A Good Reminder

Written by Heather

My family has had a busy couple of weeks. We've been putting the finishing touches on our new home that we've been building since November and have been able to start moving in. So I haven't had a lot of free time to sit down and blog. My crazy 2 year old has also decided that sleep is unnecessary. He figured a way around the barricade I set up so he couldn't get out of his crib, so he's up bright and early in the morning, as well as all hours of the night and don't even get me started with the nap. So I haven't had a moment to myself to really form any sort of thought to share that doesn't involve legos, cars, or angry birds :) but, I came across this quote the other day and I felt that it related perfectly to my struggle with infertility. 

Infertility is one of the single most frustrating things I have had to deal with. It's easy to let the discouragement get to you. Even though I try really hard not to let it affect me, it does. I needed this reminder. This past week I was planning on getting my third IVF cycle started, but I just didn't feel ready. After doing two rounds back to back in which both ended with discouraging results, its been nice to have a couple months where I haven't had to worry about cycle days, running to  doctors appointments, and fertility meds and just be able to put my full focus on my family. Even though I know another baby would bring my family a lot of happiness, I just needed some time to not have to worry about all that and just be HAPPY :) Hopefully next month I'll feel a little more ready to dive back in.


Well, I'm off to find a bed since the L-man learned how to jump out of this barricade :) Obviously my baby doesn't belong in a crib anymore.

Empty Arms

Written by Rachel

To see my previous posts, click on the label 'Rachel' at the bottom of this post.

It was the middle of the night, maybe 3 or 4 in the morning, when I was moved hospital rooms.  So just before they moved me, we said our goodbyes to our babies.  We had opted for autopsies, only because it was a service the hospital was providing us, so the nurse prepared to take them as I held my babies one last time.  As she walked out of the room with Maddox and Sampson, I remember blowing them my final kisses and whispering 'I love you' as they disappeared around the corner.  It was a peaceful goodbye, but I had silent tears streaming down my cheeks, still numb from the idea that I would not be taking them home with me.  My heart ached that my babies were really gone.  Then, as they wheeled me to my next room, I had one of 'those' moments.  We were headed toward the area where I had gone to recover after I had my first little girl, where the sign read"Maternal Newborn Care".  But just as we approached those doors, we turned left, and I looked up at the sign and read "Women's Care".  No newborn.  I didn't have a baby that needed care anymore.  It was just me, myself, and I.  My stomach just sunk.

When morning finally rolled around, I was held in the hospital for monitoring since I had lost so much blood because of my placenta issues.  I was right on the border of needing a blood transfusion, so they wanted to see how my body handled itself throughout the day.  We filled out all the paperwork and started to read through all the grief handouts the hospital and the Share group had provided us to take home (Share also generously provided little packets of mementos and clothing the boys were dressed in).  But it was overwhelming, so we put it away and just waited.  I wasn't prepared to read that yet.  I was asked if I wanted to stay another night for monitoring, but since I hadn't passed out yet, they allowed me to leave that evening if I promised to take it easy and eat a lot of iron.  So, out we went.

And there came another of 'those' moments.  We packed up our things, and Matt pushed my wheelchair onto the elevator.  We rode down next to another woman in a wheelchair holding her newborn, preparing to load up into their car and start their lives together.  But not me.  I had nothing to show for my hospital visit.  I should have been holding my two babies in my arms, happily leaving the hospital with the excitement and anticipation of what raising newborn twins should bring.  But instead, my arms were empty.  I was overcome.  I cried as we walked out the hospital doors under the dark sky.  I cried as we pulled the car away from the dreary parking lot.  I was empty.  I'm not usually a crier, but leaving the hospital with empty arms opened up some floodgates I was not prepared for.  I was unprepared for how empty yet how heavy my heart could feel at the same time.

I tried to distract myself on the way home by reading all the texts people had sent while I was in the hospital.  I remember smiling at one my sister had sent, saying that when she had told her roommates we named our boys Maddox and Sampson, they told her those were awesome names, that they sounded like warrior names.  I also had a lot of sweet messages from people asking what they could do for me or sending me their condolences.

When we arrived home, I was overwhelmed with gratitude at the notes, flowers, and gifts that people had brought us and also grateful (and slightly embarrassed) that someone (later to find out it was Alli and another friend) had gotten a key to the house and cleaned it.  Even though everything was unnecessary, the fact that so many people cared about us and rallied around us brought so much comfort to my heart.  It's been one of those things that, as I've looked back on my experience, was one of the best life lessons I have learned through the whole thing.  The little things that people did for us to show their concern and love made a world of difference.  It inspired me to show more love and compassion towards others, whether it be through little gifts, small acts of service, or even just a hug or asking how someone is doing, just so they know I am thinking of them.  I am still grossly inadequate and often have good intentions with no follow through, but I have learned that the follow through can mean the world to someone, so that's been one of my resolutions to work on.  I'm a work-in-progress.

But now, Matt and I were home alone.  My mom had our little girl so we didn't have to worry about her.  It was just the two of us.  I didn't know what to expect of myself.  How was I going to handle this new me?  I had just lost two of the most precious things in the world to me.  Now what?  It was one of those times when I really didn't know how I was going to function.  Was I supposed to just live as if nothing bad had happened, like everything would go back to normal after a while?  Do I smile and act okay when I talk to people, or do I actually tell them how I'm feeling?  Do I keep to myself as I grieve or do I try to keep up with doing normal things?  As Brianna has mentioned on our Facebook page, I would quickly learn that there would be a new 'normal' I would have to learn to navigate.  I would now have my own taste of how a woman (and family) who loses a child continues on behind closed doors.

Leap of Faith Part II

Written by Brianna

To read part one click here.

Originally written, OCTOBER 10, 2012

Trying...

