Hope Boxes in McKinney

7.1.14

     Maybe it was because I had gotten Kaitlyn's flowers the day before, but on Tuesday I was out at Baylor Mckinney (a suburb of Dallas, about 45 minutes north of downtown Dallas), and I decided to make a move. I had all these boxes donated through Hope Fellowship, about 25 total, and I had received some one-off requests for boxes to go to various moms that had lost recently. But I felt like it was time for us to really get moving and get a set of boxes put into one hospital for moms of loss at that hospital to have as soon as they lost their precious one.

     So, on Tuesday I decided to be bold. I went and sat in the chaplain's office and told him our story. I told him about our Kaitlyn, and how sudden our loss was, and how much Hope Mommies had helped me. When I told him about Kaitlyn, his eyes glistened a little bit.

     "That's my granddaughter's name..." he said to me.

     "Our girl was Kaitlyn Sophia, so we could call her K-So. It was pretty much the best name ever." I laughed a little as I let him process everything I was telling him.

       I told him about the boxes and how much I had appreciated the instant connection to a group of moms that understood. I told him that I wished that I would have been handed that resource in the hospital, because it was instrumental in my grieving and healing. 

      At the end, he said he would love to keep a stock of boxes handy for moms of loss. We ended up going up to the Labor and Delivery department on the second floor and he showed me the room that they keep all of the grief materials in. There was a small basket full of tiny clothes that had been donated by various groups, and the white Gideon Bibles that we received in our own memory box. They even had the same white, crinkle papered memory boxes that our hospital had, the only difference being that theirs was tied with a purple satin ribbon and ours was green. He told me that they would keep the Hope Boxes in here, and then we walked around to the main nurse's desk so that he could introduce me to the head nurse there and get her contact information. 

       J (full name not included because I didn't clear it with her, and because I already said where she works), is a young blonde nurse that has a lot of energy. When I walked around the corner with the chaplain, she stepped up to talk to him and he introduced me and told her what I was there for. She listened to Kaitlyn's story, and about Hope Mommies, and agreed that their hospital would love to have this resource for moms of loss. With that, I stepped aside and wrote out a note to a "mom of loss" that would go in the hope box I had brought with me. We decided that this box, which was lavishly decorated by my sweet sisters at Hope Fellowship, would stay in the closet for the next mom that needed it. Then J asked me if I had started reaching out to other churches to see if they would be interested in partnering with Hope Mommies as well. I told her that was my ultimate plan, but I hadn't had a chance to just yet. The problem with working full-time is that sometimes you actually have to work full-time. I'm very blessed that my work schedule allows me to visit all these different hospitals throughout the day, but it is still difficult when I'd like to pursue getting hope boxes into local hospitals with a little more vigor and things happen where I have to cancel meetings. 

      J also asked me if Hope Mommies help out with grief education at all with different hospitals. Again, I told her we would love to do that, but it just depends on the timing as to whether I could physically be there or not. She told me they had two classes coming up that were grief education and asked if I could speak at those about my experience and things that helped as well as things that hurt. I told her I would certainly pencil it in and we would try our best! 

      J (I told you, a lot of energy, and I love her for it!) also said she would get me the contact for her church's outreach ministry. She goes to Gateway church, one of the huge churches in the area that has several different campuses across the North Dallas area. I tried to pick my jaw up off the floor, because my sweet friend Amber Rhoads  sings at that church and knows our story. I was so excited at just the possibility of partnering with such a church, and couldn't wait to see what all unfolded from this.

Kaitlyn's flowers

6.30.14

      The rest of the week went by pretty quickly. I had to travel out to Los Angeles for 48 hours for work, and that was going to be the second to last time I planned to fly. On Friday, I got a call from the flower preservation company in Houston that we had sent flowers to after Kaitlyn's memorial service saying that our flower piece was finally ready. It was suppose to take about 6 months, but we were coming up on a solid 10 months of waiting for it to be finished.
       I was excited that I got off work a little bit early on Monday and was able to go pick it up. The drop-off location is in this office with an oil field group, so it's a little random walking in there to pick up such a feminine thing. I had called ahead to make sure they were open and that they would be there, and sure enough our piece was waiting in the front office for me.

