Jinxed

Written by Brianna

During my pregnancy with Rainbow Baby A I became very superstitious, and avoided certain practices and/or past times.  For example, for the entire pregnancy I wore a pair of February birthstone earrings (month A was due) that my husband, Nate, got me while I was pregnant with Alex (also due in February) that I couldn't bear to take off.  I also wore a Tiffany's "bean" necklace that Nate got me for Christmas while I was pregnant with our first daughter... I figured it worked that time.  Beyond that I would not announce the pregnancy as I had either of the previous two.  I would not start working on the nursery (that ended up being a labor of love on Nate's part) as I had started cleaning it out before and lost Alex two short weeks later.  I declined to go on a girls get away that was a long standing tradition because the gestation of my pregnancy, and I couldn't take a chance of a deja vu.

Now I want to make note that I am a logical person, and what I lack in logic I make up for in faith.  Neither of which lead me to believe that any of the above would make one ounce of difference in my pregnancy outcomes.  That being said, sometimes that all goes out the window when you are terrified of being jinxed.  Complete sanity during pregnancy after loss is just a hollow promise or a pipe dream at best.

This pregnancy I have done better with the superstitions.  I only have had this one I have been holding on to, and today is the day I conquer it.  Approximately four and a half years ago we announced we were pregnant with Demree by having J wear this shirt...

My insides still ache when I see this picture, oh but how I can't help but feel blessed by that smile.  Anyways, several months ago I came across this shirt while cleaning some things out.  I didn't know what to do with it so I shoved it up in A's closet.  Well today I am thirty-three weeks pregnant, and it was time to take this picture... and yes they are full biological sisters. ;)

Milestones are good... even the littlest of ones. ;)

Reminders

Written by Brianna

Two weeks ago I went to my target ultrasound appointment, because I was nearing the 22 week mark in my pregnancy.  I love this appointment because I am able to get amazing images like these of our little...

I have also learned that any and all OB related appointments usually begin with the medical history questions, and go something like this:

Ultrasound Tech: What pregnancy is this?
Me: Seventh.
UT: Do you have six children at home?
Me: No, three.
UT: So three miscarriages?
Me: One early miscarriage, and two second trimester losses.

This is always when their stare breaks away from their computer screen.  This is when they look at me with either pity or bewilderment, wondering if I am simply crazy to be back in this place again. This is when they ask in what order were my losses, and when they like me can't believe I had two blissfully uneventful, text book pregnancies to begin our family.  This is when they ask if we ever knew why.  This is when, if they are good at their job, I see amazing amounts of empathy coming from another woman (my techs have always been women), a mom, as she thoroughly checks every inch of our unborn child to offer us as much hope as possible.

Honestly, it is not until these kind of reminders that I realize my differences.  No I haven't forgotten, how could I.  Not to mention I have an ever growing belly to remind me of such.  But I have just come to accept that this is my history... my journey.  It is still heart breaking at times, and I still maintain emotional scars.  BUT... this is our family.  This is our dynamic.  I own it.  I embrace it.  I like to think I have taken point from my amazing older daughters.  They just accept that we have babies in heaven and we have babies here.  They have no doubts about this reality, and are confident in us seeing them again some day.  I doubt they think it's ideal, but their innocence allows them to accept that it will all be okay.  It is honestly no wonder we are told repeatedly to "become as little children".  They really have it all figured out... just ask them. ;)

Our Loss, Our Angel

Written by Brianna:

Since yesterday was our sweet Demree’s fourth birthday, I thought it was a good time to share her birth story.  At times it feels like a life time ago, and then there are days like today where it feels fresh and new.  We love you Demree, and can’t help but wonder who you’d be today.  

Originally Written TUESDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2010

Our Loss, Our Angel...

From the beginning...

On Wednesday, December 1st, I woke up feeling agitated. I felt over whelmed, annoyed, and I know even my girls sensed it. I attributed this to the stress of our upcoming move (more on this another time), and all that I needed to get done in the next two weeks. I knew I had an appointment with my OB later on, but I was nervous to go. Considering I was just over eighteen weeks along, I thought I should be feeling my baby move more. I had flutters, and bumps every now and then, but nothing consistent. I expressed my concerns to both Nate and Kath, but I knew Nate had a busy day at work, and Kath was watching my girls, so I went to my appointment alone, as I had done before.

After waiting for almost an hour for Julia (my OB), because she was behind from a delivery, I finally got into the room for my ultrasound. Before we started I explained to her my concern over my baby's lack of noticeable movement. She said it could be that the placenta is in front, and that she would take a look for sure. Usually when she starts my ultrasounds she cuts straight to the sound of the heartbeat. This time she did not. Instead she was concentrating on taking several measurements. She asked again if I had felt the baby move at all, to which I replied yes, just not a lot, and not recently. She then told me she wasn't finding a heartbeat. At this moment I felt the blood rush from my face. She waited a second longer to see if it would "start back up", but nothing. She then checked the cord, and informed me there was no blood flow. The baby was measuring 18 weeks gestation, so what ever happened she believed it to be recent. Tears ran down my face as she explained what we needed to do next. I remember her telling me this was not my fault, that we would know more after I delivered the baby and the placenta, and yes, I was too far along for a D&C and I would need to deliver the baby. I was also told this would take 18-24 hours because my body was far from ready to deliver. I then asked her to look one more time at the ultrasound to see what we were having, since we had chose not to find out. She agreed, and looked at the best angle she could and said she was pretty sure it was a girl. Julia then left me to myself with instructions to talk with my husband to see when I wanted to go to the hospital to deliver our stillborn baby... our daughter.

Through massive tears I called Nate and my mom from the room at the doctors office. Nate agreed to come get me, and apologized for not being with me. Kath made arrangements for my girls to be taken care of for the night. When I left the doctors office I told Julia's MA that we wanted to get started as soon as possible. She said she would call with a time after she talked to Julia. I then left the building, and sobbed in my car. Looking back it is hard to believe this was a real moment in my life, and not a dream or a hoax I had worked up in my head.

