The Bus I didn't see coming

10.31.13

      I had met a girl named Allison through a mutual friend on Sunday that week. She was the girl that had emailed me about a week or two after Kaitlyn passed away and told me that she had lost her baby at 37 weeks and how isolated she felt since nobody else she knew had lost their baby so close to delivery. We met up, and I listened to her story and she listened to mine. She told me to call her anytime, and she is one of my favorite people that I've come in contact with since all this happened.
     On that Thursday, Allison sent me a text that said, "I'm sorry, but tonight is probably going to suck for you. I'm praying for you." I thought it was really sweet that she had thought of me, but I didn't really feel like it was going to be a bad night. Had I bought a Halloween outfit for Kailtyn? Sure, but I hadn't really thought about that much. She was going to be a bumblebee and I was going to get one of those dog cones for our big dog and have her be a flower. Instead, Alex and I had picked up little costumes for the dogs, and way too much candy for the number of kids that are in our neighborhood.
      One of the first trick-or-treaters was our neighbor that has an 18 month old little girl. I don't even remember what she was wearing, but I remember feeling really sad when I saw her on her Mom's hip when I opened the door. We probably only had about 5 doorbell rings that night, maybe a grand total of 12 kids or so. It wasn't until later that I started feeling bad. Alex and I had gone to bed- or rather he had gone to bed and I was up reading a book (just a murder mystery, nothing significant at all), and I couldn't get sleepy. I don't even know if I can pinpoint exactly what it was, but I just felt bad. I kept feeling the tears well up behind my eyes and I wanted to go cry. I didn't want to wake Alex up since he had been traveling this week and had a long work week. So I quietly snuck out of bed and went into Kaitlyn's room.
     Our house is laid out with the master bedroom on the opposite side of the house from the two smaller rooms and guest bathroom. Kaitlyn's nursery is directly across from the bathroom, so I snuck in and turned the light on in the bathroom before I opened the door to the nursery.
      I hadn't been in the nursery since that previous Monday during the day light. It was so quiet and dark except for the little egg temperature measurer that shows if the room is too hot or too cold (I'm telling you, I was prepared for this child!). The glow of the egg lit my way past the strollers, crib, carseat, and all the boxes and books that were stacked against the wall in the room. I curled myself up in the glider and just cried. I just let the sadness overcome me. I'm really surprised I didn't wake Alex up. I was completely alone in her room since neither of the dogs had followed me (lazy things). I just fell apart. I cried over the carseat (again), over the strollers, over the missing weight of my daughter in my arms. I cried over the changing table, and the quiet in the room. I cried over the breath that should have been coming from the crib. I cried over all the junk that was crowding her room, it should have been clear except for the everyday things that were being used. I cried over the bib that was cheetah print with a big hot pink "K" on the center. I just cried. I gave into the sadness.
    There was a song that Kate had shared with me the day before called Beautiful Things by Gungor. The chorus is really hauntingly catchy, and the lyrics kept playing in my head:

All this pain

I wonder if I'll ever find my way?

I wonder if my life could really change at all?

All this earth

Could all that is lost ever be found?

Could a garden come up from this ground at all?

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us

All around

Hope is springing up from this old ground

Out of chaos life is being found in You

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us

Oh, you make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us

You make me new, You are making me new

You make me new, You are making me new

Making me new

You make beautiful things

(You make me new)

You make beautiful things out of the dust

(You are making me new, making me new)

You make beautiful things

(You make me new)

You make beautiful things out of us

(You are making me new, making me new)

Oh, you make beautiful things

(You make me new)

You make beautiful things out of the dust

(You are making me new, making me new)

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make me new, You are making me new

You make me new, You are making me new

 
      After about 20 minutes, I got up. I went and cleaned my face up a little bit in the bathroom, and then I went and laid down next to Alex. I buried my face in his back and fell asleep, knowing that when I woke up in the morning I was going to feel better. I knew that I had just needed to cry, and I was glad that I gave myself permission to go and sit and feel all those emotions in the privacy of the dark.

Couple's counseling

10.31.13
   
     I had talked with Kate about dong a couple session for Alex and I. Not that I had anything specific I wanted us to discuss, I just wanted to make sure I wasn't being naive and thinking that everything was just fine with us and there were issues brewing. I had asked Kate what to expect with the couple session, and she kind of shrugged and said, "We'll see what Alex wants to talk about and go from there." No pressure, I liked that.
      Alex and I got there a little bit early because Kate was coming in on one of her off days just to see us. We sat in the lobby, and in came Kate with her bouncing personality. I was really excited for Alex to get to meet her because, obviously, I had talked about her a lot and how much she had been helping me. We followed her upstairs to her office after she hunted through the candy jar in the lobby and pulled out a candy corn sucker for each of us. It was Halloween, after all.

       When we sat down, Kate started us off by saying, "Well Alex, its so nice to finally meet you. How do you think everything is going?" Alex told her that he thought everything was going as well as could be expected, and he talked a little bit about just being a dad and missing Kaitlyn. Kate talked to us about the fact that there were really three different pieces of our grieving: Alex grieving alone, me grieving alone, and our marriage grieving together. There is a statistic that 75-80% of parents who lose a child end up getting divorced. Alex asked why that was, and Kate said that she wasn't really sure, but that statistic is over all marriages that have lost a child, not just stillbirths. Still a scary thought.
      Somehow we got on the subject of that morning and what he remembered about the operating room. Alex said he stood there by my side and watched all of the people in the room- he said there were about 4 people that worked on Kailtyn when she was born. I had no idea that was the case. I didn't remember there being quite that many people in the room- I could only name 5 not including me or Alex. Then he said that he watched one of the people working on Kailtyn do CPR on her... And one of the doctors just looked at the person and shook her head. That just made me start crying. I didn't know they had tried CPR on Kaitlyn, and it just brought up a lot of really confusing emotions. I suppose I'm glad that they tried to do CPR, but at the same time I wanted to protect her from the pain of that. I know, logically, that she wasn't there. She didn't feel any of that, and I know she was gone long before we ever had her with us. But at the same time, I felt like somebody in that room had hope that they could save our daughter. Somebody gave it a last ditch effort to try to revive her for us. I am grateful for that person, even though I don't even remember them being there. And at the same time it hurts me to think that they pushed on my daughter's chest like they would need to for effective CPR. I had taken the infant CPR class at the hospital and I know what kind of pressure and force is needed to make sure you are making the heart pump. It hurts my feelings to think of that. I guess I'm glad they tried, but again its that really weird dualing emotions where part of me is glad and the other side is incredibly sad.
     Alex talked a little bit about how he had been able to compartmentalize everything, and I didn't really know what to think of that. I don't know if compartmentalizing is a blessing or a curse, but I certainly wasn't going to push it. Kate said she is not one of those counselors who forces her clients to relive everything in order to be sure they have talked about it, so if Alex didn't feel the need to talk about it she wasn't going to ask him to. I appreciate her so much for understanding that about my husband. Alex hasn't ever really told me about everything he's seen in Iraq or Afghanistan, and I've never felt like he was bottling everything up. He is just able to put it away in his mind and not go back there.

