Waiting for our RAINBOW, guided by our STAR

Well, the title says it all. We are anxiously, excitedly, cautiously waiting for our rainbow baby. Our take home baby. The one that makes it into this world alive. To live here on earth with us. Your sibling, baby Stella. The baby that your daddy says, "better arrive alive, live a long life, and bury us someday."

As I type this, we are 12 weeks and 1 day pregnant. We saw the baby's precious heart beat for the third time this morning. While it feels unreal we are this far along on this new journey, it feels like we still have a lifetime left. Hopefully 26 weeks left, to be exact. As the plan will be to deliver this baby by repeat c-section no later than 38 weeks (God willing, we make it that far). Mostly because, we will have reached full term by then and in our unfortunate experience, babies hearts' randomly stop beating at 38 weeks and 3 days, for no apparent reason. And we just cannot go there again. 

For "normal, lucky" people 12 weeks would be pretty much considered "in the clear." Unfortunately, we are not "normal or lucky," and we are certainly not "in the clear." We will not be in the clear until this baby is alive in our arms, kicking and screaming. Then of course, all the mothers out there would say, then there will be a whole new set of worries and concerns that never ends. Well, that's just great…bring on those NORMAL mother worries. Not the LOSS mother worries, like that this baby might die inside of me too. 

The post below this one contains a few of my writings from April, when we first found out. Most of the thoughts, feelings, and pleading prayers still apply. 

Stella's sibling today: 12 weeks, 1 day

Stella St. Clair, May 2013: 12 weeks, 2 days

Love both of you babies, more than anything in this world. Guide us baby Stella, guide us to your sibling's birth. 

A few delayed posts : )

Saturday: 04-12-14

On April 5th, the day before we should have been celebrating your 5 months here on earth, we learned we are pregnant again, with your baby sibling. Lord help me, if these isn't our rainbow baby. We are obviously cautiously excited and beyond terrified. We pray that with your guidance, baby Stella, we will have the strength, peace, and courage to survive whatever is headed our way in the coming days, weeks, and hopefully months.

In the one short week I've been pregnant so far, my emotions have been all over the place. Thrilled. Terrified. Excited. Nervous. Peaceful. Anxious. Part of me believes we are due for some good luck, and this time it's going to work out. We are going to get our take home baby, because we deserve it. The other part doesn't believe anything will work out, that something terrible is going to happen. Because I know terrible things happen. They've happened to us. People lose babies. Babies die. Whether it's early in the pregnancy or at full term, like you sweet baby girl. I've also had to fight back the feeling that I'm betraying you baby Stella by moving forward with our family and attempting to be excited for another baby. I have to try to believe that cannot be possible. We would never betray you. You know what you mean to us. Everything. And I believe you helped us create this new baby. You want us to find joy again through creating, loving, and raising your siblings. I know this in my heart. So, hopefully I can shake the feeling of betraying you when I feel glad about this new adventure. This new adventure, that feels like deja vu. Feels like yesterday we were just cautiously excited to be pregnant with you. I just stopped drinking wine and eating sushi for you. I was drinking orange juice with vitamin D for you. I was tired and felt icky for you. But no, this is different. This is new. And this time, we have you, our angel baby, guiding us through.

In my mind, I know I might not get to keep this baby for very long. But in my heart, I'm going to try to enjoy everyday that I do have growing this baby. I'm going to try to live each day knowing "today I am pregnant." I don't know what tomorrow brings, but I can't control it anyway. "Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength."

Regardless of my ever changing emotions, it's going to be a damn long 9 months, if we even get 9 months. God willing.

Waiting for our RAINBOW, guided by our STAR. We love you baby girl. Always and forever.

Wednesday: 04-16-14

Happy. Hopeful. Like I have a purpose. Feelings I wasn't sure even existed anymore. But, somehow, someway…there is a part of me that feels happy. I don't even know how to react to this feeling. And it actually makes me scared. How sad that I am literally afraid to feel happy. Of course, I know why I am afraid. Because I know, with memories so fresh, just how fast happiness can turn into utter despair and pure, heart wrenching agony.  I know that in an instant, joy can be ripped from your life, leaving you empty, lonely, and without purpose.

