I discovered that I didn't just suddenly get angry; I'd been simmering for days and just wouldn't admit it to myself or God. Second, I discovered anew that I truly am a sinful person capable of being about as unlovely and petty and spiteful as the next sinner. Third, I discovered that God loves me just as I am. He wasn't surprised by my anger because He knew what was in my heart all along. Fourth, I discovered that pouring out the anger in my heart was the ultimate act of trust. God said in His word that we couldn't escape from His love and that He loved us while we were yet sinners. Trusting Him with my anger was trusting Him to be who He said He was and trusting Him to do what He said He would. And fifth, I discovered that by being willing, finally, to trust God and walk through this part of the valley, the healing could begin. As I released the anger I'd been hiding in my heart, peace seeped in to take it's place. That is the gift of God, peace that passes understanding. And I could finally begin to receive that gift when I fully trusted God with all that I am, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly.

I know I have a long, long way to go. But a subtle shift has taken place in my soul. I still cry at night and I still hurt all the time, but I am living again, feeling again, moving forward again. And that ever-resilient hope, so fragile, so easily crushed and broken, has risen again.

God bless.

After every loss, I run from the world and fling myself into God's arms, and, like Jacob at Peniel, I 'contend' with God. It's not about anger, or at least, not only about anger. It's the whole process, the hope, the loss, the pain, the despair, the anger, all of it, start to finish. I contend with Him to settle things between us, to bring peace and healing to our relationship. I contend with Him because I can't move on with my life until I do. And so I leave the world behind and isolate myself with my God -- alternately clinging to Him and wrestling with Him, resting in Him and struggling against Him, crying out to Him and lashing out at Him. And, through the darkness, I refuse to let go. I won't let go because, although losing my babies wounds me, losing my God would destroy me. I can't let go because He is life and breath, and letting go would be the end of me. So I hold on until the light dawns, and then, at last, I surrender. I surrender to His will and to His incomprehensible love--a love that would sacrifice His own Son for me, but would still allow such awful pain and loss into my life. God's love makes no sense to me, that He would love me so deeply when I am so unworthy, and that He would hurt me so deeply when He loves me so much. But, in the light of a new dawn, my faith is renewed. My questions remain unanswered, but since "faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see (Heb. 11:1)" that's what I hold on to--I have to believe there is a purpose, a good and loving and perfect purpose, that I can't see. I have to believe that or I couldn't live through so much loss. And, by believing that, I can put my questions aside until I get to heaven, and I can heal, and I can finally move on.

I have now lost eleven babies. Eleven. I can't even begin to wrap my mind around that fact. It's soul-shattering. But I wanted to share my journey with those of you suffering and hurting, to in some way light the path of loss so you can find your way. I hope what I have written has helped. I pray you find hope and healing in my words. And I ask God, in His unfathomable wisdom, to place each and every one of you in the safest place on earth--the center of His will.

God bless.

My triplets were due Dec. 26, 2008, the day after Christmas, but I couldn't post about it or even think about it at the time. I don't want to let their birthday pass without acknowledging it, though, so--Happy Birthday, Babies, and Merry Christmas to all 11 of my little ones who were born into heaven! I can't even imagine how wonderful it must be to be with Jesus from the moment of your birth, but I thank God that He is taking care of you and loves you even more than I do. God bless you all.

This is a hard one for me to put into words, and I've been struggling with it for a long time, so it will probably be written in stages. Please bear with me.

Okay, so the fear hit just as the anger began to ease. I think I prefer the anger. Anger carries with it a false, but oddly comforting, sense of being in control, whereas fear is all about understanding just how helpless I am.

God is in control. I know that, and I accept that. But my mind keeps reminding me of Job and the tragedy God allowed in his life. So while I know and accept that God is in control, what I am having a hard time reconciling is the fact, the absolute truth, that God in HIs goodness and wisdom can and will allow tragedy to enter my life again. I'm paralyzed with fear at the thought. I don't want to move forward or backward or right or left or any direction at all because I don't know where tragedy might be waiting. So clearly, while I do ACCEPT that God is in control, I don't want to SUBMIT to HIs control. That's pretty much the definition of a lack of trust. I don't trust God enough to willingly let Him hurt me

But who would ever willingly let someone hurt them? Well, anyone who has ever had surgery and let a doctor cut them open is willingly accepting the pain the surgery will bring because they know it is in their best interests. I've had surgery, several times. So do I trust surgeons more than I trust God? I'm ashamed to admit that it sure seems like it.

So here's some of what my fears look like:
(And here's my disclaimer: I know these fears are irrational, but the thing about irrational fears is that rational arguments don't relieve irrational fears. Trust and faith DO overcome fear, but...well, we've already gone over where I am in the 'trust department' at the moment.)

Fear #1) If God gave me all these lost babies to teach me to accept loss and to trust Him, and I don't learn the lesson, is this going to keep happening over and over until I 'get it'?

Fear #2) If I don't 'get it' soon, will God take away something even more devastating, like my kids or husband?

Fear #3) If God gave me all these lost babies to show me that using protection wasn't His will for us and we don't submit to that, will this cycle of conception despite prevention followed by loss ever end?

Fear #4) If none of the fears 1-3 are based on reality (and I know they aren't), then will I ever know why this has happened to me over and over again? And can I live without knowing why?

Fear #5) If I never get pregnant and have another baby, can I survive with all these holes in my heart?

Here's a reply I wrote to a sweet lady who was dealing with many of the same fear 'attacks' that I am:

*I've been alternately convinced that I will die if I get pg again, or that one of my children will die in 'exchange' for the new baby, or that I'll have a stillborn baby if I get pg again. I know with absolute certainty that those fears are an attack directly from Satan designed to focus my attention on him instead of on my loving Father. If any of those awful things were to happen, then 1) Satan wouldn't know about it ahead of time since he is not omniscient like God is, 2) Even if Satan did somehow find out what the future held, he certainly wouldn't care enough to warn me, and 3) God is still in control and is still loving and good no matter what happens. I'm not just saying this to comfort or counsel you, I'm LIVING it right now, day after day and especially night after night. I don't believe in praying 'against' Satan because that gives him my attention and I am powerless against him anyway, so I respond to these attacks with praise. When I think I might die if I get pg, then I praise God I'm going to go to heaven (and ask Him to continue to give me the gift of life here on earth), and when I think one of my children might die, then I praise God that He loves them even more than I do (and ask Him to protect them and give them a long life here on earth), and when I think I might have a stillborn baby, then I praise God for receiving all my lost babies into His arms (and ask Him to bless me with a healthy baby). I honestly believe that the only effective response to Satan's attacks is praising and worshiping God, because the last thing Satan wants is to push me closer to God, and because praising and worshiping reminds me where my trust and faith belong.*

I believe to the core of my soul those words I wrote to my sister in Christ, but I'm human and at the moment I'm having such a hard time 'walking out' my faith in the face of fear.

