Cecilia's Birth Story

I haven't written in almost 11 months since I announced the birth of my sweet baby girl. Well, she's quickly coming up on her first birthday so I thought I should probably finally post her birth story which I wrote MONTHS ago but had been waiting to fact check with David. Well, here it is! I may start writing again a bit more (like, maybe once every few months, don't expect much) now that my baby is a bit older and our foster son has left (guess I never shared that whole story...we had a sweet 1 year old foster son with us for a few months). But no promises.
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On Saturday, August 12, I was four days past my due date. Since my first two babies had been born eight and ten days past their due dates, I was hopeful that maybe I would go into labor that day but not particularly expectant. My parents came in the morning to pick up Lucia and Davey for a day at the zoo so David and I decided to make the best of our day without kids. We leisurely got ready, then headed to Longmont to go to my favorite thrift store.

After browsing around for a while, we headed to a nice restaurant for lunch where I got a very spicy meal and then we had chocolate fondue for dessert. The place wasn’t busy so the (male) bartender came over to chat with us and mentioned it looked like I was past my due date. I was impressed by his insightful comment, since I’ve never been able to tell the difference in pregnant women close to going into labor, but also encouraged by it because it was similar to comments made by my midwife and her assistant a few days before. She thought I would have the baby by the end of the weekend. The lunch was a perfect date for the two of us, a little last alone time before the new baby.

We headed home after our meal and took a nap, truly soaking in our day alone. When we woke up, I remember commenting how it would be the perfect day to go into labor since I was well fed and well rested.

My parents brought the kids home around 5:00 and I took them to the backyard to play while I cleaned out the chicken coop and pulled weeds in the garden. While I was out there I started to feel a little “off”. No real contractions, but maybe a slight bit of cramping in my lower abdomen. I told David that something might be happening, but continued in the garden until I started feeling actual contractions right around 6:00. They were really light but I decided that since I hadn’t really had any Braxton Hicks this pregnancy this was probably the beginning of labor.

I called my parents right away to tell them to pick up the kids. Since my labor with Davey was less than an hour, I didn’t want to wait even though I expected it to be longer this time. My one real anxiety about this labor was not whether the midwife would arrive in time (that was David’s main concern) but whether my parents would pick up my kids in time because I really worried about them being there. Lucia is a very sensitive little girl who cries anytime I am hurt or upset, and I didn’t want to be distracted by trying to comfort her or feeling like I had to hide my discomfort. My mom arrived shortly afterward for the kids, commenting that as anxious as she had been all week for me to go into labor, this was the one day she would have been ok waiting because she and my dad were so tired from the zoo that day.

While we were waiting for my mom to come, I sent a text to my midwife Lynnette to let her know that I was having mild contractions and most likely in early labor. She immediately asked if we wanted her to come right away, knowing how quick the last labor was and how nervous we were about the quick timing, but I told her we would time the contractions first and let her know. David downloaded a contraction timing app on his phone and after a few contractions noted that they were about 4 minutes apart but still very mild in strength. After the kids left, I sat down and my contractions spaced out considerably, about 12 minutes apart. When I got back up and was walking around, preparing our bed for the birth, getting towels ready, etc., they went back to four minutes apart. They were getting slightly stronger so we decided to ask my midwife to come, since she had a 40 minute drive. I sat and knitted most of the time while we waited for her and my contractions again immediately spaced out but then started to get closer together while we waited for her.

When Lynnette and her assistant, Tatia, arrived, we talked for a few minutes and she listened to the baby’s heart. David and I then took a walk to our parish church just down the street from our house in order to keep contractions coming. I had to stop several times on the way there and back during contractions so they were getting stronger, but still not so bad that I couldn’t talk through them. We had hoped to be able to go into the church to pray, but just as we were getting there, people were leaving and the door locked behind them. If we had only gotten there two minutes earlier, we could have walked in as they were leaving. The perpetual adoration chapel which is opened 24/7 was also closed due to repairs, so we settled for visiting the Marian statue out front. I asked David to take my picture there – my last pregnant picture! – and then we walked back home.

We decided to go into the basement to watch an episode of The Amazing Race. David and I love The Amazing Race. It’s our special show together. We didn’t start watching it until a few years ago so for the past year, we have slowly been working through watching all the seasons from the beginning. We usually watch an episode or two a week together at night after the kids go to bed, although we had been watching much more than during the end of my pregnancy, an episode or two almost every night. So it was my first choice of something to do to distract myself while I was able to. We watched a full episode and during that time the contractions got steadily stronger. We started another episode but stopped only about 10 minutes in because the contractions were so strong that I had to stand and hold onto David to get through them. I could no longer concentrate and said that we should go back upstairs because I thought if we waited much longer, I wouldn’t be able to move.

While we were downstairs, Lynnette and Tatia were preparing by getting the supplies ready and then sitting upstairs talking. I appreciated having the option to be alone for a while. When I came upstairs they talked to me briefly about how/what I was feeling and then David and I went into our bedroom alone. I contracted on the bed a while, moaning a bit through the contractions now. At some point, Lynnette realized by my sounds that I was getting close, so they came in. I mostly contracted on my side and then toward the end on my back. I held on tightly to David’s arms and pulled myself into him through contractions while Tatia put pressure on my back.

This went on for a while until I got the urge to push. I was surprised a bit by how painful it all was. A bearable painful, similar to the pain of Lucia’s childbirth that I had mostly forgotten, but a pain that I didn’t really experience during David’s very fleeting labor. I hadn’t intentionally pushed at all with Davey, but I did push several times this time. The bag of waters was intact until the very end, breaking while I was pushing at 10:35. Baby was born at 10:36. It seemed like it took forever to push, but it was only a few minutes. There was a fist by baby’s face which was harder and more painful to push out than just a head alone, but once the arm was out, the rest followed easily. Lynnette caught her and put her on my chest. After the fact, I was a little disappointed David didn’t catch the baby since he had with both Lucia and Davey, but this time I really needed him up with me during those last few pushes.

David and I noticed immediately that this little baby was a girl! Our Cecilia! She was beautiful and looked so much like her sister as a newborn – David commented on that immediately. She cried right away and looked perfect. I just held my baby tight and told her I was her mama and I loved her and I marveled at how tiny and perfect and beautiful she was. My pregnancy has been healthy and happy and generally free from anxiety but there was a moment of relief holding her in my arms, a relief that only comes after having lost a baby.

I held her for a bit in a towel – she wasn’t very bloody but covered in tons of vernix – and then tried to get her to nurse a bit while we were waiting to deliver the placenta, but she wasn’t interested. She cried quite a bit during her first few hours and wouldn’t nurse, which was unusual and concerned me quite a bit and a midwife more than I think she let on, but after several hours, she finally settled and nursed and is as healthy as can be.

