Our rainbow Christmas baby

The term "rainbow baby" is used to describe a baby who is born following a loss or losses. It's the understanding that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of the storm. When a rainbow appears, it doesn't mean the storm never happened or that the family is not still dealing with its aftermath. What it means is that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and clouds. Storm clouds may still hover, but the rainbow provides a counterbalance of color, energy, and hope (and since I'm too lazy to properly site this, I'm just going to copy the link I found this awesome definition from. Kudos to http://alison-ourlittlefamily.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-is-rainbow-baby.html). 

As our December 24th "guess date" approached amidst the chaos of holiday cheer, we became super anxious to meet our rainbow baby. My last couple of appointments with Rosie and Colleen had us feeling like it was quite possible our baby would come before his/her guess date. I was having false labor/Braxton Hicks contractions for over a month and I had dropped considerably by the second week of December. Every time I passed a colleague in the hallways of school, I would get  "WHOA! You've dropped!" or "I can't believe you're still here!" Deep down, I really didn't think I would make it through the last week of school before holiday break. In fact, I was REALLY surprised when that Monday, December 17th rolled around and I was still lugging around my big ol' belly. The days passed, one by one, and when Thursday, December 20th came (jam packed at school with a field trip to the movie theater and classroom party) I knew our baby was waiting for me to be "done" with that part of my life. I accepted the fact that I needed to be home, settled, RELAXED for him/her to decide it was time. In hind site, I'm thankful I was able to work up until Christmas break. It gave me the opportunity to experience my most favorite time of year with my first graders, elbow deep every day in festive learning activities and experiences. I was also able to give each of them a big squeeze and an "I love you" before I began a twelve week maternity leave. I left work on Thursday and had a few errands to run before I headed home. I walked out of Target and got into my car to see a beautiful rainbow in the sky above. Some people use the word "coincidence" to explain ironic occurrences in their lives...I don't believe in coincidences. I believe in God winks. That rainbow, yeah, that was a God wink. I had finished the work week before break, Christmas was upon us, and that rainbow was a God wink that spoke straight to my heart...our baby, our rainbow baby, was almost ready to join us. 

When the weekend came and went, I was positive that our baby was waiting until after Christmas and I was totally fine with it. After all, it would be nice to enjoy the holidays as "planned" and how many babies actually come on their due dates anyway?! With a "guess date" of December 24th, it was very likely that our baby would be waiting until the days or weeks after...and I was good with that...until.... 

We woke up Christmas Eve morning and spent a nice morning at home. We headed over to my parents' house mid-afternoon, where we enjoyed a wonderful Christmas with our family. Then, we left for Bryan's parents' house around 5:30, where again, we had a very enjoyable evening with family. All day and evening, I.felt.nothing. No Braxton hicks, no tightening, no nausea, no pressure, no nothing. We got home late, around ten o'  clock and got Ben to bed as quickly as we could. We skipped his bath (and honestly, we may have even skipped brushing his teeth, eew!) and jumped right to the important stuff---setting out cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer! Ben was asleep by nearly 11:00, when we decided it was "safe" for Santa to come. Soon after, we were crawling into bed, and I can remember going through my mental list in the last few minutes before I drifted to sleep...Did I set the camera out for the AM? Have to put the cheesy potatoes together....make coffee....

At 1:10 AM I woke up to use the bathroom and realized very quickly that it wasn't the urge to pee that woke me up, it was a contraction...a real one...an "oh em gee, we are going to have this baby today and there is nothing false about this" contraction. I didn't wake Bry right away, as I figured that if I wasn't going to sleep, he might as well. I spent the next couple of hours texting my cousin, Tracie (my soul sister, confidant, and inspiration for even having a home birth in the first place). The contractions came pretty steadily, about five minutes apart from the onset and lasting about a minute in duration. I sent a text to Rosie to give her a heads up that I was pretty confident this was "it" and I would keep her posted. At around 2:30, Bry rolled over and I whispered, " Are you awake?" He moaned a groggy "not really, why?" to which I answered, "I think we're having a baby today." He propped himself up on his pillows and I knew he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep either. By about 3:00, my contractions were getting stronger.  At 4:3o we decided it was time to let Rosie know things were getting more intense. I was breathing through each contraction, on my side with my knees drawn up, just picturing the moment I would meet my baby. I was really doing well and can remember thinking, "this isn't so bad, but boy, it's only the beginning." We made our way downstairs where I labored on the ball for a short time in the living room. Bry made coffee and turned on the lights for Rosie and Colleen. I wanted to labor downstairs until Ben woke up, but that didn't happen. I was so uncomfortable on the ball and had to get back in bed. My body and baby needed me on my side, so that's where I stayed for quite some time. Rosie arrived an hour after we  called her and Colleen (midwife apprentice and doula) was close behind. **Side note: Do you know how guilty I felt for having a baby on CHRISTMAS?! I mean, who does that?! Nonetheless, Rosie and Colleen were amazing and despite my apologies, it was all good. Col woke her babies up at 5 AM to have their Christmas before she came...that made me feel a tad better at least.** By the time Rosie arrived, Bry had made our bed with the shower curtains and sheets and Ben woke up shortly after. This is one of my most treasured memories of laboring.... 