Thank You, Father, for forgiving me and loving me even though I'm such a mess!

Romans 8:14-16 (New King James Version)
"For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, "Abba, Father." The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God"

I know God did not give me the spirit of fear because He clearly said He didn't. I am God's adopted child. I live in the protection of HIs embrace. Fear is a cruel tool of my enemy, and I will NOT submit to it.

I am scared speechless.

Alright, now that I can breath again, here's the story. After losing my triplets, my ovaries just kind of went into 'shock' and shut down. I went back to my RE (reproductive endocrinologist) for a series of blood tests and found that I wasn't ovulating at all or even producing the normal female hormones, and I had a pretty serious endometrial infection. So, after two endometrial biopsies and weeks of antibiotics and blood tests to take care of the infection, we began addressing my hormone and annovulation (lack of ovulation) issues. I have had serious adverse reactions to birth control pills in the past, so even though that is usually one of the first things doctors use to try to regulate a woman's system, that wasn't an option for me. I still wasn't sure we were going to be trying to get pregnant again, but I definitely wanted my body working correctly! So anyway, we started with a low dose of a very mild fertility medication called Letrozole to gently stimulate my hormones and then a shot of hcg to 'trigger' ovulation, but my body didn't respond at all. Then we tried adding a low dose of injectible hormones into the mix, but again, I didn't end up ovulating even though I did produce some follicles (these are sort of pre-ovulation 'cysts' on the ovaries that should contain fertilizable eggs).

It was somewhere in the middle of that second cycle of medication that I realized I was desperately hoping to be pregnant again, and when I failed to ovulate that cycle, I was devastated. My husband wasn't thrilled with the idea of 'going through all of that again' by any means after my last painful loss, but he went along with it anyway, wonderful man that he is.

So anyway, this last cycle, we upped the dose of both the Letrozole and the injectible hormones and tried a double shot of the hcg to trigger ovulation. I had two lead follicles (those are the biggest, most mature and likely to be fertilized), and three smaller ones (unlikely to 'catch up' and mature in time to ovulate and be fertilized). Success! Blood tests showed that I had finally ovulated, and I knew there was a chance I might have conceived on that cycle.

Sooooo...I got a BFP (positive home pregnancy test) at 10 dpo (days past ovulation) and at 11 dpo my beta hcg (the pregnancy hormone) was 33.8 and it was confirmed that I was definitely pregnant. My immediate reaction was sudden heart-gripping, breath-stealing terror. Great reaction, huh?

Two days later I had a repeat beta hcg level, and it came back at 106. In most healthy pregnancies, hcg levels will double every 2-3 days in early pregnancy, then as the hcg's get higher, the doubling time slows down to 3-4 days, and then at about 10 weeks the hcg plateaus and even begins to decline gradually throughout the rest of the pregnancy. So my doubling time was closer to 24 hours than 48 hrs, and that was a good sign. I had another set of hcg levels the next week which came back at 1813 on 18 dpo and 3151 at 20 dpo with a doubling time of 60 hours, so of course I panicked thinking this pregnancy was failing (even though I know it's supposed to slow down the higher the levels get and my overall numbers were still way above the norm for those dpo's). Anyway, I asked for another hcg this week, and it came back at 12,508 at 26 dpo with a doubling time of just under 72 hours from the previous week's levels.

So, for now, this pregnancy is progressing as it should, and with more than one healthy follicle when I ovulated, I can't help but hope for multiples again. But I'm very guarded about it, only telling those closest to me and waiting for those precious heartbeats before I truly accept that this pregnancy is real.

Here's a list of my beta hcg levels for those of you obsessing over the numbers like I do :o)

11 dpo 33.8
13 dpo 106
18 dpo 1813
20 dpo 3151
26 dpo 12,508

I have an ultrasound scheduled for next Thursday. I'm hoping and praying for heartbeats! (Again!)

Well, at my u/s yesterday we found two gestational sacs, but only one heartbeat which the dr said was slower than she'd like to see (it was 110 bpm, but they want to see at least 120 bpm at this stage). So, I'm in the waiting game again, waiting to see if Baby A's heart will keep beating and speed up to where it's supposed to be, waiting to see if Baby B is developing (the dr couldn't get a good enough angle to see inside the sac, just kind of a side view she couldn't really even get a measurement on). So, again, I wait...and I pray...and I hope.

God, I know You have my babies in the palm of Your hand. Help me to accept Your will whether You bless me with two healthy babies or one healthy baby or two more babies I'll meet in Heaven. Amen.

Baby B is gone.

Baby A has a strong, healthy heartbeat, but at today's NT scan we discovered that the baby has some of it's abdominal organs growing outside of it's abdomen (this is called an omphalocele) and some fluid collecting behind it's brain (this is called a cystic hygroma). The doctor said these two conditions can each be fatal on their own and are not usually seen together. He said he expects the baby to die in utero or shortly after birth, and he wanted to discuss terminating the pregnancy. I told him that wasn't an option. More info later when I can think.

When the doctor discovered I wouldn't discuss termination, he left the exam room and had the nurse take me to his office where I waited about half an hour for him to come in. His first words to me when he walked in and sat behind his desk were, "So I guess you believe in faith and all that." I couldn't put two words together inside my head at that moment, much less trust myself to speak, but I've been nearly as upset by that comment as I am at the devastating news about my baby. I hope I get the chance to respond to that doctor's comment directly sometime soon, but in the meantime, here's what I've been thinking.

My faith doesn't tell me that God will give me what I want if I want it bad enough or if I pray hard enough or if I believe strongly enough, although He can and will work a miracle if that is in His plans.

What my faith does tell me is that God has a purpose for this child's life, no matter how brief or how long that life is, and that He has a purpose for putting this child in my life for however long, and that His purpose is good and right and just no matter the outcome. That's all I know. That's all I can know because I'm not God, and I can't know the mind of God. All I can do is trust Him. And so we will see His purpose through to the end, whatever that end might be. God bless.