I would assume that most people reading this know how a baby is made, and I don't need to get into the real logistics there.  A little history on me would be that I have a mixed bag when it comes to my fertility.  It took me almost 18 months, and the help of medicine to conceive my first baby M.  My second baby J was with in three cycles.  Demree, my next pregnancy (6-week miscarriage), and Alex were all immediate.  By this point I thought my body had really figured out how to get pregnant, maybe not stay pregnant, but definitely get there.  I was mistaken.

It's all a little blurry because of how emotional I was at the time, but I went for two cycles "trying" on my own.  The first of which I was very casual about.  I really just wanted it to happen so I could place it all on the Lord's will, but like so often in my life the Lord wants me to express my free agency, and will hold me to being an active part in the route my life will take. Since I did not conceive on my first cycle like I had with my previous three pregnancies, I went more direct with ovulation tests.  When ovulation tests exposed that I was not ovulating I called my doctor.

Julia (my OB) had no problems with prescribing me a fertility drug to help me ovulate.  She assured me that neither drug had any connection with pregnancy loss.  She gave me the choice of Femara or Chlomid.  I went with Chlomid, because it was remarkable less expensive.  I tried this for two cycles... no pregnancy.  I was worried, even though my body was probably just trying to recover and needed more time, but not being able to conceive only seemed to magnify my grief and lack of control.  I called my doctor's office, and they strongly suggested I switch to the Femara.  Great I thought.  I had priced out Femara, and the cheapest I could find it was for approximately $252 for the ten pills I would need for this one cycle.  The thought of this made me sick inside, but I was leaping here so I agreed to it.  I went to pick them up at the Walmart Pharmacy, and I was already to throw up in my mouth when I was told my total and the pharmacy tech said I owed like $4.52.  I asked him to check again that he had the right person and prescription to which he did and confirmed what he said above.  I paid the man with a $5 bill, and left with my mouth wide open.  I even called the pharmacy again the next day to be sure they were not mistaken, and they weren't.  This was a true witness for me of one of the Lord's tender mercies.  I was thrown a little life line that some would consider insignificant, but for me it meant the world.  Also, for the first time on this journey I felt I was moving forward on the path I was meant to be on.

So the rest is history.  I took the Femara, ovulated, and had a positive pregnancy test two weeks later.  Now the real journey began.

Extra precautions...

When I found out I was pregnant I called my doctor's office so they could put me on low dose Heprin.  This is an experimental option I went with to insure I was doing everything possible to give this baby a chance.  Like my doctor told me, "no guarantees, but you have nothing to lose (by using the Heprin)".  Heprin should help to thin and increase blood flow to the placenta... healthy placenta equals healthy baby.  Also Heprin could help with any blood clotting agents that are thus far unknown to the medical world.  Heprin can only be dosed via injection, so that's what I do twice a day until I am 30 weeks along.  No it is not fun, and my stomach and thighs are bruised like I let small children treat me like a pinata, but it's the least I can do to give this baby every chance at making it. 

At first I went into the doctor every two weeks to check my progress.  Then it went to every week during my high stress, anxious weeks.  This last time I made it three weeks without going in!  I know that may not seem like much, but for me it is huge.  It helps that this baby is very active, and I can feel a lot of movement.  I still get anxious, but the baby moving gives me relief in between the moments of panic. 

Where we are now...

I just went to my 22 week target ultrasound appointment, and our baby looks wonderful.  Everything looks great, the heartbeat sounds great, and out baby is right on track for size.  We pray daily for a healthy baby that we can raise here in this life.  I guess when it comes down to it, as much as I love being in control I just had to give it up.  I have no control over what happens, and as much as that scares me, fear was not a good enough reason not to take this leap.  We love this baby come what may, and while we are hopeful... we know our family's fate is truly in the Lord's hands.  We love and appreciate all the prayers and support you all give us.  We feel of your comfort every day.  Thank you.

The rest of my pregnancy thankfully was not quite as anxiety ridden as those first twenty-two weeks.  I still worried ALL. THE. TIME.  Every night I would go to bed exhausted, from anxiety (and pregnancy), but feeling accomplished that I had survived another day, and kept this baby alive.  Every morning I would wake up with what felt like an elephant sitting on my chest due to the anxiety of not knowing what the day might bring.  I would wake up frequently in the night panicked that I hadn't felt the baby move in while.  Which of course I hadn't because I had been asleep, but logic is wasted on an irrational, grieving pregnant lady.  I can't tell you how much ice water and apple juice I drank, or how many prayers I offered up just to be able to feel another wiggle or kick.  Pregnancy after loss is exhausting, emotional, scary, and refining.  It took the little faith I had left (that of the mustard size seed variety), and all the hope I could work up.  It was all I had wanted for years, and I am eternally grateful that I again had the opportunity. 

On January 27, 2013, I was able to give birth to a perfect blonde haired, blue eyed baby girl.  I could gush for days about her, that moment, how she has helped me to heal, and the mother I am now... (big loving sigh)... but for now...

Loss

Written by Alli

When I was told it was highly unlikely I would ever conceive a child, the greatest feeling I had was one of loss.  I had to deal with this just like I had all my other losses.  I had to grieve.  I had to come to terms with the fact that I would not be able to experience something I’d always wanted.  I had to learn how to live with this loss.

Adoption is a wonderful, beautiful, amazing thing!  It brought us Carter and for that I am forever grateful.  But it doesn't help lessen the pain of never being able to experience the feeling of being pregnant.  It is one of the greatest miracles in the world and I will never get to be a part of it.  That is something I still struggle with.  It’s not every day, it’s not even that much.  But sometimes, when I hear someone is pregnant, I wonder what it feels like.  I wonder what it’s like to know you are making a human being, to feel that baby inside you.  I wonder what it's like to feel it kick and move.  I wonder what's its like to give birth. These are all things that I’ll most likely never experience and that causes me sadness.  

Infertility is something I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my life.  It’s something I might grieve again and again.  But I've learned that with my infertility comes strength.  With my infertility comes growth.  And most importantly, with my infertility comes miracles.  

