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!

Siblings & St. Therese

Last week, I shared a quote from St. Therese's mother, Bl. Zelie Martin, about baby loss, but she's not the only member of the Martin family that has wisdom to share with a mother whose lost a child.  Last year, while reading the autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux, The Story of a Soul, I came across a particular passage that really touched me as a mother of a living child and several children lost in the womb.  She wrote:

After Marie entered the Carmel, and I no longer had her to listen to my scruples, I turned towards Heaven and confided them to the four little angels who had already gone before me, for I thought that these innocent souls, who had never known sorrow or fear, ought to have pity on their poor little suffering sister. I talked to them with childish simplicity, telling them that, as I was the youngest of the family, I had always been the most petted and loved by my parents and sisters; that if they had remained on earth they would no doubt have given me the same proofs of their affection.  The fact that they had gone to Heaven seemed no reason why they should forget me--on the contrary, as they were able to draw from the treasury of Heaven, they ought to obtain for me the grace of peace, and prove that they still knew how to love me. 

The answer was not long in coming; soon my soul was flooded with the sweetest peace. I knew that I was loved, not only on earth but also in Heaven.  From that time my devotion for these little brothers and sisters increased; I loved to talk to them and tell them of all the sorrows of this exile, and of my wish to join them soon in our Eternal Home.

St. Therese's siblings did not die during pregnancy, but they did die in infancy/early childhood.  Therese, being the youngest of the family, never knew these older siblings and yet she knew of them and was able to form a relationship with them.  From a young age, she loved them.  She felt their love for her.  They continued to be a part of her life. 

I struggled quite a bit with how to talk about our babies with Lucia after our first two losses.  We told her that I was pregnant as soon as I found out and we told her afterward that the babies had gone to heaven, but she was still so young at the time that she soon forgot about them.  She had no understanding of death or heaven or even of siblings.  It wasn't until after our last loss that we started to talk about our babies with her in a more regular way.  I try to always pray a litany of Saints at the end of our evening prayers and include the patron Saints of all our family members, including those babies we lost. When she gets upset because she doesn't have siblings, I remind her that she is a big sister to four babies in heaven.

Lucia talks about her siblings often, saying things like, "I'm a big sister. I have four babies in heaven. They are going to be so excited to hug their big sister when I get to heaven." It's endearing and I think so spiritually healthy for her to look forward to heaven with her siblings.  Now that I'm expecting again, she tells everyone, "My mommy has a baby in her tummy!" That's often closely followed by, "And we have four babies in heaven." This sometimes is the cause of a little discomfort to strangers or acquaintances that aren't familiar with our losses, but I don't ever want to discourage her from talking about her siblings. Sometimes there is a sad element that comes with the knowledge of her siblings. She often says that she wants the baby to stay in my tummy and not go to heaven like the other babies. So together, we pray for this baby.

I want Lucia to have a relationship with her siblings like St. Therese had with hers, based on love and faith, and though I don't always know the right words to guide that relationship, I trust the Holy Spirit to make up for my failings. And I think we're headed in the right direction.

You can download a free copy of The Story of a Soul for Kindle here.  (You do not need a Kindle to do so, you can download the free Kindle Reading App to your computer, phone, or tablet.)

Someone is Missing

There's something different about this pregnancy. (Other than the fact that I've made it past 10 weeks.) We're coming up on the first anniversary of our first miscarried child's due date (the time in which our little one would have been celebrating his or her first birthday). Which means that it's perfectly possible that I could be pregnant with this baby right now even had that baby lived. He/she would have been nine months when we conceived this time, 18 months when this baby is due, and that's well within the time frame of "possible". We could be expecting our third living child right now instead of our second. And there is something about that realization that is just crushing.

With each of our last three pregnancies, there was always that bittersweet knowledge that all our babies had to die for the newest baby to live. But now that we've gotten to a point where our current child could coexist with one of the babies we lost, there is a whole new pain involved. I guess there was a part of me that accepted the losses easier knowing that because they happened, they allowed us the gift of another child. Every time I'm confronted with a new pregnancy, there has been a kind of choice - I could have had one of the children we lost or we could have our current child, but we could only ever have one. But losing our second child didn't really make this child possible - for the first time, there is a scenario in which not only one was possible, but two. I know I should be grateful for all the children in between, because even if they are not here with us, they are eternal souls. But I'm not really there yet.  All I can think is that our second child could be here and this one inside of me could both be here and for once, there wouldn't be a need to choose.

I thought I had accepted and made peace with our losses, at least the first few, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe I'll never really find peace with them. I guess what peace I did find was conditional, a peace based on the idea that our baby died so others can live and when that reality didn't material, the peace it supported shattered. Why did our second child have to die? What good has come from it? Why can't he/she be here now, rejoicing with the rest of our family at the new pregnancy and new sibling? (As much as a 10 month old can rejoice at those things, right?) Today, I'm feeling like someone is missing more than ever.

Plenty of Time

I often hear, "You're young, you still have plenty of time to have another child."

It's true.  While I certainly don't take it for granted, I know that there is a good chance that we will eventually have another living child, maybe several. I doubt we'll have the large family we always wanted, but Lucia will probably not be an only child.

So, since it's true, why is it so hurtful?  Because, in essence, it's a non sequitur.  People who say it aren't addressing the root of my sadness.  I'm not mourning my future fertility.  I'm not upset because I'm never going to have another child.  (Though I certainly will worry about that until we do.)  I'm grieving what might have been and will never be.