I've been walking around in a daze since I got the devastating news about my baby, and I've discovered that living in a state of shock is very uncomfortable. I don't know what to think or feel or say or do. This sense of being unanchored almost makes me seasick. I'm completely disconnected from this pregnancy, this baby, and the world around me in general. I'm like that lone, unmanned bumper car in the middle of the ring being thumped and bumped and sent sliding and spiraling in random directions by the oblivious motorists in the other cars. I have no control over my life. Maybe the control I usually feel is an illusion, but it's incredibly disconcerting to have that illusion snatched away so abruptly. I was completely blind-sided, completely unprepared, completely devastated. Now I know what the cliche 'shaken to the core' actually means.

Pregnancy is usually a time of wonder. "I wonder what the baby will look like," and, "I wonder if it will be a boy or a girl," etc. But for me that wonder has been horribly skewed.

Every night I lay in bed, sleepless, wondering, "Is my baby dead?"

Every morning I wake up, exhausted, wondering, "Is my baby going to die today?"

Every cramp makes me wonder, "Is my baby dying?"

This is so hard.

Most women assume that when they get pregnant they will have a baby. I lost the ability to assume that when I started having miscarriages. But I still did have assumptions. I assumed that 12 weeks was my 'magic mark,' and when I passed that mark I was safe. In fact, the morning before I went in for that infamous NT scan I told my son that I couldn't believe I'd made it to my 'safe zone' and I could finally start getting excited about my baby. Famous last words.

In the midst of all this trauma over the problems with the baby, I can't help hurting for the twin I lost. It's just so hard to accept that I've lost another baby, especially in my present circumstances. My mind plays tricks on me, trying to convince me that the twin is still in there, just 'hiding' behind the other baby or in some awkward corner of my uterus that the ultrasound can't visualize. I know I'm just torturing myself, but it seems just as probable that my twin baby could still be in there as it is that the 'visible' baby will live. If I'm going to grasp onto any hope for the one, I might as well for the other.

I had a follow-up u/s a few days ago at 15 wks 2 days, and the cystic hygroma (swelling behind the baby's brain) is totally gone! I was so excited, but that only lasted for a minute or two, because the baby's bladder was hugely distended and I was told that it was a "lethal condition" that would crush the baby's lungs and prevent them from developing and that it would also crush the baby's kidneys and destroy them. They said nothing could be done, and my baby would die. I went home in a daze, blind-sided by devastating news yet again.

But in the days that followed it dawned on me that they had also said that the cystic hygroma was lethal and would kill my baby...and yet it had disappeared. And, when asked, they didn't even know what was causing the bladder to be distended, so how could they know that it was lethal? So I began to research and found that in some cases a shunt could be placed in the baby's bladder in utero to drain the bladder into the amniotic sac and protect the lungs and kidneys and get the baby to term so it can be born with healthy lungs and kidneys and have surgery to correct the omphalocele and urinary blockage, giving the baby a chance at life. Now, I'm fully aware that all of these problems with my baby might indicate an underlying condition that might be chromosomal or that it might be some kind of a massive defect. But right now we don't know for sure one way or the other, and even in a court of law a 'reasonable doubt' is enough to stop a conviction. So why, when there clearly is 'reasonable doubt' about my baby's condition, is my baby being given a death sentence? Why do I have to research and find possible treatments on my own instead of being presented with options by my doctors? And why am I now having to fight to get the treatment my baby needs to possibly survive?

This just doesn't make sense to me. I'm seeing a fetal specialist who doesn't want to treat a fetus. I'm paying someone thousands of dollars to ignore my baby's medical needs. I'm having to research and find medical information and options on my own even though I am seeing a doctor trained in this exact field. And I'm having to fight to get someone to give my baby the medical help it needs.

I feel like I've stepped into some twisted life or death version of candid camera. But I'm not amused, not at all. This is a human life that is being disgarded because it isn't perfect, and it's being disgarded by the very medical professionals trained to save and treat and cure the imperfect and impaired.

What if this attitude leaks into other areas of medicine? What if cancer doctors only triage patients, decide who has cancer and who doesn't, and then disgard the ones who do? What if pediatritians see children only to separate the healthy from the unhealthy and then council the parents of the unhealthy to disgard them? What if schools for the blind or deaf only teach those who can see and hear?

Thank You, God, that You are the One in control and that You care for those considered 'imperfect' by this world's standards and that I can trust You with my child, here on earth and for eternity.

In our society, whether right or wrong, women are the ultimate arbiters of their unborn baby's life or death. I have the 'right' to go anywhere in the continental United States with a perfectly healthy baby in my womb and choose to have it 'terminated'. That 'right' doesn't seem to extend both ways, though. I want to give my baby every chance at life. I want to choose life, but I'm running up against a wall. Shouldn't I have the 'right' to treatment for my baby even if it isn't perfectly healthy?

By allowing the doctors to do an amnio, I was able to finally convince them to do a bladder aspiration on the baby's bladder to try and preserve the kidney function and allow the lungs to develop. I really didn't want an amnio because, if the baby has one of the fatal chromosomal disorders, I just don't want to know. I need some hope to help me through this pregnancy, and knowing for sure that my baby will die, waiting for it to die day after day while feeling it moving inside of me, would be torture. But the only way to get a bladder shunt inserted to continually drain the baby's bladder was to agree to an amnio and a series of bladder aspirations. They won't put a shunt in if the baby has a fatal condition, nor would I want them to. And the bladder aspirations will determine if the baby's kidneys are still functional or if they have already been too damaged to save. The amnio and bladder aspiration were insanely painful. I wasn't prepared for that. I've had amnios before, but at the end of my pregnancy, just to determine if the baby's lungs were mature. This time I was just under 16 weeks and the doctor had to try four different locations, pulling the 5 inch needle out and jabbing it back in again and again in each location in an effort to get the needle through the amniotic membrane because the membrane kept collapsing instead of allowing the needle into the amniotic fluid. But if it gives us the information we need to move on to getting the bladder shunt, then I'm glad I did it. I'll get the results sometime next week.

God, I'm trying to leave this in Your hands. I don't even know what to pray. I don't know what to ask for because I don't know what's best for this baby. Work out Your will in and through me, Father, and hold this little one in the palm of Your hand. Amen.

A friend called to offer support as we go through this difficult time and made a comment that made me realize how much my perspective has changed through the last couple of years. She said that God wasn't responsible for the bad things that happen in life, but that they are all attacks from Satan and we should pray against them and against him. She said that God allows bad things, but doesn't cause them, Satan causes them.