Nate's dad drove Nate to me, and we hugged in the parking lot. I then asked to be taken to my mom's to see my girls... I needed their loves. By this point the doctor's office had called me back to tell me to be at the hospital at 7:00pm. This gave me hours to wait, cry, hug my babies, cry, cry some more and receive a wonderful priesthood blessing from my husband and his dad. This gave Nate time to gather my things, call and tell a few people, and hug our babies... he takes such good care of me.

Next Nate, me, and Kath headed to the hospital as instructed. At 8:30pm they then started me on my first dose of what would be several doses of Cytotec . This drug is what they use to thin and dilate your cervix. I then proceeded to spend the next 27 hours waiting, cramping, crying, being "checked", being freezing with fever chills, being hot when the fevers broke, and in the end just being finished... physically, mentally, and emotionally finished.

Around hour 26, Julia came to check me, and see what we could do to get this moving. When she did I was finally dilated to a one, and she decided it would be best to break my water. I had mixed feelings about this because I had heard babies in such a fragile state held up better if they delivered in their water sack, but at this point we really needed things to progress since I was past the 24 hour mark. Immediately after she did this the "real" contractions started frequent and hard. I had thought about doing this naturally, but Julia suggested an epidural in case my placenta wouldn't separate and she had to go "fetch it". If this ended up being the situation and I had an epidural she would do so in the room, if not she would have to take me to surgery. This would mean precious minutes or more that I would not get to spend with my baby, and that was not an option.

On December 2nd, 2010, right around 11:53pm I delivered our celestial angel, Demree Ray, with no pushing or pain. None of us were quite prepared for the unannounced way she came into this world. Due to the epidural I had no feeling and I was exhausted, so we didn't even know for at least twenty minutes that she had made her entrance. At first this was very difficult for me, but I decided not to waste precious time dwelling on guilt and circumstances we couldn't control. We also were unprepared for how tiny she was, and the strong rush of emotion for all of us that her arrival brought. We knew she would be small, but she was SO small... 7.5 ounces and 7.5 inches long. 

She may have been tiny, but she was perfect with all her tiny little features... ten tiny toes, ten tiny fingers, all with tiny nails. She had J's nose, a tiny pink tongue, and she came out with her hands crossed in her lap... such a lady. She looked peaceful. When Julia got there she informed us that Demree had suffered a "cord accident". The cord was wrapped around her neck three times, her neck was constricted and bruised, and her head was slightly swollen. There was nothing we could have done to save her and sometimes this is helpful to know, but at other times for a control freak like me it just feel helpless. 

We all took our turns holding her before Nate's dad arrived to help him give her a blessing. Nate gave our baby daughter the most beautiful, inspired blessing I have ever heard. I then just held her on my belly, trying to take her all in, and make a lifetime of mental memories since I knew our time together would be brief. Share (a non-profit group to help mothers with pregnancy and infant loss) arrived around 3:00am to take molds of her hands and feet, and a professional photographer took pictures of her for us as well. These women have all suffered the loss of a child, and they were definitely angels in human form. The level of compassion they showed to us as complete strangers was the most Christ like act of service I think I have ever witnessed. I only hope to eventually be able to pay their love forward.

After Share left we knew it was time to call the mortuary. As much as I would have loved to stay in that room with her forever, her little body was deteriorating by the minute. It was time to send her to a safe place until we could bury her in her final resting place. Saying goodbye before they took her away was incredibly difficult. We said a prayer with her, Nate, me, and Kath all took turns kissing her goodbye, and we sent her on her way. Oh how my heart and empty arms ached. The nurses let me leave about thirty minutes after Demree did. I needed to get out of there. Leaving the maternity ward at 5:00am empty handed was so hard, but I had an amazing support system with me. 

Nate has been so wonderful. He holds me, cries with me, and just is there with me. I love him more now than I ever have before, which is amazing to me since I didn't know that was possible. My mom, "my Kath", is as always our selfless supporter. I don't know what I would have done without her there. We feel so very loved by so many friends and family members. The texts, emails, phone calls, and Facebook posts of loving thoughts and offers to help have been endless. Our sincerest thanks to you all.

Today, December 7th, 2010, we had to do something I hoped we would never have to do... we had to bury our child. Nate and I went to the mortuary just the two of us before the graveside service to say our goodbyes to Demree and "tuck her in". She looked so perfect in her little white dress, hat, and booties that Nana had made. We both held her again, left letters from each of us in her casket, took pictures with her in her casket, made sure her clothes were not bunchy and booties were in tact, and all together just took the time to take in her peaceful presence. We then said our final goodbyes, and drove to the cemetery.

We chose to have Demree buried in the "Baby Land" portion of the cemetery. It brings us great comfort to know that she is surrounded by other perfect, little beings as herself. Nate's dad said some beautiful, comforting words, and then Nate dedicated her grave. M and J, looking so beautiful in their Christmas dresses, then released balloons into the sky as a gift to our "Baby Demree". After they let the balloons go, they quickly ran through the cemetery to get a better look as they drifted off to heaven. It was a beautiful moment of child like innocence that I never want to forget. It was all very fitting, and we felt very loved and supported by our family members.

So now we go back to "normal life", and trying to define what that is for us now. There is a void in our family that will not be able to be filled in this life, and that is our reality that we have to learn to live with. We are honored that the Lord would feel we are strong enough for such a trial, and that Demree chose us as parents. We love you Demree Ray, and will miss you dearly. We know you are in good hands with our Heavenly Father and our Savior, and we know we will see you again. For the time being, have fun playing with Carter and Addelyn. :)

Remembering

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, as well as October 15th being National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.  I love taking the time to celebrate my babes who were born still, and taking stock of the ways they have touched our lives.