        You have to trust me when I say that pictures do not do this justice. It's about 14 inches tall by about 8 inches wide. And the colors are absolutely gorgeous. I was so thankful to the group that had matched some hot pink ribbon to tie it all together and placed our little gold butterfly right on top so that it stood out. It made my heart so happy to see all of that striking hot pink in there, because that was Kaitlyn. 

Worried sick

6.23.14

     On Monday morning, I woke up not feeling great. I started to get sicker throughout the day, and it was only by Tuesday afternoon I realized that I hadn't been able to even drink a substantial amount of water because of this stomach bug that I had picked up somewhere along the way.
     I'm usually pretty tough when it comes to viruses like that, but this time I got worried. I started worrying about the baby and if he/she was okay. I worried about the amount of amniotic fluid that was being kept around him/her and I was worried about feeling enough movement throughout the day. So I ended up calling Dr. B's office and going in for an "emergency" check, just to be sure.
     Alex was able to meet me at the office, thank goodness, because I warned him that they would definitely be doing a sonogram and they might confirm the gender for us. We waited in the sonogram waiting room for a good twenty minutes, and I don't think I realized how worried I really was until we sat there in silence waiting.
      When we finally got called back, we went in the dark room with a new sonographer that I hadn't had before. She had looked through our charts, and she expressed her condolences for Kaitlyn. I told her why we were there and how I was trying not to worry as she put the gel on her probe, and she stopped and said, "Nobody should ever have to go through what you went through. You come in any time."
       Within 30 seconds we were watching our beautiful baby on the screen with a nice, strong, healthy heartbeat. And in that moment, I almost lost it.
       I didn't realize how worried I had really been about the baby being okay. It was only when I saw the reassurance of that heart beating away that I relaxed enough to realize how tense I was. I took some deep breaths and looked at the ceiling as we listened to that whoosh-whoosh of the heart on the screen.
       I never got sick with Kaitlyn. I never had a stomach bug or a cold or even severe allergies. So when I caught this thing that wouldn't even let me drink water without excruciating stomach cramps, I think my worrier went into overdrive. I worried about the baby catching the bug (which they are clearly not ready to fight off on their own);  I worried about the amniotic fluid; about the stomach cramps clamping down on the umbilical cord and causing another death. I just worried. And sometimes, its okay to let that worry be a voice of caution in order to get the reassurance I need that everything is okay.

       After the sonographer confirmed that everything was okay, she asked if we had the gender of the baby confirmed yet. We told her no, and in another five minutes she confirmed what we already expected. It was nice to finally have a gender picture (not just a guestimate), and there was no doubt that this gender was correct.

A wedding and a name

6.21.14

     Alex teaches a workout called Crossfit at one of our local gyms. He started doing the workouts while he was still in Afghanistan and it carried over to the states. He absolutely loves it and from every person I've ever met that he works out with, they love it when he coaches, too.
     At his current gym, one of the other teachers was getting married and she didn't know us when the invitations were sent out. So instead she just asked Alex if we'd like to come and gave him their website that had all the information on it. I love going to weddings anyways, so of course we ended up going on a last minute date night on a Saturday night.
     We sat at dinner with one of Alex's favorite coaches and his wife, who was also about 6 months pregnant. She shared with me that they had already had three kids, and that this would be their last one.
      Alex and I had been name shopping since we found out the "potential" gender earlier on in this pregnancy, but we could never really come up with anything that both of us loved. Kaitlyn's name was picked out long before we were even serious about trying to get pregnant, so to try to come up with a name as cool as K-So was a huge task to face.
      I asked the wife about her older kids and their names, and that's when she said one that I looked up and said to Alex, "Oooh do you like that?" I got a nod out of him, which is essentially a jumping up and down "YES" in Alex body language. "Hmm..." I said, trying not to give away too much that we were probably going to steal that name from her.
      "Yeah, you have to flirt with it a little bit. Test it out. See if you really like it," she said as she continued her meal. That just made me laugh.
      In the end, we decided that we really liked the name but weren't 100% sure we were ready to commit. So we put it on the back burner for a little while, but randomly over the next week or so we would say the name and put a different middle name with it to see if we liked it.