You've Got Your Hands Full

Today we are lucky to have Jenny with Our Not So Engineered Life guest posting.  We became friends through the blogging world and we are so excited for her to be our first guest post.  Enjoy!

You’ve Got Your Hands Full

Motherhood is exhausting, yet rewarding.  It is the hardest thing you will ever do.  It will reveal more to you about yourself than anything else you will ever do or become.  There are days you want to throw in the towel, days you feel like an utter failure, and days where you feel like a super hero.  Those are the days (each and every one of them) that I wanted to have so badly.

As Ethan surpassed the two year mark and started to make his rite of passage into full blown toddlerhood, I began to get comments or “looks” a lot when we were in public.  You know the ones – “you’ve got your hands full,” “he’s ‘active’”, “he’s got SUCH a great vocabulary (meaning he won’t be quiet)”.  All moms are well aware of these comments.  (If you aren't, then I would love to meet you and your perfectly behaved child and get some tips.)  Or you get the glares that burn right through you like molten hot lava.  The kind of glares that within seconds make you feel like you are an utter failure as a mother and have no control over your own children.  As if you aren't exhausted enough and trying to hold it all together long enough for a quick stop at the grocery store to get your bananas and milk and leave before they start begging for EVERY.SINGLE.ITEM you pass by. We are not failures and we are all in the same boat of motherhood that is sometimes rocking along on rough seas giving us sea sickness.  But God entrusted us – He handpicked us – to be the mommies of these precious angels.  So amidst the tantrums, public meltdowns, parenting advice from complete strangers, various backhanded compliments, and glares that give us those “Calgon take me away!” moments, we have the privilege and joy of molding these little beings into what God predestined them to become.  Wow!

A couple of months ago I got the “you have your hands full today” comments from a random stranger in line behind me and Ethan at Chick-Fil-A.  It was one of those days that Ethan was being a little overly excited about the meal.  I mean, who can blame him – their nuggets are the best!   And I’m convinced that is what Jesus will feed us every day in heaven (except Sundays of course).  But the lady, who was very sweet and my elder by several years, meant no harm in her comment and was brightly smiling at him – thereby feeding his little 2-1/2 year old ego that needed not an ounce of help.  All I could do was smile back and say “yes ma’am, he is a handful sometimes.”  And in that moment I realized yes I do have my hands full.  All the comments and glares of those same words came rushing to me and I went from feeling inadequate to grateful and praising God that my hands were finally full.

There were five long and heartbreaking years that my hands weren't full, yet wanted nothing more.  I longed for the diaper changes, crying, and sleepless nights that so many were talking (some complaining) about.  I even longed for the days we now have that seem are full of tantrums or non-stop strong willed moments from a toddler.  I wanted a messy house.  I wanted to step on legos with bare feet and fall to my knees in pain. Because all of it would mean that we had a child of our own.  There was never a time that I wasn't happy for a friend or family member who had a baby.  But there were many times that I did question God and why it seemed so easy for some, yet so hard for others like me.  And there were many times that I would go home and cry after baby showers because I felt like that would never be me.  I wanted to have the tiny onesies, bibs, and diapers.  Not because I wanted those “things” but I wanted what those “things” represented – a newborn baby.  There was a tremendous amount of heartache and emptiness that I felt.  I would go visit friends and family who had newborns and hold them, soaking up that precious baby smell.  And time after time, would leave feeling so empty handed. 

I won’t write here in detail about how we came to have our hands full.  But I do encourage you to read Our Adoption Journey post and the miracles surrounding Ethan and his birth.  After five long years of struggles, procedures, and negative pregnancy tests Ethan was born on August 8, 2011.  I cherish every “I love you,” hug, kiss and I cherish every mess, tantrum, and strong willed moment that renders me exhausted.  I even cherish those comments and glares from strangers when we are having a “moment.”  It means my hands are finally full.

We are all in different points of our journey.  We are there for a reason.  Some who are beginning and some, like me, on the other side of their journey who are there to encourage the beginners. Some who, like me, have never experienced pregnancy and some who have had failed pregnancies.  There are moments filled with  anxiety, sadness, and emptiness that seem to never end.  And there are also moments of hope and faith of the joy of motherhood that awaits you. No matter where we have been or are, we share the same heart wrenching pain and longing to have our hands full. 

I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. – 1 Samuel 1:27

Jenny is a former engineer, now stay-at-home wife and mom.  She co-writes for the Our Not So Engineered Life Blog with her dear friend, Courtney.  They began their blog to encourage others struggling with infertility and to share their stories about life.

Money Comes and Goes, But Family is FOREVER

When we made the decision to give IVF a shot, we were pretty certain it was going to be a one shot deal. The costs of doing a fresh IVF cycle are pretty high and in the end you're not even guaranteed a baby. That's one of the hardest parts of IVF. Putting your faith in something that you know may or may not work. But the thing is, I can't think of anything better to spend our money on. While other people are spending their money on fun toys and vacations, ours is going into growing our family. And I'm fine with that and hopefully in the end it will work for us.

After we learned that our first attempt at IVF failed, I was crushed. I felt we had just played our last card and lost big time. We didn't know if financially, another cycle was possible. I remember sitting with my husband, looking at pictures and videos of our two little boys on our phones, when my husband turned to me and said, "we have to try again, we need another baby." That along with my 6 year old begging me to try just one more time :) I think he's as baby hungry as I am! .


These two little guys:

(click picture to view video)

are the reason I will try whatever I can to have another baby.

The Delivery

Written by Rachel

To read my earlier posts, click here and here.