It took a bit to deliver my placenta, but it eventually came quicker and easier than in the past. For the
first time, I didn’t tear and need stitches. I actually felt amazingly well right afterward and was delighted to be in my own house able to walk around and take a shower just an hour after birth. My entire recovery was easy and quick. It was in many ways, a very blessed birth and another beautiful step in healing from the continued pain of pregnancy loss.

In the morning, my parents brought the big brother and sister over to meet the new baby. When they arrived they didn't know she had been born but Lucia wanted to bring the card she made for the baby "just in case". Lucia also had told my parents when she woke up that she had a dream that mommy had a baby girl the previous night. It was so sweet introducing the kids and even little Davey seemed to love his baby sister right away.

I didn't pray during Lucia's birth because it was just too all consuming and Davey's had been too fast to think of pretty much anything but I had planned to pray for many intentions during my birth but when the time came, I was in so much pain that I could only focus on one, a couple in our extended family who were longing for a child but having trouble conceiving. I offered up all the pain and doubt and suffering of the birth for them. They are still waiting for a living child, so if you could join me in praying for them, I’d be very grateful.

My Golden Girl

David and I welcomed another sweet little girl to our family on Saturday, August 12 at 10:36 pm. Cecilia Claire was born at home after a 4.5 hour labor. She was our longest, leanest baby at 7 lbs 9 oz and 20.5 inches. She looks almost exactly like her big sister did as a newborn.

Big sister and brother came to meet her the next morning and just adore her. Both Cecilia and I are doing wonderfully and we are all adjusting really well to life as a family of five. Thank you to everyone who has been praying for us.

I plan to write her birth story out in the next few days, but for now I wanted to share a bit about her name. She was named for St. Cecilia and my grandmother, Cecilia, who came from a devout Catholic family and was herself named after the Saint. Both my grandmother and grandfather were very surprised and pleased by her name. They wouldn't stop talking about it, which is actually quite touching because they both have severe dementia and have trouble remembering things from minute to minute. It was so lovely that they remembered her name and were able to talk about it at length.

My grandmother, Cecilia Refugia, with her great granddaughter, Cecilia Claire.

Claire was the middle name we had decided to use had Davey been a girl, but we didn't consider it must this pregnancy until the last week or so. I wasn't particularly sold on any one name, but David like the idea of her initials being CC with Cici being a nickname and her full initials being CCR (like Creedence Clearwater Revival, which I will agree is an awesome band). And, of course, the only reason we considered it at all was because of St. Clare of Assisi (whose feast day was the day BEFORE she was born; I was really hoping she would be born that day as a clear sign she should be Cecilia Claire).

today, 9 days old

May Comes Anyway

May is coming. It always does. There are few things I dread quite like May. May 8th is due date of Francis, the first baby we lost, and in many ways has become the one day that represents all our lost children. Last year, it also happened to fall on Mother's Day which was particularly rough.

I had hoped that this day would get easier over time but it hasn't. In many ways, it's harder now. When we lived in North Carolina, we would go to the cemetery and the beach to mark this day. There is no grave or beach here in Colorado so the day is empty of even the rituals we had created that made it that much more bearable.

Over the years, I've also tried to express to various friends and family members that May 8th is an important day to me that I would like remembered but for some reason, that message never got through. I think perhaps I wasn't as clear as I thought I was about conveying the message. I imagine most simply, unintentionally forgot and for a few others, it's a bit too awkward or painful and so they intentionally forgot. It's ok, that's just how it turned out and I know that no one was intentionally being hurtful. But it does break my heart a little bit when I hear other people say or see bloggers write about how people in their lives remember their little ones on those special days. I want that. I need that. But my day of remembrance is a very solitary day, one I generally reflect on completely alone, without even my husband.

This year I am in lucky in that we will be taking a trip to North Carolina at the end of May and I'll be able to visit Francis's grave then. That will give me something to look forward to when May 8th comes.

I'm currently pregnant for the seventh time so why does the baby we lost in my second pregnancy still bring me so much pain? I've had three losses since then, none that were quite so painful and none that I think about even nearly so often. I've had a living child since then, a beautiful baby boy who is the source of immense joy, and have every reason to anticipate that my current pregnancy will end in another living child. I had a child already when Francis was lost and that little girl continues to be just this beautiful ray of sunshine and hope. So why do I still so deeply mourn my second child, the first baby I lost, my tiny little Francis? The truth is, I don't know. Grief in inexplicable, really.

I wish it wasn't this way. I wish I hadn't spend hours over the last few days crying. I wish Francis was just a memory, a painful memory sure, but something solidly in the past. But he/she is not. I am so grateful for my two living children. I love them so very much. In many ways, our family feels good and whole. But them, suddenly, sometimes it doesn't and I'm keenly aware that someone is missing. The age gap between my two suddenly seems gaping and it's hard not to notice that someone should be filling that gap. Not a hypothetical someone, but a real someone. A child who did exist, if only for a very short time, and whose eternal soul still exists far away from his/her earthly family.

Usually I try to have a point to my posts. I mostly write to be helpful to other people. But sometimes, I write just for me. I don't have anyone in my life who I feel comfortable talking to about things like this and sometimes I feel like I just have to share how I'm feeling with someone, anyone, even strangers on the internet. Grief feels really lonely and the loneliness seems to make it even worse.

Golden Baby

The past few months have been a bit of a whirlwind for our family. About 6 weeks ago, the company David worked for went out of business (again - the second time in 6 months with no other companies to buy them out and save them this time). About a week after that, we became certified as foster parents and 8 days after certification, we got the call to take in two sisters, age 2 and 5.

The day after we brought the girls home, David was offered a job with extensive travel (10-15 days per month is what it's looking like). He had two weeks before starting that job in which he was home full time and helping me adjust to caring for four kids and welcoming the girls into our family. During that time, thee four kids and me all got the flu. Thankfully David didn't get it and was able to care for us all, but it was a tough time. I haven't had the flu in probably 15 years so it just seemed like such terrible timing and really made incorporating the girls into our family that much more difficult.

Last week was David's first week on the job and he was gone Monday-Friday. On Wednesday, we learned that the girls would be leaving us on Friday to live with family. It truly seems like they are going to a great situation with loving, stable family, but after only 3 weeks we did get attached and it was hard to say goodbye, and especially for me to get them packed up and to have to deal with the emotional aspect of saying goodbye to them on my own with David still away. The littlest one called me mama as was already so attached to me so saying goodbye to her was particularly rough.