When reading my devotions that night, I read about God telling Ezekiel that He was going to take the 'delight of his eyes', his wife, from him in death the next morning and Ezekiel was to tell the Isrealites that the loss of his wife was a symbol of God's loss of His bride, the Isrealite people. I started thinking about all the times in the Bible where God had directly intervened in people's lives, sending plagues, earthquakes, floods, destroying armies, etc. When David sinned with Bathsheeba, God took their firstborn child. Throughout the Bible, there is example after example of God's direct use of His power and providence in the affairs of nations, peoples and individuals.

I realized that while I used to 'absolve' God of responsibility for the bad things that happen in this world by saying that He allowed them but never caused them, I no longer believed that. I don't believe that because the Bible doesn't support that view. And I don't believe that because by 'absolving' God I was stripping Him of His power and authority, putting Him far off in the distance as a removed, disinterested, powerless entity.

God is not simply a redlight-greenlight for Satan's activities here on earth, casually allowing or disallowing Satan to carry out his plans. God alone has all authority and power on earth. God alone is in control of our past, present and future. God alone has the right and authority to plan and purpose and direct the lives of His creation.

Satan has no power, no authority, no autonomy. In Job, Satan is called to give an account of his actions. He has to ask God for permission for his every act. So, yes, sometimes God does allow Satan to carry out his evil plans. But does that mean that God is confined to that one method of working His will in our lives? Does that mean that God is at Satan's mercy, confined to using Satan's plans to work out His own will? Does that mean that every time we read of God sending His angels to pour out His wrath that He had to go through Satan first? Of course not!

Satan sure would be happy if that was the case, if God had to come to him in order to accomplish His will, if he was as terror-inspiring as he wants us to believe, if he had the authority to plan the lives of God's creation. And I'm sure Satan loves it when we 'pray against' him. Think of all the attention he's getting! And every shred of attention that is focused on Satan is taken away from God, which serves Satan's plans just as well as whatever 'bad' thing we're 'praying against' him about to begin with.

And so my perspective has shifted. I don't have that inner struggle anymore, wondering where God is in all this mess, wondering if God sees or cares, wondering what other bad thing is going to befall me and if God will intervene or not, because I know that God is already at the center of it all, directing things according to His perfect and good will. My faith is more comfortable now, even in the midst of this hard time, because my faith is in an all-powerful God, not in a distant and disinterested God who can't or won't fight my battles for me. My faith is that God is in control, totally in control, even in the bad things in life. And that gives those things a purpose, a meaning beyond the emotions and heartache of the moment. I don't know that it makes the hard things any less hard, but it makes me more aware of and surrendered to the One who is directing my path.

It's a boy. We've named him Samuel Robert. We'll call him Sammy, but never in his hearing. He has Trisomy 18, a fatal chromosomal duplication. His kidneys have already failed. His lungs will never develop. I'm 17 weeks pregnant right now, so that gives me about 23 weeks of waiting for him to die, feeling his little legs kicking and his little arms stretching inside of me, knowing that he most likely will die in the next few weeks and never make it to birth, but if he does, he will never take a breath, never open his eyes. I'll never hear him cry. I won't hold him when he's born, won't see his face. They'll give me that option, but I don't want the image of a dead baby to be what I remember of him. I have ultrasound photos of him now while he's alive, and that's how I want to remember him. I want to remember the feel of him moving inside of me, not still and silent in my arms. It is such a comfort to know that he'll be born into heaven, welcomed by the Creator of the Universe who created him just as he was meant to be. How do people do this without God?

Samuel Robert (Sammy) was stillborn on June 5, 2009. We found out his heart had stopped beating two days earlier on an ultrasound. I had an appointment on the morning of the 5th to discuss inducing labor. I didn't know how I was going to go through labor and delivery knowing my baby was dead. But, as it turned out, he was born at home unexpectedly at 6:30 am. I had been having pretty intense cramping all night, but the cramping was constant without the peaks and valleys I associate with labor, so I didn't realize what was actually happening until early in the morning when the cramping finally turned into actual contractions. I was relieved at first because I'm allergic to the medications used to prepare the cervix for labor, and the doctor and I both thought the induction could be long and difficult, so I thought it was a good thing that my body was preparing on its own for labor. Little did I know. Just before 6:30 I got up to get ready for my appointment. I went to the bathroom and right away felt something coming out. I immediately realized what was happening and caught Sammy as he came out. I just sat there in shock, horrified at what had just happened. He was perfectly formed, with surprisingly long arms and legs, perfect fingers and toes, a normal baby in every way. I sat there, holding him, not knowing what to do. His umbilical cord was still attached to him and to the placenta which was still inside of me. I knew if I pulled on the cord it could tear the placenta and cause me to hemmorage, but I didn't have anything to cut it with, so I just had to sit there and wait for the placenta to come out. Finally, the placenta came out, and I took a plastic shopping bag that I kept tucked in the bathroom to use to line the trashcan and laid Sammy and the placenta in it, then cleaned up all the blood and got dressed. I went downstairs and found my husband outside getting the car ready to go to the doctor. He turned around when I called his name and immediately knew what had happened when he saw me cradling the bag. I think he was almost as horrified as I was that I had to go through that alone, poor man. He held me and then we went inside and talked about what to do. One of the things I had been worried about was how Sammy's little body was going to be handled by the hospital after he was born. My husband and I decided to bury him at home rather than take him into the doctor with us. My husband got a tea box and I laid a kitchen towel inside of it, then put Sammy in, still attached to his placenta by his umbilical cord. I made sure Sammy was laying in a comfortable position, then wrapped the towel around him. It was at that moment that it began to hit me that I had just given birth and was getting ready to bury my son, all in less than an hour. I lost it for a moment and my husband and I just held each other for awhile. Then he went outside and buried our little Sammy under my bougainvillea. I had started bleeding heavily through all of this and ended up in the hospital having surgery for retained placental tissue later that day. Now I just have to figure out how to live through this.

Some thoughts and verses for my little lost boy:

2 Samuel 12:23 "I will go to him, but he will not return to me."

The bougie you are buried under is blooming, my little Sam-I-Am.

I was looking at baby pictures of your brothers and sisters, Sammy, and I could picture exactly what you would have looked like--round little head, chubby cheeks, toothless grin, double chin--so beautiful.

I can say your name without crying now, Sammy. For some reason that makes me sad.

The last memory I had of you was putting you in your little makeshift casket and watching your Daddy carry it away. Last night I wanted to see you while you were alive, so at 2 am I watched your ultrasound tape for the first time since we lost you. It was so sweet watching you wave your little arms and try to suck your thumb and kick your tiny legs. I miss you, Sam-I-Am.