In October Utah Share holds "The Walk to Remember".  This event is a symbolic walk for loved ones to take the steps their babies will never take.  After a small walk around the park there is a giant balloon release.  During this balloon release they read off all the littles names as their families release balloons heaven bound, some with messages written on them.

I love the walk.  I love the symbolism of it all.  I love that my babies here get a chance to remember sisters they don't see every day.  I love that for those few hours I get to relish in the thought of five daughters instead of three, and when people ask how many kids we have they really want to know about them... all of them.  I am saddened to see that there are others who are living without a piece of their hearts too, but find strength in our ability to lift each other up.  I love giving our babies an "event" of  their own.  I love to remember. :')

The other way we like to remember is by participating in the Wave of Light.  I usually post something like this on my Facebook in hopes of spreading the word...

I love when friends, and family either post or send me pictures with their candles lit on October 15th.  It is such a small gesture, but usually that's the best kind.  I feel of their love for me, our family, and our babies that they never got to know.

Happy October little babies.  May your short, little lives continue to change the world for the better. 

Broken

This Friday is our second Angel Baby, Alex’s, 3^rd birthday.  In honor of her, I thought it was time to share her birth story that I originally shared on my personal blog shortly after she left us.  Sorry in advance... it is a little long, but I know she deserves every word. :’)

Originally written SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2011

Broken...

On early Friday morning, September 2nd, I was up in Park City, UT waking up from our annual Swiss Days overnight stay with my mom and friends. My sleep had been restless at best so I decided to calm my nerves I would use my Doppler to check on our baby. I looked patiently for a steady heartbeat, but only found inconsistent readings. I put down the Doppler to get in the shower. At this point I was starting to panic. I found myself praying through tears in the shower that I was being irrational. When I got out I tried to pull it together as not to disrupt the day. I obviously am not good at this, and my mom knew of my fear so she suggested we go to a clinic in town and get an ultrasound to ease my frantic mind. I agreed.

Navigating Park City was a joke. Everything looks the same, and it was too early to ask anyone for directions. I really wanted a clinic in an effort to save money, but when we called one we found out they didn't open until 8:00 am and she wasn't sure if they had an ultrasound machine. Unfortunately this individual was so ill informed she didn't even know the address to the hospital... we were on our own. After being led astray by the GPS once, we pulled into the parking lot to a school to decide what to do. All the while I am using my Doppler, but the readings were still so inconsistent. By inconsistent I mean the heart rate would spike and then come back down to what would be considered my pulse rate. We decided to leave the school parking lot, and head towards the outlets. Not a half a mile out of the school we saw a blue hospital sign. We followed it with relief, and pulled into the ER sure to ease crazy Brianne's mind.

I was in tears as we entered the ER. My mom and I went right up to admit and my mom requested firmly she needed to pay for an ultrasound, and explained briefly my medical history. The admit clerk was very kind, and said we would need a doctors order, but they weren't very busy and could accommodate me fast. I was lead straight back by a doctor, a nurse, and an orderly. The doctor went over my history, and asked if I had any bleeding, cramping, contractions, or recent accident. I answered no, but explained about the readings I was getting on my Doppler. She said she had already ordered an ultrasound and they had a hospital Doppler ready to see what they could find.

The nurse began to administer the Doppler as I lay there. At first she too could only pick up my pulse rate, but then she started to get some higher readings. No sound, but at least readings she was picking up. She then explained how it will be interesting to see where the baby and the placenta are positioned, because that could be why it was so hard to get a reading. As they wheeled me into ultrasound, I felt a little more hopeful. I kept relying on at least the nurse saw something. This faded fast as the ultrasound tech began. Instead of immediately showing me the heartbeat, she told me she was going to take some measurements. After losing Demree I knew this was a bad sign. I quickly asked with a crackled voice if she could see a heartbeat, to which she soberly replied "I don't".

At this point I can't remember how loud I cried out. I'm sure it was a lot louder in my head than it actually was. Through tears I asked my crying mother to call Nate who didn't even know I was at the hospital... I didn't want to have to worry him. She stepped out and did so while the tech continued to take measurements. I knew our baby's size would be close to where it should because I had good fetal heart tones not even two days prior. Our baby's death was recent. Our baby was measuring seventeen weeks as it should, and I didn't even have to be told that I would have to deliver again. I knew it.

The doctors then proceeded to have radiologists look at the ultrasound to be sure, and they also tried to contact my doctor who I later found out was out of town. The radiologists came to the same conclusion which was no shock to me... I had seen our still child with my own eyes. Next I talked to my doctor, Julia, over the phone who was in Lake Powell. She urged me to wait until she could get back. I struggled with this, but knew I would have to wait a little while because my regular hospital was very full. I left my conversation with Julia with not being sure of our plans, but expecting a call back from her or her office. I could tell she was as astonished as me. She said she has never had two fetal demises at almost the exact same gestation. All I could think was this is not something I wanted to be in the record books for.

Of course Nate could not stay away from me even though I was soon to be released from the hospital in Park City. His dad drove him to me, and he was there right before I was able to leave. Oh how I love this man. My heart breaks for the pain I know he has suffered. Even in the worst of situations I feel comforted in his presence... he is my rock.

On the drive home Julia's office called me and told me they had my induction scheduled for Sunday night. I asked if there was any way to do it earlier, and they said Julia really wanted to be there so I reluctantly agreed.

Since our original plans included going to the cabin for the extended weekend, we decided to send the girls anyways. As much as I wanted to have them home, because it makes me feel better, it would have been selfish. No child needs to see their parent that sad, that out of it, that lost. I then spent the next two days as a walking tomb, while Nate tried to take care of me. It was hard, and that is an understatement. My insides felt crushed, and I had to remind myself to breathe. I also watched my body physically change. My little, hard baby bump was already shrinking, I felt no hunger, and my skin even started to clear. My body was clearly no longer nourishing my baby, and it was apparent.