Let's give it one more try

10.29.13

     It was Tuesday again, and you know what that means: the church counseling session had come around again. I debated heavily about going back or not, but I finally decided that I should try one more time to be involved in it and see how it went. Who knows, it might be different this week and I would come away really wanting to go back the next week.
     The leader had given us books to read over the week at the last meeting. Its apparently part of this five week series and the first little book is titled A Time to Grieve. The first chapter is about how grieving is normal, necessary, and natural. Are you eye rolling yet? I was. I did not think that this book was normal, necessary, or natural. About halfway through it went through the different relationships that you might have had with the person who passed: spouse, parent, friend, child... Then stillbirths or infant deaths. Each one has a nice little paragraph about grieving for that relationship. Then it has two whole lines about stillbirths. Ironically, it literally says, "Miscarriages, stillbirths, or infant deaths are often minimized by other people." My response to that was, "Yes, like the authors of this book." Anyways, enough sarcasm about that.
      When I walked into the church that evening, I noticed that it was just me and the leader there for a good 5 minutes into the time we were suppose to start. I thought, "Oh great, everyone else had the same feeling about that book that I did and they all decided not to come back." But, luckily they all started to trickle in a little after 7. We all sat down and went over our weeks; who had highs and lows for the week.
      The first 30 minutes again were just going over the book (really?) and then we spent a little time talking about how we were doing. I know that I was suppose to be getting some really good lessons out of this time, but I just didn't feel like I was connecting with anyone there. I didn't feel like I was spending my time wisely, but at the same time I felt guilty for not getting something out of it. Was it okay for me to not go to the church counseling? I wasn't sure I was ready to cut ties just yet.

     The next day, I had a session with Kate where we talked about this. She reminded me that I really only have a finite amount of energy in the day, and that if I don't feel like I am getting valuable healing out of the church group then I shouldn't feel bad about not going back. "Now, if you feel lead by the Holy Spirit that you need to be there, I am certainly not arguing with that. But, you don't need to feel like you have to go just because it is at your church." She said. Okay, I now have permission from an authority person to not go back. Good. I can release the guilt I feel about not getting anything out of it.
     That previous weekend I had gone to the container store to get a little cloth box for all of the things that I had picked out just for Kaitlyn.
      We are pretty thrifty, so not all the things we bought for K were brand new. A lot of them were gently used (as most baby clothes are: they never really stay in one size very long), and a lot of them were gender neutral because I wanted to be able to use them for our future kids, too. All that to say that there are only a few things in her nursery that I really picked out just for her. And of course her Auntie Jenny had provided some absolutely fabulous headgear that is 100% my baby girl. Its like vintage fabulous. So that needed a place to go.
       I had picked out a red box with white polkadots on it at the container store, and I told Kate about it and about my time spent in the nursery that week. I told her about the box for Kaitlyn's stuff, and I said, "That box is just so Kaitlyn" and again, Kate laughed at me and said, "For you to know that, that is something only a Mom knows."
       During that session, Kate and I also talked about the dreams I had for Kaitlyn. That week I had gone and sat in her nursery for the first time, and I just remember how sad I was that I had all these dreams for what we would do together. Kate told me that those memories of the dreams that I had for spending time with Kaitlyn is in essence the relationship I had with Kaitlyn. Even though those memories would never come to be, they were still just as real as if they had happened. We talked about God's authorship, and how He knows the days of each of us before we are even on this earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;

    all the days ordained for me were written in your book

    before one of them came to be.

Psalm 139:16

      We talked about being cautious to not get caught up in what could have been, because God had never authored that for Kaitlyn. I have sadness when I think of my daughter as a toddler because I always kind of imagined her as a toddler. But I am not sad about her not going to be in high school or college or getting married. I knew when that child was in the womb that she was going to change the world. I imagined her as a president or an executive, but at the same time I imagined her as a photographer or an artsy free spirit. I could feel her personality while she was kicking around inside me, and I just knew that she was going to have an amazing affect on anyone she ever came in contact with. And honestly, I think she's still doing that.

Molly Bears

10.28.13

      "Alex, you'll never guess what I found out tonight," I started with a rush. I was so excited when I got home from the group counseling I was multi-tasking and looking up the details of the Molly Bear organization while I talked to him.
       His reaction was less than I expected. I wanted him to be excited. I wanted him to be in awe that there was an organization that would make such an amazing gift. We could kind of hold her again, we wouldn't have to settle for her Jenny Bunny that was super soft but had very little weight to it. Oh! Or maybe they could take the Jenny Bunny and make it  the Molly Bear! That would be even better! I needed one, and it was just a matter of registering and then talking Alex in to paying for the sponsor ship or getting somebody else to sponsor us... Surely my parents would do that for me. I wanted one so badly.
       The story of the Molly Bears is kind of interesting: the mom who started the organization was the mom of a stillbirth, and she was in the grocery store one day measuring out rice when she realized that she could make the rice weigh the exact same as her baby did. She said she cried when she had it all in one bag, and was pretty sure the people around the grocery store thought she was crazy. Then she went home and created little bean bags and stuffed them inside a teddy bear to make the very first Molly bear, named after her daughter, Molly. Finally! Somebody who had been where I was and had a solution to it!
        Alex paused as I told him all this and finally said, "Well... If you think that would help you." What? What did he mean if it would help me? Didn't he think that it was so awesome and he couldn't wait to hold our Molly (or Kaitlyn) bear?? Didn't he see how wonderful it would be to sit in the rocker and hold something that was weighted the exact same as Kaitlyn was?? I was less than thrilled with his reaction. And then, it kind of hit me what he meant.
       Having a bear weighted the same as Kaitlyn was never going to be Kaitlyn. It wasn't going to bring her back, it wouldn't replace her, and it probably would have been a step in the wrong direction. I want so badly to hold my daughter and to rock her in the glider that we had bought for her.  I wanted to be able to sing to her and read to her and feel her breathing in my arms. But this bear wasn't going to be able to do that. It wasn't going to be able to fill the void in my heart from having my daughter be gone. It was going to be a stagnant reminder of who our daughter was. It would never grow, never change weights, but stay the same. A constant reminder of who we were missing. But I still wanted it.
       The interesting thing about Molly Bears is that only the parents can order one. You can't have a friend or a grandparent order one, it has to be the parent. Without Alex's support on this, I felt like I was forcing it on him. I know that if I had decided to get one, he never would have held it. But I know that Alex knows me better than anyone else on the planet, and he was expressing (in a very loving way) that having a Molly Bear was probably a bad idea for me. He didn't think that it would help me in my recovery, but rather push me back into all the feelings that I had been wrestling with so hard over the past few weeks. Would it have been something to hold on to? Yes. Would it have helped for the short term? Maybe. Would I end up sitting in the nursery feeling worse that I already did? Most decidedly. I can say that without question: I would have sat in the nursery and cried over that bear like I would if Kaitlyn had just died yesterday. It would have brought back so many tactile memories. Kind of like when you smell the cologne of somebody who had passed away and it makes you sad. I have one of my granddad's pipes on our mantle, and its the same way. It smells just like him and I know he smoked it, but now being 25 years on the other side of it the pipe is not an anchor to my sadness at 4 years old when he passed away. Now it is just a reminder of him, and it does bring back some memories of my granddad when I smell it. And yes, it does make me a little sad. But I don't dissolve into tears when I smell that pipe. That pipe doesn't feel like my granddad's arms around me, or sound like his words when I sat on his lap. It's just a reminder of who my granddad was, and I already have quite a few things around the house that remind me of who Kaitlyn was.