Fear is creeping in now, telling me that my husband or children could be next, that I might be next, that none of us are safe and the losses will just keep getting worse and worse until I break, and that breaking me is God's purpose. But I know my God. I know His word. I know His heart. Breaking me is not His purpose. Creating me, moulding me, loving me, guiding me, saving me--those are just a few of His purposes for my life. I trust God's purposes, no matter what. I trust God, not the hateful, beguiling voice of the enemy. The enemy tells me he was right, that he predicted that I would have a stillborn baby, and that he told me so before I was pregnant with Sammy. And if you look back on this site, you'll see that I wrote about my fears before I got pregnant and that one of those fears was stillbirth. But that doesn't mean the enemy was right, that he predicted Sammy's death. That just means that one of the shots in the dark he was taking at me happened to hit it's mark. It's the same way with fortune tellers and palm readers and psychics; they make general guesses about the future and sometimes make a lucky guess, and their 'victims' only remember the guess that turned out right, not the ten other guesses that didn't pan out. The enemy doesn't have the gift of foresight. He doesn't have the power to even know the future, much less control it. He just wants to make us believe he does so he can use it as a weapon against us. God has ALL power and authority and control. I'll put my faith and trust in Him and Him alone. I think of it like this--if I choose not to believe God is in control, then 1) Choosing not to believe the truth doesn't make it any less true; and 2) If God isn't in control, then who is? Me (disasterous!)? Satan (all hope would be lost)? God is always the best choice. Period.

No one, but no one, who hasn't walked in my shoes will be able to understand why I would ever even consider getting pregnant again. But I NEED to. I need to look to the future. I need to live with hope. I need to end my reproductive years with a living, breathing, healthy baby--not a shallow grave and a broken heart. And so I will grab onto hope, take a deep breath, and plunge once more into the unknown--trusting in the One who does know, the Giver of my breath, the Author of my hope. One more time...

My husband is pretty amazing in a crisis situation, and he's good at offering distraction in the aftermath, but he has a hard time handling the processing period after the crisis. 'Feelings talks' stress him out and that only adds to the emotional load I'm carrying. And I really don't want to dump my daily toxic emotional waste on my mother, although I know she'd be only too willing to help me shoulder this burden. So I journal my angst here and send it off to who-knows-where and try to process things in this oddly private, completely public venue.

Baruch Spinoza defined sadness as the 'transfer of a person from a large perfection to a smaller one." I disagree. Sadness expands a person and that person's understanding of life and love and it redefines what a perfect life looks like. Jesus' life and death embodied sorrow on the deepest and highest levels and yet they embodied joy just as truly. That is infinite, intimate perfection.

For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been.'
Whittier

We gather strength from sadness and from pain. Each time we die we learn to live again.
Author unknown

...the only cure for sadness is to share it with someone else.
Coyne

Do not assume that she who seeks to comfort you now, lives untroubled among the simple and quiet words that sometimes do you good. Her life may also have much sadness and difficulty, that remains far beyond yours. Were it otherwise, she would never have been able to find these words.
Rilke

Sadness is each day that passes that takes me further away from you.

When I am pregnant, I can't get myself to read the stories and blogs of those poor women who have suffered stillbirth or whose babies have died shortly after birth. I can't look at the pictures they post of their poor dead babies. It scares me, makes me feel like somehow reading those stories or looking at those pictures will make it happen to me. But it did happen to me, and now I am one of those poor women and my Sammy is one of those poor dead babies. When someone in real life hears what happened, they look away in horror, they say 'I'm so sorry' and then rush off or they say nothing at all. I sent out an email and a link to my blog to my friends after Sammy died, and only two of them replied. I am now the woman I was scared to connect with. So I give my friends grace and forgive their fear. But it still hurts.

I was watching an episode of 'Baby Story' on TLC the other day, and the woman getting ready to give birth by c-section was crying because she was having a tubal ligation done at the same time she had her c-section. She said that even with a child still inside of her, she felt so empty at the thought of never bearing another child and that she felt like her life as a woman was over. Her husband reminded her that they already had two children and another was getting ready to be born and her doctor said she'd made her contribution to society and should be satisfied with that. Somehow that really made me angry for her. I wanted her to suggest just as casually to her husband that he go get castrated, not have a vasectomy because then his body would still function as a man's body functions, but a castration so he couldn't function fully as a man. Can you imagine the horror her husband would feel at the thought? How angry he would be at the very suggestion? And yet he has no problem pressuring her into the very same thing--removing her ability to function fully as a woman before God's time to end that season of her life. I'm not against birth control or even sterilization, but I just don't understand how men feel so comfortable pressuring their wives into such a drastic decision when they wouldn't consider castration for themselves in a million years. Women have the 'freedom of choice' to have an abortion and kill a baby if they so choose, but the choice to retain the ability to bear life in her body or not is now not her's? How can that be? And don't forget society's influence here. I find it disturbing how casually our society views the sterilization of women. God created women to be the life-bearers, and yet our society regularly subverts that purpose with tubal ligations, implants, hysterectomies, etc. What most shocks me is not only how Christian circles have readily embraced this practice, but how they have also developed a certain resistance to and distain for those who continue to bear children beyond the 'socially-acceptable' 2-3 children and early 30's child-bearing age. Clearly, society instead of God is dictating the morality of the church when it comes to 'going forth and multiplying'. As our society becomes more and more atheistic and amoral, the church should stand in stark contrast, reflecting the character of God rather than reflecting the character of the world. Does anyone else see the influence of satan here? God says to go forth and multiply. Satan says enough is enough. God says children are a gift. Satan says children are a burden. God says He will provide. Satan says the earth can't sustain the population. God says men and women with a large family are greatly blessed. Satan says men and women with a large family are selfish and a drain on society.

Who are we listening to? Who are we believing? Who are we obeying?

I read somewhere that grief is not a linear process. It's true. It ebbs and flows. Sometimes I float in it, and sometimes I drown in it. And sometimes I find myself in a fragile little bubble, still adrift in my grief, but strangely untouched by it for a brief time. It's a little blessing in the midst of tragedy, a chance to catch my breath before the delicate bubble bursts and I'm plunged once more into the depths, struggling through toward the shore where peace and acceptance wait for me to complete this journey.

