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!

Memorial Day

Written by Rachel

I thought I'd change up my post a little bit this time and fast forward to our beautiful Memorial Day yesterday.  I will get back to writing about the events and emotions that have brought me to the point where I am today, but for a quick breather, I wanted to share our fun family experience we had together yesterday.  It is nice to sometimes forget about yourself and reflect on the memories of people in our lives that have come and gone, each of them having impacted us in their own unique ways.

The weather could not have been more perfect.  Our little girlie slept in until 10 am, so naturally, so did I.  After we finally rolled out of bed and ate our breakfast at (cough) lunchtime (cough), we packed up a picnic and headed out to a few cemeteries to visit some of our lost loved ones.  Here are some of the pictures we took on our little outing...

^^This girlie refused to take those sunglasses off all day, even in the store as she picked out the little stars and pinwheels for the graves.  It was pretty dang cute.^^

^^Don't be scared by the guy on the left.  That's my hubby.^^

^^In remembrance of our little Maddox and Sampson.^^

^^The cemetery our boys are buried in is beautiful!!^^

We were able to visit the graves of the twins and of a couple of our grandpas who have passed away, both of whom served their country (Matt's grandpa served in the US Navy in the Korean War and and mine served in the British Royal Air Force in WWII).  It was so peaceful in each of the cemeteries we visited.  I loved it.  Part of our car ride discussion consisted of whether or not we would feel comfortable living next to a cemetery...I said I would, but my husband said he definitely could not :)  For those of you who know him, I doubt you're surprised (let's just say when we watch scary movies, he is the one with the high-pitched scream, not me)!  But we had a great time there remembering our family members who are no longer with us.  I never thought I would be visiting the grave of my own children, but I guess no one ever does.  However, it was not a sad day for us.  It was a great opportunity for us to take time out of our busy schedules to reflect on the short time we did get to spend with Maddox and Sampson and to talk to our little girl more about them.  She loves talking to me about them and asking me questions, and it melts my little heart when she does.  It also meant the world to me when my sister-in-law texted me the other day asking where the twins' grave was so their family could take flowers to them...just reminded me even more that they really are not forgotten.

I also can't believe how fast this life flies by.  Yesterday served as a great reminder to me of how short this life really is and not to take it for granted, even though I often and easily get caught up in the little things that probably aren't really that important in the eternal scheme of things.  It seems like just yesterday I was getting bounced around on my Grandpa's knees, or that I was cradling my still little boys in my arms.  This life will be over in the blink of an eye, and I need to be WAY better at making every day count and being happy with however my life is turning out, whatever the circumstances.  

Lastly, it was amazing to see all the military markers in each of the cemeteries.  We really are so blessed to have the freedoms we enjoy, and it was humbling to see how many people have sacrificed their lives to make that possible.

I hope you were all able to remember your lost loved ones, or remember those who have lost loved ones, over the holiday, and that you were able to celebrate their lives or the impact they have had on your life.  I was especially mindful of all those who have lost their sweet babies, now that I have joined those ranks.  I hope you were reminded about how special those babies still are.  Because, like the picture in Brianna's last post said, there is no foot too small that it cannot leave an imprint on this world.

Behind Closed Doors

Written by Rachel (see other posts labeled 'Rachel')

When we got home from the hospital after losing our twins, things were different.  I was changed.  But I knew that at that moment, I needed to make a resolution of how I was going to handle myself.  Should I withdraw and keep to myself?  Should I put a smile on my face (whether it was fake or not) and just try my best to continue as before?  Obviously things weren't as they were before, and everyone handles grief in their own way, but my husband and I decided that, for us, the best thing to do was to move forward as best we could.

Friends and family continued to show us amazing love and support.  We received meals, notes were written, people babysat our little girl, gifts were given to us to help us remember our sweet little boys, and people provided a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.    For the first week or so after being home, I was still in a state of shock.  I still wasn't completely convinced that it all had happened the way it did, that my boys were really gone.  Also, having a sweet, energetic little toddler helped force us to keep up our daily routines out of necessity.   I kind of felt like I was just going through the motions each day, numbly doing all the things that still needed doing.  But, at least I was doing something.