On Sunday morning I got a call that I didn't answer, and Sunday around noon I got another call from the same number. This time I listened to the messages, and found out it was the hospital informing me of a miscommunication. Julia would not be back for a day longer than they expected, so if I wanted to have her there I would need to schedule for Monday night, but if I wanted to use her partner on call I could stick with our original plan. My heart sunk. I really wanted Julia to be there, but I really knew I couldn't wait another twenty-four hours. I decided to use her partner, and then we asked if I could come any sooner. They said any time, so with in an hour or two we were off.

After we arrived at the hospital, and were admitted, Nate asked if I could have another ultrasound just to be sure. My nurse, Renae (same nurse who delivered M and is the mother of my best friend from high school), said that would be fine. This ultrasound tech was much more sympathetic to our situation, and asked before she started if we wanted to know what she was doing while she was doing it. I liked that I would know what she was measuring, and I found this part very helpful. So there again I stared at the screen as she showed us our still baby. She took many measurements, and our baby was measuring 17 weeks 1 day. I asked her to tell us if she could see what the gender was since we had originally planned to not find out. She said since the baby isn't moving it is hard because you only get one angle, but asked if we would like her to guess. I said yes, and she said her best guess is "girl". I told her she was probably right since that is all we make, something that I am really so proud of. From there, with our minds at ease, we went back to my room so I could officially be started.

Before they started the drugs, Nate and his dad gave me a Priesthood blessing. I am always thankful, especially at times like these, for the Priesthood being so present in my life. The next nine hours consisted of cramping, chills, beeping machines, and very little sleep so I wouldn't take a chance of missing anything. At around 3:00am I felt, and heard a pop. My water had broke. I called my nurse in immediately and she checked me to reveal I was dilated to a 5, and they thought they could feel a hand or a foot. Next they placed an epidural which I really didn't need, but if you don't get it and the placenta doesn't detach, you take the risk of having surgery right away to remove it. Time is SO precious with these little babies it is just not worth the risk of losing one minute.

At 3:42am on September 5th, 2011, I gave birth to our second celestial daughter, Alex Beth. She weighed 5 oz and was 7 1/2 inches long... same length as Demree. She came out with the cord wrapped loosely around her arm, but everything else was normal including her cord and placenta. Alex was perfect looking. All of her features and parts were so tiny yet SO perfect... all she needed was more time to grow. At this point I was thankful for the time spent before the hospital to mourn. I really felt like I could take her in to the fullest.

Share came to the hospital to make foot molds and take pictures of our sweet baby. Both of the women who came, Toni and Tanya, are my friends on Facebook. They of course felt awful that I was here again in less than a year's time. Toni has suffered multiple losses as well, and her insight was very helpful. Again I was astonished at there giving spirits, and only hope to pay it forward one day. Share is truly an inspired program.

After Alex was born, and the doctor got there to look things over I asked him what my options were so I could get some answers. He said they could do chromosome testing, which is very expensive and he doubted we would get any answers since her little body showed no signs of chromosome abnormality. We also had the option of an autopsy, but he doubted they would find anything there either. He also said that after autopsy they can't promise there would be much of her left, and this didn't sit well with me or Nate. For routine purposes they will still autopsy the placenta and cord, but again they are doubtful they will find anything. So for now we are left with mountains of questions that we may never get answers for. This has to be one of the hardest parts.

As the morning went on we knew that it was time to say goodbye to our little one. We were so exhausted, and we knew we still had the task at hand of telling our girls there would be no more baby after Christmas, and that we had another family member in Heaven with Heavenly Father and Jesus. Renae called the mortuary, and since it was a holiday they were short handed. We loved and kissed our little Alex goodbye, and left her in Renae's capable hands until the mortuary could pick her up. Again I will say that leaving the maternity floor empty handed makes for the longest wheel chair ride ever. It is lonely... very lonely.

We picked up our girls, and broke the news. M was pretty upset. Her bottom lip hung out in an effort to hold back her tears. We explained that it is okay to be sad, okay to cry, and reminded her again that Alex is now with Demree in Heaven doing lots of important stuff. I am pretty sure J understood to best of three year old ability. I know she no longer asks if I have a baby in my tummy, so our message must have been received. They took it like I expected... hard, but kids always take things better than adults. Their innocence helps them to accept what comes, and know it will be okay. As parents this part was so hard for us. Explaining death to such young kids, and also disappointing them that there will be no baby in our house to hold was and is crushing.

The next few days were spent crying, and planning Alex's graveside. We kept the girls going to school, and I did my best to avoid people in general... I still am doing that. On Friday, September 9th, 2011, we laid Alex Beth to rest. She is buried in the plot bordering Demree on the west side. It was a beautiful little service with our immediate family honoring Alex's brief existence on this earth. Nate did a great job dedicating her grave, something I know is so hard for him, but something he would never let anyone else do. I couldn't help but stare at Alex's little casket, and then stare at Demree's gravestone, and then think in disbelief that I really am here doing this again. 

Now I wake up every morning full of sorrow that Alex is no longer growing below my heart. I feel broken... my body, my spirit, and most of all my heart. I understand where she is now, and I know this is part of the plan... her plan, the Lord's, and ours. In no way do I feel this is fair, but life isn't. I wanted this baby so bad... maybe more than anyone has ever wanted a baby, or at least I like to think so. I tried to give her a perfect home for her seventeen short weeks of life, and I prayed often for her safe arrival. I now am trying to re-establish what normal is... again.

One thing I do know is that we are loved. We may have the best support system ever. We know if people could they would do ANYTHING to ease our pain. For this we are so very thankful.

Alex, we love you baby... eternally.

Memorial Ceremony for the Twins

Written by Rachel

Three days after we found out we were probably having a miscarriage, the hospital held their annual memorial for all the stillborns lost that past year who were buried in the nearby cemetery. They had just had the previous ceremony a week or two prior to the birth of Maddox and Sampson, so we barely missed it and had to wait almost a whole year before the twins were finally honored there.