All these vague thoughts and emotions roiling around inside of me are unresolvable in their unformed state. I have to move them from the abstract to the concrete, mold them into an understandable and handleable form. Only then can I find resolution. For whatever reason, I am uncomfortable with verbalizing this process and actually back away from every opportunity to talk through these thoughts and emotions with family or friends. I am much more comfortable with the singular privacy of the written word. So this is my chosen venue--word therapy. I take the vague thoughts and emotions and form them into words, then sort and process and, eventually, put them to rest so I can move on.

I hate my body. It holds onto the lost pregnancy, unconvinced that the baby is missing from inside of me. Every time I look in a mirror I am mocked by a pseudo-pregnant image of myself. My breasts are still full, my belly still swollen, albeit somewhat less so than just before I delivered Sammy. I excercise and eat a healthy, low-fat, low-calorie diet. But it doesn't matter to my body. It holds onto the baby weight, convinced there is still a new life to nourish and protect growing inside my terribly empty womb.

Talk about adding insult to injury.

If you met me you would come to know me as the calm, practical, mellow person that I usually am. But that's not how I feel right now. Right now, I'm the person who wanted to reach across the counter at the store and grab the salesman by the ears and shake the hair off of his head for something he didn't even do. Right now, when the people in my life ask me if I've made some phone call or another or paid some bill or any of a thousand other mundane details that I'm usually on top of, I'm the person politely responding on the outside while I'm screaming on the inside, "I DON'T CARE! MY BABY IS DEAD!" Right now, I'm the person who wants to stand on the counter in my kitchen and take every plate and bowl and glass we have and calmly smash them on the tile floor, then invite all my family and friends to come and look at the shattered remains so they can see what I can't express, what I look like inside--crushed, splintered, scattered, destroyed. Of course, calm, practical, mellow me would never do that. But I want to.

Uneasy. Disquieted. Antsy. Anxious. Tense. Uncomfortable. Askew. Off. Out-of-kilter. On edge. Restless. Unsettled. Jittery. Out-of-sorts. Shaken. Rattled. Breathless.

What do I do with this distraught energy?

This is a horrible, horrible feeling, and I don't like it, and I don't know what to do with myself.

What kind of whacked out stage of grief is this?

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. (1 Corinthians 13:12)

Looking into a dark mirror is a good description of life in the midst of the grieving process. Nothing is clear. Nothing seems to matter. Nothing satisfies or entertains. Everything seems so bland, so pointless.

I dread going to bed. In the dark quiet of the night there are no distractions--no noise, no lights, no activity. The cavernous emptiness of my womb overwhelms me. I end up wandering the house like a spectre, suffocating from the effort it takes just to breathe.

I'm so tired.

Can a woman forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Isaiah 49:15

Everyone else has moved on, sweeping around me as if I'm a rock in the middle of a fast-moving stream. I feel foolish now if they catch me crying, like I'm doing something shameful. Them moving on is healthy for them, but simply moves my loss underground. I don't want them to hurt, to suffer the way I am, but I do want them to understand what I am feeling. I guess if I can't have it both ways, then this way is best. It makes the grieving slow and lonely, though.

In church on Sunday the pastor had everyone do an interesting excercise. He asked us to take the index cards that had been placed on each of our seats and write a word or two about what we were struggling with. On the other side, he had us write a few verses about God hearing our prayers and God being in control and God working for our good. Then he went on to talk about how we focused on the problem rather than the problem-solver (God).

It was a great illustration, but I had a big problem. On the 'struggle' side of the card I had written "God'.

I am struggling with God's purpose for my life and with how He is working His will out in my life and with the sacrifices following Him have required of me and with what the future holds as I continue to walk with Him. In short, I am struggling with His goodness.

So God is my struggle and my solution. Focusing on HIm is focusing on the problem just as it is focusing on the problem-solver. I feel like a dog chasing his tail, an endless and pointless pursuit to be sure. But there has to be a point, a purpose, a solution, a conclusion. There has to be.

Well, I found out about a week ago that I'm pregnant again. This was our second month trying, so I guess we're still pretty fertile even though we're getting a bit older! My first beta level was 20.2 at 10 dpo and my second level was 74.8 at 12 dpo. Here we go again!

When I started trying to conceive again after losing Sammy, I was overwhelmed with fear. I mean...OVERWHELMED...with fear! I couldn't sleep. I was stressed and depressed. But the second I knew that I was pregnant, the fear was gone. I had entered the 'ZONE'! I was no longer overwhelmed by fear, but instead was overwhelmed with the 'peace of God, which passes understanding' (Phil. 4:6). It isn't a peace based on any assurances of a healthy baby at the end of this pregnancy. I don't have any such assurances. In fact, based on my statistics (15 pregnancies, 5 children here on earth, 13 children waiting for me in Heaven) it would be fair to say that the odds are against me. But the thing is that God is for me! I know that 'in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him' (Romans 8:28). And that is a promise I can trust! I can trust that God's plans for me are good, period. I don't have to know what those plans are, and I don't have to know why something is good when it looks bad to me. I can just rest in the truth that my Father loves me and is taking care of me, no matter what. This place where my heart is at rest has a name. Its name is Faith.

Well, I'm 10 weeks 3 days today. In about a week and a half I'll have my NT (nuchal translucency) test which is the test where we first discovered something was wrong with Sammy, although we didn't know what it was until later. Obviously that is causing me considerable anxiety as the test date approaches. I still haven't told anyone about this pregnancy other than my immediate family. I probably wouldn't have told even them if I wasn't sooooo very sick all the time. I've actually lost weight so far with this pregnancy! But, my baby belly has popped out very visibly now, so when the extended family gathers for Thanksgiving, I imagine the secret will be out. I haven't told anyone at church either, but last week I was getting some odd looks, so that won't last much longer. My ob had me come in for an emergency ultrasound last week after getting some bloodwork back which showed my beta hcg levels were over 126,000 at 8 weeks! He was convinced my re had missed a twin on my original ultrasound at 7 weeks, but we just saw one very active little baby in there waving at us, lol. If another baby suddenly appears on my next ultrasound, I'll let you know!