This was the day.  Delivery day.  The day I'd hoped I wouldn't wake up to, the day I'd hoped was just part of a horrible dream.  The day where I couldn't pretend that things weren't real.  It was actually happening.  And it was happening so fast.  One minute I was loading our little girl into the car to drop her off at my in-law's house, and the next minute, I was walking through the doors of the hospital, the same doors where, less than 24 hours ago, I had entered with an eager smile on my face hoping to see my healthy active little boys.  Now, I entered knowing that I would be leaving those same doors with an empty stomach and empty arms.

I checked in and the nurses led me to a private room where they attempted to put an IV in my arm.  I say attempted because it took FOREVER, even though I'm always told I have awesome veins every time I've had my blood drawn.  The nurse couldn't get it in, and after poking both of my arms what felt like a hundred times, she paged an anesthesiologist to come help.  After trying for another half an hour or more, he was still unsuccessful.  I think they were finally able to get the IV in my hand just before 11am, 3 whole hours after I had checked in.  Then it was finally time to begin the process of inducing labor.

Before the nurse came in to start me on the medication, a med student came in to go over a few things with us.  He told us the doctor said that the standard ultrasound wasn't necessary to see what position the babies were in since they had already passed.  But a part of me still thought, hoped, that maybe the doctor had made a mistake, that the babies were still alive, and I needed to be 100% sure.  So I requested that he do it anyway.  He was so supportive and brought out the ultrasound machine.  I was hoping that my prayers would be answered exactly how I wanted, that their hearts would miraculously beat again when I saw them on the screen.  I thought, if I have enough faith, why not?  But again, I saw the darkness in each of their bodies where there should have been a fluttering of movement.  It was the nail in the coffin.

So, on we went.  I don't really know how to explain the process without using certain terms that might make some people uncomfortable (and frankly, it makes me a little uncomfortable), but I guess (sugar-coated) honesty is the best policy here, so you can skip this part if you want :)  Because my body still thought I was months away from delivering my babies, it was not ready to give them up.  I was given pills to soften the cervix and eventually start contractions.  The nurse gave me the first dose of 2 pills at 11 am, and let's just say that it was a very uncomfortable place to have pills placed (although, as a pregnant person, I was used to it already from all my appointments, but still...never fun).  I was told previously by my doctor and again by my nurse that the process would be slow, and I would probably be in labor through the night and not deliver until the next day.  So my husband Matt and I settled in, not knowing how I would personally react to the medication but prepared that it would take a while.

I wasn't overly emotional in the hospital.  I think I was still in shock.  Maybe if I didn't acknowledge that I was devastated, I could make it through the day.  Or better yet, maybe it still wasn't real.  I think my sister was our first visitor.  She lived close to the hospital, so she ran home and grabbed some dvd's for me to watch to distract myself from all the 'hospital' stuff.  My mom also came to keep us company.  I appreciated having my family there.  It helped me keep my mind off things.  We are good at distracting each other and keeping things light.  We seem to try to handle everything with a sense of humor, even though it may seem inappropriate to laugh at times like these.  It was what I needed.  The medical staff kept coming in and checking on my progress and asking me all these questions they needed for their paperwork: what were our plans for the babies after they were born, did we want to have a funeral, did we want autopsies done, what other tests did we want, what were we naming our little boys?  I was so unprepared to answer any of their questions.  What mom wants to answer questions about funerals for their own children or what to do with their bodies?  We didn't even have names picked out!  Even that decision weighed heavily on my mind.  Matt and I only ever agreed on one boy name, and I felt like I couldn't name one of the boys that name and then give our other boy just some other random name.  So we decided not to use that name at all.  We went back and forth all day, even with suggestions from Matt like Jethro and Tull (obviously not happening, but again, we tried to keep things light).  I had some names I really liked, but we decided to wait until we met our boys to decide on their names.

The clock kept ticking and 2 pm rolled around, and still not much happening as far as contractions or anything.  I did have to keep getting up to go to the bathroom, but I thought that was just nerves.  Turns out, that was one of the unpleasant side effects of the Cytotec I had been given to induce labor.  My doctor came in to check up on me and told me that he was going to head home to rest since I probably wouldn't make substantial progress until the next day.  Then the same medical student from before came to give me my second round of pills, and I could definitely tell he was much less experienced than my first nurse.  He did one pill at a time, and was a lot slower.  I'm sure the poor guy was traumatized, as was I :)  But this time, my body started to respond to the medication.  After a few hours, just after my mom had left to go home for the night and it was just me and Matt left, my nurse came in with another medical student to tell me that my contractions were super close together, less than 30 seconds apart, which was not exactly what they wanted, so they needed to remove the pills to try and slow the contractions.  I had been very uncomfortable for a while, but it had just felt like my upset stomach was progressively tighter and way more uncomfortable.  I didn't realize I was having contractions because it honestly just felt like I was having one giant contraction that never went away, and I thought it was just the side effect again.  But I wasn't surprised they were contractions, because it explained why I was torn between wanting to stay curled up in a fetal position and wanting to run to the bathroom.  The new medical student removed all 4 of the pills (again, uber uncomfortable!) and that's when I really started to feel the pain of the contractions.  My nurse told me that this was probably happening soon and to let people know if I wanted anyone there.

My doctor was called and told to come back as soon as he could, that these babies were coming.  They also called the photographer (a friend who also lived in our neighborhood) who so graciously offered to come take pictures of my sweet baby boys while I still had them with me.  Matt called my mom and his parents and told them to inform anyone who wanted to come see the boys that they were on their way.  The anesthesiologist was also called (I definitely wanted an epidural) and was told it was "urgent", but when he came (he was an upper-year resident), he didn't know I was delivering stillborn babies, so when he found out what I was dilated to, he just laughed and said, "I thought this was urgent!"  When I told him my babies were stillborns and not full term, he quickly changed his tone and got to work.  Everything was happening so fast.  I feel like it all happened within five minutes.  I was given the epidural, clenching my jaw in pain from my contractions, and just as I was rolling back onto the table, I felt a sensation.  I practically fell back onto the bed as I shouted at the nurse, "They're coming."  And there was Baby A.