It was a heavy weekend for me. We had the opportunity to honor and remember our angel boys, and at the same time, I knew I was carrying another little piece of our family that wasn't going to make it, either. My heart felt like it had weights wrapped around it, pulling it to the floor, and wherever I walked, I was just dragging the weight behind me like a shadow filled with cement. I had hoped with all my might that by the time this ceremony came, we would be preparing to welcome a new member to the family.  I had hoped I would finally be close to using the new car seat cover I had bought when I found out we were having twins. I wished I was 50 pounds heavier and that my feet were swollen beyond recognition. But once again, my tear-filled eyes were the only things swollen.

The ceremony was held in the cemetery.  It was different than I expected, but the sentiment was there and I greatly appreciate the people who cared and put it together.  We had family members there showing their love and support. As I read the boys' names out loud during the ceremony, it reminded me how real they are.  It was a nice day to reflect on how lucky we are to be the parents to Maddox and Sampson.  Even though they were only here for a moment, they are forever a part of me, for which I am eternally grateful.

^^luckily the ceremony wasn't short of entertainment, er, bugs for this kid ^^

It seems like I can describe a lot of my recent experiences as bitter sweet, and this was no exception. Honoring my lost babies and preparing to lose another one that same week definitely played with my emotions. I was still holding on to that minute chance that my next ultrasound would magically show a healthy, growing baby, but I was also bracing myself for the worst, a skill I feel like I could now confidently put on a resume.

I am Loving It (and the Twins' Due Date)

Written by Rachel

Today, I'm posting another journal entry (and my last one I'd written...I am the worst journal writer ever!  So I'm glad I have this blog now to help me document things...gives me the kick in the pants I need to write things down).  This entry was written on the twins' actual due date.  Seems like forever ago and just yesterday at the same time.  And, of course, I have to include a picture overload.

April 4, 2013

                Today is Maddox and Sampson’s due date.  Wow.  It is a weird feeling because so far, I would always think to myself how far along in my pregnancy I would have been with them, and it has kind of kept them at the forefront of my mind.  But now that I am at the date where my pregnancy calculator stopped with them, it feels like there will be some sort of void, even though I will still think to myself how old they would be almost every day and look at the kids that would have been their age and wonder what could have been.  But today, my feelings are hard to explain.  Of course I will still think about them every day for who knows how long, and they have a permanent place in my heart and our family, but it seems surreal.  I would for sure have been holding Maddox and Sampson in my arms by today.  I would be feeding them every couple of hours, changing their diapers over and over, waking up at least a few times each night, trying to keep Harper happy and fed and clothed while babies cry for their own attention, and I would be loving every minute of it.  I would be loving being so sleep deprived that I couldn’t remember what I ate for breakfast 2 hours ago because I had been up all night with two precious little boys needing all my time and love and attention.  I would be loving trying to figure out how to load 3 kids in the car in under half an hour all by myself.  I would be loving picking out little boy clothes and trying to decide whether or not to buy the twins matching sets or something different so we could tell them apart easier.  I would be loving staring at their cute identical little faces and trying to figure out the features that set them apart and make them any less identical.  I would be loving watching Harper sit on the couch holding each of the boys in her little lap while trying to give them hugs and kisses nonstop.  I would be loving Harper helping me push the boys in their double stroller I never got to buy or helping me change their diapers or give them baths.  I would just be loving everything about those two little boys.  So many things I want to be doing right now with my little Maddox and Sampson.

 But I guess Heavenly Father had a different plan in mind for me today.  Instead of all the ‘would be loving’, I actually am loving spending every waking hour thinking how lucky I am to have Harper.  I am loving hearing Harper count to ten as fast as she can, then sometimes even continuing on to twenty when she’s in the mood for it.  I am loving Harper asking me to sing the ABC’s or Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and then her singing along with me.  I am loving waking up every morning to Harper’s little voice chattering over the monitor and sometimes yelling ‘Mom’ as loud as she can so I know she’s ready to get out of her crib.  I am loving trying to figure out what food Harper will like to eat for the day, since it seems to be changing daily.  I am loving Harper asking for carrots and dip, then just sucking the dip off the carrots and eventually just sticking her face in her bowl to lick all the dip clean…forget the carrots…although she is actually starting to eat the carrots now, too.  I am loving how Harper has become bossy to our dog, Millie, and will yell at her “Millie come!”  or “Millie sit stay!” with such a sweet little attitude, and then scream with laughter if Millie actually listens to her and comes toward her.  I am loving how Harper stands in the cart and grabs clothes off the racks at the store, holds them up, and says ‘cute!’ as she throws it into the cart and grabs the next thing she can reach and does the same thing.  I am loving how much fun Harper has playing with Matt when he comes home from work and how she will sit by the laundry room door waiting for him to come inside when she hears the garage door opening.  I am loving how Harper loves to play with other kids so much and yells out ‘kids!’ whenever she sees them playing.  I am loving how Harper yells out ‘Amen!’ during the prayers whenever she wants it to be done, whether or not it is.  I am loving how Harper points out the color of every traffic light and thinks I’m magic when I tell it to turn green and it does.  I am loving that Harper knows how to say hippopotamus, among many many other things.  She really is a smarty pants.  I am even loving how Harper has started saying ‘dang it’, which I’ve realized she learned from me, and that she always uses it in the right context.  I am loving that Harper will sit still long enough (if I give her a book or put on a movie she likes to distract her, like Tigger or Elmo or Mickey Mouse) to let me French braid her hair.  I am loving how Harper rips out whatever I’ve done to her hair the second I’m not looking at her.   I am loving when Harper goes to my parent’s house and gets so excited as we walk up to the door that she almost can’t contain herself, and when we walk inside, she runs in and starts yelling “Hello!  Hi!”, waiting for a response from anyone there.   I can’t get over how cute and precious it is to hear her yelling ‘Grandma’ or ‘Grandpa’ and searching frantically for the room she heard them reply from.  It is bringing tears to my eyes just thinking about it (and how I’m going to miss it, since they are moving to ---).  I am loving how Harper says Grandma --- and Grandpa ---, and how much she loves playing at their house, especially with the green chair that plays music and the towers of blocks and cups.  I am loving how Harper says ‘pease’ and ‘tank you’ or ‘tanks’, even without me telling her to say it.  I am loving how Harper repeats “I love you” (or, in her words, “I yuv you”), and even said it to me out of the blue on her own the other night when I was holding her in her room at night and just kept telling me over and over.   I am loving how Harper will just snuggle on my shoulder the second I pick her up if she is sad or even just awake during the middle of the night.  I am loving that Harper recognizes pictures of Jesus and Joseph Smith, and even the golden plates (and says who/what each of those things are…it’s so cute).  I am loving how much one on one time I am getting to spend with my sweet little Harper.  I guess I wouldn’t have had as much of this special time together with Harper if I was sharing it with two newborns.  Even though I often wish I was sharing this time with them and am still heartbroken for them, I feel more grateful for Harper because of what has happened.  She really is the light of my life.  We have so much fun together and I love her to pieces. 