And another unfortunate side effect of this new found happiness is missing you, baby Stella, even more. Because I know my new found peace is because your sibling is finally on it's way. And while I'm anxiously excited for this baby to arrive alive, I miss you, baby girl. It's going to be a long, hard road. Because, God willing, this baby does arrive alive. And then, then I will have a flood of emotions comparing him or her to you. Comparing all the things I'll never know about you. That's not fair to you. And that's not fair to your sibling.  I can't help but secretly wish this baby was you. I know that doesn't make any sense and I know I can never have you back. And you can obviously never be replaced. And once again, that's not fair to this baby. Because, trust me, I want this baby just as badly as I wanted you. And you are definitely separate, different, perfect babies. Our babies. I already can't help but comparing this pregnancy to yours. I just hope I get at least as much time with this baby as I got with you. I hope for even more time, obviously. But I know being "happy" about this baby doesn't guarantee I'll get any more time with it than whatever God decides. So we'll just keep going, one day a time. One hour at a time. Whatever it takes. We'll just keep praying, having faith, and simply believing.

Your daddy and I love you, baby girl. And your sibling too.

Friday: 04-25-14

Well, thank you God and thank you baby Stella. There is a baby and there is a heartbeat. 116 beats per minute, at 6 weeks and 4 days. I can't even explain the feeling of seeing that little heart fluttering on the screen. It was beyond bittersweet, something we will never again take for granted. It is hard to believe the last time we had an ultrasound, it was November 6th, when we learned your precious little heart was no longer beating. To say the anticipation for this appointment today was anxiety filled, would be an understatement. There were moments when I thought I might reach a full blown panic attack. But you were there. You were with us all day, and especially during that ultrasound. Your baby siblings heartbeat was 116. What else is 1-1-6? Your birthdate, baby Stella. 11-6. Thank you. Thank you for helping your baby siblings heart beat, and showing us you were there with us every step of the way. 

And now, between the ever-present grief, anxiety, and new found peace, I'm exhausted. I feel like drinking a huge glass of wine, but I'll obviously refrain. And the next time I drink a huge glass of wine, I had better be holding this baby in my arms while doing so. 

While it truly feels great to reach this amazing milestone, I know we are not in the clear. Unfortunately, I know we will never be in the clear, until your sibling is crying in my arms. We feel blessed to have achieved the unachievable, to be carrying precious cargo, once again. But our pregnancy innocence is gone. We also know the real blessing will come once this baby arrives alive. God willing.

One day at a time. We will walk this journey, with God and Stella by our side, one day at a time.

3 Year Anniversary

Three years ago today, I married my best friend. The love of my life. Your daddy. It's hard to believe 3 years have passed since that perfect day. That perfect day when we stood up before our family, friends, and God, to declare our love for each other. The love that would be never ending, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad times.

My papa, your great grandpa, talked that day about the peaks and valleys we would undoubtedly experience along the way in our life together. The peaks being like mountaintop experiences, full of joy and laughter. The easy times. The good times. We knew exactly what he was talking about, because May 27th, 2011 was just that, a mountaintop experience. The best day of our lives. Then he spoke of valleys. Something that didn't quite make sense beyond our naive minds, thinking of course there will be hard times. No big deal. Whatever they are, they can't be that bad. We have each other. Little did we know, that less than 3 short years later, we would find ourselves in the deepest, darkest, loneliest valley ever known. Little did we know, we would lose our first born child. We would bury our baby girl. Thank God we can't see the future.

Thankfully, I also remember what Papa said after telling us about the peaks and valleys. He said that no matter where we are in life and no matter kind of experience we are having, to lean on God. To thank Him in the good times. And to reach out to Him, trust in Him, and pray to Him in the bad times. That God would always be there for us. He would never turn His back on us. And thankfully, we have found this to be true. Not only is God there for us, you are there for us, sweet baby girl. Our very own guardian angel.

Although, our life doesn't look like we planned, it is still good. I feel beyond blessed that God gave me your daddy to go through this life with. I wouldn't trade our lives for anything in the world. When I married your daddy 3 years ago, I didn't think it was possible to love him any more than I did that day. Through losing you, my love for your daddy has grown more than I believed imaginable. I may not be the luckiest mother, but I do believe I am the luckiest wife ever. The way your daddy appreciates me and takes care of me, is unexplainable. My life wouldn't be the same without him in it. The strength of our love for each other is like no other, and for that I am grateful. We will never get over losing you baby girl, but we will survive it. We will survive it, while we cherish each other and all that we have been blessed with in this life. We will survive it with you and God by our side.

 

We will watch our wedding video tonight, like we do on every anniversary. And while this year there is a hole in each of our hearts that can never again be filled, we will remember where our life together began. We will be thankful and blessed for the love we share with one another and with you.

 

 

Light of life

We miss you baby girl. I haven't written much lately, because there just isn't much going on. We still miss you all day, every day. We still pray to you every night. Thank you for granting us peace, strength, and courage when you can. We love you. You are the light of our lives. And always will be. 