He came so fast, the nurses and doctors hadn't even had a second to prepare for him.  The anesthesiologist was still standing there with his equipment.  My doctor wasn't even back at the hospital yet.  I looked to the foot of the bed and saw the nurse wrapping my sweet little lifeless baby in a blanket.  Five minutes later, Baby B came.  As I held both tiny little  angels in my arms, I just stared at them.  My babies.  I was holding my babies.  They were ours.  How was I so lucky to have them?  I know my husband has an enormous love for and connection to our boys, but as their mamma who had carried them inside me, I just had this bond with them that intensified as soon as I cradled them in my arms.  Matt let me pick the names, so we named Baby A Maddox and Baby B Sampson.  They were real, and I was in love with them. 

They were so small, but so perfect.  Maddox had this perfect, calm look on his face, and Sampson had his little tongue sticking out.  I wanted to just hold them and stare at them forever, but I had to give them to Matt.  I was still bleeding.  The placenta wasn't detaching on it's own.  My doctor still wasn't at the hospital, so one of the resident doctors tried to manually remove the rest of placenta with his hand.  The epidural still hadn't taken effect, and let me tell you, that was the most painful thing I've ever experienced.  I may have yelled things at the doctor while he was doing it, and I'm impressed with myself that I didn't swear at him, even though I wanted to.  My mom was waiting outside the room and she could hear me yelling in pain and she was furious at the doctor.  Mamma bear coming out, I guess :)  Anyway, he wasn't able to get all the placenta, so Matt gave me a blessing after my doctor got there and I was taken into surgery.  I was pretty drugged up and still had complications, but the next thing I remember was being back in my room with Matt, our parents, my sisters, the photographer, and my little boys.

We had some pictures taken (more on this in a later post), and after everyone left for the night, the nurse told me she could take the boys at any point, but that I could keep them as long as I wanted.  Matt was nervous to keep holding them because their bodies were so soft and fragile, but as soon as he fell asleep, I asked the nurse to bring the babies to me so I could sleep with them and be with them one last time.  I remember just looking at their precious bodies, trying to memorize every detail about them and soak up every second I had left with them.  It was a very sacred time for me, just me and my babies.  There was definitely a sweet spirit in the room.  I am so eternally grateful I was able to spend those last moments together with my babies by my side.  The love I felt (and still feel) for my Maddox and Sampson was overwhelming and brought a peace to my heart that I needed more than anything.

November 15, 2012.  That was the day our family of three became a family of five.

Leap of Faith

Written by Brianna

So I thought it was time I dive into the craziness of pregnancy after loss.  The reason I lovingly refer to it as crazy, is because after enduring losing two babies and a first trimester miscarriage all in a row I kind of felt like the definition of insane.  You know,

“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”-Albert Einstein

Since feeling insane is not the way to barrel into matters of faith, I was really touched when my husband found me this quote…

I cannot even tell you how many months these words carried me through... I sure love him. :)

Oh okay, now for that diving part. :) I thought I would share an account from my personal blog written while I was pregnant with our Rainbow Baby A.  I also feel it is important to note that I logically knew we had a choice to become pregnant again, but I never felt like I really had a choice.  To try again was like deciding whether or not to breath… I just had to.

Originally written, OCTOBER 10, 2012

I decided that it was time I give some insight into our journey to becoming pregnant again.  I am now 22 weeks pregnant, and though I am still not sure of what this baby's outcome will be I feel that I need to document this baby regardless.  I now feel I am in an emotionally stable enough place to do that.  So to keep my thoughts organized, I will break this post into categories.  Here goes...

Making a decision...

After we lost Alex the hardest part next to losing another baby was the complete lack of control I/we felt over our future.  We never felt like our family was complete, but neither one of us knew if we could take the chance of burying another baby.  Amazingly I think by the time we buried Alex we knew we would try again.  We knew there were steps that needed to be taken before we could do that, but ultimately we knew what path we needed to take.  Trust me, it is still something we prayed about fervently for confirmation, and I can honestly say we were not given a for sure answer either way.  I believed and still do that asking for another child was a righteous desire.  We don't want another one just because we make super cute babies (which we do ;).  We want to raise another child in this life because we are financially able, we have a good, solid marriage, we want to give our daughters another sibling to nurture, and we recognize our Heavenly Father's hand in all aspects of our life... like I said righteous desire.

Not to go off on a tangent, but losing a baby is kind of liking being in a plane crash (note that I know that it is far more common to lose a baby than be in a plane crash, but bear with me).  When you embark on a plane ride you know there is always a tiny chance that it may crash.  Just like when you get pregnant you know there is not a guarantee that you will get a baby to have and hold in the end, but you board the plane anyways.  You figure you know people fly every day without incident, heck you know personally several people who have flown and reach their destination worry free.  You have heard of planes crashing, but not close to as many crashes as successful flights are even mentioned.  So you go for it, because the destination is unbelievably good.

Well we are the people who have been in not one, but two plane crashes and here we are on another flight.  The reason we were able to take this leap is mostly because we have had the opportunity to see the destination.  We know what it looks, feels, and smells like.  We know we would have taken hundreds of flights just to get here.  We know the joys of parenthood, and that's what made our decision.

The medical part...

Before jumping into any big decision I am a firm believer in collecting all the information possible.  For us this included trying to find any medical reasons why my body had lost two babies.  So now it was time for testing.  Demree's loss appeared to be from a cord accident (the cord was wrapped three times around her little neck when she came out), but Alex had no apparent reason as to why her little heart just quit.  Since I lost them both at virtually the same gestation (18 weeks & 17 weeks), I really wondered if we were missing something all together. 