Sorry it's been such a long time since my last update. The Christmas holidays are always a very busy time for us. Anyway, so far this pregnancy has been a bit rocky, but wonderful. I'm 19 weeks on Friday, and I've been extremely sick throughout this pregnancy so far. I've had a few spotting episodes along the way, but nothing serious. My NT scan came back completely normal! I was soooo nervous before the scan that I just blocked it out entirely until I was actually on the table, and of course then I just wanted to throw up, I was so anxious. But everything was fine! I can't even describe the relief. After that day (right at 12 weeks) I went from thinking of my pregnancy as just a horrible, extended illness to an actual pregnancy. Then, on Friday, Jan. 1 I hit that 18 week mark. It was a Friday that I hit the 18 week mark with Sammy, too, and I delivered him that morning. That was a day I just had to get through, and now I've moved from thinking about my pregnancy as just 'being pregnant' to actually anticipating the live birth of a healthy baby! I'm hoping the sickness, which has eased a bit but is still a constant battle with nausea and occasional vomiting, will go away entirely and let me just enjoy this last pregnancy, but I'm willing to put up with whatever I need to for a healthy baby. Thank you all for the prayers and kind thoughts that have been offered for me during this journey. I'll try to be a bit more prompt on my updates from now on! God bless.

Well, I spoke too soon. The baby is still doing well, but my body has decided to throw a wrench into things. When I first saw the maternal fetal specialists it was for my 12 week nt test, and when I declined the triple screen blood test and amnio they recommended, they just sort of blew me off and said I didn't need to be seen until almost 20 weeks. Now, while I was there I had listed the problems I'd had in previous pregnancies such as low fluid levels, premature labor, shortening cervix, and placental issues and had mentioned that these problems tend to start relatively early in my pregnancies. But the specialist I was seeing didn't seem concerned or even very interested. In fact, he didn't write down a thing I said! Anyway, I went straight to my wonderful ob and asked him to order a scan to check my fluid levels, cervix length, and placental attachment so we could get a baseline. He ordered the scan for about 17 1/2 weeks, and at that scan my fluid and placenta looked normal and my cervix was a healthy 5cm. I can only thank God that in His wisdom He led me to ask for that because when I went back to the maternal fetal specialists at 19 1/2 weeks (and saw a different doctor who was awesome and is now my permanent specialist!) she went over my history very carefully, wrote EVERYTHING down, and immediately rechecked my fluid levels, placenta, and cervix. My fluid levels were still fine, but my placenta was already showing signs of problems. It was curling up on the edges (called a circumvallate placenta, something to do with implantation) which can cause placental abruption (I have a history of this anyway!) and placental insufficiency (which can deprive the baby of nutrients). But, of more immediate importance, my cervix had shortened to 2.4 cm! That's less than half of what it was two weeks earlier!!! And I wasn't even quite 20 weeks! But the new specialist was right on it. She had me in pre-op the next morning and two days later I was in the operating room having a cerclage (stiches around the cervix to hold it closed) put in. I'm incredibly thankful that this issue was caught early enough to avoid (hopefully) another tragedy, but I do have to say that I have a new respect for anyone who has had a c-section with an epidural. I've never had anything injected into my spine before and I can honestly say that it was pretty terrifying. I have terrible allergic reactions to so many medications and to have a medication I'd never had before injected directly into my spine was SCARY!!! And I also have to say that having surgery while you are awake is just WRONG! Anyway, I go in for a post-op check in a couple of days, so I'm praying that my cervix had stopped shortening and that my placenta is functioning okay. The specialist has said that with this kind of a placenta, coupled with my history, that it isn't safe for me to go beyond 34 weeks. So, even though my official due date is June 4, I'll have this baby at the very latest toward the end of April (if I make it that far!). Oh, and IT'S A GIRL! We're working on names right now, but Trinity Faith and Bethany Faith are two of the frontrunners at the moment. I'll let you know!

So, I've been having some very odd symptoms for awhile now, but recently (i.e. since my surgery) they have intensified for some reason. I was having pain and pressure in my cervix and lower abdomen for a week or so before the cerclage, and it seemed to get better for a few days afterward, but now it's back and a bit worse. Also, I have had light spotting a couple of days a week since about 15 weeks which I'm still having. But the oddest symptom is this burning pain and pressure right on my tailbone, shooting pain and burning in my bottom and down the backs of my legs, and lots of pressure right on my bottom. Also, I've had a very anterior cervix since early on in this pregnancy and on an earlier scan the sonographer mentioned that my uterus was tilted and twisted a bit so that she couldn't even find my right ovary with the ultrasound. That makes me wonder if my uterus is in some kind of an unhealthy position for this pregnancy. I have endometriosis and have had two laparoscopies where they had to go in and remove adhesions from behind my uterus, so maybe the scar tissue regrew again in that area and my uterus is 'stuck' backward? I don't know, but it's got me a little concerned just because of the odd symptoms I'm having. I know that if a uterus gets stuck backwards for too long in a pregnancy it can cause what's called an incarcerated uterus which can be really dangerous later in the pregnancy. It can cause a sacculation (or bubble) to form on the front side of the uterus that the baby grows into since there isn't enough room for the baby to grow if the uterus is stuck down in the pelvis. That 'bubble' makes the wall of the uterus weaker and it can rupture which is usually fatal for the baby and sometimes for the mother, too. An incarcerated uterus can also lead to placental abruptions (tearing) and bleeding, intestinal blockage (and gangrene!), as well as other potentially serious problems. Needless to say, I'll be asking my perinatologist about this at my appt tomorrow! I've also had a deep ache in my left leg for a while which I'm hoping isn't a clot in my leg. (I have a clotting disorder) And I have a pretty significant swollen area under my right arm which my doctor wants me to have x-rayed, but I don't want to expose the baby to anything I don't have to. I mean, I've already had to expose the poor thing to all the drugs from surgery. Anyway, I'll update after my appointment tomorrow.

Well, at my appt yesterday I just had the sonographer doing a quick post-op check to make sure the cerclage was working. The good news is that it is working wonders! My cervix had gone from 5 cm to 2.4 cm before the cerclage and was back to 4.8 afterward because the cerclage took the pressure off of it. The not-so-good news is that the specialist only popped in for a second to get the measurements from the sonographer and so I very briefly tried to ask about some of my concerns, but she just said everything looked fine and then she left without hearing most of what I wanted to ask and without even checking out my concerns. Grrrrrrr. Anyway, I'll try again next time. On a brighter note, we've added another name to the short list: Alexis Faith (we'd call her Lexi). Alexis means pretty in Greek, and Lexi means sweet in Greek. We are leaning toward that name at the moment.