The first chapter of our experience as foster parents is over and we are grateful we were able to help these girls in their time of need. It was all a bit of an unusual case and we thought we would have the girls here with us for at least six months...and then they weren't. Which in the end is best for them (better for them to gain permanency now) and in many ways for us too. Having a short first placement gave us experience to be able to discern a little more carefully future placements in our home so that we can be the best foster parents possible by making sure the children are the best fit for our family and our family is adequately able to care for the needs of the kids. I definitely feel like fostering is one of those things you can read about and talk about and take trainings for but never really understand until you are doing it. And truly each child and situation is different, but we feel like we understand it a bit better and are a bit more prepared for next time.

This all leads me to perhaps our biggest and most important recent news: I'm expecting! It's seems a bit crazy that two years ago, we were just finding out we were pregnant with Davey shortly after my endometriosis surgery and we had only the teeny tiniest hope that that baby might actually live. That baby did live (and is currently making a mess of my kitchen - the boy loves colanders) and now I am 17 weeks pregnant with his little brother or sister. In many ways, this pregnancy is completely overwhelming. It's been completely normal and healthy, something that really just doesn't seem normal to me. Davey came after four miscarriages, dozens of blood draws, hundreds of injections, and a surgery.  In many ways it felt like we had to work hard for our baby, we had to earn him. (I know that baby's are not truly earned - they are always undeserved blessings. But after my experiences, it just felt like suffering was a necessary part of eventually having a living child.)

This pregnancy has been effortless (not to say I haven't felt unwell, I had a terribly sick first trimester but there hasn't been any bleeding or other fears about the health of the baby) and I just feel so undeserving. To have to healthy pregnancies and babies in a row seems almost impossible after what I had gone through and just the unworthiness I feel about it all is often so overwhelming. There are so many couples out there still waiting for a baby after infertility or loss. So many of them are so much more deserving than I of a baby. Why has God blessed me with another (living) child while they still wait and suffer? I know there aren't answers to these questions. I know that our baby is completely undeserved by me (what could I ever do to deserve him/her?) and I know that this baby is nothing but a blessing and a gift. And I'm so very, very grateful.

I've been thinking a lot about a pregnancy after a pregnancy after loss. It's not the same as that first pregnancy after loss. But it's not the same as never experiencing a loss at all, either. A baby born after a loss is often called a "rainbow baby" (though I prefer the term penumbra baby), so what is a baby born after a rainbow baby? I couldn't find a term or any discussion of this subsequent baby and pregnancy anywhere, but I've been thinking about our little one as our "golden baby". (You know, for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? Ok, probably not as clever as I thought.) I know it's not everyone's experience, but my "pregnancy after loss" with Davey was overshadowed by depression and fear. This pregnancy feels redemptive in many ways. I'm rediscovering the joy of carrying life that filled my first pregnancy with Lucia (and my second pregnancy in which we lost Francis) but that has been completely absent in subsequent pregnancies. I am so grateful for this pregnancy and baby and so looking forward to seeing baby's sweet little face.

Lucia's portrait of the baby in my tummy (whom she calls "Magic Bean") complete with umbilical cord and placenta.
She is thrilled. Davey is oblivious.

Remembrance is a little different for us this year (+ a giveaway)

Today is Infant and Pregnancy Loss Remembrance Day. I spent the day with my husband at the last day of foster parent training. And you know what? That feels like the absolute best way we can love and honor the children we've lost.

Becoming a foster parent feels like an essential piece in my healing process. For three years now, I've forced myself to keep a space open in my life, a void that reminded me of of our loss. I didn't let anything fill that space because I felt like I needed to have this painful opening in order to feel the raw wound of the absence of our children. I thought that the only way to appropriately honor them was to be in constant pain, to stay in that place, and to always have a hole that reminded me what could have been and everything that was lost. Doing something that we wouldn't have done had our child(ren) lived seemed to be a form of treason, like leaving them behind or pretending they never existed.

It's only now, three years after my first loss, almost two years after my last, and just weeks away from the first birthday of my healthy (living!) baby boy, that I'm realizing the best way I can honor the children I've lost is to fill that void with something good.

No, we can't fill that open space in our lives with another child, that's not what foster parenting is about for us. Other women who have lost a child may fill that space with something else completely non-child related - volunteer work, prayer, art, etc. This is not about replacing our children, but forging ahead and creating a full, meaningful life with what we have been given.

David and I have talked about being foster parents since before we married. We've moved around frequently and struggled financially so that it was never a viable option until now. After buying our home earlier this year, we finally have the space and stability to be able to care for foster children. It was time.

And yet in the back of my mind, there was that thought, that reminder that if one of the children we lost had lived, we probably would not feel capable of being foster parents right now. We'd most likely have three children then, closer together in age, and I imagine we'd feel like there wasn't the extra time or energy or space right now for foster children.

The truth, however, is that our children did die. Francis died. Julian died. Adrienne died. Christian died. And I have a choice. Either I can continue to dwell on their deaths and make my life some kind of morbid mausoleum to them, or I can choose to turn their deaths into something positive. Because they died, my family has the resources to care for foster children. I think maybe I've not wanted to admit that there are good things we can do because they died for fear that in some way that could be twisted to mean that it was good that they died.

It was not good that they died. But their death can still bring about something good. I'm finally at the place where I'm ready for that. Where I no longer have to torture myself with thoughts of "what would have been". Where I no longer feel the need to punish myself with continual reminders of their deaths for fear that if we move on we are somehow betraying them, that we are in some way saying "it is better this way". No, it is not better. My four babies, four unique beautiful souls are missing from this world, but in their absence we can still go on living. It is not better, but it can still be good. It is good.

I don't know how I missed it in the past, but it seems fitting that Infant and Pregnancy Loss Remembrance Day is also St. Teresa of Avila's feast day. My favorite quote of hers seems so fitting today:

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.
-- St. Teresa of Avila

In honor of Infant and Pregnancy Loss Remembrance Day, I would like to give away a beautiful printable of this quote from the etsy shop brickhouseinthecity. (Giveaway sponsored and purchased by me.) Also, Usborne Books consultant Kayla Fellows has very sweetly offered a giveaway item as well:

I am a stay at home wife and mother. I have felt the heartache of infertility, miscarriage and the anxiety of pregnancy after miscarriage. I am very blessed to have given birth to my rainbow baby almost a year ago. In honor of the baby I lost, Bernard Marie, I'd like to donate $15 worth of product from my Usborne Book Store.

I'll also throw in a Lilla Rose hair accessory, as always, since that's my little side biz. I'd like to keep the entries to parents who have lost a child to miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant death. To enter, simply comment telling me something you do to remember your baby/babies. 

Fond Memories of an All Too Temporary Joy

Three years ago, I was pregnant with our second child. I got a positive pregnancy test on September 1st, after four months of actively trying to conceive and a while before that of very sadly avoiding pregnancy due my husband's underemployment. The pregnancy was very desired, the baby was so very loved, and we were so, so excited. Miscarriage never even crossed my mind, but I would miscarry our baby at home on the night of October 10th after only a minor warning that something might be wrong. (You can read my detailed miscarriage story here.)