With both babies we chose not to have autopsies done for a couple reasons. Demree's demise seemed obvious, both Alex and Demree were the size they were supposed to be for their gestation, and they had no apparent genetic abnormalities (i.e. lower ears, cleft pallets, missing tongues)... they were perfect, just too tiny to sustain life.  I had both placentas autopsied, but nothing came up with those.  So on to me we went.  Between my OB and the perinatologist I was referred to they took at least a dozen tubes of blood and tested me for various blood clotting disorders, lupus, and any thing else they could think of.  All of this came back normal.  Next we moved on to a sonohysterogram.  This is a slightly uncomfortable test that they do to check out the structure of your uterus. Here they were looking for any septums on my uterus wall or if I had a heart shaped uterus that they had missed.  Again all came back normal.  I have a beautiful uterus, and lots of eggs in my ovaries (this is in case you were all wondering ;).  When we first went into the perinatologist, and he reviewed my history with me, I asked what my chances were of a healthy baby.  He gave me a 65% shot with my mixed history of loss and success.  Some may think that sounds defeating, but for me I was pretty impressed it was that high.  I had more failed pregnancies on my rap sheet than children living in my home, so I guess it's all in the perspective. ;)

All of the above testing took place over about two months, or as I refer to it as two cycles (for the past two years my life has been measured in cycles).  I now had no reasons from my medical professionals or other wise to not move forward and conceive again... except for the debilitating fear that had developed in my gut.

"Gonna put the world away for a minute, pretend I don't live in it.."-Zac Brown Band

While in the information phase of our decision we decided to whisk our girls off to Disneyland.  We desperately wanted to give them, and us, something to look forward too after breaking their hearts two separate times that year.  If you are in the thick of devastation I highly recommend escaping as much as possible.  The hurt doesn't go away, BUT it easier to pretend, for a minute, that this isn't happening to your family.

Stay tuned for Part 2…

Becoming "Mom"

Alli's Story - Part 3

To read Part 1, click here.
To read Part 2, click here.

It’s very fitting that while I’m writing this post, we are on our way to Arizona to see Carter’s birth mom.  This is the first time we are seeing her since he was born exactly 20 months ago and I can't wait to see her!  But, more to come on that in another post. :)

We were chosen by our birth mom on March 28, 2012.  She was due the middle of August.  THAT was a long 5 months.  Many hours were spent on Pinterest, looking for designs for the perfect nursery.  Thankfully that is a huge time waster, so I was able to find ways to fill my time.    Late afternoon on Wednesday, August 8^th, I was with our youth group driving to the lake to go waterskiing.  We'd be driving about 15 minutes when I got a text from E (our birth mom).  It said, “Hey beautiful.  How long does it take you to get to Arizona?”  I wasn't driving, so I told my friend, Melissa to “Take the next exit!  I think our birth mom is about to have the baby!”.  I was texting E as fast as I could.  She was in fact scheduled for a C Section the next day at 1:00.  Since it was an 11 hour drive from our house to Arizona, Paul and I needed to leave ASAP if we were going to be there in time.  The youth group dropped me off at a McDonald’s right off the exit and I called Paul to tell him he needed to leave work right away, we were going to meet our son!  I called my friend Rachel next to see if she could come rescue me from the McDonald’s.  She happily said yes.  While I was sitting at McDonald’s, I started calling our family to tell them we were headed to Arizona.  I was crying with every phone call.  A very nice couple offered me some napkins and that sweet gesture caused even more crying.  I was so happy to see Rachel.  I couldn't wait to start the drive to meet our baby boy.

Paul met me at home and we hurriedly packed.  Since we were doing an interstate adoption, we didn't know how long we would have to be there.  We needed to plan for at least 2 weeks, but it could be more (more on this later).  So we packed up pretty much our whole house.  Rachel saved the day again when we didn't know how to install the car seat (apparently you either use the hooks or the seatbelt, not both.  We thought both would be the obvious choice,  because you know, Safety First!).  We drove 4 hours that night and arrived at our hotel after midnight.  We woke up bright and early at 5:30 a.m. and headed for Arizona.  Thankfully they are an hour behind us, so we gained an hour on the drive.  We arrived in Arizona  just in time to receive a picture of our son.  He was born happy and healthy at 1:15 p.m.  As hard as it was not to go straight to the hospital, we wanted to give E and her family time with the baby before we showed up.  So we checked into our hotel and bought E some flowers before going to the hospital.  E was (as always), thinking about us and had her sister text us to tell us she was out of surgery and to get up to the hospital!  So we headed to the hospital.

This was taken in front of the hospital before we met Carter.  Our last picture as a family of 2.

I was trying to keep my emotions in check, but they were all over the place.  Excitement, fear, nervousness, joy.  It was hard to even think straight.  We walked into the hospital and headed to E's room.  When we walked in, she was there with her family.  I was so happy to see her and see that she was ok.  Paul and I hugged her and talked to her and made sure she was feeling ok.  Then E's mom said, “Do you want to hold your son?”.  Oh wow, the tears started flowing.  I couldn't wait to get my arms around that precious little spirit.  He was perfect in every way!  He was absolutely the most beautiful baby I had ever seen.  There was my son.  My precious little Carter.  The baby we had prayed for and hoped for for years.

Adoption is a tricky thing.  At that moment, he wasn't ours yet.  And yet he felt like he was.  We wanted to be respectful of E and her family, but we also wanted to just hold and feed and change him.  I wanted to send pictures to everyone I knew and I was deeply saddened that our family couldn't be there to be a part of this momentous day (not because E didn't want them there, but because it was so far away from home).  I was very aware of the fact that there were no parents or siblings there to celebrate with us.  I tried not to let that bother me and just soak up every single minute we had with E and Carter.  E had requested that we have a room in the hospital so we could be with Carter as much as possible.  The next two days were spent going back and forth between E’s room and ours.  E was amazing and let us have Carter in our room during the night so we got to experience the first moments of parenthood.  She wanted time with Carter by herself and her family, so she had moments alone with him as well.  At the time, I was so nervous when she was with him, but looking back on it, I wish I would have encouraged her to spend even more time.