We still had this girlie to keep us busy and happy

The day after we returned from the hospital, Matt even called our good friend (Alli’s husband) to see if he could come help work in the basement, a project they had been working on for a while.  I think they were surprised that we would jump right back into doing that sort of thing so soon after losing our boys, but our feelings were that if we weren't keeping busy, we would be wallowing in our own sadness.  We liked having distractions.  I know that many people are the complete opposite, and that’s OK.  Grief is a very personal thing and even we didn't know that was where ours would take us, but it did, and it seemed to help and worked for us.  I feel the need to point out that just because we kept active and social, it did not mean that we weren't devastated over losing the twins.  They were in our minds 100% of the time.  We were not being insensitive to our own situation.  We moved, we just moved slower.  We laughed, we just laughed more quietly.   We managed to find joy in our hearts, but the joy did not replace the void that our loss had created.  It simply softened the sharp edges of our pain that would often and unexpectedly sting.

^^Checking out the basement a few days after the twins were born^^

^^Out to see Christmas lights the week after the twins were born^^

It was in the moments everything was still, or the times I was home alone, while my little girl slept peacefully in the other room, that I felt it…those are the times I would break down.  I would hold the clothes Maddox and Sampson wore in the hospital up to my face, wetting them with my tears, as I remembered how they smelled, how they felt.  I never did wash those clothes.  I didn't want to wash away the sweet smell.  It has now faded, but I still remember it whenever I pull those clothes out.  After everyone would fall asleep at night, I would lay in bed wide awake, and I would start sobbing.  Like I mentioned before, I have never been a huge crier.  But I would cry for hours at a time at night.  That is when the pain felt real to me.  My pillow would be drenched before I would finally cry myself to sleep.  I don’t even think my husband knew that I did that every night for a while.  I felt the agony of loss the most behind closed doors, where no one could see or hear me.  Behind those closed doors is where I poured my heart out in prayer, not asking why this happened, because I tried to have the faith to know that I will find that out one day, but instead asking for the strength and comfort I needed to endure this trial in my life.  Asking for the courage I needed to still be an attentive and present mom to my little girl, who was still too young, thankfully, to understand what had happened.

Over the next few months, and even the next few days after I delivered Maddox and Sampson, we had family gatherings, holidays, and church and work responsibilities (although many helping hands stepped in to lift many of those responsibilities off our heavily-burdened shoulders).  Whenever we'd respond to people that we'd attend something, they would always ask, "Are you sure??"  But life did not wait for us to find our bearings.  We couldn't push a pause button to make the world around us stop.  We couldn't postpone Thanksgiving until later…it just came.  We couldn't wave our magical wand and make the bills and insurance issues disappear, as much as we would have LOVED to have done that.  It didn't matter that all this money was going toward a hospital visit I felt I had nothing to show for.  I still needed to pay the bills.  If we stopped living, it wouldn't bring back the lives of our boys.  It’s just not how things work.  That’s how life is supposed to be.  We are here to be tested and grow.  We are all inevitably going to face trials in our lives, and when they do come, we will still have to continue on our journey.  We will have to endure.

I am a firm believer that our attitude plays a major part in how we endure these trials.  I love this quote by the prophet of our church, Thomas S. Monson.  He said, “So much in life depends on our attitude. The way we choose to see things and respond to others makes all the difference. To do the best we can and then to choose to be happy about our circumstances, whatever they may be, can bring peace and contentment.”  I also love the message another of our church leaders, Joseph B. Wirthlin, gave back in 2008 (wow, I’m getting old, because it feels like he gave this message just yesterday).  I won’t repeat the whole thing (go check it out here because it is good!), but in it, he said, “If we approach adversities wisely, our hardest times can be times of greatest growth, which in turn can lead toward times of greatest happiness.”

I definitely fall short…a lot…and I do sometimes get sucked into negative thinking and I wish things were different, but I've learned that thinking that way hasn't gotten me anywhere.  Things aren't different.  Things are as they are, and they happened for a reason.  But the times I have focused on the blessings that I do have are the times when I have felt the most growth, peace, and happiness.  I still love my boys and miss them everyday.  But I do have one amazing little girl here with me that is the light of my life and a hubby that keeps us both entertained.  And I truly am one lucky girl.

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.

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.

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.