I say all these things that I am loving about Harper right now, and it makes my heart melt just thinking about all the cute things she does every day, but I am also loving Matt.  I am loving how much he loves his little family and how hard he tries to provide everything for us.  I am loving how he has laughing contests with Harper and how she just adores him.  I am loving that Matt has become a ‘project’ guy and wants to do tons of DIY things around the house and yard.  I am loving how ambitious Matt is in his career and that he is working towards doing the things he loves to do, like consulting and anything supply chain management related.  He is so smart and driven and is a great provider for our family.  I am grateful that Matt is so committed to supporting our family so that I can stay at home with Harper and all the future kiddos that come along in our family.  But I am also loving that Matt doesn’t value work so much that it overshadows the family.  He always puts family and church first.  I am loving that Matt is a worthy priesthood holder and has been able to give both me and Harper blessings over the past months.  I am loving how Matt loves to play games and how competitive and honest he is in them, even though we swear he has sold his soul because he wins almost every single time and he literally has the luckiest things happen to him in every game.  It’s just not right.  I am loving how we see eye-to-eye with our finances and that we are both frugal and proud of it.  I am loving how Matt is not afraid to grow his hair out a little or grow a beard that rivals almost any biblical character’s (even though it confused Harper for a while, as she would see pictures of Jesus at church and think it was Dad).  I am also loving that he finally shaved the beard.  I am loving how Matt will warm up my frozen feet every night in bed and let me snuggle up to him for warmth.  I am loving that the young men in our ward enjoy having him as their first counselor, because he probably just fits right in with them.  I am loving that Matt has let me pick out all three of our kids’ names, and that he didn’t insist on using his suggestions of Jethro and Tull or Napoleon and Kip for the twins.  I am even loving that I can hear Matt snoring through his cold right now as he sleeps.  It’s kind of endearing.  Love you, Matt!

So today, in honor of it being Maddox and Sampson’s due date, my parents invited us over for dinner at their place.  Before we headed over there, and while Matt was still at work, I took out our box of mementos we have of Maddox and Sampson to show things to Harper and just to help me remember all their details.  Harper was too young to know what happened, and she is still a little too young, but I always try to remind her that she has little baby brothers up in heaven and we always include them in our prayers with her.  I showed her the little teddy bears that the twins held in the pictures that were taken at that hospital, which she decided to claim as ‘Harpers’ and did not want to put back willingly.  I looked at the little footprints stamped on each of their papers.  Their tiny little feet were about the size of the tip of my pointer finger (at first I tried the tip of my thumb, but that was too long).  I picked up each of their boxes that are filled with the tiny clothes and hats they were dressed in and the blankets they were wrapped in and just held my nose in them and smelled them.  I didn’t wash any of their clothes or blankets when we came home because I wanted to remember their smell.  Their things don’t really have much of the smell left, but I can still smell them when I close my eyes and remember.  I touched the blankets and thought back about how I held each of my two boys in my arms when they were born and wrapped in those blankets and how I kissed each of their little bodies.  I will never forget the short time I spent with my two precious little babies.  I will never forget the smell, the feel of them resting in my hands, the overwhelming love I felt as I cradled them in my arms.  I will cherish that brief moment forever.

We took some blue balloons to my parent’s house and took them into the backyard before we ate.  After coaxing Harper away from the play house under the deck, we held those two balloons and let Harper release them into the sky.  The balloons drifted between the trees in the backyard and floated up toward the clouds blanketing the sky.  Harper had this huge smile on her face as she watched the balloons float away.  She loved it.  We watched as both balloons travelled higher and higher toward the heavens, and I thought about how maybe Maddox and Sampson were looking at us from Heaven, watching and waiting for their balloons to reach them.  I thought about how the balloons were our way of remembering how special Maddox and Sampson are to us, our little message telling them that we won’t forget about them and that we love them so so much.  It was a special moment for me.  My dad got a few good pictures of the experience.  They are priceless.  I’m glad we did something today to remember our babies, our second and third children, Harper’s little brothers,our  family.

Today was bitter sweet.  I’m still sad about losing our boys, but I think this whole experience has made me stronger and has taught me valuable life lessons.  I feel more empathetic to other families going through similar situations.  I feel more gratitude for the things, and more importantly, the people that I have in my life.  I don’t think I take as many things for granted.  I have always loved Harper, but after realizing how unpredictable life is and how limited our time is on earth, I feel so blessed and honored to be able to raise Harper and be her earthly momma and my love for her is beyond what words can describe.  Even though I’m definitely not perfect and sometimes (a lot of times) feel like I’m falling short of my calling and inadequate, etc., I appreciate every single little tiny moment I have with Harper and with Matt and my family and just here on earth in general.  I am grateful for all that Heavenly Father has blessed me with.  Hopefully Heavenly Father will trust me to raise more of His children on this earth soon!  I can’t wait for the day and I pray for it continually.  So, as Joseph B. Wirthlin said in a recent conference talk and as I’ve tried to learn recently, come what may and love it!