Sorry for the long break between updates, but this has been an incredibly difficult pregnancy so far. I have been miserably sick since the very beginning of this pregnancy, and I'm still sick this far along. It's been hard to function at all, but I've managed to keep up with the basics of homeschooling and taking care of my kids, keeping the house moderately clean and organized, and taking care of the finances (My husband gets waaaay too stressed even thinking about bills, so that task had to stay in my hands, no matter what!). My blood work came back borderline for gestational diabetes, so I've spent the last few weeks testing my blood sugars and reporting them. They've all been normal, though, so more stress for nothing. Also, my iron level was pitifully low, but I couldn't tolerate oral iron supplements because I've been so sick. So, they sent me to a hemotologist who started me on IV iron infusions once a week. Unfortunately, I developed an allergy to them and ended up in an ambulance suffering from severe anaphylaxis (my throat and the lining of my lungs were swelling shut) after my fourth infusion, which then sparked some pre-term labor issues, so I ended up in the hospital for a bit with all of that. And now, thirty-four weeks has come and gone, but the specialist who has spent the last few months issuing dire warnings about letting my little one go past that "critical thirty-four week" mark suddenly decided that thirty-six weeks was a better time to induce. So, now that I'm just past thirty-four weeks, all I can do is live in fear remembering all those dire warnings. Please God, let her be okay.

Alexia Faith is here! She was born at exactly thirty-five weeks and was 5 lbs 3 oz and 18 in. long and was breathing on her own, just a bit rapidly. She came home with Mommy at two days old and 4 lbs 12 oz, then dropped down to 4 lbs 9 oz by day four, but then started to gain weight and was 4 lbs 10 oz on day seven. She's nursing well and in perfect health. Thank You, God!

I can't believe it has been a year since your tiny body was born into my hands and your precious spirit was born into Jesus' hands. I still cry for you, little man, and I'll never forget you. Always remember, Mommy loves you.

The day I came home from the hospital after having Lexi, my oldest daughter asked how having a new baby affected my feelings about losing Sammy. I didn't even get two words out before I fell apart and started sobbing so hard I couldn't talk at all. What I was feeling, but couldn't express, was a paradoxical mixture of pure joy and intense sadness. The joy of holding my pink, healthy, beautifully alive baby girl stood in stark contrast to the painful memory of holding my blue, still, beautiful baby boy. My joy was intensified by my grief, and my grief was intensified by my joy--light juxtaposd against darkness, each magnifying the other. In the days following Lexi's birth, while she was still premature and tiny, there were times when she was sleeping that reminded me so much of how Sammy looked as he lay so peaceful and still the last time I saw him that I had to pick her up and hold her while she slept. I just needed to feel her breath against my cheek and hear her little sleeping sounds and smell her tiny, newborn scent. Even now, after eleven weeks of wonderful, beautiful life with Lexi, I still just sometimes sit and watch her breathe while she sleeps. It is such a miracle.

I have a list of little people I pray for every day. They are all five years old and younger, and they are all fighting for their lives. One of them, a precious five year old little girl, lost her fight last week. My heart is broken for her hurting family. I can't imagine what her mother must be going through. I don't even want to try. Another little one, a precious one and a half year old little boy, is in a medically induced coma to try to stop his almost constant seizures. Of the others, one is a six month old with a life-threatening liver malfunction, another is a three year old who had to undergo radical brain surgery because of a tumor, and another is a newborn who has undergone two major heart surgeries in just his first few days of life. My thoughts, prayers, and hopes are never far from these small people and their heroic families. For my part, the struggles and losses these families are enduring press themselves deeply into my soul. I am in a constant battle with fear. I am all too familiar with how fragile life is and how suddenly life can change. I am filled with joy at the blessings God has given me, but my joy is often stolen by fear. My heart waits for the next bad thing to happen, always secretly wondering what will be taken from me next. I know God doesn't want me to live that way. In First John 4:18 God says, "Perfect love casts out all fear." Since God Himself is 'Perfect Love' He is saying that trusting Him is the key to conquering fear. I know in my head that this is true, but it is my heart that keeps me awake in the darkness, locked in a battle with fear. God gives, and God does take away. I need to be at peace with that, trusting my Father's perfect will. But I am afraid.

Today is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day. I'm holding a wiggling little five-month-old miracle who's trying to help me type right now, and I'm thanking God for this healing gift as I remember Sammy, stillborn June 5, 2009, and the twelve other little ones I never got to meet. I remember. I will always remember. Mommy will see you in heaven one day. I love you.

Hi, I'm L.R.Knost. I thought it was time I introduced myself. It's probably pretty obvious to any who read this blog that I am a Christian and a writer. I've kept my identity separate from this blog in the same way I've kept my 'processing' of my losses separate from my daily life. It's a protective device, I guess. Somehow it has helped me to get through everything while still functioning as a wife, a homeschooling mother, a church worker, an author...a person. But after giving birth to Sammy, holding his tiny, precious body in my arms, knowing I'd never get to raise him, teach him, know him this side of Heaven...my mind needed something to dwell on, somewhere to put all those thoughts. So, a few weeks after burying my baby, I began the Wisdom For Little Hearts book series. It is dedicated to my little lost Sammy and designed to help parents to raise their little ones with 'Gentle Parenting' techniques. 'Sammy's Happy Heart' is the one I started with, but I haven't been able to bring myself to finish that one yet. I guess I'm 'virtually' doing all the things I wish I could do with and for him, and finishing that one book would somehow end that. I will finish it some day. I just need some more time to heal. But, for now, I'm working on the other books in the series. The first book, 'Petey's Listening Ears,' (through Lifeway Christian Bookstore's publishing division) will be out just before what would have been Sammy's second birthday. 'Addie's Inside Voice' will follow soon after (with 10% of it's proceeds going to Addison's Road to benefit a local family with a baby who just had a liver transplant), then 'JoJo's Gentle Hands,' among others. I am also releasing 'The Gentle Parent's Devotional Guide,' due out later this year and a series of parenting books covering infancy through adolescence will follow over time. If you are interested, you can visit my website at www.littleheartsbooks.com or my facebook page at Little Hearts Books. I'd put the links on here, but I have no idea how! This blog will stay my processing place about my lost babies, though. This is just part of it. God bless you all.

It's hard to believe it's been two years since I so, so briefly held my little guy in my arms, still and quiet and so beautiful. He'd be two today, toddling around with bright-eyed curiousity, full of belly laughs and giggles, and always ready for a cuddle or two. We'd have a birthday cake with Batman or monster trucks that my little man would dig into with all the gusto of a two-year-old, and then he'd open piles of gifts and make forts and boats and racecars out of the boxes instead of playing with the presents. I miss you always, my little Sammy-boy, but most of all today. Happy Birthday. Mommy loves you.