Back to group counseling

10.28.13

      The group that we had attended the Monday after K's birth only meets once a month at our hospital, and (hard to believe) it was already time for that group to meet again. First, I was nervous about going by myself. Alex had to be back at work, and I wasn't excited about going back to the hospital by myself but at the same time I wanted to go to the group. This dualing emotions has become pretty common these days (I want to go, but I don't want to go). I decided to suck it up and go.
      This time, there were considerably more people there. Including two leaders (one who had originated the group and Deb from the previous meeting), there were about 14 people there. There were three couples there, and again we went around and told our stories. The group is open to all couples who have had a loss, regardless of where they delivered. There was a couple that lost their little girl on Sept 8, and I forget how far along they were, but I think this was the first opportunity they had to talk about it because the mom just sat there and cried as her husband told the story.
      Another lady had lost her son 8 years ago, and she was just trying to prepare herself for the holidays. Again, she cried as she told the story.
      Then it was my turn, and I was so proud because I managed to get through the "We were 39 weeks along" without crying. That was usually the part of the story that I tended to cry at pretty regularly, because it just communicates so much of our story in such a short sentence. We typically tell our stories and then say "where we are" with the grieving process. I remember that I was really proud at that moment because I had gone in Kaitlyn's nursery that day and just sat for a minute and cried.
     Up until this point, the nursery was somewhere I did not go. I did not want to go in there because there were so many hopes and dreams represented in there: the car seat, the BOB stroller, the swing, the glider, and of course, all of her clothes. Anytime I went in there to deposit something, like the extra programs from the memorial service, I would stand there stunned for a minute or two before the waves of tears would just come rolling down my cheeks. I had painted little letters spelling out "Kaitlyn" on the far wall, and our intention was to fill that wall with pictures of our family since we don't have any relatives that live close. I imagined when K got old enough that I would hold her and point to pictures and say, "That's Aunt Ash, that's Aunt Sam, that's Aunt Holly, there's Nanny, there's G-Paw..." all the way down the 20 some-odd relatives we have. I imagined holding K on my hip and making sure she looked at all the pictures (I suppose she'd have to be nearly a year before I was able to make that happen).
     Anyways, up until this point the nursery door was always shut, and I never went fully into the room. I would just stand at the door until I couldn't handle it and then back out and shut the door back. I had made that room not a part of the house anymore.
     But that Monday, I had gotten brave. I knew that I was going to have to deal with the memories sooner or later, and that day was just as good as any other day, so I opened the door and walked straight in to the glider and sat down. I cried so hard as I looked around the room and mourned for all the hopes I had for those things. Kate had told me in one of our sessions that the motion of a rocker or a glider has been shown to actually heal parts of the brain that create (I don't know if that's the right word) PTSD symptoms. So I sat there and rocked, and cried, and rocked.

     Back at the meeting, everyone continued telling their stories. A few of the dads talked, and one of them said, "I am just so angry. I am so MAD. Why did this happen to us?" Another dad said, "I am angry with our doctor. Why didn't he deliver us sooner to prevent this? Why didn't I take her to the ER when she said she wasn't feeling well?" I realized at that point how grateful I was for my medical knowledge; it had helped me realize that even if I had come in the week before when I had a few "off" days, if Kaityln's heart wasn't beating then it wouldn't have mattered. Is there a chance that I could have saved her? Possibly. But if I'm playing devil's advocate here, there is just as much of a chance that I would have gone in and found out that K was no longer with us and then been faced with the option to carry her around until Alex got home, or to deliver then without Alex being there. Either of those options are equally horrific to me. There are some women that I've read about online who carry around their child who has already passed away while they wait for a surgery to be scheduled, and I just can't imagine what kind of awful mind game that must be. Can you imagine being in a grocery store and somebody commenting on your big belly and you know that your baby is not there? That just seems cruel, but it has happened to someone.
     When we finally got to the last girl, she said something about having a Molly Bear and how much that had helped her. I didn't know what this was, but apparently there is this organization called Molly Bears that they take bears that are donated and fill them with weights that make the bears weighted the exact same as your child. Why hadn't I heard of this before?! I am not going to lie, I wanted one really badly. The girl next to me told the group that the organization has an 18-month waiting period to get a bear, and that she was lucky and somebody "sponsored" her bear for her and she was going to get it in the next few months. Why did I not have one of these already?
      The nurse who had run the group last month, Deb, gave me a paper that had the website for ordering a Molly Bear on it. I ran home and couldn't wait to tell Alex about it. I was excited at the prospect of having something that weighed 7 lbs, 9 oz that I could hold in Kaitlyn's rocker and love on. I had struggled pretty badly over the last few weeks of just wanting to hold her again, and here was a great solution to that.

Or so I thought.

Living for Zachary

10.26.13

      There's an organization in north Dallas that was started in remembrance for one of the football players at the high school who had died from a sudden cardiac arrest. At my old job, we were pretty heavily involved with the Living for Zachary organization, and they had a 5k run/walk the last weekend in October. I had signed Alex up for the run and me/K up for the walk in the last few weeks that Alex was in Afghanistan. I was super excited to get the BOB stroller because it was suppose to be the best one for exercising with a baby, so of course I wanted that stroller to have to go to the run with for K and I to walk and Alex could run and then come find us. I had plans.
      After Kaitlyn passed away, I debated for a long time about whether we would still do the run or not. I knew that a lot of the people who worked for one of my main hospitals would be there (and a LOT of those people had showed up for Kaitlyn's memorial service), and I thought it would be a good idea to go get some of those "first" sightings after the memorial service over with when I wasn't obligated to be at work. However, I'm not going to act like that was an easy decision. I wanted to see people, but I didn't want to see people. I wasn't sure how they would treat me. Granted, all these individuals are in health care, so they have seen death through their work, but this was different.
       I texted one of the anesthesiologists that I knew would be walking the race instead of running it since she had talked to me about it before I stopped working. She had also come up to the hospital the day after Kaitlyn died. I asked if she would mind meeting up before hand so that when Alex went off to run I wouldn't be standing around awkwardly by myself. She said of course, and let me know there was actually a group of them all going to walk together. Once again, good thing and bad thing at the same time.
       On Saturday morning, we all met up in the parking lot down the street from where the race was going to be. The first person I saw was a physician that I have done a handful of cases with since I have been in Dallas. The irony here is that she had actually called me earlier in the week just to offer her condolences, and I really appreciated that. When I got out of the car, she came and gave me a big hug and I introduced her to Alex (who she also hugged). Then we sat and chatted for a little bit while we waited for everyone else to get there. I was relieved that at least this one doc was talking to us normally, asking about what Alex did in the army and what his plans were for after his contract was up. One of the nurses and the anesthesiologist I had texted showed up a few minutes later, and we all decided to start walking down to where the race would start. It was threatening to drizzle on us the whole day, but luckily by the time the race started up it was just overcast without the rain drops.
      As we got to the start up line, a group of nurses met up with us and everyone just hugged on both Alex and I. One of the nurse's husband was also signed up to run the timed race, so he and Alex went and got into their starting positions. Okay, first time in a crowd without Alex standing right next to me. I'm going to admit once again that I was pretty anxious. I didn't like the idea of being by myself, even with this group of people I knew and had done nothing but support us over the previous weeks. I had a lump in my throat a couple of times while we waited for our turn to walk, but once we started walking it seemed to lessen a bit.
       Now, I had really only signed up for the 1 mi walk because I was suppose to have a newborn with me and when I had originally signed up for the race my mom thought I was a nutcase because this was a mere 5 weeks and some change after my c-section. Before Kaitlyn was born, though, I regularly walked our dog a mile every single day. So I thought this would be a piece of cake. WRONG. When we reached the 1 mile turn around, nobody acted like they were going to turn around... So I had to decide if I was going to go back and sit and wait by myself, or if I was going to try to push through and do the 5k. The thought of sitting by myself scared me, so forward it was. I'm happy to report that I finished that whole race (granted, in a little under an hour, which is slow for me), and that I had some really good conversations with people as we walked.
       I have been asked by quite a few people what I am doing "for myself" these days. My answer is always the same: I am writing. I write when I feel down, or when I feel like I want to tell more of the story. I write to help myself heal. I write to share my struggles and also my triumphs with others.