Mother's Day

Mother's Day. A day when the world tells you to appreciate your mom (that part is easy, if you have a mom).  A day the rest of the world believes was created to make people feel good. Yet, it's a day that is so painful for so many, for so many different reasons. And like most holidays, the lucky people don't have to think about this pain or the people experiencing this pain. The pain of missing someone. A baby. A child. Their own mother. Or maybe they never had either. Most go on thinking this is a wonderful, happy day. A day filled with nothing but joy. 

Those naive people also don't know the origin of Mother's Day. Before Mother's Day was commercialized the way it is today… It was created by Anna Jarvis, to honor her mother who lost 7 children. Anna wanted a day that honored her mother for still getting up each day and living without her children. With only being able to carry them in her heart. And now it's a day to celebrate mothers of living children. Funny how things change when something terribly sad is involved. People don't want to think about it or deal with it, so they move on.

I miss you today like every day, baby girl. Although we cannot be together today, nothing will ever change the fact that you made me a mom. And thank you for that. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. And I hope to be half the mother my mom is, when and if I'm ever truly given the chance. 

A poem was sent to me from the Bereavement Services at the hospital you were delivered at, baby girl. It's a sad place to get mail from, but I thought this one was sweet.

A Mother's Day Ode

I am your mother, but you, my child, I cannot

hold.

It'll get easier with time, or so I'm told.

People may forget that I am your mother. 

I'm part of a secret club we only share with one

another.

But that doesn't diminish my love for you.

I think of you the whole day through.

I wonder what you're doing, my Precious Little

One.

We are connected by an Infinite bond which 

cannot come undone.

I will not let Death tear us apart.

I promise to always keep you alive in my heart.

6 months

Half of a YEAR. How could that be? This is definitely a difficult one, as the tears roll down my face. The anxiety has been building, and now it's here, and it hurts like hell. The pain is just as raw and fresh as it was on November 6th. Waking up today was like waking up in the hospital and those first few days at home. Confusion. Disbelief. Denial. Empty and aching. But, it's just another day. Another day that you are still gone. Another day that living without our first baby is our reality. Another day our daughter is still dead. Another day the world just keeps going on around us. I cannot comprehend how so much time has passed. So much time, since we first laid eyes on your beautiful face. Since your daddy held you up to me in the operating room. Since we met you for the first time. Our dead baby girl. How? You were here and then you were gone. But how? How am I expected to live the rest of my life on this earth without you? I miss you so much, it hurts. Everything hurts.

Unfortunately, I've been playing the events of November 5th and 6th over and over in my head again, like I did in the early weeks and months. It's like a terrible train wreck that I can't look away from. It plays and plays, on repeat. And it's miserable. I've often wondered if writing the "story" that is my nightmare might help. Might help it stop playing in my broken mind. So, here goes nothing. The story of 6 months ago...

"There's no heartbeat…"

On Tuesday, November 5th we had an ultrasound and a doctors appointment. We were 38 weeks and 2 days. We saw your little heart beating on the ultrasound. You weren't moving as much as usual, but we were told that was normal later in the pregnancy because you run out of room and save your energy for birth. I should have known something was wrong. Looking back, I did know something was wrong. Your heartbeat was lower than normal and you just weren't moving as much. When we went home that evening I tried to concentrate on feeling your movements. It wasn't like normal, but I tried to not freak myself out, knowing we were just at the doctors and you were fine (supposedly).  The doctor had told me to drink something cold, lay on my side, and count your movements if I was worried. Your daddy and I talked back and forth and decided we were probably overreacting and chose to just go to bed. I don't blame myself for you dying, but I will wonder for the rest of my life if I could have saved you that Tuesday.

Wednesday, November 6th. The day that will go down in history, as the day my entire world and all that I knew came crashing down. The worst day of my life. That has led to the worst months of my life. That will undoubtedly lead to the worst years of my life. Because life on this earth without my first daughter, simply cannot be good. The first 28 years of my life were great, but the rest will not be so great. You will be missing. From my life and my heart. Forever.

Wednesday morning I went to work, but I still wasn't sure I was feeling you move. Or definitely not like usual. By noon, I couldn't remember having definitely felt you move. So, I went home drank some cold juice, laid down, and waited. I grew impatient in about 20 minutes, knowing something wasn't right. I called your daddy and he came right home from work. The doctors office had told me to go to the hospital for a non-stress test, to confirm things were fine. So, in our world, things were still fine. Your daddy and I collected our packed hospital bag, your carseat, pillows (in anticipation for a possibly long labor), and everything we could think we might need… as our baby girl might be born today! We remember saying, best case scenario everything is fine and I've just been overreacting about your movements. Worst case scenario, you weren't doing well in there and it was time for you to make your appearance into the world.