Charlie's story

6.16.14

      There are stories, legends, myths, and proverbs that float around the world that I now call my own. Every time I meet a new Hope Mom, I listen to the story of their loss and most of the time sit in awe of the grace that God allowed me to see in our own story. Then there are stories that are so hard to listen to that you wonder how on earth the person that lived it is going to continue to put one foot in front of the other.
       This is Charlie's story.
     
        Elyse had lead a local Hope Group here in Dallas where Hope Moms from the area went through an 8 week Bible study written by the leaders of Hope Mommies. She had about 10 people in her group, and they all shared their stories and mourned their losses together, but also sought the Hope that is in Christ through the Bible study.
         One day, I had been talking to Elyse about how the group was going (I hadn't had the time to participate), and she told me about this one mom who had lost her baby boy in December. She had gone into the doctor's office late third trimester (I think she was 38 weeks, but I could be wrong on that), and in the doctor's office they noticed that something wasn't quite right. They told the mom to go home and pack her bag and come back to the hospital so that they could induce her.
          She was gone two hours. When she made it back to the hospital (which in this case was the hospital we had delivered at), her baby boy was already gone. It was too late.
          Two. Hours. The timing of that replays over and over in my head. Two hours was all it took for them to pass the threshold that you can't return from. Two. Hours. The length of an average movie. Not a significant amount of time. Nothing that would say, "Oh that feels like an eternity." No, just two hours.
          When Elyse told me the story, I cried for that mom. I thought about the pain and guilt she must have had to face and work through. The "what if" factor had to be suffocating her. I can't imagine her pain, and I can't imagine what mind games she was having to fight through to keep breathing.

             Monday night, Elyse had arranged for us to "host" a dinner for all the local area Hope Moms. I say "host" because we basically picked out the restaurant and told everyone to meet us there. I was a little nervous because most of the girls would be coming from the hope group and I wouldn't know any of them.
              The girl that sat across from me was named Jody. We talked about inconsequential things, but she had curly red hair and a spunk that I doubt I will ever forget. She told us that she and her husband had gone out to a bee keeper in North Dallas and harvested honey. And, interesting fact, true raw honey will never expire or go bad. She talked about how they had decided to do this fun outdoorsy thing because it had been 6 months since they lost their little boy and they wanted a fun experience to remember him by. I asked when she had lost and how far along she was, the common questions that you ask a mom of loss, it seems like. And then it suddenly dawned on me.
               This was Charlie's mom. This was the girl who had lost her child so suddenly and not suddenly that the overlaying of those two feelings was chilling. Sitting across from me, with a summer tan and a smile on her face, was a mom that has been through, in my opinion, one of the hardest stories I have ever heard.
               "I have to tell you something," I said probably rather shortly as our conversation about the bee keeper came to a close. "Elyse shared with me your story. And first off, I am so sorry for your loss." Her eyes started to water a little bit. "But I need to tell you how much your story helped me. You see, we lost Kaitlyn full term and completely out of the blue. We had no warnings. And now that I am pregnant again, I have been fighting the fear that something like that will happen again to this baby. But when I get anxious or panicky, I am reminded of your story. You did everything right, and all it took was two hours for Charlie to be gone. That was what God had written for him, and for you. Nothing that you could have done could have changed that outcome. So when I start to get nervous about the life of this baby, I remember that God is truly, truly in control and there is nothing I can do but to trust Him.
              So I have to say thank you for sharing Charlie with us. His life has a legacy and part of that is reminding the rest of us that no matter what our stories are, God is in control. There's no ifs-ands-or-butts about it."
               With that, a single tear rolled down Jody's cheek as she nodded her head.