K's Party dress

     On Friday morning, I got a text from Kenney that said, "Guess what I've got!" and my response was, "A box of tissues for when I come see you this afternoon?!" I was joking, of course, because I knew that Kenney meant that Kaitlyn's urn had come in.
       It was a really weird going to pick up the urn from Kenney's office. I was excited to pickup something a little more permanent for K to be in (and yes, somewhere along the line I have started calling her K as a nickname), but at the same time I almost feared that this would be the end of my relationship with Kenney. I felt like I wouldn't have any more excuses to stop by and say hello, and I don't know if its weird to be friends with your funeral director. Imagine if somebody asked how you knew each other and your response is, "She took care of my daughter when she passed away." Kinda sounds weird, but I'm sure that Kenney would just laugh it off and tell them to get over it.
       I was also really excited to go and show Kenney the pictures that Mallie had taken. I knew that Kenney would be 100% okay with it since she saw Kaitlyn and was the last person to hold Kaitlyn before her cremation, so pictures are not going to creep her out at all.
      After getting a big hug from the Nanana, I followed her into her office where K's urn was sitting on her desk. It is absolutely beautiful, and I was so happy with the way it had turned out.

        It's so simple and beautiful. I love it. I love everything about it. You can't really see it in this picture, but to seal the ashes inside there is a beautiful lid:

       When I saw this detail, I just started crying. And then I started laughing because I was crying at something so silly, and I looked at Kenney and pointed to it and said, "Why is this making me cry?!" She said, "Because its beautiful, and its for your beautiful daughter." Seriously, this woman is an angel. I felt proud. I felt like I was going to get to dress up my daughter in something beautiful. I loved everything about it.

        After I gathered myself, I went and sat on her couch and we talked about nothing for a minute. I told her that we got the pictures in and I asked if she wanted to see them, to which she replied, "Well Of COURSE!" as if I had just asked the silliest question in the world. I went and sat on the arm of the couch as she went through the pictures. The one that I posted before that shows Alex kissing Kaitlyn on the forehead was the one that got Kenney. She just said, "Oh Amy, these are absolutely beautiful" as she started crying. I don't know if I shared this before, but one of Kenney's sons had actually lost twins, and I know that seeing my macho handsome husband (not that I'm biased) show his daughter such sweet tenderness really tugged at her heart because it probably reminded her of her own son.

       When I got home that evening, I left the urn in the maroon bag that Kenney had given me to carry it out in. The next evening Alex and I put our daughter in her party dress (that's what I'm going to call it), and put the pink candle that was in her floral arrangement for the memorial service on top of the urn. I think that's why the lid hit me so hard. It is beautiful, a wonderful detail that ties every piece of the urn together, but it is also a detail that didn't have to be there. The urn is designed to hold a candle, and for that piece to not really be displayed for anyone to see it. And yet the maker of the urn thought enough of the piece to put a beautiful detail there for whoever was going to be placing their loved one in the urn. Whoever it was, they were loving us through the details.
   

First real outing

    On Wednesday, I had an appointment with my hair stylist named Sassy. She's one of the nicest, beautiful and sincere people I have ever met. I love going to see her because we always have a good time while she makes me over.

    On the way out to see her, I decided I needed to call my cousin Holly. Holly is Sheila's big sister, and I had been worried about her ever since Kaitlyn died. She had decided to drive down to Dallas from Oklahoma that morning, and it was neat because she wanted to be here the day Kaitlyn was born since she had been there for her other two niece's births in Houston. Holly didn't make it to see or hold Kaitlyn that morning, and I really think that was God protecting her. I was worried about all the emotions and memories that seeing Kaitlyn might have brought up for her, and I called to check in with her.
    We talked about how Holly had been that week that we were in the hospital, and she told me that she kind of had a delayed reaction to everything. She said she hadn't cried at all that week (I didn't remember that), but once she got home with just her and her husband, it all hit her. She said at one point, "I'm just so mad for you!" I told Holly she can't be mad. Being mad is like a gateway drug to everything else you could be (truly angry with God, jealous, "this isn't fair mentality", etc). I had told Kate the previous day that I don't think I have actually gone through a mad phase, or if I was in it I wasn't in it for very long. I just don't see the point in being mad at God. Its not going to bring her back, its not like God is going to say, "Oh I've made a terrible mistake let me go back and fix that." And the bigger point here is that God has already blessed my life at this point to give me a glimpse of what He is going to do with our story. I had a dear friend of mine call me one day to tell me that she reads this blog every day, and she and her husband were at Kaitlyn's memorial service. She said to me, "Amy, I felt the physical presence of God that day at Hope. I can't explain it, but I just know that God is going to do something amazing with your story." This is a friend I hadn't talked to in a while, and she just called me out of the blue one day to tell me that.
    Anyways, I sat and talked to Holly for a little while before I went in to see Sassy. I sat in the waiting area for a few minutes before Sassy came out, and as soon as she did, she gave me the biggest hug and just said, "I've been thinking about you, and I'm so sorry." Of course this just made me cry out a few tears, and she did the same before patting me on the back and saying, "Come on, we're going to have a good day today." And so we did.

      We were talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. We talked a little bit about Kaitlyn and what happened that day, and Sassy told me she'd been reading along with me. Again, another person who said, "I'm just so mad for you!" and I told her the same thing I'd told Holly: you can't be mad. I would love to tell you that being mad is okay, but honestly if I'm not mad then you can't be mad on my behalf. Sassy just laughed at me and said, "I knew you were going to come out here and teach me something." My sweet friend finished up my hairdo (which looked absolutely fabulous, by the way), and showed me out the door. I was so excited that I actually looked like I was okay, and that really made me feel good. I just felt better. If you've gone through a loss, I highly recommend going to get a haircut from somebody you love. It will totally help your mood and give you something positive to look at in the mirror.


    After I left Sassy's, I went home to get ready for my Bible study meeting that night. I was excited but also kinda bummed because I didn't get to finish that week's homework, so I knew I wouldn't be as prepared as I usually am.
     Like I've said before, the Gideon study by Priscilla Shirer is part video and part group work. I was always a little nervous about her videos because I knew that God had used them to speak to me the last few times I had watched them. I knew that there was something great to be heard, but I was also really nervous about having a cryfest in the middle of Bible study (not that there is anything wrong with that, but I just feel like I would rather have my productive cries in the safety of my own home with no witnesses but the dog).
     And of course, God used the study to meet me again where I was. This week, Priscilla talked about winning the battles in our life. One of the bullet points we all wrote down was to "Face the battle with a stance of victory." Okay, God, I'm listening. Priscilla went on to tell the story of a young lady she knew when she was just a teenager through her church. The girl had some kind of disease where her entire body seized up until she eventually passed away. Priscilla tells the story of the girl's funeral, and how much it had affected her and her friends to watch one of their friends pass away.
     And then Priscilla told what she remembered about the girl's mom. She told the story of the mom getting up in the middle of the funeral and pacing in front of her daughter's casket, thanking God for her life. She said, "Thank you, God, for my first born. Thank you for letting her be here as long as she was. Thank you for letting me be her mom." As you can imagine, as Priscilla is telling this beautiful story of thanks in the middle of such sorrow, I am sitting there with tears streaming down my face. That's who I want to be. I want to be like that mom that says in front of her daughter's body, "Thank you, God."

 Thank you for her life.

 Thank you for allowing our family to be used by you. 

Group therapy and struggling with compassion

     That night, I had been invited to go to the group grief session at my church. The man leading the group (who's name shall be left out to protect the innocent) had told me the previous Sunday that the group was for people "in my situation" that had a loss and that it would be beneficial for me to go. Sounds like fun.

      **Let me just preface this by saying again that this blog is my true feelings, so I have included some posts that may be a smidge derogatory (such as the Jealousy page) and this is going to be one of those posts. I want to be real with everyone who comes across this page, so I haven't left anything out to spare anyone's feelings. I want all the stillbirth moms who read this to know that their feelings are real, and also that they are okay (to a point).