I'm grieving the four souls that I will never meet in this world.  No future child will replace them.  They are each unique individuals, with unique DNA, unique souls.  They would have had their own mannerisms, their own unique appearance, their own dreams, and talents, and preferences.  They are irreplaceable.  I am not mourning that I don't have another child, I'm mourning those specific children.  My children, who my husband and I conceived in love and who we love deeply.

I'm grieving that my daughter will not have a sibling close in age.  Yes, she may still have sibling(s).  Yes, she may still be very close to them even if they are far in age.  Yes, even if she had siblings close in age, she may have had dysfunctional relationships with them.  But there is still something lost there.  Something we desired so greatly, to have children close in age.  Something she desires so greatly when she pines for a sibling and asks why all her friends have little siblings.  That is something lost that cannot be recovered.

I'm grieving the dreams I had for my life and my family.  Even though I know that we can have an equally beautiful life with the cards we've been handed, it still hurts to have to close the door on what I desire so deeply.

I'm grieving the loss of joy that comes with pregnancy.  Four out of five times, those two pink lines have meant, "I'm going to have a miscarriage," instead of, "I'm going to have a baby."  And now the thought of pregnancy brings nothing but despair and grief.  The thought of holding another child in my arms continues to give us the hope to move forward but the pregnancy itself is greatly dreaded.  I mourn the fact that I will never again burst with joy upon seeing a positive pregnancy test. I'm much more likely to break down in tears. 

I'm grieving my lack of healthy fertility and the natural process of conception and pregnancy that we've had to leave behind.  Having to give myself shots and have surgery and chart cervical mucus and time intercourse and give blood so often that I feel like a pincushion makes me feel more like a science experiment than a young wife trying to create new life through the love of her husband. I am so grateful that modern medicine is available to help us figure out why our babies are dying and give the next baby a chance at life. But this is not how God intended it to be. And I'm mourning the natural, beautiful process that has been stolen from me and replaced with a sterile, medicalized path to parenthood.  We will never have the opportunity to say, "This month, let's try for a baby!" and then just...try.  We won't ever be able to just "let God decide" and have a pregnancy happen when it happens.  No, we'll always have to carefully chart and get medications and meet with the doctor before we try to conceive.

I'm grieving my loss of innocence.  Oh, how sweet it all was when pregnancy and sex and trying to conceive and our future family only held such happy things!  When pain and sadness didn't seep into every aspect of my life.  When I could see a pregnant belly and not feel a twinge of jealousy along with joy.  I'm so much wiser now and I think a bit more compassionate, but the expense of that was so great. So, so great.

A big sister.

My daughter just turned three. She loves babies. For better or for worse, we told her we were pregnant this last time the day I got a positive test. She's always known before, but this was the first time she really got it. She told everyone, "There is a baby in my mommy's tummy" and "I'm a big sister to..." As in, "I'm a big sister to help take out the garbage." And,"I'm a big sister to bring the baby a bottle." (The baby being the little one I nanny.)
Now she says things like, "Why did the baby die?" "I'm NEVER going to be a big sister." "Their baby is going to heaven too?" (Anytime we talk about someone who is pregnant. Which is a lot. Because we're Catholics in our late twenties.) And "Mommy, are we going to get another baby soon?"

I don't know if we'll tell her right away the next time we get pregnant. We told her this time because we wanted her to be able to share in the life of her sibling especially if we miscarried. If we waited to tell her until after the first trimester, she would not have been able to share in the joy of the short lives of her siblings at all. At least this way, she gets to know they existed and be happy about them, if only for a little while.

On the other hand, it's so confusing for her. She has questions that even I can't answer. ("Why didn't God protect our baby?" "Why did God protect their baby?" "Will God give us another baby?") And if we tell her, we have to be prepared for everyone to know we are pregnant. We found out that three-year-olds can't really keep secrets. At all. I'm not sure that we'll willingly share future pregnancies with even the closest of relatives or friends until (if) we reach 14 or 16 weeks. The more times we go through this, the more I want to just keep it to ourselves.

My daughter already notices that our family is different. All of the family friends her age have one or two younger siblings. She constantly hears the same questions and comments, "Is she your only child?" "Where are your other children?" "When are you going to have more?" "Your daughter needs a sibling!" As she gets older, I pray she doesn't let these comments and questions make her feel like she is not enough for us, or that our family is lacking or less than. I pray that she'll be able to have a sibling to love and grow up with.

I often think these losses would be easier on me if I had two  or more living children. Not that they would ever be easy. But that one of the hardest things for me is thinking not only of my loss of a child but my child's loss of a sibling relationship. Of course, I would mourn the loss of every child and the unique sibling relationships they would bring to our family, even if we had ten living children, but my daughter has no sibling relationship at all.

My broken body denies her a living sibling over and over and over again. I know being an only child isn't the worst thing in the world. Nor do siblings always have a great relationship. But I want to do what I can to give her someone to face the world with. I don't want her to bear the sole burden of caring for my husband and me as we age. I don't want her to be without family once we are gone.

I know that most likely we'll have at least one more living child. I have so many years of fertility ahead of me and the odds are ever in my favor. But until it actually happens, until I hold that baby in my arms and watch my daughter dote over her new sibling, I can't actually imagine it. After having that image wrenched from me so many times, I just can't go there anymore.