               I don't know what Jody's journey will look like. But I do know that when people tell me how much Kaitlyn's life has affected their own, I have an overwhelming sense of pride. When I was pregnant with her, I could never figure out what she would want to be when she would grow up, but I always knew that she would change the world. I knew that my girl was strong, and that people would look to her as a leader. I'm sure every mom has these feelings about their kids, but imagining Kaitlyn as a doctor or a lawyer just never set right with me. Then I would think about her in a humanitarian role like an environmentalist or something and that never set right, either. So instead, I just knew that she was going to make an impact.

The next week

6.11.14

     Time continued to go by at it's slow pace for the next week. Our good friend Dana graduated from high school the previous Saturday, so Alex and I joined her family for a celebration in her honor.
     The following Wednesday, I was doing good. Or at least I thought I was. I was able to hang around the house a little later than normal that morning because my work schedule had shifted, and right when I was getting ready to leave it hit me.
      Kaitlyn's urn stays on my nightstand next to her memory box. I don't look at it that often, but its there. Sometimes the books on my nightstand get stacked up to block my view of it and I feel guilty about that, but then I remember that as beautiful as that porcelain holder is, she's not really there. Thank you, Jesus.
       But that morning, as I was putting my shoes on, it hit me. There is an urn on my nightstand. I'm not yet 30 years old and I have an urn on my nightstand. Of a baby. Of my baby. Of my beautiful daughter that was 7 pounds, 9 ounces, and had a full head of hair.
        I froze in the middle of pulling my shoe over my heel and stared at it. And for some reason I needed to look at the ashes it contained. Since her urn is designed as a candle holder, the pink candle that had represented her at the memorial service sits on top of the rose lid. My nightstand sits just inside a window that opens up to the backyard, where we use to have a huge tree that provided shade for that window. But without the shade, sometimes that area gets a little warm with the heat from the sun coming directly through it, so the bottom of the candle's wax had sealed it to the lead of her urn so that when I picked up the candle the lid came with it.
        And there they were. The tiny plastic bag of ashes. Still white. They don't look much different than sand, with different shades of white and off white throughout it.
        The whole bag can easily sit in the palm of my hand, and although it feels dense, it is not the same weight as Kaitlyn. Its lighter. Standing there, alone in the house except for the dogs, I was holding my precious daughter in the palm of my hand.
         And then I started crying.
         To be honest, I don't really cry that much now. Sure, the waves of grief hit when something significant happens like I go through her nursery or I look at all the beautiful pictures that Mallie took for us (that permanently stay on my phone, and Alex's I think). But this wave was different. I hadn't mentally prepared myself for it, and it hit hard. I couldn't stop crying. I just missed my daughter. I wanted to hold her again.
         After a good 10 minute sobfest I tried to straighten up. I tried to wipe it off and get out the door to go to work. But I couldn't stop crying. I just couldn't drag my thoughts away from Kaitlyn and that day we last held her. I wanted so badly to hold her again.
         Eventually, I got out the door. I cried on the way to work and had to sit in the parking lot at the hospital that I was assigned to that day. Thank goodness it was my "safe" hospital where half the staff had attended Kaitlyn's memorial service. I took some deep breaths and put on my happy face (or tried to) and went inside.
          My case ended up getting delayed, and I ran into Sherri in the hallway.
          "You okay?" she asked, looking concerned.
           I just shrugged a response, and that's all it took for those tears to come right back.
           "Use my office," she said as she opened the door and ushered me in.
           As soon as she shut the door, a sob came out. I never, never sob like that outside of the house. Probably because I just have too much pride. But like I said, this wave completely consumed me from the moment I looked at Kaitlyn's urn. I just needed to cry. I sat in the same chair that six months prior I had done the same thing and fled to the office for a minute alone. I just cried.
           I'm not exaggerating, but it took me 20 minutes to get it together. Just when I thought I was done, another wave came in. I just needed to cry.
           Towards the end, I texted Alex again and told him I couldn't get it together. I even considered calling my coworkers and telling them I needed a sick day. But again, I think my pride wouldn't let me do that. I haven't had a single day where I called in sick because of grief. I'm not saying that is a good thing, I'm just saying that maybe it was time for me to play that card.
           But about the time that all those thoughts came in, I started feeling at peace. I started reciting all the verses that had been so helpful to me in those first few months. I remembered where my daughter is, and that as cheesy as it sounds and as much as some moms of loss hate it, I know that she is in a much better place. She really has no pain, no hurt, and she is a beautiful form of herself that only God knows. She is perfected in His presence, and for that I am eternally grateful. I can't wait to see my gorgeous daughter. I can't wait to hug her and see what she has become now that she is in Heaven.
           And the coolest thing about that: I know she probably says the same thing about us.