My absolute favorite picture of Paul.  Can you tell he loves his son?

After 48 hours, E was able to go home.  While she couldn't sign the relinquishment papers for another 24 hours, she wanted us to take Carter with us when we checked out of the hospital.  So we had to say our goodbyes at the hospital.  That was the hardest day of my life and I’m sure of hers.  We gave her a gift and we all took pictures and then we cried and hugged.  We spent time with her parents while E was saying goodbye to Carter and they assured us that E had known since the day she found out she was pregnant that she was going to place and that when she found us, she knew Carter was meant for us.  Have I mentioned how wonderful E and her family are!  It was horrible having to say goodbye to E and her parents.  I couldn't help but feel guilty as I held that sweet little boy in my arms.  I was torn between happiness and sadness and couldn't quite pinpoint which one I should be feeling.  And while I was so happy to have Carter, I was still nervous.  Placement day technically wasn't for another 24 hours, so he still wasn't ours.  

We took Carter back to our hotel and tried to relax.  But I’ll be honest, I just wanted the next 24 hours to be over.  The case worker called and said he was meeting with E at 1:15 the following day and then he would come to us and we would sign papers as well.  We asked him if he would take a gift for E and give it to her when she signed the relinquishment papers.  We had gotten her a necklace and written her letters.  I was very conscious of the time the next day and could feel my heart breaking at the moment it was time for E to sign.  I could not imagine the strength, courage and love it took E to do that.  We heard from the case worker shortly after 1:15 and he said E had signed and he would be at our hotel shortly.  I was filled with relief, but also guilt that I was relieved.  I knew she was hurting and I wanted to be there with her to hug her, and to tell her how much I loved her.  But I knew I couldn't.  I knew this was something she had to do.  So I did the next best thing.  I held Carter instead and told him over and over how much his birth mom loved him.  I told him what an amazing woman she was and that we loved her so much.  She is forever a part of our family and we are forever joined by one amazing little boy.

Our first family picture, taken in our hotel room, by E's case worker.

Taking the Plunge

Many times in our lives we are asked the question in some form or another "how many kids will you have?" You think about it a lot when you're growing up, you talk about it when you're dating someone seriously or when you get engaged, you get asked that question when you are newly married. My answer was always four. Some days I'd take ten and others I wonder why I was entrusted with any at all. But at the end of the day I always thought we'd end up with four.

About seven months after we had our second little boy, we felt it was time to start planning to get our next little bundle here. My last healthy pregnancy took a little over a year and a half to achieve, so we thought if we got started early, we'd actually get pregnant when he was about two years old, which would be perfect. I was also hoping by getting an early start, I'd avoid the feelings of frustration and disappointment that come along with infertility. I'm quickly learning that pregnancy can't be planned- at least not for me.

Once again it was month after month of negative results. We planned on it not happening quickly. I won't bore you with the details of a years worth of infertility treatments, I'll just give a quick glimpse of everything we were going through which eventually led us to part of our decision to attempt IVF. 

From September 2012 to September 2013 I had gone from one dose of Chlomid to double doses of Chlomid and Femera, I had two hysterosalpingogram (HSG) tests, three IUI's, two ruptured cysts,  suffered an ectopic pregnancy which led to laproscopic surgery all while getting pretty regular follicle checks that showed everything looked perfect! I should definitely be able to get pregnant. It was a lot to go through. I don't want anyone to think I'm looking for sympathy by sharing this. IVF is an intense process. It's not only emotionally and physically draining, but its also a huge financial commitment. I feel I have to share what I was experiencing in order for it to be understood why after only a year and a half of rather minor infertility treatments, we decided to take the plunge and give IVF a try.

Another huge factor in our IVF decision was the result of my ectopic pregnancy. In November of 2012 we found out that I was pregnant, but unfortunately it ended up being a tubal pregnancy. Ectopic pregnancies can be scary. There isn't a way to save an ectopic pregnancy. It can't turn into a normal pregnancy and if the egg keeps growing in the fallopian tube, it can damage or burst the tube which not only causes more fertility problems, but can also be life threatening. My ectopic was just far enough along, that laproscopy surgery was required. I was in shock that this was happening to me. According to Google only 1-2% of women experience an ectopic pregnancy. I couldn't believe that I was falling into that 1-2%. Luckily everything went well with my surgery- except the fact that it was another pregnancy lost. 

Six months later my second HSG test showed that this same tube was now blocked, most likely due to scar tissue that formed as a result of my surgery. I was told that basically this tube was done. This was a huge disappointment to me. I already have a hard enough time as it is getting pregnant when I'm "normal," but now with only one healthy tube, I felt my chances took a dramatic decrease.

Then in September, on my ten year wedding anniversary (of all days), I had another ruptured cyst. They aren't life threatening by any means, but those little things are painful! So instead of celebrating my anniversary, I spent the day in bed and at the doctors just making sure that's what was causing the pain and not another ectopic pregnancy. My Dr. also reviewed my medical history and she believed that my blocked tube was the only side that was really producing any eggs. I didn't even know that could happen. At that point I was done. Mentally and emotionally. I felt like getting pregnant on my own was sort of a lost cause. However, my Dr. believed I would be the perfect candidate for IVF.

I'm sure anyone that has had to consider IVF knows that it is not a cheap process. Fortunately for us, my husbands insurance at the time covered about half the costs of IVF. It's not very common to come across medical benefits that cover infertility treatments. The only problem was, he was switching jobs at the end of the month so we would only have this insurance for a short time longer. We felt that if in the end, IVF was our best option to get pregnant, it was better to do it now when insurance would help relieve some of the financial burden, than in the future when we wouldn't have this help. We met with our new infertility doctor, who thought at the time that this would be a "slam dunk" for us. I was able to get pregnant in the past, I was still at a good age, and I didn't really have anything medically that she could see that would decrease our chances. My past miscarriages were a little concern, but not huge since they weren't consecutive and I had healthy pregnancies inbetween. I think she said we had a 65% chance of it working out. How could we not give IVF a shot? It seemed at the time an answer to all our infertility problems.  I want another baby so badly it was a no brainer, we had to try.