 I love you, my two sweet angel babies.  Love, Mom

Could not convince this girl to leave the playhouse alone!

 

Rachel Week!

Written by Rachel

It's Rachel Week!  It's kind of like Shark Week, but 100 times less cool and exciting (is there anything cooler than Shark Week?? I think not)...so no, I guess it's nothing like Shark Week.  But I'll at least make it more interesting than Watching Paint Dry Week :).  So for all 2 of my readers, I will try to catch up a little to where I am today (even though I know I will still be way behind...let's be honest, I won't even get close), and maybe I'll even try to throw in some 'getting to know me' stuff so people who actually don't know me can get to know me a little more personally (although I don't know how much more personal you can get than hearing about someone's experience during labor and delivery, getting manhandled by doctors, etc.)  I always like to learn about the bloggers themselves so I know who I'm reading about...it helps me relate to them better.  So, here goes!

My first post of the week is a journal entry I wrote about 4 months after I lost Maddox and Sampson.  I'm not even going to edit it and make it sound more professional, so ignore how amateur my writing is...I was just trying to throw my thoughts out in a hurry, and I'm pretty sure it was late at night, which is a recipe for poor grammar and elementary school depth :)  But you'll get the general idea of my feelings around that time period.

March 11, 2013

                 I would be in my 36^th week with Maddox and Sampson right now.  With twins, getting to 36 weeks is really the goal because anything past that is really just bonus time.  So March 7^th was kind of their due date.  It’s strange thinking that if they were still here, they would probably be joining our family any day now.  I was looking at Harper (my little girl) the other morning and thinking how grown up she looks and how much she is already ready for a sibling (or two!).  She is almost 22 months, just 2 months away from being 2 years old.  I can’t believe it!  People weren’t lying when they said how fast time flies with your kids.  Harper is still my little baby, but she is getting so big!  It gave me a little pang of guilt thinking how ready she is for a brother or sister and that she could have had 2 little baby brothers right now.  Now the earliest she would get one is when she is over 2 ½ years old.  Seems so far away.  How perfect it would have been to have Maddox and Sampson with us right now.  Harper can pretty much do her own thing during the day.  She plays with her toys, reads her books, feeds herself (and her clothes and the floor), and we can carry on little conversations and communicate with each other pretty well.  She is a great talker, and I can pretty much understand what it is she is asking or telling or showing me.  She is a smart little cookie.  She runs around and pulls herself up on all the furniture and gets down without falling.  She isn’t so dependent on me for every single thing during the day, so having my 2 babies right now would have been absolutely perfect.  I know Harper would have loved them to pieces.  She would have wanted to help with everything.  It makes my heart ache just thinking about what could have been at this exact moment.

                We went to our neighbor and good friends' house, Paul and Alli's, the other night, and while all the guys ran to a store, Alli and I stayed back at her house and just chatted.  We hadn’t talked about Maddox and Sampson for a while, probably since back in November.  But I think she was following a prompting to ask me how I was doing because I’ve been thinking about my boys a lot over the past little while since they could have been born any day now.  She asked how I’ve been doing lately, and I don’t know why, but tears just welled up in my eyes and I told her that they would probably be born right about now.  She started crying with me and said how sorry she felt for me, how she’s been meaning to ask me how I’ve been for a while but hasn’t known how to bring it up.  She said she’s been thinking of me a lot lately.  We talked and cried for a few minutes together about it.  I felt bad just letting the waterworks loose, but I couldn’t help it.  It meant a lot to me that she still thought about my boys and me and cared about how I was feeling.  It makes it real to me again when someone talks about it, because sometimes it still feels like it was just a dream and my boys were gone in the blink of an eye.  Of course I know it was real…I still think about Maddox and Sampson every day and think about what I would be doing if they were still here.  I think about them the most when I am with Harper and I feel the guilt and sadness realizing what she could be experiencing with them.  I feel guilty thinking that I somehow robbed her having her baby brothers right now, even though I know I couldn’t have done anything differently and that it is just part of Heavenly Father’s plan.  I think I will always have this guilt and heavy burden on my shoulders until we are able to have another baby.  I will still wish I had Maddox and Sampson, but I think that will ease the pain a little bit.  Harper just keeps getting older and bigger and it feels like the time is shooting past us, and there is nothing I can do to slow it down.

               My doctor said to wait at least 6 months before trying to get pregnant again, but even these 4 months since I lost my sweet boys has seemed like an eternity.  It eats me up inside.  I am just finishing up my last round of birth control before needing to go get a refill, but I don’t think I will get it.  I just feel like I can’t wait much longer, and if I get pregnant soon, then it’s meant to be, and it might take a couple months anyway.  At least, I hope that it will only take a couple months max to get pregnant again.  That is one of my fears…that it will take longer and that Harper will just get older without having a close buddy to grow up with.  I pray every day that Heavenly Father will bless us with a new little angel in our family soon for Harper.  The thought consumes my heart every day.  I just have to have the faith that Heavenly Father knows what is best for me and that He is mindful of the heaviness and emptiness in my heart.  

              I think I will start making plans to do some sort of memorial, maybe just with Harper, Matt and me on April 4^th, on Maddox and Sampson’s technical due date.  Maybe send some blue balloons up in the sky with little messages to Maddox and Sampson telling them how much we love and miss them.  We never did any sort of memorial, and I think I need something like this.  And I think it would be good for Harper because she is still too young to understand what even happened.   But I want her to know about and never forget her 2 little angel brothers.  I sure do love and miss my boys.

The following are all pictures taken around this time...