Time marches on

6.3.14

     The thing about a second (and maybe this is true for all) pregnancy, and especially one after loss, is that time cannot go by fast enough. I have pretty much thrown myself into work, and I try to have as many "fun" dates with friends as I possibly can to make the time go by even faster.
      On this Tuesday, we had our next OB appointment with Dr. B. I had gotten the call back from the perinatologist that everything looked great with our bloodwork, so this time Dr. B said that we could just stay with her for the remainder of our pregnancy since there weren't any abnormalities that we were watching.
       This was the first ultrasound that we would have in Dr. B's office, and even to this day I tend to get nervous before seeing the screen light up with an image of our little one. After a short wait in the lobby, we got called back into the dark room with the sonographer. It didn't take her very long to get everything set up, and soon we were looking at our precious little one.
       "Do we know the gender of this baby yet?" asked the sonographer.
       "We have an idea, but they said it's only 85% accurate, so we would love to have confirmation of what they told us!" I replied.
        She poked around a little more on my belly and after measuring a heart beat (strong 140 beats per minute), she started snooping around towards the baby's legs.
        "Hmm..." she said. "Well this baby is sitting breech (I felt Alex tense up at that), and they have their legs crossed and sitting in an indian position... So I don't think that I will be able to tell the gender today. I could take a guess, but I don't want to tell you one way when it's really the other."
         In the end, we let her guess, and her guess was the same as what the perinatologist had told us. So we decided to wait until the next scan (only a month later) to really take it that the guess we had was what we were getting.
     
         After the ultrasound, we went into the patient room where Dr. B would see us. She came in and started giving us the normal run-down of where we were at this point, and asked if we had any questions. I usually don't have too many questions because I asked a LOT of questions with Kaitlyn. I would have a notepad where I wrote everything down. But with this baby, I didn't feel like I had any questions that would matter until we have a little one in our arms safely.
        Alex leaned up out of his chair and said, "This baby is breech, too... Is there something wrong?"
        Dr. B looked at him gently and said, "No, there's nothing to worry about with a breech baby at this point. It is still really early and the majority of babies that are breech at this stage ultimately end up turning for a normal delivery. I know that makes you worry, because just from our mental standpoint we would like everything about this baby to be different than before. But there isn't any sign of anything dangerous that we should be concerned about, and we'll continue doing ultrasounds every time you come in. And if you ever feel like you just need an ultrasound for peace of mind, please call us and we'll work you in."
       Bless her. She spoke to Alex and I like the three of us were in this thing together, and that she also wanted this pregnancy to go easy on us. Alex just nodded his head, but I could tell that he was still a little nervous about our second stubborn child.

Baby Munoz #2 being stubborn.