When we started the whole IVF process we figured it would be a one time deal. We were very optimistic it would work the first time.  We knew we could get pregnant- we have two kids! I never thought I'd end up attempting IVF three times!

I also want to give a huge THANK YOU to everyone that sent me comments and messages. I get so nervous posting about this- mostly because I don't want anyone to think I'm looking for sympathy. So it really meant a lot to me that anyone would take the time to send me words of encouragement. THANK YOU!!

This Can't be Real...

Written by Rachel

To read the beginning of my story, click here.

First off, can I just say how amazed I am that anyone outside my immediate family even read my first post!  I'm shocked and flattered, so thank you whoever read it!  I didn't even have to bribe people :)  But as I've re-read what I posted and as I've been thinking about my experiences and the messages I hope to convey by sharing my story, I really hope people don't read my posts and think I'm looking for sympathy or attention.  For those who know me, that's the last thing I want, and it kind of embarrasses me if people do think that.  I also don't want to seem ungrateful.  I really am a lucky girl.  I hope you keep reading what I write because once I get through what I feel are the necessary details in order to know my background for this blog, I will share more of my perspective, not just all the depressing details :)

So...back to my story for now...

Before I lost my twins, I really had no idea what women went through who had lost a baby during their pregnancy.  I'd always heard of people who had miscarriages or stillborn babies (my own mom had both), and I definitely felt sorry for them, but what happened behind the scenes never really crossed my mind.  I would see them going about their days after the fact and think that they were 'ok' after a while.  Going through it myself has really increased my empathy for women who lose a child.  It was a major eye opener for me.  Major.

As we sat in the doctor's office after being told neither of our babies had a heart beat anymore, I felt like a giant boulder was sitting on my chest.  I couldn't breathe.  Tears filled our eyes as I asked the doctor questions, and my voice weakened as I asked if they were boys or girls.  He said they were both little boys.  Identical twin boys.  The tears fell from our cheeks.  I couldn't believe that just a month ago we were experiencing a double high of learning we were having twins, and even five minutes ago we were laughing about what color of blankets to make the babies.  And now it was a double low.  Our anticipation and excitement was replaced by grief and despair.  The blow was enormous.

My doctor then explained our options at that point.  We could choose to have a d & c, which was a surgical removal of the babies, a quicker and less involved process, but the babies would probably not come out intact.  Our other option was to have a normal delivery, where labor would be induced and I would have a 'normal' delivery.  How was I having to make this decision right now?  I came to my appointment hoping to see each of my babies' tiny little fingers, toes, and healthy heartbeats, hoping to have happy little babies to hold in my arms in a few short months, and now I was deciding how to remove their lifeless bodies from my body.  It was an unreal moment.  I knew what I wanted to do, but the doctor told us to go home and think about it and call him back later that night.  He gave us a few moments alone in the ultrasound room and told us we could sneak out the back door when we were done so we wouldn't have to walk through the waiting room past all the other expectant moms eagerly awaiting their turn to see their babies.  The ultrasound tech came back in the room at our request so she could make one last ultrasound DVD for us of our babies.  I wanted to remember every little thing about my sweet boys.  I wanted to see their two little bodies cuddled up next to each other.  I wanted to see their little hands and feet, their little spines, everything.  They looked perfect.  Once she finished and left the room, I don't even remember what my husband and I said to each other as we sat in the darkened room by ourselves.  I think we were both still in shock.

Baby A

Baby B

We finally headed down to the car, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.  I called my mom as we drove away, and as she asked how my appointment went, I choked out "We had an ultrasound and neither of the babies had a heartbeat."  Then I just took a deep breath.  I could tell her heart broke over the phone.  Next, I called my mother-in-law.  She was watching our little girl and I wanted to tell her before we got there because I didn't know how to say it in person.  My voice cracked as I told her the news.  The rest of the drive home was somber.  I stared at the road, stunned.  When we got to the house to pick up our girl, she was playing happily in the living room.  I didn't want her to see me sad, so I tried to put on a smiling face and attempted a cheerful greeting.  I had never had to pretend like that for her before, and man, it was hard.  My voice was shaky and I'm sure my smile wavered.  My parents invited us and my mother- and father-in-law to come over for dinner and so my dad could give me a blessing.  After my dad gave me the blessing and my husband's dad gave him one, and after many tears were shed, I finally called my doctor back.

Before I even asked him what he would tell his own daughter to do, he said "If you were my daughter, I would tell you to have the induced labor and deliver the babies."  That confirmed my decision.  I knew I wanted to be able to hold my precious little boys before I had to say goodbye to them, even if it meant going through a potentially long and emotionally (and physically) draining process of labor and delivery.  I knew I needed that experience.  I also couldn't handle the thought of the alternative (even though I understand in emergencies, sometimes that's the only option).  So we scheduled to go in to the hospital first thing the next morning.

That night, Brianna kindly came over to give us some advice since she'd previously had similar experiences.  Heading into the unknown was terrifying, so knowing that someone we knew could tell us a little of what we might expect helped dilute a small portion of our apprehension.  As I laid in bed, I was filled with longing that I could keep the peaceful 'sleeping' boys in my stomach forever or that I would wake up and it would all have been a bad dream.  I prayed that somehow the doctor had made a mistake and that my babies hearts would beat again. When we woke up the next morning after an anxiety-filled night, the reality started to set in (though I still felt in denial) and we reluctantly headed to the hospital.

We were headed for a day of decisions that I never dreamed I would be making at this time in my life.  We were headed for one of the scariest, most emotional, most sacred days of my life.