I'm crying as I write this post, not thinking about the miscarriage but thinking about the incredible joy, hope, and expectation of those six short weeks that we had with our baby. They were so happy. I still possessed a slice of innocence that I'll never recover. And I'll never quite know that kind of hidden delight during a pregnancy again. I haven't though about it in a long time, but I can still remember exactly what it felt like, having the secret of a new life inside you, imagining the future with that little one laid out before you, the anticipation of bringing a new person into this world, picturing little toes and a tiny button nose. The term "expecting" has always been one that has appealed to me so much more than "pregnant" because it captures a bit of those fluttery feelings of excitement and anticipation and joy. The last few pregnancies though, I've expected a miscarriage, not a baby and there is nothing but dread in that. Even though my pregnancy with Davey was healthy and without any major complications, I was convinced my baby would not live until the moment David placed him on my chest on that cold evening in the passenger's seat of our car. Seeing his face for the first time was honestly a bit of a shock because despite being 41 weeks pregnant I was not expecting a living, breathing child.

So much more than a baby is lost during a miscarriage. It's the loss of hopes and dreams, innocence, joy. I'm glad I got those weeks of happiness with that baby and I mourn the fact that the three subsequent babies I lost didn't get a moment of joy or expectation from me. Davey didn't either until his birth (but he's gotten so much since, just the joy he brought me just today has more than made up for it, I think).

I recently came across this picture of the pregnancy test I took on 9/1/13, confirming the much anticipated conception of our second child. I took this picture on 11/10/13 when I finally decided to throw the pregnancy test away as it continued to sit on our bathroom counter a month after our loss. Funny how a dried up stick of pee could mean so much, huh?

Julian

I somehow deleted a long post I wrote today about it being my child Julian's due date. He/she would have be turning two sometime this month. It's a hard day for me and the deletion of the post seems pretty dang symbolic. A post that will never be read about the baby who was never born. Yep, that about sums it up today.

Julian's Certificate of Life from the Shrine of the Holy Innocents

Thoughts One Month Later

My son is a month old now. He doesn't sleep more than two hours at a time, so I'm the most exhausted I've ever been. When he's awake, he cries a lot and needs to be held constantly so I can't get much done. The toilets and shower desperately need a scrubbing. Between leaking through 50% of the diapers he wears, spitting up frequently, and my own (breast milk) leakages, I just can't keep up with the laundry. My chronic back pain has been at its worst from bending over to change diapers and hunching over breastfeeding. I look incredibly frumpy with no time to get myself ready and very little clothes that fit. And...I'm the happiest I've ever been.

Two weeks after little Davey was born, David mentioned that I'd laughed more those two weeks than I had in the previous two years. That sounds about right. The past few years have been difficult. Aside from the grief of our losses and the depression that came with my pregnancy, we were struggling with a lot of fertility decisions - Do we try to conceive again? Should I have surgery? Do we need a break? Can I keep trying? Will we ever have a living child? What do we want to do? What is God asking us to do? It was incredibly stressful. And for the time being, that stress is lifted. We have the incredible joy of our baby boy and we don't have to think about fertility for a long while yet, so we can just enjoy this time.

Davey's One Month Photo

David's Birth Story, or How Having a Baby in a Car Was the Unexpected Answer to My Prayers

Let's start this story at the very beginning. I'm 99.9% certain that my real due date (based on conception) was November 1. Every ultrasound I had during the pregnancy (and I had many) showed the baby measuring right on for a November 1 due date except the ultrasound that my doctor used to date the pregnancy, which gave me a November 6 due date. I was completely fine with going by the November 6 due date though because my daughter, Lucia, was late and I expected this baby to be late too, so it seemed that it would be likely that the baby would be born around November 6.
I started have contractions on October 29. They were Braxton Hicks contractions, very light and not at all regular, but were consistent in that they would appear every afternoon, come and go throughout the evening, then completely stop when I went to bed. When I was pregnant with Lucia, I hadn't had a contraction of any kind until I went into labor so I thought that these contractions signified that I would be going into labor somewhat soon. Maybe not that day or the next, but within the next several days or a week.

But November 1 and November 6 came and went and I still hadn't gone into labor. In fact, I stopped feeling contractions at all around November 4th which was a bit discouraging because it felt like my body had been gearing up for labor and then...nothing, like I was moving even further away from having my baby. Lucia had been eight days late and I hadn't been anxious at all for her to be born. As my first pregnancy, I had expected to be about a week late. But this time, I could finally understand what so many pregnant women meant when they would talk about being just done with being pregnant. I was still feeling pretty decent physically - just tired, so tired - but emotionally, I was more than ready to have the baby. After nine months of almost constant fear and anxiety, I needed to see and hold my baby and know that all was well. Or that all was not well, but just to know.

On November 11, I started feeling just off not long after getting up. I was really nauseous and was experiencing a constant, strong, dull pain in my stomach. I had felt a similar pain for short periods of time previously and it seemed to be caused by the baby lying right in the front of my stomach (facing my back - the optimal birth position). It felt like the baby was pushing straight out of my belly button and the pain was coming from so much outward pressure. I have no idea if that was the actual cause, but the baby was indeed right there in front. Thankfully, it was Veteran's Day and my mom works in a bank so she had the day off. She watched Lucia for me while I took a shower and laid in bed most of the morning. (Side note: We live with my parents.)

Around noon my mom was leaving to take the dog to be groomed and run some errands and she planned to take Lucia with her. Shortly before she left, I sent David a text asking him if it would be a big deal if he came home early from work and then I ended up not going into labor. I had previously been determined that I would not ask him to come home until I was having very obvious baby is coming contractions, but I was just feeling so awful and emotional and really just wanted him with me. I sent him a text saying "I feel like crying." He asked why and I could only respond that it must be hormones, which made him think that this really had to be early labor.

After my mom and Lucia left, I was able to fall asleep until David got home. He came home very excited, thinking we were going to be having a baby that day only to find me feeling....absolutely normal. The pain was gone, the nausea was gone, no desire to cry anymore. Just normal. And frustrated.

I rested for a little while longer and then we decided to go for a walk. As we were walking, I was having a very angry conversation with God in my head. I told Him I was tired and I was angry that after going through so many miscarriages and a very emotionally difficult pregnancy, He couldn't at least give me at least the consolation of the baby coming on time. Why was He making me suffer longer? A little later on in the walk, I calmed down a bit and spoke to God again, apologizing for my (silent, in my head) outburst and acknowledging that there are far worse things than being pregnant a little longer with the healthy baby for whom I had prayed.