       I walk into the church and head back to where the classrooms are. First off, there are no signs pointing you to where you need to go, and secondly, they decided to put the grief class right next to the parenting class. Should have been my first sign, right there. So I go in and sit down, and there are two older people in the class and one younger lady who might be just a few years older than me. I sat down and introduced myself around to the group. As the leader waited a few more minutes for everyone to get there, we tried to engage in small talk to keep the room from being completely silent, but it was one of those awkward conversations where nobody really knows what to say because ultimately we would all rather be somewhere else (nobody wants to go to grief counseling).
      As we got started with the class, the leader told his story about how he lost his dad and how hard that loss was for him. Then, he starts talking about what it means to be a dad. He talks about being in the room when his son was born, and the guy literally holds his hands out in front of him like he was cradling a newborn and acts like he is turning to show his dad the newborn. Seriously? I was, of course, bawling my eyes out at this moment because first off, I didn't want to be reminded about how you're suppose to show your parents their new grandchild, and second off I was so angry with this person for not figuring out that what he was saying was incredibly insensitive to me. When I told Alex this story later, he asked me if the leader knew I was there and if he knew our story. Yes to both. I was sitting directly across from the guy no more than 8 feet away from him. He knew our story. He had invited us to the class. And this was just unbelievable.
     We continued around the room and I quickly realized that this was not a class for people who were in situations with infant loss or stillbirth or even loss of a child. This was a general grief class. Two of the people there were in their mid 60s or 70s and had lost their spouses. It was really, really difficult for me to feel compassionate towards these people. I'm not saying that their losses aren't significant, one lady had been married to her husband longer than I've been alive. What I'm saying is that it is just different when you hold your child that is no longer breathing, one that did not take a single breath on this earth. Its different when you have all these hopes and dreams for your child laid out in your head, and in an instant all those dreams are gone. Older people have lived so much of their life, and most of them have already lived out their dreams. I know that I probably shouldn't feel like this, but I do. I just have a hard time not yelling out, "You had so many good years with him, why are you sad? Rejoice that you had so much time!"

      I know that you are probably wondering why I didn't get up and walk out. I am a people-pleaser by nature. I tend to do what I think other people want me to do, and that's why I stayed. I worried about what the leader would think if I got up and left in the middle of a session. I didn't like the guilt I would feel (put on me by nobody else but me) by not attending the "Church" grief session, because its obvious that would be the correct spiritual thing to do. I did the "right" thing and sat through the whole session, but it would bother me the entire week until I went back again the following Tuesday.

Tuesdays are for therapy

    Tuesday I had a slew of appointments for talking to people: the first was Jan, the lady who gave me the bracelet in the hospital; the second was with Kate; and the third was for a grief support group through Hope Fellowship that I had been invited to go to.

     Jan and I decided to meet over in Grapevine since it was near the area she lives in and I was going to be over there anyway for an appointment with Kate. First off, Jan said how proud she was of how I was doing and how good I looked (I'm pretty sure this just means I was able to keep it together enough to not break down in front of her and that my waterproof mascara was doing its job). I got to show Jan my bracelet, and she gasped as she said how beautiful it was. We talked for a little bit about her experience with Chris (her son that passed away), and then Jan said one of those things that will be burned into my memory for the rest of my life. She told me that after you say goodbye to your child, that you move to a different level with God. Jan's dad had passed away about a year after Chris died, and all of her siblings were concerned that Jan wasn't going to be able to handle her dad's death. But Jan told me that she just looked at him and she said, "Yes. This is right. This is how it is suppose to be." And was at total peace with her dad's passing. I loved sitting and talking with her, mostly because she has the best way of telling stories and she is able to make me laugh at some of the silly things that people do.
     Jan also warned me that through all of this, I was definitely going to change. "You'll lose friends over this," she said, "And you have to be okay with that, because people will not know how to treat you. You'll have people that will not know what to say and will say something awful, and you'll have people that will completely avoid eye contact with you and walk the other way. They don't mean it to be hurtful, but its how people respond most of the time because people are at a loss for words."

     After about an hour and a half of chatting over lunch, it was time for me to say goodbye to Jan and move down the street for my appointment with Kate.

      I went up to Kate's office and sat down on her couch. I started by telling her that I was much happier with where I was today than where I was last week, because I had felt like last week was a really bad week with it being the first time I was away from Alex and my anxiety over the doctors appointment. I wasn't going to need to sit there and cry in her office for the entire hour long appointment, and I was glad of that. We talked and told our stories more in depth, and Kate did (and does) a really good job of holding back parts of her story so she is able to listen to me talk as well. She usually says, "There is just so much that I want to tell you, but I want to hear your story right now."
      The previous Friday, Alex and I had gotten the preliminary results from Kaitlyn's autopsy. Dr. L had asked us at the post op visit if we had heard anything, and when we said we hadn't she told us she would follow up with the hospital. On Friday morning, I got the call from Dr. L's office that there were preliminary results in and that Dr. L would call and talk to us about them later that afternoon. Well my husband couldn't wait for that. He still had the number for the hospital in his phone, so he just called the pathology department directly. He listened as the lab tech read off the pathologists report, and then told me everything when he got off the phone. Everything with Kaitlyn's body was fine: there were no gross abnormalities, no chromosomal abnormalities, and they were still waiting on the slides to come back for a few more tests. They hadn't reviewed everything on her umbilical cord or placenta yet, but we expect those results back in a few weeks.
       I listened as Alex told me everything he'd learned, and then I just started crying. I hated this. Every fiber in my body was screaming for mercy. I hated, hated listening to the autopsy of my daughter. I hated the fact that I have enough medical knowledge to know how they get the slides for autopsies, and I hated that I couldn't protect my daughter from that. I know, logically, that we both wanted and needed to have the autopsy done to try to make sure this won't happen again, but I get a pit in my stomach every time I think about somebody getting samples from my daughter. I hated every aspect of it. I wanted to shelter her from that. I wanted to keep her whole and peaceful.
      I told Kate the story of the autopsy and how much it bothered me. Then we went on to talk about some things that people had said to me over the past few weeks: one of which being that people kept calling Kaitlyn my little angel and that she was watching over us. I hated that so much, because there is no way that Kaitlyn is watching me and Alex be sad and miss her. God promises us that there is no sadness or tears in heaven, and there's no way my daughter could watch me be sad and not be sad herself. To this, Kate replied, "See, even now, when she is gone, you're still trying to protect her. You. are. her. mom."

A pause in the story

I feel a need to pause for a minute and let you guys in on the secret of how I became a Christ-follower (because sometimes Christian is a dirty word these days):

    I was four years old when I had my first encounter with death (and yes, I remember bits and pieces of it). My granddad passed away from a heart attack in the middle of the night. My dad took it hard (obviously), and I can remember things about my granddad that probably most 4 year olds wouldn't remember (I remember his voice, him helping me climb a tree that use to stand in the middle of their patio, the smell of his pipe, and the feel of his jacket). I didn't go to his funeral, but I can point out the house that I stayed at in Midland (which, ironically enough, one of my friends in high school lived in and it was really weird when I walked in the first time as an "adult") and I remember the family who watched me while my parents went to the funeral.