Dirty slides at bounce houses rock

Harper with her Count Licorice Dad

I know, I know...Yikes.  I need makeup

I joined a basketball league to keep me distracted

My baby wasn't a baby anymore!

Guilt

Written by Rachel

When something difficult happens in life, during the struggle to put on a smile and 'just keep swimming', those darn negative thoughts still often manage to slither their way in and hold you hostage, despite our best efforts to thwart them.  After we lost our twins, I was given advice, pamphlets, and books about what to expect in the grieving process.  I definitely was sad.  Sad for a long time.  It was a deep internal sadness.  I never did get angry.  That was one step I managed to skip right over.  I wasn't mad at anyone that they were gone.  I just missed them horribly.  The biggest hurdle for me in my grieving process was (and still is) the guilt.

Two weeks after I delivered Maddox and Sampson, I had my follow-up appointment with my doctor. I had a giant pit in my stomach as I entered the same halls I had walked down just a couple weeks earlier when I innocently thought I was going to see my healthy little boys snuggled together in an ultrasound, listening to the rhythm of their heartbeats.  The same halls I had walked through to check-in to deliver my now-stillborn babies.  I sat in the same office, saw the same office staff.  I'm pretty sure I tried to avoid eye contact with everyone there.  I honestly felt a physical sickness being in the same place I had just lost my boys.

My doctor had scheduled me as his last patient.  I remember sitting down in a chair across from him and immediately breaking down.  I don't remember everything that was said at the appointment...we went over preliminary results from the autopsies (which didn't reveal much), maybe talked about my physical recovery.  But I remember when tears welled up in my eyes and I asked him if I had scheduled my ultrasound just a week earlier, would we have been able to see something, see signs of distress...would there have been something I could have done to save them?  I was definitely ugly crying.  My doctor knew I was torturing myself.  He told me that I didn't do anything wrong.  There was nothing that I could have done differently.  Sometimes these things just happen.  I hadn't failed as a mother.  I hadn't just ignored signs of trouble.  There hadn't been any...none that I noticed, anyway. I remember feeling what felt like a giant kick just the Sunday before my twins were gone, a movement that struck a nerve and I had to bend over because it made my whole body tingle.  It didn't hurt, it was just one of those weird feelings like when you smack your funny bone.  I remember even exclaiming to my family who was around when it happened that the boys were making their presence known and that they had done that same thing just a day or two earlier.  This may not be true, but I have since often wondered if those strong kicks were their last desperate struggles to survive.  I really don't know if it was, and there's a good chance it wasn't, but it sits in the back of my mind sometimes.  By the time I left the doctor's office, the waiting room lights were off, people had gone home for the day, and I slowly walked out of the clinic, again passing the very doors I had entered with my boys and come out without them (the clinic was right across the hall from the delivery rooms in the hospital, so everything had happened right there).  It was a very lonely walk back to my car.

But the guilt was only beginning.  I am actually over that specific guilt.  The guilt that really engulfed me and that I still struggle with is that, now that my boys were gone, my little girl didn't have her close siblings anymore.  Now she didn't have anyone to grow up with like I had with my sister so close in age.  She was just by herself.  And for some reason, that broke my heart.  I know that tons of families have kids with a far wider gap between and are just fine, and even prefer it that way, but for me, I felt like I had robbed my little girl of a special relationship (or relationships).  Her brothers were gone.  Every day I was home and would see my little kiddo eating at the table, or reading a book alone to herself, or playing with her toys by herself (which she was awesome at...she was a very grown up girl for her age and was/is very independent) it made me ache inside for her, for my boys.  I felt so guilty seeing her alone.  I wished she had someone to play with (of course we played with her and read to her, but I wanted so badly for her to have the interaction with other kids...it just wasn't the same).  She played so well with other kids and absolutely loved being around them (she would even yell out 'kids!' when she'd hear children laughing and playing outside and would always be on the lookout for 'kids' when we'd visit my parent's house, shouting 'kids! kids!' as she looked around for where the sound was coming from outside).  Normally I would think that's adorable and I do love how she loves being around people, but now because she didn't have her brothers or any other kids around the house, it would just sting me with guilt.  She still has that same excitement when she's around other little people her age, even the older kids.  She always screams with happiness when a friend comes over or when I tell her we will be going somewhere with her friends.  I love seeing her around them.  She is just drawn to them.  And it is bitter sweet.  I love it, and it depresses me.  It's a double-edged sword.

I felt guilty for my girl.  I felt guilty for wishing that I could have had just one more child before this had happened so at least she wouldn't be by herself.  I felt guilty for feeling guilty.  I know a lot of people that struggle to even have one child, so I would feel guilty for my strong desire for more kids and my shallow wish that they were close in age.  I felt guilty that my boys were gone.  Guilt ate me up inside.  I still struggle with it.

In the delivery room, after the twins were born and after I had gone in for surgery because of the complications, my nurse told me that (with the preface 'your doctor won't tell you this, but...'), with all she's seen over her years of nursing experience, because of the trauma my body went through, she would wait at least 2 years to even start trying to have more kids.  I about died.  No way.  2 years was way too long.  When I had my follow-up with my doctor, I mentioned that and he said to just wait at least 6 months so that my body could recover.  That was still hard for me to swallow, but it seemed more reasonable than 2 years.  I still thought that 6 months seemed like a lifetime when I desired so strongly to grow my family and get a sibling for my little girl.  Looking back now, 6 months seems like nothing.  I wish it ONLY took 6 months before we could start to grow our family again.  I wish for even a year!  If I had only known the difficulties that were still ahead...

The guilt still remains.  Some days I'm better at warding off those negative feelings, and it feels amazing when I am just living in the moment and appreciating how blessed I am to have such a spirited, stubborn, and hilarious little girl in our lives.  Other days I allow the guilt to creep back in and it's been a tough, continuous battle.  The back and forths of life are crazy sometimes!  And there have been many more since and I'm sure many more to come.  But, c'est la vie!