While we were walking, my mom and Lucia came home. Halfway through our walk, we stopped in the house to tell my mom what was going on (or what wasn't going on, as it were). She, of course, was excited because she saw David's truck in the driveway and assumed that he had come home because I was in labor. After telling her that was not the case, we finished our walk. Still no contractions.

My mom started dinner - tomato bisque - but then had to leave to take Lucia to gymnastics before she could get everything in the pot, so David took over. I stayed in the kitchen as David cooked and organized the spices in one of the cabinets.I was feeling perfectly normal, even by non-pregnancy standards, and I definitely was not feeling like baby would be coming anytime soon.

My mom and Lucia came home around 5 and not long after, while I was sitting on the couch waiting for the soup to finish, I felt a POP. The midwife broke my water well into labor with Lucia to speed up the process so I hadn't experienced what it was like to have my water break but I immediately suspected that's what happened. I went to the bathroom to check and there was a large amount of yellowish mucus. I couldn't tell if my water had broken yet, but I went back to the bathroom several times over the next ten minutes and there was clearly a yellowish liquid dripping. Since the fluid wasn't clear, I decided to call my midwife immediately. We spoke for about ten minutes. She said that yellow amniotic fluid was fine but let me know what colors to look out for. I told her I hadn't had any contractions yet, but that I was having a dull cramping in my lower abdomen. I don't remember all we talked about but I do very clearly remember her asking if I was ready to have a baby and I answered that yes, I'd been ready for a while! She told me to call her back around 8:30 to check in but otherwise just to rest and wait for contractions to start. At this point it was 5:30. My water had broken at 5:10.

Almost immediately after I hung up the phone, contractions started. David had downloaded a contraction timer on his phone already, so he started timing them right away. They were very close together - only about 1 minute 45 seconds apart! But they were very weak. I could talk through them easily. They were noticeable, but not painful. Sometime around the time I started having contractions, I went to the bathroom and saw blood. I called David into the bathroom and told him that we would definitely be having a baby soon.

David continued to time my contractions as I laid on the couch and watched "Family Feud" and he went to our room to pack the last minute items in our bag for the birth center. They were consistently 1 minute 45 seconds apart so he asked if I thought he should call the midwife back and let her know. I wasn't sure. Yes, the contractions were close together but they still weren't strong. But we decided he should call anyway. The midwife told us we should head in.

I helped David finish packing and had to pause often because my contractions were getting stronger. Lucia started to cry when I had contractions because I was moaning through them, which scared her. It was so hard to say goodbye to her while she was still crying because I wanted to comfort her, but I knew staying longer and having more contractions would just make her more upset. As we were leaving, my mom asked, "Aren't you going to have dinner before you go?" since the soup was now done, but it was clear that we really needed to leave. I did have David get a container full of soup for himself though so he could eat while I was laboring at the birth center.

David and I walked out the door around 6pm. My contractions continued to get stronger, but I assumed that I still had four or five hours to go before pushing. Clearly if I could stop and wait for David to scoop up some soup to take with us, I wasn't in that much pain and didn't think the baby was coming very soon. The intensity of the contractions were nothing compared to the last several hours of contractions during Lucia's labor. The midwives and nurses at the birth center had all said that second labors were usually around half the length of the first and I was in labor for a little over 14 hours with Lucia, so seven hours seemed to be a likely length. The drive to the birth center was 35 to 40 minutes and I never had any doubt that we'd have plenty of time to get there.

But about ten minutes after we left, the contractions had gotten much more painful, the downward pressure was very intense, and I felt a strong urge to push. I started repeating, "Jesus, I trust you. Jesus, I trust you," through each contraction but it quickly became just, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus," or "I trust, I trust, I trust." I realized that this baby was probably coming sooner rather than later but still assumed I had some time ahead of me, at least enough time to make it to the birth center.

And then I found myself pushing. Well, not pushing exactly, or at least not intentionally pushing, but I felt the downward pressure pushing the baby down. I told David he had to pull over. We weren't going to make it. He got the midwife on the phone and pulled over into the nearest parking lot, in front of a Kohl's. This was around 6:20. The midwife thought we could still make it, we were only 15 minutes away. But I was insistent - there was no way, the baby was coming, and we needed to call 911. The midwife (or one of the nurses at the birth center there with her) called 911 for us so David could stay on the phone with her. David put her on speaker phone. She asked if I could reach down and see if I could feel the baby's head. So I reached down and I did feel something hard that I assumed must be the head just inside the vaginal opening.

At this point, David got out of the driver's seat and came around to my side of the car and by the time he opened my door, the head was out! I don't remember what the midwife told David to do, but she told me to take a deep breath and give one good push to birth the rest of my baby. So I did. At 6:25 pm, David caught our baby and as he was raising it to my chest we noticed immediately that it was a boy. Our son! David, Jr! He was covered in meconium, but cried immediately and seemed to be perfectly healthy. David put his pea coat over both of us and then I asked him to go into our bags in the backseat and get something softer to wrap our baby in. David found his robe and covered the baby. It was dark and a cold night and our biggest concern was keeping him warm.

An ambulance and other emergency vehicles arrived a few minutes later. They brought us blankets, checked little David out quickly, and then helped get us out of the car onto a gurney and into the very wonderfully warm ambulance. We had originally hoped to be taken to the birth center but the EMTs said they felt more comfortable taking us to the closest hospital just five minutes away because it was so cold that little David had a lower than desirable temperature and he was covered in meconium so they wanted to make sure he hadn't aspirated any of it. We decided to just head to the hospital. David drove the car while the baby and I headed over in the ambulance. After the cord stopped pulsing, the umbilical cord was cut in the ambulance.

When we arrived at the hospital, we went straight to the labor and delivery floor where there was staff awaiting us. From there, everything was pretty normal, or at least what I assume is fairly normal in a hospital birth. They checked little David over a bit more than perhaps is usual but he never left my room. He was perfectly healthy and his temperature went back up to normal quickly. It took a while (almost and hour and half after birth, I think) for the placenta to be delivered and both that and the few stitches I needed were definitely the most painful part of the whole labor and delivery, just like I remember them being with Lucia's birth experience.

After that, we were left alone pretty quickly. I was able to make a call to the new big sister and my parents to let them know we'd just had a baby in the car, David called the rest of our families, and I was able to just nurse and cuddle my little son. A couple hours later, my parents and Lucia came to see us for a short time. We stayed the night in the hospital and left the next afternoon.

Looking back on my labor and discussing it with my midwife, there really weren't any signs that my labor would be that quick and there really wasn't any way we would have made it to the birth center in time. I had contractions for less than an hour before David was born, so we would have had to have left almost immediately after they had started and at the time, there was no indication that we should.