    When I was 8, my cousin passed away from a brain tumor. She was only 2 years old, and she battled cancer for a whopping 5 months before God took her away. Again, my memory of Sheila and my Mom telling me that Sheila had passed away are clearer than any of my cousins, even the one that is only 4 months younger than me. When Sheila got sick, my mom spent a lot of time in Houston with her brother and his family, and my dad took care of me and my brother. At some point while Sheila was sick (I think it was around my birthday), I told God that I would give my life to Him and become a believer if He just saved my cousin (I'm 8, people. An 8 year old bargaining with God, kinda makes me laugh now). Long story short, God allowed my cousin to die and I was left with this bargain that I lost out on. However, I had already told my parents that I had "prayed the prayer" (as they say in the ol' Baptist church), and I proceeded to get baptized in the church in Midland. At this point in my life, at the ripe ol' age of 8, I was already wrestling with some of the bigger questions in life. Where do children go when they die? Why does God allow things like this to happen to His people? What good can possibly come out of a child dying so young? How could God do this to my family?

    I pretty much floated along until High School, where I became really rebellious (as all Christian girls do, right?) and stopped going to church as much. There's a lot of other details of my rebellion there, but I'll leave it at that.

    The real turning point for me in my faith was my freshman year of college. I lived in a dorm with 3 other girls, but my roommate was an agnostic (I had to look up what that meant at the time) named Nancy. The best way to describe Nancy is that she is a free spirit. Free. Spirit. (I really doubt she would take offense to me saying that, she'd probably just shrug it off). 

     Our freshman year, I was really good about getting plugged into a church and going to an on-campus Bible Study. Time to turn the ol' rebellion phase around and get serious. So, of course, Christianity came up with my discussions with Nancy and our every day life. She knew I went to Bible study and church, and she would periodically ask me questions about my beliefs, which was really cool because it made me take a good hard look at what I believe and why I believe it. We had some really hard conversations where she would throw phrases like, "Are you only my friend to convert me to Christianity?" and "Do you really thing God would condemn me to Hell? I'm a good person, so F You God if you send me to Hell." The problem was, Nancy is a really good person. She was the nicest person, a real philanthropist when it came to her time, money, whatever she had she was ready to give to the next person. Very open and cared about everyone, tried not to pass judgement on others. She had a lot of Bible knowledge, but her heart just hadn't been open to the word. I remember bringing her to Bible study with me one night (Oh I was so proud that I had gotten her to go to Bible study! Super Christian Amy!) and she contributed to the conversation just like she had been in church her whole life. It was crazy to me that somebody could hear and not believe that the Bible was truth, but that is exactly what Nancy did. She was more into Hinduism/Karma/whatever than life through Christ. 

     Then something happened that I still don't understand: Nancy's dad passed away our sophomore year from a melanoma that had metastasized to his brain. I never met Nancy's dad, but I was absolutely devastated for my friend. I remember I was in Houston when I heard the news (I don't even remember how I heard it), and I called and left her a voicemail where I basically broke down crying halfway through. I was so, so incredibly sad because I knew that her dad hadn't been a believer. He was raised Catholic, and turned completely away from God and raised his children in those beliefs. My heart ached for her because I knew she had no hope. I knew that she had no clue where her dad was, and no promise of seeing him again. A few friends from college and I went out to Midland for the funeral, and one man got up and spoke about Nancy's dad. I can remember this as if it were yesterday. The guy said, "I know I am treading on thin ice here, but I need you to know that before your dad passed away he accepted Christ as his personal savior." Oh dear Lord, thank you for that blessing. I was elated. I felt so much better that my friend's dad had changed his heart at the end of his life. 

       That night, I went over to Nancy's house to visit. I wasn't going to bring it up, but it wasn't long before she asked me, "What did you think about what the guy said at my dad's funeral?" I took a deep breath (not having a clue how to respond to this without losing a friend) and said, "Honestly, I felt relieved. I am glad that your dad accepted Christ because now I know he is in heaven and not hurting. I think that's awesome." Nancy looked at me with a deadpan stare and said, "My dad would never do that to me." Wow. I couldn't say anything in response to that. What can you say when somebody is point-blank refusing hope? I still don't know how I was suppose to respond, but I still pray for Nancy and her salvation. Her questioning me and difficult positions on life really made me accountable for my faith in Christ, and I am thankful to her for that.

      It's funny to me how sometimes looking outside ourselves and at other's beliefs can concrete our own. I knew then that I would never want to be in the position that Nancy was in. I never wanted to wonder where my loved ones were, and I never wanted to be in a place that I was completely lost. I renewed my commitment to Christ, and I started my active pursuit of knowledge of Him and His glory. I can tell you story after story of how God has spoken to me over the years through His word and through other people, but ultimately my stories can be written off as "just stories" by anybody who ever reads this blog. Just like people write off the Bible as the Living Word of God. 

       Ultimately, I can say this: In every other religion in the world, either my husband or I did something to deserve our daughter to die, or there is absolutely no reason for her death. I chose to believe that I serve a loving God, that not only allowed my daughter to die, but also authored her life here on earth in a way that it will ripple out to others to change their lives.  I chose to believe that He is using us, all three of us, every member of our extended families, to show His glory and true hope. I chose to believe that my God did not do this to punish me, but rather to use me for His glory.

More Pictures

     That evening, we received more pictures from our Now I Lay Me Photographer, Mallie. She did an absolutely amazing job, and I wanted to share a few more pictures on here. When we got these pictures, Alex and I were able to look at them "together" on Skype since he was back in El Paso. I cried for about 30 minutes when I first saw them because I was so grateful to have them, and they turned out completely phenomenally.

 **Again, these are pictures of our daughter after she had passed. Please don't feel obligated to look, but I love these pictures and want to share them with whoever wants to look at them.

I love this one because I feel like this is me showing Kaitlyn to Alex

Another favorite

My beautiful daughter. I miss her sweet little nose. I wish you could see her eyelashes on here, they were really thick and pretty.

This is one of the only closeups we have of her hands... I call them her old lady hands because they're so wrinkley. My poor baby.

Another one of my favorites. I didn't notice Kaitlyn's face in the background at first, but I was glad when Alex pointed it out to me.

Our family.

This one totally gets me. I'm not really sure how in the heck this moment happened, but I am eternally grateful that Mallie was able to capture this. Look at my face! I look so peaceful! That, friends, is the pure grace of God. And my west Texas upbringing in that I had my hair and makeup done before we went to the hospital.

My absolute favorite. Hands down. I love the tender look on Alex's face as he loved on our daughter. I had told Alex to walk over to the window and show her outside since I knew she would never get to be outside. I know that Kaitlyn didn't see outside that day, either, but I love seeing my husband be a dad to our daughter. Oh I love this picture so much it just makes me cry every time I look at it because of the love that was captured in this moment.

Number the stars

      Sunday came around again, and it was time for Alex to leave. I was getting anxious again about the week ahead since this time I was going to be by myself for the entire week and not have any "easing" into it like I had the week before. I told Alex that I was nervous about getting bored and backsliding, but he did what he does best and helped me make a list of all the errands I should run that week and what all plans we could make.

      One of the things I was most excited about that week was getting Kaitlyn's urn ordered. We had finally decided what we wanted, and it was a great excuse to go sit and talk to Kenney for a little while. Monday morning is when I decided to go see her, and she was genuinely happy to see me. She told me that she thought I looked great (I didn't dissolve into tears as soon as I saw her), and that she was glad we had decided on something more permanent for Kaitlyn. I showed her the picture of what we wanted, and shared with her the verse we wanted. Her response was, "That's just perfect, that's beautiful." Then Kenney started telling me more about her story and how she got in to being a funeral director (I wish I could get a recording of her telling this story, because she is just hilarious): Kenney was at home with her two boys and one of her friends from growing up had asked her to come and help him with some of the paperwork at his funeral home because it was way behind and he was losing money right and left. She agreed to come in for a few hours a couple of Saturdays, and she said she was only ever in the office portion of the location and she had never been into the embalming room. One day, the owner of the funeral home came running in to where she was working and told him he desperately needed her to do the hair and makeup of a lady he was working on and the family was going to be there in 3 hours. She, naturally, was horrified and was like, "Who can I call to help you? Cause I'm not going in there" Eventually, she gave in to his frantic pleas for help and she went and did the makeup for her first client. She said that the family was so pleased with how she looked at the service that the owner offered Kenney a permanent position being the hair and makeup girl. She said "I'll do it for 3 weeks until you find somebody else." Kenney joked that day that she was still waiting for somebody else to come do it.