He came out of his room to see the four of us in our bedroom and gave a groggy "hi." Bry said, "Guess what, buddy? Our baby is coming today!" I think he replied with, "Oh, ok" and crawled into bed with me. At this point, I was closing my eyes, focusing on my breathing, and going to a different "place" with each contraction. Ben said, "Mommy, why are you breathing like that?" Once the contraction ended, I reminded him of the breathing and other funny noises I might make trying to help our baby out. He remembered our many talks and said, "Oh yeah, and it hurts a lil' bit, but you're okay." And I was...more than okay. In that moment, I had never been more at peace with our choice to have our baby at home. There were no tubes running into me, no beeping noises, no florescent lights, no hospital "smell," no watch for the nurses to base my progress on. Instead, I was in my own bed, on soft, clean sheets with my baby boy snuggled next to me. We both had our Christmas jammies on, my Scentsys had "Christmas Cottage" and "Snowberry" melting, and we were just, for lack of a better term, "hanging out." 

We had planned for my sister to come and be with Ben once things were really going. I don't remember exactly when she arrived, but I think it was around 6 or 7. Bry started filling the pool, which proved to be a long, tedious task. Our hot water tank was drained pretty early on, something we were really surprised by, so pots of hot water on the stove it was! Rosie was encouraging me to stay on my hands and knees, or at least upright, which I knew would help things along. The one thing I was most excited about in anticipation of being home was not being confined to a dumb bed in a flat position and here I was, WANTING to be in bed...it is amazing how your body will overrule any "plans" you may have. I got onto my knees next to the bed, bent over with my arms and head resting on the side of the bed. It was then that I became really nauseous and dizzy, I remember telling Rosie I felt like I was going to pass out. She gave me a homeopathic and Colleen was changing ice cold washcloths on my neck and forehead every few minutes. I sipped on some water and ate a few slices of orange. That feeling went away after awhile (notice I have totally NO idea of any time frames---I went to a different "place" and the minutes and hours just became one big cloudy mess.) Looking back, I think this may have been transition...but I can't be sure. I didn't throw up or get bone chilling contractions, but transition is different for every woman, so who knows. 

Rosie asked if I wanted to get in the pool and I really wasn't sure if I did. (I think I wanted to get back in my bed to be honest! :) But once I was in the pool---oh.my.gosh. was I happy I did. The water was so warm and instantly comforting. When people say water is a natural anesthetic, boy are they right. I felt weightless, and it made it very easy to relax and let my body do its work. I think I was in the pool for quite some time and Rosie kept encouraging me to lean on my side, but I just wasn't having it. I really tried a few times, but I kept finding myself reclined on my back. At some point, I wanted to know how far I was. A part of me knew I was getting really close to meeting my baby. I could feel my cervix was open, really open...craziest feeling ever. I asked Rosie how far she thought I was. She said I had been laboring for awhile and I was probably making a lot of progress. She offered to check me, and  I had to talk it out before I said yes. Part of me wanted to know how "far" I was, but there was still a part of me that didn't want to hear "5 cm" and be "let down." I was still convincing myself that it wasn't "that bad" yet, and it was going to get much more painful and intense before I was fully dilated.  I decided I wanted to know, because deep down, I think I knew it was close. She checked and I was full dilated on one side and almost complete on my left, about an 8. She encouraged me (again, HA) to lay on my side, and again, I was having nothing to do with it. The pressure was too much on my knees or side and as much as my mind wanted me to stay upright or on my side, my body was totally against it. I was sleeping in between contractions, something I didn't even think was possible until it was happening to me. At what I think was almost 9:00, I got REALLY hot all of a sudden. A major hot flash washed over me out of nowhere and I moved quick to get the heck out of that pool. Rosie had me try to empty my bladder and said, "why don't you sit for awhile"... HA, funny...I think that lasted, oh, maybe 60 seconds. One thing I learned about myself through this experience is that while I'm a rule following, do as you're told, compliant person, all of that goes out the window when I'm in labor. Even more, that's OKAY. Rosie didn't get irritated or mad, in fact, I think she actually laughed at me. :) She trusted me, she trusted my body, she let ME decide what I needed to do and what position I needed to be in. In a hospital, I would have ticked off some control freak nurses and doctors and I guarantee I wouldn't have felt safe and free to do what I needed to do. 

Needless to say, I made a B-line for my bed and got back into my side laying, knees up position. It wasn't long after, that I felt the need to push. But it wasn't a major "PUSH" as it happens in the hospital. No one was telling me when to push, or counting, or telling me to start or stop...I just felt a little pressure and let my body do the rest. With that first little push, my water blew. No, it didn't "break," it didn't "rupture," it didn't "leak"----it BLEW. Bry likes to say it was as if the baby threw a water balloon across the bed, LOL. There was mecomium in my water, so Col and Rosie were quick to check baby's heart rate. Babe was perfect and while I'll admit I was a tad nervous to see the meconium, I never panicked or got scared. I asked Bry to go get my mom at some point, who was downstairs. In the months, weeks, and days leading up to the birth, I never had a set plan for who I wanted there. I was content with making a "game day" decision based on how I was feeling. I'm grateful my parents are only a short fifteen minutes drive away, because sure enough, I wanted my mommy. Not because I was in pain, not because I was scared, but because some miracles just require Mom. With a few more pushes, our baby was here. That moment was euphoric and I don't have the words to explain how amazing it all was. Time froze as I held my baby on my chest. Bry untucked the towel to see if we had a boy or girl and when he said, 'It's a girl!' I was surprised, but not really...part of me truly "knew" it was a girl the last trimester or so, but I was still overwhelmed with finally meeting HER, and not just "my baby." 

The minutes and hours that followed were just as perfect as the labor and birth. After lots of skin-to-skin, Bry had a chance to hold Ava and my sister and mom did, too. My mom made me a poached egg on toast and I had a cup of coffee. Meanwhile, the pool was being drained and put away, the sheets and towels were being washed, Ben was downstairs playing with my sister, and I had no clue.... I was absorbed in a dream. I showered after a couple hours and I remember laughing out loud in the shower to Colleen, thinking and saying, "Really?!" I felt amazing. I had no tears and no soreness. I felt like I could go out and run a marathon. I couldn't (and still can't) wrap my mind around the fact that I had been up since one in the morning, had labored for eight hours, and had JUST had a baby. I remember thinking it had to be illegal to feel THAT good. After I showered, I got back into our bed that had been made with fresh, clean sheets. Rosie did Ava's newborn exam and after that, well..... 

Merry Christmas! Rosie and Colleen took off around 1:00 and we came downstairs to have our Christmas. Ben had been SO patient all morning and was ready to tear into the goods Santa left. I sat in the recliner with Ava with a hot cup of coffee and took pictures of Ben. That was the most bizarre, dream-like part of it all...sitting there, with my perfect baby girl in my arms, watching the excitement and joy in my baby boy's eyes. It was too much for one day, for one heart to handle...but it was perfect. And it was December 25...not just Christmas, but my grandpa's birthday. Coincidence? Nope, another God wink for sure, but I like to call that one a "Grumpy wink." Some have remarked what a bummer it is that Ava's birthday is on Christmas, but I think it's pretty perfect. 

 Grumpy and Ash 

He sure did love the sunshine. 

Ava will be seven weeks old tomorrow and I'm still on cloud nine...still replaying that day in my mind, hoping and praying I never forget the tiniest of details. People have asked many questions, and I respect the curiosity. Was I ever scared or nervous something would go wrong? Not all all. We were 100% confident in our choice to home birth and educated ourselves. I was more scared and nervous of the possibility to have to transfer to the hospital. Did it hurt? Ya know, no. It was painful, but it didn't hurt. I don't know how to explain it... I kept waiting for it to get worse, to reach that "What the heck was I thinking, give me some drugs" moment, but I didn't. When it was time to actually give birth and I knew the hardest work was done, I thought, "Really? That was IT?" No, I don't have some super, crazy high pain threshold and no I'm not sugarcoating it. Any woman who feels supported, comforted, and safe and accepts birth as a natural, normal process as opposed to a medical emergency will likely say that. 

Home birth is not for everyone. But neither is hospital birth. I hope that as time goes on, more women will be empowered to have the birth they want. There is something so primal about the way a woman's mind and body just know what to do, without fancy equipment or medicine. There is certainly a time and place for medicine when it comes to pregnancy and birth, and so many women require the resources and support only an obstetrician and hospital can provide. But, regardless of where a woman gives birth and whether it's with a midwife or obstetrician, she must possess the confidence. Every pregnancy is different, every baby is different, every body is different, so it only makes sense that every birth is different, too. I was given a gift to travel to the depths of my being that Christmas morning and it couldn't have been more perfect if we tried.

Ava's Birth Slideshow       Click here to view this video

You're having your baby where?!

I haven't updated this blog throughout this pregnancy as I intended, but I know it was because I couldn't. What I wanted and needed to say could only come as a "summary" near the end of the pregnancy because it is so much more than just updates of prenatal visits and ultrasounds. Now, I'm attempting to document the path we've taken during this pregnancy and birth not only for us to remember, but to help others understand our decisions...and not because I feel the need to justify our reasons, but because what I have learned and experienced has been life-changing, and I rejoice at the opportunity to share it with you.

At around the thirteenth week of our pregnancy, following our last visit with Dr. Liu, our specialist at UH, we were released from his care to a regular OB. However, we did not return to my OB/GYN who delivered Ben. Instead, we sought out a homebirth midwife in the area. A few e-mails and phone calls led us to Rosie (midwife) and Colleen (midwife apprentice and doula), co-founders of Circle of Life Home Birth Services. Why a homebirth? Well, I certainly didn't wake up one morning and say, "Hey, I wanna have my baby at home" and just take the plunge. The path that led us to the possibility and then, reality, of planning a homebirth was carefully thought out. I devoted hours to learning and exploring the homebirth "model." So, why...?

The gears started turning when my soul sister cousin had her home birth in 2011. It was never a real option in my mind, but I was interested and it seemed appealing. I wasn't turned off or scared by the idea, as so many people are. Additionally, my labor and birth experience with Ben weren't quite what I had envisioned or hoped for. It was an amazing, miraculous experience and I will never forget that moment when he was first laid on my chest, but, my experience was far from what I had hoped for. We took birth classes and I was focused on having a natural childbirth. I had a birth plan that involved a quiet, dark room, music, my birth ball, Bryan and I connecting emotionally and spiritually through every contraction to bring our baby into our arms. What transpired was very far from that. At 37 weeks, I was told I had a posterior cervix and my baby was too big, an estimated 10 lbs or more was the doctor's guess for my baby boy. Without a scheduled induction, there was a possibility that my cervix may not dilate and thin appropriately and every passing week would just grow a bigger baby. So, not knowing better, I happily scheduled my induction for May 9 (influenced, too, by my doctor's vacation plans.) We arrived at the hospital at 7 AM, the nurse got us settled, and before leaving for me to change into my gown said, "You don't have one of those birth plans, do you?!"....well, no, I guess we don't. I felt embarrassed and silly that I thought my birth plan would be honored and accepted. I went on to receive Cervadil for 12 hours and at around 9 PM, Pitocin was started and the doctor broke my water. Contractions started shortly after and by the middle of the night, I was dilated to almost 5 to 6 cm. I was optimistic and excited that things were progressing so quickly. There was a moment in the dark night, that I was on the birth ball, leaning on Bry, working through the contractions that I remember thinking, "Yes...this is what I wanted...I am doing this..." That feeling was short lived. At about 6 or 7 AM, the nurse explained that because I was exhausting quickly, it would be wise to consider an epidural. I heard her say, "if you don't have the opportunity to rest and sleep, you may not have the strength to push." I became scared and gave in...the thought of not being able to push out my baby, and thus, have a c-section terrified me. So, in walked the anesthesiologist and within fifteen minutes, I had yet another tube running into me. I ended up falling asleep and as the day progressed, my dilation slowed and so began the pattern of more Pitocin, dilation, Pitocin, dilation stalled....until before 9:00 that evening. I was moving from my left to right side to try and keep my cervix open. I finally started pushing before I was a full 10 cm because I was starting to run a fever from my water being ruptured for so long. I pushed for 2.5 hours and didn't think I had an ounce of energy left in me to birth my baby. I started to panic and get scared as my doctor mumbled the word "c-section." Finally, at 11:18 PM, my beautiful baby boy was born. I cried tears of joy, relief, and pure exhaustion. My eyes were swollen and I could barely keep them open. I remember holding him on my chest and kissing his bloody, vernix-coated head. While the positive, happy feelings overshadow my disappointment, the sadness that surrounds his birth experience remain. I would later learn that my posterior cervix isn't a problem or reason for induction, Ben wasn't anywhere close to 10 pounds, (and even if he was, not a reason for induction) and the risks that surround induction are scary...the baby and body determine a birth date during a healthy, low-risk pregnancy. Unless medically necessary, a birth should never be penciled on a calendar. After our three miscarriages, when we were finally blessed with a healthy, sustainable pregnancy, I knew I needed a different experience.

And so began my research....hours of reading and seeking information to an alternative to a hospital birth. I was shocked and pleasantly surprised to learn that not only was a homebirth possible, but potentially safer and with healthier outcomes, than a hospital birth. In a nutshell, here is what we learned that led us to make and trust our choice.

* Over 80% of babies worldwide are born at home.

* A healthy, low-risk pregnancy is a natural process, not a medical emergency.

* Interventions (inductions, epidurals, c-sections) are being over-used in the US and have given us the lead (not a good thing!) of the highest obstetrical intervention rates of any other country.

* A homebirth with a certified midwife is just as safe (if not safer in some cases) than a hospital birth.

* Labor can begin on its own and progress on its own timetable at home, which leads to a better outcome for baby and mother during and after birth. In a hospital, you're "on the clock" the moment you check in. If you're not progressing at the rate the nurses and doctors see fit, they'll use interventions to speed it up, thus potentially stalling labor progress and/or adding more risk.

* Prenatal care is more involved with a homebirth midwife because it focuses on nutrition, prevention, and overall physical and emotional well-being. My visits with Rosie and Colleen lasted a minimum of two hours and Bry and Ben were there for many of them, too.

* A midwife is well educated and trained to know the signs and symptoms of potential complications during pregnancy and labor. The "what if something goes wrong?" question never scared me...if something did go astray, I trusted we would know well ahead of time and transfer if necessary.

* A homebirth midwife doesn't waltz into the home with her purse on her shoulder, packing some latex gloves and a stethoscope. The supplies and equipment needed to have a safe homebirth mirror much of what is used in the hospital, including oxygen, suturing supplies, and Pitocin to stop hemmorhage if necessary.

There is so, so much more that we learned...but ultimately, the fact that we felt confident and eager to have a homebirth was the deciding factor. You can't convince someone to have a homebirth with statistics and research...she has to want it in the first place.

In the following months, we had our regular prenatal visits and began to prepare for the birth. We also saw another midwife, a certified nurse midwife affiliated with the hospital. This "co-care" relationship allowed us to have our 20 week ultrasound and access other medical-related procedures (blood draws, Rhogam shot, etc.) using our insurance coverage. Also, in the event that a homebirth was no longer feasible or we ended up transferring during labor, we had an established relationship with a hospital-based midwife which would make things much smoother and easier.

This pregnancy was very different than Ben's. Physically, I was far healthier and had way more energy. Except for some slight swelling in the last couple of weeks, I didn't blow up like I did with him. Anytime someone asked me, "how are you feeling?" I responded with an enthusiastic "great!" And it wasn't a fake reply either, I genuinely felt great the entire time. Emotionally, I enjoyed and embraced this pregnancy. Sure, I let a complaint slide in here or there (mostly just to Bry and my best friends), but I was positive and grateful. After our miscarriages, my perspective completely changed. Being pregnant is a true gift and blessing and one that not everyone is given. I genuinely loved being pregnant this time around and while I grew anxious to meet my baby, I appreciated and rejoiced for each day I carried my growing baby inside of me.

Is homebirth for eveyone? Absolutely not. Do I judge another woman because she wants a hospital birth and an epidural? Absolutely not. I DO believe every woman deserves the choice to have the birth she wants. I believe every woman should be supported in her choices, no matter what they may be. I believe there is more to birth than just the final "product" of a baby in a woman's arms. I believe giving birth should be empowering, miraculous, and life-changing for a woman and family.

Our dream coming true...

In early January, we booked a vacation to Disney World for spring break with our best friends. As we were planning our vacation, I was picturing myself almost four months pregnant lounging poolside with a virgin daquiri. Not even two weeks later, I went on to have my third miscarriage. The days and weeks that followed only made me long for a getaway even more. Our Disney vacation was magical for so many reasons. Seeing Benjamin and his best buddy so unbelievably happy and excited all the time brought on feelings of pure joy that I wished would never go away. On the third day of our vacation, I woke up in the bedroom of our condo with an overwhelming sense that I was pregnant. It wasn't physical...I didn't feel any different. Plus, I hadn't even missed my period yet. It was this intense feeling and I was so confident I was pregnant, that we stopped at a Publix grocery store on the way to Cocoa Beach so I could buy a test. So, there I was, in my bathing suit, sundress, and flip flops, peeing on a stick in the Publix bathroom. The double pink lines showed up before I even finished peeing. I wasn't surprised--but more, relieved that I could still trust my instincts. In the days that followed, I pretty much remained in shock. Once we got home and I had some time to digest, I decided that I didn't want to go through the quantitative HCG beta blood tests this time around. Going in every week to have my blood drawn just so they could call and tell me my levels were dropping and the pregnancy was failing would only add more anxiety anyway, what was the point?! The specialist OB didn't argue my decision, which made it easier. With some light spotting at about five weeks, the worry and fear took over and the week prior to our first appointment dragged on for what seemed forever. Finally, at six weeks, we went for our first appointment and ultrasound. I wasn't just nervous...I was off-the-charts panicked. But, a super strong heartbeat and perfect measurements opened the floodgates for tears of joy to stream down. Dr. Liu wanted to have my blood drawn to test my progesterone levels. He called me the following evening to let me know my levels were low. I was put on Prometrium (progesterone) twice daily to increase my levels. I went back two weeks later for another ultrasound, and even though I had no reason to suspect anything was wrong, I was still overcome with anxiety in the days and minutes that led up to that appointment. But alas, everything was A-okay, again! Praise the Lord---it was really happening! Dr. Liu and Dr. Barker were very pleased with how everything looked so far and I couldn't have been more elated. 

So, where are we now? 10 weeks, nausea has subsided, my energy levels are returning, I have acne like I'm 16 again, and I'm sporting a bump already. I started worrying when my pants wouldn't button last week because I don't think I started showing with Ben until at least 15 or 16 weeks. However, plenty of time with good ol' Google confirmed that a) my uterus never returned to its normal size after Ben, it already has a head start b) the hormones and body are veterans, they know what to do! and c) a typical subsequent pregnancy will start to show 4-6 weeks earlier than a first pregnancy. So, phew, I'm not just getting fat. In fact, I've gained 4 pounds at this point and feel pretty good about that. 

There are so many hopes I have for this pregnancy and so many things I/we'll do differently. First, I took advantage of being pregnant as so many first-time moms do. I know now that being pregnant isn't an excuse to eat whatever I want. More importantly, it's an obligation to provide my baby with nothing but fresh, wholesome goodness for nine months. Second, I wasn't healthy before I got pregnant with Ben anyway, it's a miracle he came out so perfect. I ate crap and I didn't exercise, before and while I was pregnant. This time, I am so excited to continue to move and stay fit. Third, we aren't finding out the sex of our miracle baby. My perspective has done a complete 360. With Ben, we found out the sex, had everything set up, clothes washed, car seat installed weeks ahead of time. This time, I could care less about all that "stuff." If this baby is a girl and she wears Ben's blue sleepers, so be it. If Bryan doesn't hook the car seat base up until the moment we have to go somewhere, so be it. Last, God willing, the birth of this baby will be much different. I won't count my chickens before they hatch, but I am praying that the hopes and dreams I have for bringing this baby into our arms will come true... 

 I was nervous when I found out I was pregnant. I am still nervous to be pregnant. But, I'm not scared. I'm not worried. The only way I can explain it is that I feel as if the miscarriages have been "plucked" out of my life. I know they happened, I still feel the sadness they caused, I still grieve over those lost babies. But when it comes to being worried about whether or not this baby will make it---I'm not. I feel as though God has "removed" the miscarriages from my life's timeline so that I have absolutely no reason to question this pregnancy. I guess that's what peace is. Here's a super awesome visual for my babble... 

I can't wait to meet my baby. I just can't wait. But, meanwhile, I'm going to soak up every single moment that the gift of carrying a life inside me has to offer. I am going to savor every ultrasound, savor every time I have to rubberband my pants or dig out the maternity clothes, savor every flutter, savor every kick...I don't want to miss one moment of being blissfully happy and so thankful to God for this answered prayer. 

7 weeks 

9 weeks 

10 weeks

“I sing for joy at the works of Your hands.” – Psalm 92:4 

Life is beautiful... 

Mommy of Four

I'm reading a book right now titled, What Was Lost: A Christian Journey Through Miscarriage. One chapter raises the question, "What happened to your lost baby?" The author shares her perspective, of course, and those of other moms. Some women believe their lost babies get a "re-do" and eventually find their ways to their mommies. Some women believe their babies go to Heaven and remain infants. Some women believe their babies go to Heaven and age as they would on Earth. Some women don't believe in Heaven, but still believe their babies are at peace and well. Some women don't believe their babies were actually babies. Where do I believe my babies are? Well, scientifically speaking, they dissolved into the lining of my uterus and I flushed them down numerous toilets. (Sorry for the graphic description, but I couldn't NOT say it...can we PLEASE find a more sacred, humane way to say goodbye and miscarry a little soul?!?) Even so, I find such great peace in believing their beautiful souls were freed before I even knew they had left me. I believe they are in the arms of the Lord, still growing and thriving with Him AND my loved ones who rejoice in Heaven. I believe that God has greater work for them in Heaven while I am left to do His work on Earth. I believe they're waiting for me, and one day, I'll hold them again. Many people believe that God has a blueprint for our lives, one set destiny, one true fate. I believe God has a plan for my life and it was written well before I was born. But, I believe there's more than one master copy. He is in complete control, but has somehow entrusted in me the ability to make the choices laid before me. It's like coming to a fork in the road and having to pick path A, B, or C. He can lay it all out, but I have to decide which way to be led. For so long, my paths were so very clear and I thought I had faith--true, devout trust in Him. But lately I feel blindfolded...I know the paths are before me, but I can't seem to make them out. For someone who always has to be in control, organized, and have everything in total "balance" in order to feel content, it is simply amazing to me that even though I can't see a damn thing, I have never felt more comforted and held in my life. I'm doing it. I'm letting go and letting God. I'm really and truly letting Him lead me without butting in before He's ready for me. 

I still cry. I still wake up in the middle of the night and can't breathe. I still can't turn my mind off and forget. I still panic when I realize I've gone a few minutes, or even hours, without thinking about "it," and then grow angry and frustrated that I have done something wrong by potentially forgetting. I still get angry. I still want to know why. Those feelings will likely never go away, and I don't know that I want them to. As crazy as it sounds, I think they're filling the holes in my heart that would be otherwise empty. After all, something is better than  nothing. Despite all of the bad, there is so much good. 

Life is still so beautiful... 

Myth v. Fact

There are so many misconceptions when it comes to how others perceive someone who has miscarried. So, in my mind, here's how they compare.

Myth #1: She has bad feelings or jealousy towards someone who is pregnant.

The truth is, for me at least, I couldn't be more overjoyed for a family member, friend, or colleague who is expecting a miracle. It warms my heart to know they'll get to experience how incredibly life changing the birth of a baby can be. When you go from a "regular" woman who had a "regular" pregnancy and expected another or many more "regular" pregnancies to a woman slapped with the label of "recurrent miscarraiges," all you want is NORMAL! When others hesitate or hold back to share the joyous news of their pregnancy, it makes you feel like someone who can't handle it or doesn't "fit" within the norm anymore..and all we really want is normal. Now, here's the exception...again, for ME at least....stranger lady on the street smoking a cigarette, wailing on a two-year-old, with eyes of sadness, anger, and hatred coupled with a nine month baby bump...yeeeeahh....her, I hate her. Enough said there.

Myth #2: She will want to wait months and months before trying again. 

(I am the author, after all, so these aren't research-based truths.) It's really, really, really, hard to heal from the pain of losing a baby. There aren't words that can justify the pain I have endured. So, why do I keep jumping into the fire? Who knows. I suppose when you want something so badly and your whole being aches for it, you'll do anything. I'd do anything to carry a baby in me again. I'd do anything to feel that bond that the birth experience, breastfeeding experience, etc. can provide. I'd give anything to give Benjamin a baby brother/sister because seeing the way he observes, comforts, and interacts with infants causes a physical pain in my heart.

Myth #3: Don't ask her how she's holding up, she won't want to talk about it.

Maybe at the time, in her particular mood, she won't want to talk. However, the worst thing you can do is pretend it is all okay again and time has passed and she's forgotten and moved on. It's like Groundhog Day...the events and people may change, but at the end of the day, the fact still remains that there's a piece of me that I may never get back.

Fact #1: She will continue to pour every ounce of herself into her work, home, family, and friends, but when everything gets quiet at the end of a day, the pain surfaces like a monster stepping out of the darkness. 


Benjamin, my twenty-five first graders, my husband, my friends, my family....I love to embrace them and do everything in my power to bring joy, happiness, success, laughter, all the GOOD into their lives. But at the end of the day, all of that "stuff" is washed away and I'm left with a longer To-Do list than I started the day with and emotional exhaustion that's off the charts. I have to learn to cool it...