But I'm really, truly happy with how it all turned out. I believe having our son in the car was an answer to so many prayers. I would have never planned it (and I don't necessarily suggest it) but I truly can't complain about a fairly painless childbirth that lasted less than an hour. Baby and I are both healthy and I've had a much easier recovery this time around. And probably most importantly, all the fears I had about labor being emotionally difficult were moot because it was so fast I didn't have much time to think about anything but having a baby. Nothing went as planned. I wasn't birthing in a dark room with the light of candles, there was no diffuser with calming essential oils, and the Marian statue I bought specifically for the occasion stayed in our bag in the backseat. We didn't pray the rosary or over the intentions I had collected for labor. But it was even better than I planned - truly the most peaceful, joyful, healing birth I could imagine.

The main downside about the whole thing was that our car was left looking like a crime scene. But even that isn't nearly as bad as it could be. Our car is currently getting a new seat cushion and carpet in a shop that specializes in biological messes in vehicles while we drive a rental car. And our car insurance is covering everything but our deductible (and it's going to be over $2,000!). Since it wasn't a collision, our insurance payments won't even go up. Seriously, an hour long labor is worth paying our deductible.


Here are a few pictures of little David's first few hours, all taken once we got to the hospital. They're mostly duplicates of the pictures I shared in his birth announcement post, but they're all I've got.

David Newton, Jr.

November 11, 2015 6:25pm

7 lbs. 12 oz. 20.25 inches

 I did not look like this after my 14 hour labor with Lucia. My hair isn't matted! I'm not sweaty and exhausted!

 David, Jr. with his daddy, the man who delivered him!

 Meeting big sis, who came bearing gifts.

If you want to read Lucia's very different birth story, you can do so here. Oh, and Kate of Sancta Nomina posted a birth announcement for David where I share a little about his name and ask for nickname suggestions. You can read it here.

Remembrance

Saturday was the second anniversary of my first miscarriage. It was a rough day. We were spending the weekend at my in-laws so there wasn't any sort of ritual or remembrance; but we were busy with family all day and in the end, I think that was probably the best way it could have been spent. Had we still lived in North Carolina, we would have continued our family tradition of honoring our baby by daily Mass, visiting the cemetery, and then an afternoon at the beach. (The cemetery was about an hour and a half away on the way to the beach. When my husband buried our baby, our priest mentioned that making a beach day of visiting the grave could be beautiful family tradition. And it really was.) We tried to go to daily Mass but none of the parishes close to my in-laws had one on Saturday mornings. In absence of a grave or beach to visit, keeping busy was the best way to distract me from the pain of the day.

Many people assume that these anniversaries are less painful because I'm currently nine months pregnant. And yes, in many ways, the joy of the child in my womb blunts the pain. But in other ways, this pregnancy has added a sharpness to the pain of these remembrances. Each milestone I reach in this pregnancy, each baby kick, each midwife appointment and heartbeat heard is a reminder of what I'll never get to experience with four of my children.

Two years and a healthy pregnancy later, the pain is still not gone. Yes, life goes on and we've found ways to experience joy again. But thoughts of our children will always remain. We'll always be aware that they are not here, that there are four souls missing from our family. That's why days like today, Pregnancy Loss and Remembrance Day, are important. Because they validate the desire to remember. When the rest of the world has forgotten and expects us to forget too, a day like today reminds us that remembrance is important, it is good, it is necessary.

Every night I pray for parents who have lost a baby and for those little souls gone too soon. But today, your intentions were my constant prayer, in all I did and thought and said. May God comfort you in your grief and bring healing and fruit from your suffering.

Penumbra Baby: 28 week bumpdate

I'm not much of a "bumpdate" person. (Though I'm not much of a birth story person either, and I wrote one of those.) When my favorite bloggers post pregnancy updates, I mostly just look at the pictures. I never blogged regular pregnancy updates when I was pregnant with Lucia but somehow, this time, it just seemed right - maybe even necessary - to share a little more gratuitously about this pregnancy.

A while back, I read this article that discussed the use of the term "penumbra baby" for a child that comes after loss. I've never really felt comfortable with the more common term "rainbow baby" (not sure exactly why) and it was somehow very fulfilling to find a term that really resonated with me. Here's an excerpt from the article that explains the word an exactly why it's so apt:

The word penumbra means “partially shaded area” and while I like and use the term rainbow babies, I think this one might be a better description. These babies are born in the shadow of their older siblings who died. Because I’m fascinated by words and their meanings, I find it interesting that she used the term penumbra, meaning partially shaded, and not umbra, or fully shaded. With a penumbra, some light is still coming through, which I find rather beautiful. Children born in the shadow of loss are definitely not replacement children! Unlike a rainbow, a shadow is not fleeting or illusory, but always present and always changing. When the sun rises and sets, our shadows are long, casting a deeper, darker presence over our lives. When the sun is high overhead, our shadows are barely present. No matter where you go or what you do, your shadow is with you. It changes as you change. It is unique to your shape. A shadow cannot exist without some light, even if that light is small.  

When you are pregnant after a loss, the shadow of your past pregnancy will always be there. Some days you will feel its presence deeply, as if the light were dim and the shadow in front of you. Some days, you will hardly notice it. The sun will be bright overhead.

It's important to me that this pregnancy and this child are never "fully shaded", that I allow some light to come through. So I'm determined to celebrate this pregnancy in whatever ways I can. I may not be taking weekly beautiful, well-lit and well-orchestrated pictures with fruits and veggies, but I have been taking grainy, poorly lit picture sporadically because I do want there to be pictures. (And we are going to get professional maternity pictures next month.) I do want there to be memories. I want to be able to look back and say, that was a blessed time when my child was growing within me. I've always thought I would do a pregnancy update post at some point in this pregnancy (although probably only one) and 28 weeks, the start of the third trimester, seems as good a time as any.

how far along: By the "official" dating: 28 weeks, 3 days; by my dating: 29 weeks, 1 day. I'm totally fine with going along with the doctor's date though. Lucia was 8 days "late" so a later due date just prepares me for a little longer of a wait and, more importantly, gives me an extra cushion before other people start asking "Have you had the baby yet?"

days until due date: 80

symptoms: I've had pretty much the full gamut of "normal" pregnancy symptoms. Morning sickness, lethargy, etc. in the first trimester. Mostly feeling better during the second trimester, other than a few tough weeks around our move when I probably was just doing way too much. In the past few weeks, the third trimester symptoms have really hit - heartburn, swelling, hip and pelvic pain. I have had a few symptoms that I think are pretty unique to me though. One of the first early signs that I'm pregnant is frequent headaches. Unless I'm ill, the only time I ever get headaches is during the first trimester of pregnancy (it's been consistent with all of my six pregnancies so far). Also, I've developed allergies to peanuts. Nothing major, just an itchy throat when I eat them. I had this with Lucia too, only not with peanuts but with bananas and almonds (so far, those don't seem to bother me). Apparently food allergies just during pregnancy is a thing, though not particularly common.

cravings: Hmmm, I probably need to ask David about this one. Hummus. A bagel with lox. Honestly, it's pretty much like my pregnancy with Lucia - I don't crave much in the realm of weird and cravings don't come out of nowhere, but if I see or hear someone talk about a food that sounds good, I can't get the thought of it out of my head. So commercials and cooking shows are my worst enemy right now. Though heartburn is severely cutting down on my appetite because no matter how good something tastes, I know it is just NOT worth the heartburn.