       After I got done talking to Kenney and getting everything ordered for Kaitlyn, I headed back to the house. When I got home, I noticed there was something from FedEx on the porch, which was pretty weird considering I hadn't worked in about 5 weeks at this point and wasn't expecting anything from my online shopping habbit. I went and picked it up, and noticed it was something from NASA. What? Random. So I opened the packaging and the group that I had gone to training with when I started my new job had all pitched in and named a star after Kaitlyn. I completely lost it. Lost. It. If you think this was just a coincidence, you are so sadly mistaken. God had put it on somebody's heart that I hadn't even talked to in months that this was an appropriate way to honor our daughter. Let me just remind you of what I had told Kenney that morning that we had wanted to put on her urn:

Look up at the sky and consider:
    Who created these?
    The one who brings out their attendants one by one,
    summoning each of them by name.
Because of God’s great strength
    and mighty power, not one is missing.

Isaiah 40:26

      Bless it. That was one of the most phenomenal and productive cries I had that week because this was a tangible reminder that I was not forgotten, and neither was my daughter.

McKinney Trade Days

10.19.13

    Up in one of the suburbs of Dallas is a town called McKinney, and it was listed as one of the top growing cities in some poll last year so there are all these houses going up on every other corner. However, McKinney has one "small town" tradition that I love- and that's McKinney Trade Days.

   Alex and I love to thrift shop- we love garage sales, craigslist, and trade shows. I have never really been into that kind of stuff, but when Alex and I first started dating he would wake me up at 7AM on a Saturday and say, "Are you ready? We gotta go garage sale-ing today." There's even an app for that (believe it). So off we'd go and Alex would find the most random things at really good prices. At first I'd just ride with him, but eventually I started getting out and going with him to look at things, just to look. We've told this story to his family and they're so funny because they always tell him, "That's just like your dad!" Alex's dad was an auctioneer in Midland, and he was always looking for the next great deal that couldn't be passed up. As you can imagine, Alex got pretty dang excited about going to the McKinney trade days since it only happens once a month and we had never been able to get it together and make it out there.

    We strolled up and down the isles of the flea market, joking about how some of the people out there just emptied out their house in their booth and called it "vintage". I need to mention that my best friend Jenny also enjoys a good deal, and she has reclaimed some furniture (with the help of Chad's muscles!) that look completely professional. So of course, I am taking pictures of the really odd things and sending it to her (like the guy that had about 1,000 different door knobs... I don't know how you get that many door knobs).

    As we walked down one of the isles, there was a permanent booth set up with these large pieces of artwork on the outside. They were really unique and I knew I liked them, but I figured they were probably really expensive so we kept walking. After about 10 minutes, I told Alex that I wanted to go back and look at those pieces and just see how expensive they were. As we entered the booth, we looked around and started getting an idea of what all the artist was about. She would take pictures, any pictures, and turn them in to these large wooden pieces that somewhat resembled canvas prints, but the images were somehow permanently sealed into the wood so that they would never be ruined by rain or start to smudge if you didn't handle them correctly. There were so many different aspects of the art: somebody had a piece made that was in honor of a grandparent that had passed away, so 4-5 pictures of the person were made into what could have been a page out of a scrapbook; the artist had done some generic pieces that were just a pretty background with a Bible verse; and she had also taken her wedding pictures and made pieces out of them. We decided to just get a price from her to see how much it would be to get a picture of Kaitlyn made (the one at the top of this page with us holding her sweet little feet and our wedding rings on her toes, along with the Bible verse).

    The artist's name is Lisa, and as we stood in line to talk to her we glimpsed down at her pricing that was out on the table and decided that was definitely something we wanted to do. Alex took out his phone and showed her the picture that we wanted to use, and all she said was, "Oh she's just beautiful." She didn't know our story, but I took that opportunity to just start crying nearly uncontrollably. Lisa looked from me to Alex to the phone and back to Alex with a "what did I say?" look. I told her that we had a stillbirth, and this was our daughter. Lisa gave me a big hug and told us how sorry she was for our loss, and then we finished up our conversation with Alex sending her the picture over email. Later that day, I wrote to Lisa and apologized for having a come-apart in her booth, and shared the link to this blog with her so that she could read our story and know what all we'd been through.

      The following Monday, Lisa called me and told me that she had also experienced a loss with twins at 5 months along. She told me what an amazing story she thought ours was, and she thanked us for coming into her booth. Then she told me that she thought there were others who had come into her booth for similar reasons and that she wanted to make a duplicate of our piece to put up in her permanent exhibit to share Kaitlyn's story.

      Wow. I was beginning to see what God is up to with us.




If you'd like to see Lisa's work, you can find it here.

Good Advice

10.18.13

    On Friday, we had a lunch date with one of the guys I use to work with at my previous job. He is a fellow believer, and he was the first person we saw when we got out of the car at the memorial service. He had handed us the book with some of his and his wife's favorite Bible verses on them, and the book is now on Alex's nightstand for us to look at.

     We talked for a good 30 minutes on catching up things, some work things, and some discussion of the memorial service and everything that we had learned up to this point (including how long we were suppose to wait before trying again- yay!). Andy knew the girl I had been extremely jealous of (see previous post), and I told him that I was still really struggling with that. I mean, really, really struggling with that. I would still have moments when I would just sit and cry over my daughter and how much I missed her and how empty I felt (both physically and emotionally). I had asked Andy to pray for me for that, and of course he said he would. He also gave us some really cool advice: he recommended that we try to start memorizing scripture so that whenever we started going down the roads of "why" or jealousy or whatever unhealthy attitude we had, we could just redirect our thoughts by reciting scripture. I really like that idea and have tried to put it into practice. Of course, my favorite verse is the one on Kaitlyn's urn, but I had stumbled across a few more that I really love.

    Before we had Kaitlyn, I had been stocking up on Christian music for some reason. I have never been a big Christian music lover (because it all kind of sounds the same), but its funny to me now how God decided to prepare me for things without me knowing it. I had downloaded Chris Tomlin's Burning Lights CD (it was on sale the previous month on iTunes), and the very first song is called "Awake my soul". I hadn't even taken the time to listen to the whole CD until after Kaitlyn passed, but that very first song came on my phone one day while I had it on shuffle, and I just broke down crying because the verse it sings about is this:

Ezekiel 37: 1-14

The Lord’s power overcame me, and while I was in the Lord’s spirit, he led me out and set me down in the middle of a certain valley. It was full of bones. 2 He led me through them all around, and I saw that there were a great many of them on the valley floor, and they were very dry.

3 He asked me, “Human one, can these bones live again?”

I said, “Lord God, only you know.”

4 He said to me, “Prophesy over these bones, and say to them, Dry bones, hear the Lord’s word! 5 TheLord God proclaims to these bones: I am about to put breath in you, and you will live again. 6 I will put sinews on you, place flesh on you, and cover you with skin. When I put breath in you, and you come to life, you will know that I am the Lord.”

7 I prophesied just as I was commanded. There was a great noise as I was prophesying, then a great quaking, and the bones came together, bone by bone. 8 When I looked, suddenly there were sinews on them. The flesh appeared, and then they were covered over with skin. But there was still no breath in them.