Fact #2: After awhile,doctors are annoying.


It's probably due to where I'm "at" right now, but I'm taking a a much needed break from the medical junk that's been surrounding my body and mind. It's not who I am, it's not who I want to be, and it's not what I believe. I trust that medicine and science can do GREAT things, but I trust more in my God. HE can move mountains, HE can make miracles, HE can carry me when my legs give out. Since there doesn't seem to by a rhyme or reason for my "condition" right now, I'm making the choice NOT to be a Petri dish.

Fact #3: She did not exercise too hard, eat too little protein, drink too much coffee, stress too much over work and life, pick up her 30 lb toddler too much, etc, etc, etc. 


I didn't cause this. I did not decide their destiny. I just didn't. I can wonder "what if" every single day, but I didn't cause this to happen. I am healthy. I am capable. I am okay. I did it once...I have a perfect, smart, healthy almost three-year-old to prove that I can do it. I will do it again.

Weather, politics, celebrities, miscarriage?!?

I'm not sure why so many things in our society are so taboo. You can strike up a conversation with practically anyone on the forecast, upcoming election, or Lindsay Lohan's fiftieth arrest, but start talking about something personal, such as miscarriage, and all of a sudden the room gets quiet, people start fidgeting, and you're just stuck feeling like a moron. It's not like I'd actually go out onto the street and start declaring my feelings and deepest thoughts, but if someone asks how I'm doing now, I'm not afraid to give the raw truth anymore. And, if you know me you're in for a real surprise...I'm a talker. I'm just naturally a person who thrives on human interaction and communication, so talking makes me feel better. I have learned...

•  I don't have to pretend I'm superwoman.

•  I don't have to accept that just because ONE IN THREE pregnancies will fail, mine were loved or wanted any less. 

•  I can call my lost babies "babies," even though many will just see them as embryos, fetal sacs, or biochemical pregnancies.

•  I can be scared to death to get pregnant again, scared to death to go pee for nine months, and scared that no matter how careful and healthy and prayerful I've been, it may happen again. 

• It doesn't have to be a secret or part of my life people don't know about because it is SO much a part of who I am and what I'll be. 

You know that feeling when you're on a roller coaster, going up the hill, and the cars are making that "click-click-click" sound, and you're just waiting, anticipating, wishing you wouldn't have even gotten on in the first place, and then before you know it, you drop...and you start falling, and you can't breathe....but then you get to the bottom, and you start breathing again and it's all okay. That's what it feels like when you're riding the emotional roller coaster of losing something that was part of you for a time. Except sometimes, you keep waiting for that breath, and it just seems to take so damn long. Women have to breathe. A woman who's experiencing a loss needs to breathe. If she can feel comfortable and know that it's okay to talk about what's happening in her mind, soul, body, heart....she'll be able to catch that breath she so desperately has been waiting for.

What not to say...

Please print, fold, and refer to the following list whenever speaking to someone who's experiencing/experienced miscarriage: (J/K, but seriously, make an effort to mentally store it away for future reference.)

1. "Don't worry, it'll all work out eventually..."

2. "There's a reason."

3. "What does the doctor say?"

4. "Why is this happening?" (Gee, as if I know? Like I'm LETTING this happen intentionally!!)

5. "Are you okay?"

6. "Do you think it's because you don't eat meat?" (Don't laugh out loud, a few people have actually said this. Yeah......)

7. "At least you have one child." (I hate this one. Having a perfect, healthy toddler is more of a blessing than I deserve. However, because I grieve and get angered by the losses since him, doesn't mean I love him any less.)

8. "It's nature's way..."

9. "Maybe it's just not your time..." (No kidding?!?!)

And my all time favorite...

"Benjamin, when are Mommy and Daddy going to make you a big brother?!?"


In others' defense, I'm sure I may have even said these things before. (I really, really hope I didn't, but if I did...shit.) I realize that no one really ever knows what to say and honestly, there's really nothing you can say that will make it better or make the pain a little less. But what you can give is the gift of silence or a tear. Crying with, screaming with, and being angry with the person who feels like she's drowning can bring her above the water again. The worst thing you can do is try and offer positive thoughts. I know, that sounds so dumb. It's not that she doesn't want to hear or believe positive thoughts, it's just that hearing those kind, sincere things feels more like knives digging into a wound that can't possibly hurt anymore. She will welcome those positives one day...but just hold off. You'll know it's time to say them when she says them aloud first.