On our fifth anniversary

comparisons: Obviously, this pregnancy is emotionally much more difficult than my very blissful, naive, and perfectly healthy pregnancy with Lucia, but it's also been physically harder. Not so much so that anything is out of the ordinary, it's all within the range of "normal", but it's certainly a noticeable difference. Other than the first trimester morning sickness and fatigue and third trimester heartburn, I otherwise felt amazing my whole pregnancy with Lucia. This entire pregnancy I've been tired and sluggish and just not feeling quite well. The morning sickness was worse (I think I only threw up twice with Lucia, but often a half dozen times per day this pregnancy) although both times it tapered off around 13 weeks. Heartburn has started much, much earlier this time - at around 25 weeks compared to probably 34 with Lucia. I remember that being the absolute worst part of her pregnancy and was hoping to put it off as long as possible.

I've also just been so much more sore this time around. I never had hip or pelvic pain with my first pregnancy and it's been a bit surprising (and painful!) this time around. I also never had Braxton Hicks contractions before this pregnancy, and I've been having them since around 18 weeks. I usually don't have them too often other than when I'm upset and then they are super painful and constant. Not having any BH made it really easy to tell when I was going into labor - I'm worried about not being able to tell real from false labor as the due date gets closer.

I don't think having an older child to care for has affected the pregnancy all that much (other than Lucia making me melt with her really sweet, adorable bonding with baby - that is so precious). Lucia tends to nap every day and I nap with her so I still get my daily nap in. I haven't been sleeping very well at night the entire pregnancy (whereas I slept like a baby until the heartburn kicked in last time), but I don't think that's related to having an older child because Lucia usually sleeps through the night. She's old enough that I'm not constantly on my feet running after her and she's pretty independent and helpful, but I am probably more active this time walking over to the school playground with her and taking her to parks and such.

I've gained a lot less weight this pregnancy. I'm sure that's due to the increase in morning sickness and early onset of heartburn more than anything else. But I'm also carrying low, so maybe these differences mean it's a boy? Oh, and probably the biggest difference is that this baby is extremely, extremely active. Way more than Lucia ever was. The movements and kicks are much more frequent and sometimes actually really painful which is crazy for a baby this small (and it's already been happening for weeks). I can often see my stomach very noticeably moving which didn't happen very often with Lucia and not until the end. David is convinced that this means we are having an active little boy.

speaking of baby's sex: No, we didn't/we don't find out if we're having a boy or girl. It's just the way we like to do it. We didn't find out with Lucia and the surprise was just so exciting. And it drives other people crazy which is fun too. I will admit I was much more tempted this time to peek during the ultrasound than I was with Lucia, but I stayed strong.

Do I have any gut feelings? Boy, I guess. But I was 100% sure Lucia was a boy from my gut feeling and I have the reputation of being 100% wrong when guessing the sex of friends' and family members' babies so I think my gut feeling of boy means that it's most likely a girl. Obviously, we really don't care if it's a boy or girl and we're just super excited to find out exactly who this little person is that God has sent to our family.

names? We do have a boy and a girl name picked out and most of our friends and family know them, but I'm not ready to share here yet. We're having a bit of trouble with a girl middle name, so I emailed Kate at the Catholic baby naming blog, Sancta Nomina, for a name consultation and it will be published next month so at least our girl's name will be out of the bag then.

Lucia is: very excited. And super, super sweet. She talks about baby all the time and asks every person she meets, "Did you know my mommy has a baby in her tummy?" She's very excited to hold baby and play with baby and teach baby everything. She will randomly come up to me and kiss my belly and talk to baby. She calls it "my baby" or "our baby". The last of her friends to have a younger sibling, she's so excited to finally get to be a big sister. I'm not sure how this will play out when baby is actually here, but I have a feeling she'll be very helpful and the jealousy will be minimal. My younger brother and I are five years apart and I was a helpful big sister who adored the baby and was never jealous. Lucia and baby will be four years apart and although her temperament is much different than mine, I think the reaction will be much the same.

We got this gorgeous family photo taken at David's cousin's wedding.
First professional photo as a family of four!

best part of pregnancy so far: I've loved holding my belly in the last few weeks. I've finally gotten big enough that I have a round, very pregnant belly and I think it's beautiful and pretty amazing. Just looking in the mirror and rubbing my belly has been such a blessing. I don't know why, but it seems so strange to actually be this physically, visibly pregnant. I think there was a part of me that thought I would never get to this point and that kind of didn't believe I was actually pregnant with a real, live baby (despite the ultrasounds and really obvious symptoms). But now that I can see it, it's starting to feel very concrete. I catch myself smiling when I see my belly in the mirror.

As for the best specific moment, yesterday, we went to a Rockies (baseball for those non-sporties out there) game yesterday and toward the end, a woman came up to me on her way out and said, "I just had to tell you you're a gorgeous pregnant woman. If I ever get pregnant, I hope I look like you - all belly!" And then she told me how beautiful Lucia was. Yep, that was a winner, especially since I was greasy with sunscreen and had be sweating profusely the whole game so basically felt like a hot, slimy whale. But apparently a gorgeous one.

prayer request: One of baby's kidneys was larger than normal on my 20 week ultrasound, so I have a follow up ultrasound next month. The doctor made it sound like this issue is fairly common and often resolves itself, but even if it doesn't it is not a major problem. I'm not particularly worried, but prayers would be appreciated. I've entrusted baby and this pregnancy to the intercession of Blesseds Zelie and Louis Martin (the soon-to-be canonized parents of St. Therese of Lisieux). Also, prayers for the financial/insurance concerns of this pregnancy would be appreciated as well. Thank you!

To Bury the Dead

A couple weeks ago was the year anniversary of our baby Francis Michael's due date. I mentioned that our tradition for his due date and loss date is to go to the cemetery to visit his grave and then to the beach, and I shared a few pictures from the due date last year. We weren't able to do it that weekend due to poor weather, but last Saturday, we made the trip. 

Visiting the cemetery was really hard. I, very unexpectedly, burst into tears the moment David turned our car into the cemetery. Lucia had to go to the bathroom almost immediately and there are no facilities on the grounds open on the weekends, so we had to leave pretty quickly to find a gas station.  And then, of course, was the fact that this wasn't just a regular trip but also a goodbye. We move away next week and have no idea when or if we'll ever be able to visit our baby's grave again.