9 He said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, human one! Say to the breath, The Lord God proclaims: Come from the four winds, breath! Breathe into these dead bodies and let them live.”

10 I prophesied just as he commanded me. When the breath entered them, they came to life and stood on their feet, an extraordinarily large company.

11 He said to me, “Human one, these bones are the entire house of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope has perished. We are completely finished.’ 12 So now, prophesy and say to them, The Lord God proclaims: I’m opening your graves! I will raise you up from your graves, my people, and I will bring you to Israel’s fertile land. 13 You will know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and raise you up from your graves, my people. 14 I will put my breath[a] in you, and you will live. I will plant you on your fertile land, and you will know that I am the Lord. I’ve spoken, and I will do it. This is what the Lord says.”

Here's a link to listen to the song, it spoke to me on so many different levels and I hope you like it. I like to remember verse 14 whenever I start feeling overwhelmed. Another promise from God that I am clinging to.

The Post Op Check

10.17.13

   I had my first (and only) post op would check at 4 weeks post-surgery. I had it originally as one of the first few appointments of the morning, but since Alex was trying to fly in to go to the doctor with me, I called and changed it to one of the early afternoon appointments.
   All morning I was really worried and anxious about going to the doctor's office. Luckily, I had Alex and my Mom around to distract me most of the morning, but when Alex and I got in the car to head to the doctor's office I was a nervous wreck. My stomach hurt as a result of all the emotions running through my head, and I kept playing "worst case scenarios" in my head over and over and over.
   When we went into the building, my head just kept saying "the last time I was here I was pregnant," "the last time I was here, I was happy", "the last time I was here, my baby girl was still alive," and "the last time I was here was the last time I saw her alive on the sonogram." A complete. Wreck. I managed to hold back the tears, but I know Alex noticed that I was walking really slowly as we made our way up to the third floor waiting room. I breathed a sigh of relief when we walked into that room and there weren't any babies there (it was not uncommon for me to see new moms every time I had an appointment over there since all the moms wanted to show off their new kiddos).
   While we were waiting, I had my head buried in my phone and kept refreshing the facebook page waiting for someone to write something else. One of the MA's came back and called for another patient, and all I remember is that she was way too cheerful. The other patient walked back with her and the door shut. A few minutes later it was my turn and we stood up and headed back to the exam room. Oh my gosh I was so nervous, I couldn't take it. I just sat quietly as the MA took my blood pressure, which was surprisingly normal, and she asked how I was doing and I just shrugged. She said, "As well as you can, huh?" and I just nodded.

    As we sat there and waited for Dr. L to come in, I kept looking around the room as if something new was going to appear. I did ask Alex to pass me a little diagram of the female anatomy because I was curious to see where exactly she had cut in reference to my bladder. Not as interesting as you'd think, but it wasted a good 5 minutes. Then Dr. L came in. I almost started crying right then and there. I don't even remember what she said first, but she told us how sorry she was again. She did her exam on me, and then she sat down to talk for a few minutes. I asked her if this had ever happened to her before, and she confirmed what we had expected, that we were her first true stillbirth couple. She asked us if we had heard anything about the autopsy, and we told her we hadn't but that we expected to hear from them soon. I asked her if since we had a stillbirth if it would make me a "high-risk" pregnancy next time, and she said, "Not technically, but we will treat you as one. We will do sonograms and Dopplers anytime you need them." Then I said, "I need to ask the question that I don't want to ask but I need to ask: How long do we need to wait before we start trying?" Now let me preface her answer by telling you that I had prepared myself for the worst: Kate had been told 18 months to 2 years (but her c-section was a completely different story than mine), one of my nurse friends had said probably a year, another friend had said probably 18 months, and all that input was a big source of my anxiety for this appointment. I knew that I didn't want to wait a year, because it wasn't really a year it was a year plus nine months which is pretty close to hitting the two year mark until we had a *hopefully* healthy baby in our arms. I was ready now. I just had this huge pit in my stomach as Dr. L finally replied, "6 months". Oh thank you, Jesus! I was so incredibly relieved to hear that it wouldn't be as long as I had anticipated, and at this point we were already a month in to the 6 month waiting period. Hooray! I left feeling totally elated in the fact that we wouldn't have to wait quite as long as I thought.

Random Thoughts

     Over the course of writing, I have had a lot of random things come into my head that just didn't "fit" in a blog post. So now I am creating one specifically for that.

     Christmas is 8 weeks away. I have always loved sending our Christmas cards and receiving Christmas cards from coworkers, school friends, and family, and I was really looking forward to sending out our first "Family" Christmas card this year. I already had a photo session booked with the lady who was going to do our newborn pictures. I want to send out something this year, but I also don't want to make people start bawling their eyes out when they get it. I don't want to be Debbie Downer, and I want people to know that Alex and I are coping and hoping through this season of our lives. I don't know what we should put on our Christmas card, or if we should do a generic card that I can get at Walmart. In the past, we've used our engagement pictures and our wedding pictures, and I would like to stick with a picture of us looking somewhat happy (Hopeful? Hopeful is a better word). I know it's silly, but it just always made me happy to sit and address cards to people that I care about. I even bought one of those stamps with our return address on it, and I was really looking forward to using that.

    Future kiddos. Where do I begin on this one. I know that God is going to bless us with another kiddo, but my mind keeps wandering to the place of how we are going to handle Kaitlyn with the little one. What I mean is, do you tell your kid that they had a big sister? Or do you just kind of... act like it didn't happen? I know that this is a ways down the line, but I can't help sitting and thinking about what the "right" way to handle that situation is. Most of the other moms who have been in support groups that I attend have told their younger kids about their stillbirth, but I just don't want our kid to grow up sad that they never met her. How would that kid respond to "Are you an only child?" "How many siblings do you have?" "Where do you fall in the birth order?" Do we really want our kid to feel awkward or obligated to tell everyone they meet about their sister that didn't make it? Again, I know that this isn't something that we'll have to deal with tomorrow, but its just something that I think about when I'm by myself or day dreaming about our next child.

    "Kaitlyn's your little angel now." Okay here's my vent on theology for the day: my daughter is not an angel, she is a child of God.These are two very, very different creatures in theology world. Angels are servants of God with no free will. Children of God (read: every last breathing person on this planet) are given the privilege and responsibility of free will. We are not forced to serve God, we are not numb to the choices of good and evil. We make a conscious choice every day for what or who we chose to serve every single day. My child was welcomed into Heaven as the true daughter of God she is, and it irks me a little when people call her an angel. Think of it as a Father rejoicing over their daughter vs. their feelings towards a slave. There is no comparison. I know that Kaitlyn is in heaven, and I also know that my God was so incredibly excited to see her even though she was only away from him a short time.

     People have said to me, "When you get to heaven you can ask God why this happened." Listen to this: when I get to heaven, it is not going to matter. Don't get me wrong, it hurts so badly right now and I miss my daughter every second. I miss the weight of her, the smell of her (even though she didn't smell like a baby should), and running my fingers through all that hair. I ache for what could have been, and all the dreams I had of her and who I knew her to be. But when I get to heaven, I won't be asking God why something happened on earth. I know that every life has ripple effects, and I can already see parts of what God is doing. When I get to heaven, I hope He shows me all the people that Kaitlyn touched, and how her short life has weaved into His perfect plan and was the catalyst for people who were on the fence about Christ to cross over into a relationship with Him. I hope that God shows me every person who read this blog, and how His comfort and peace in me has helped others. That is what I hope for when I am finally in heaven with my baby girl. I just imagine her sitting on my lap (she is always a toddler in my mind) as we watch God show us what all He did through our story. Its not really a "why" this happened, its more of a "look how I used you to complete my perfect plan." That, my friends, is totally awesome.