Our conversation on the way to the hospital is one I'll never forget. Your daddy and I went on and on about how perfect and exciting our life was. We had just celebrated meeting on a blind date 5 years ago, we had an unbelievable wedding and an amazing honeymoon in Bora Bora. We had already traveled the world together and bought two houses. My job was great and your daddy was about to embark on another career owning his own business…and best of all, we were probably about to meet our baby girl!! We were blessed. We were lucky. We were unstoppable and life was damn good. Little did we know how drastically it was all about to change, within minutes of getting to the hospital.

They got us right in to a triage room, where I changed into a hospital gown. The nurse came in and starting looking for your heartbeat with just a little handheld device. After about a minute, she said sometimes it just takes a while to find. She was moving all around my belly, not finding it. We showed her where the doctor usually found it. Where the doctor had found it just yesterday. After about 3 minutes, she said the thing wasn't working, but it was ok, she would just go get an ultrasound machine and we would check it that way. I looked at your daddy and said she was making me nervous. A doctor came in with the ultrasound machine. Within about 2 seconds of her putting the wand on my belly, there you were on the screen. But something was very wrong. I immediately said, "there's no heartbeat." The doctor looked at me and said "you know what you're looking at?" I repeated, with disbelief in my voice, "there's no heartbeat!" I remember the next part so clearly and like it was yesterday… the doctor looked back at me again and said, "I'm so sorry." So sorry?! Sorry for what?! As the walls slowly starting caving in around us, everything became blurry. The panic, horror, and denial started to set in. What in the world was happening? It's like I had closed my eyes and woken up in someone else's life. In another world. This could not possibly be happening. I'm 38 weeks and 3 days pregnant. Stella is full term. She is alive and about to be born. She has a heartbeat, I saw and heard it yesterday. YESTERDAY. Less than 24 hours ago.

The minutes, hours, and decisions that followed are nothing but a blur to me. I don't remember our discussions with each other or with our families. I don't remember much of anything, except the feeling that we were alone. Completely alone. That we must to be the only people in the world that this had ever happened to. This didn't happen. Perfectly healthy, full term babies don't just die. The brain has a strange way of allowing you to process unbelievable tragedy. I'm certain my brain is still working on it. Because it makes as little sense today as it did then.

So, here we are… 6 months without you and somehow we are still alive. I attribute my being alive to your daddy. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. And although, I would have loved to go with you baby girl and I would have given my life in a second, if it could have saved you... I could never leave your daddy behind on this earth. The unconditional love and care he has given me since we sat in that triage room on November 6th, is beyond my understanding and far greater than I deserve.

Help us survive today, sweet baby Stella St. Clair. Help us. We love you more than life itself and our hearts will ache for you until the day we die.

This week

Well, it was kind of a rough week. 3 babies (yes, THREE) were born on Wednesday. Two were born to a couple of my best friends, bridesmaids in my wedding actually. Since babies are supposed to be born alive, of course, I am happy for them and their precious blessings. However, it doesn't make it any less difficult to realize their hearts are full, their lives are complete, while my heart is still empty, and my life still feels like it's been shattered into a million tiny pieces. The third baby was born to a wife of a colleague of mine. Although, I am not close to these people, this one really got to me, because she had the same doctor we had. You mean our doctor is capable of delivering babies ALIVE, awesome. Just not mine. Great, real fair. I almost called this lady after Stella died to tell her to change doctors, or her baby might die too. Glad someone stopped my crazy ass from doing that, but still. It's nothing short of another punch in the gut. All on a Wednesday no less.

I do pray that these families all know what a true blessing they have in those living babies and that their hearts are honestly full with love and patience. And I do pray to have those feelings myself one day, one lucky day.

I'm also certain there is some underlying anxiety about your 6 months coming up baby girl. Just doesn't seem right or possible. Time just keeps going, there is no stopping it. Before I know it, we'll have lived on this earth for 1 entire year without you. When I think of that, I almost start to hyperventilate. It's too much. And don't even get me started about Mother's Day. So, back to one day at a time. Wake up, love your daddy for loving me so much, go to bed. Repeat.

Some days and some weeks are just tougher than others. But somehow, we are still standing. And I know, with your loving guidance, we can do this baby Stella.