An afternoon at the beach provides a beautiful counterbalance to our morning at the cemetery. It's easy to get caught up in the sorrow of our lost babies at times like that, so doing something as our earthly family of three is a perfect reminder that while we'll always feel the absence of those four little souls, the life we've been given is pretty great too. We have so much to be thankful for and there is so much joy in our family just the way it is, it's hard to miss those truths during a sun-filled day at the beach.
__________

After our day, I was reflecting a bit on how much we're going to miss this little tradition and how blessed we've felt to have been able to bury our baby. Francis is our only child with a grave because he was the only one for whom we had an actual body; two of our others showed only empty sacs on their ultrasounds, meaning they never developed a body or their bodies were reabsorbed into the gestational sac very early; the other was a very early loss and I never noticed the baby passing. Some couples do bury whatever tissue and remains they have, even if it were just and empty sac, but after the stress we underwent trying to arrange a final resting place for Francis, we were at peace not burying those little ones.

Many Catholic diocese have programs in place that bury miscarried children for free. Usually, it's a large grave for all miscarried babies with some kind of statue or memorial, and there are group services several times a year. I've also heard of cemeteries that provide plots for free and funeral homes that will perform their services for free. There are no such programs or places in our area. After our first miscarriage, we had the remains of our baby in a little plastic container in our refrigerator for days as we tried to figure out how to bury him with dignity.

I contacted our diocese, pro-life organizations, and every possible group I thought could help and received the same response over and over again, "Sorry for your loss, but we can't help you." There was no one who could offer me any advice. I called every funeral home and cemetery in our area, but none could offer me even a tiny discount. We were told we had to pay full price for a child plot and full price for an infant casket, which would have been around $1,000 total. It was money we didn't have at the time, especially since we were facing medical bills for the miscarriage related costs. It was a stressful time for us. The only things we could do to care for our baby were name him and bury him and the longer our baby sat unburied, the heavier it weighted on our hearts.

Thankfully, we were able to get a hold of our wonderful pastor who took care of everything for us. He already had plans to take another father to the closest Catholic cemetery (about an hour away) to bury his miscarried child and invited David along with him. He was friends with the pastor of the cemetery parish and was able to arrange for our child to be buried for free. We only had to pay $50 for the grave marker. He drove David and the other father to the cemetery and had a little service while they buried the babies.

We were lucky. Our pastor does not have the ability to make arrangements like this for every family. Had he not been friends with that parish's pastor or had he not already had the outing arranged with another family, we would have most likely have ended up needing to just purchase a plot and coffin. (I had previously called that same cemetery and they said they would charge us full price - $450 - for a child plot and we had to have a several hundred dollar full-sized infant coffin.) Unfortunately, most families in our area have no resources to help them bury their babies. There are some organizations I'm aware of that help bury stillborn babies (lost after 20 weeks gestation) but none that I'm aware of that help miscarried babies. If you know of any, please let me know.

In all the articles and blog posts that I've read about how to help a couple after a miscarriage, I don't think I've ever seen the suggestion to help the couple bury their child but in some situations, this is a real need. Not every family is able to bury their miscarried babies for various reasons. Often, there are no remains or they are not given access to the remains after a D&C, etc. But some parents do have the remains and want to bury their babies but are unable to because they lack the funds or need help arranging it. It can be an extremely difficult time emotionally after a miscarriage which would only add to the stress and confusion of planning a burial.

As Christians, we are urged to "bury the dead" as one of the corporal work of mercy. If you know someone who has lost a baby and has the child's remains, you can offer to:

• Help them to arrange a burial (and service or funeral if wanted). Make phone calls. Sit with them as they make decisions.
• Give financial support if you can. Sometimes even if the family can pay for a plot or receives one for free, they may not be able to afford a grave marker, so the grave sits unmarked for years.
• Share any knowledge you have of the process. Even if you've never lost a baby, if you've lost another family member and had to arrange burial, your experiences could be very helpful.  
• Share contact information to local organizations that can help. If you are so called, perhaps you could start some kind of organization within your community or church that helps families with the arrangements.

If you've buried am unborn child, what were your experiences? Do you know if there are local organizations or resources in your area? Or any national ones? How did others help you with the process or how do you wish they would have helped?

Our Francis

One year ago today was our Francis Michael's due date. Which means had our baby lived, we'd be celebrating a first birthday around now. I'm so far removed from that alternate reality that I can't really imagine what it would be like having a one year old crawling (or walking!) around. I can't imagine where I crib would fit in our little home or what it would be like to have another car seat in our car. I can't begin to see how Francis would have fit into our lives, yet it's easy to feel that there is someone missing.

Of all the children we've lost, I always miss Francis the most. It's not that we love that baby any more than the others, just that we bonded with him or her so much more. Between my positive pregnancy test and miscarriage, we had six weeks of dreaming and preparing for our baby. That time was never tainted with a fear of loss, so we were able to love our baby with abandon. And those six weeks came after a year of desperately wanting another child, even before we were able to try to conceive again, a year of dreaming and preparing in itself.

After Francis, we were much more cautious with our pregnancies, much more reserved. And we never got much time with them, no more than two weeks between a positive pregnancy test and an ultrasound showing that miscarriage was likely. We never had the time to allow ourselves to imagine our baby outside of the womb, as part of our living family.  Even now, at 14 weeks pregnant, I can't visualize what it will be like to have a baby in November, even if I give myself the permission to try. But during my pregnancy with Francis, I could visualize that sweet baby in my arms - that tiny little nose, big blue eyes, kissable lips, and chubby, chubby thighs. 

Today, David has to work, but we're hoping to spend tomorrow exactly like we did last year - a trip to the cemetery and then to the beach. (Please pray that the storm that is supposed to hit this weekend disperses! It means so much to use that we're able to carry out this family tradition.) Only a few weeks away from our move, this will be the last time we'll see our baby's grave and the last time we carry out this family tradition. We usually only visit Francis Michael's grave twice a year (close to the due date and miscarriage date) but the thought of leaving it is unbearable. We didn't bury any of our other children (none of them ever developed bodies, just empty sacs) so in many ways, this one grave represents them all. I know their souls aren't there but I still feel like a mother abandoning her children.

My sweet Francis Michael, know that you are loved and so very missed.  What I wouldn't have given to have held you in my arms for just a moment, to have known what you looked like.

Past posts I've written about Francis:

This is not the post it was supposed to be.

Remembering My Pregnancy

Our Pregnancy Loss Story

How we named Francis (and our other babies)



Here are pictures from our trip to the cemetery and beach to celebrate Francis last year: