Part 1

Here's the beginning of Eleanor's story. I wrote it when I was still pregnant with her but for some reason never hit publish! Anyway.. here it is!

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You know when something is going really well? Like too-good-to-be-true well? That's how I've felt about this pregnancy. I mean, kind of- there have been lots of ups and downs, and days weeks when we thought for sure I was losing the baby. There's no way there is a baby still inside me after what just happened. I'll spare you the details, but I'm sure you can imagine. But, here I am, 32 weeks and still pregnant. So I am considering that a freaking good thing. Anyway, when something is going really well, and you don't want to jinx it, or put pressure on it- I was so scared that by making it a public thing would ruin it. Or worse- what if something- the worst thing- happened? I'd have no choice but to make some kid of devastating announcement. I guess it was just my way of keeping some of the control- because if you've ever been pregnant, there is just not a lot in your control.

I was so hesitant to share the news partly because I didn't want other people to feel what I felt, sitting there watching their dream come true for someone else. I have been there. It's painful. As terrible as that sounds, because you know with all of your heart and mind that you are happy for them, you want to be happy for them, it hurts just a little for you.

I guess I'll start from the beginning because I for so long thought, and even told people- no more kids. One was all we were gunna get and she is the coolest person I know (well, some things haven't changed). Jared and I decided going about pregnancy the same way over and over again was just not working. 5 tries all ending in miserable, agonizing, traumatic losses was just enough. It was more than I could handle. We knew we had to take some time to not even think about it. Maybe one day we'd find it in us to give it another shot but for then, we were done. I started working and we started traveling and creating a new life- a good one, different than the original plan, but one that made us happy. A year went by and we talked about it and talked about it and both decided we were ready to give it one last try. Really we weren't expecting a different outcome, 10-13 weeks and then we'd know for sure it wasn't meant to be. We were prepared for it this time- the end before the beginning. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I didn't say I'd tried everything. So this time we went into it with pretty much no hope or expectations of anything but loss. Some people have told me that I have to be positive- negativity can make the worst happen.. Blah blah blah. I never thought of myself as being negative about the situation. I had to protect myself. I think anyone that's been in my situation can understand that.

Anyway, with much persuasion from Jared I decided to stay on my medication (for what we thought- were told by more than one doctor... I'll get into that later- was an unrelated diagnosis) for an auto-immune disease I was diagnosed with at 17. It's called Polymyocitis, it's kind of like lupus, except mine has always been pretty mild, and even when things are bad and my blood work comes back not looking great, I feel pretty normal. The medication I take for this suppresses my immune system. In the past I've always gone off this medication, it comes with many risks for pregnancy and isn't recommended and being the type of person that doesn't even eat lunch meat or look at a soda while I'm pregnant, there was no way I was taking category D medication. But, we thought this was going to end anyway so what's the point of going off everything and kicking myself out of remission?
So I got pregnant and as usual everything started off as good as can be. Lots of blood work, and trips to the pharmacy for heparin and needles and progesterone and special prenatals. Then the doctors appointments. A week after my first appointment the bleeding started. More doctors appointments only to determine they knew nothing about where the bleeding was coming from and as usual I was assured the baby looked fine and everything would "probably be okay". And as usual I stifled my eye rolls. At 10 weeks (still bleeding) I was discharged from my reproductive endocrinologist and referred to a perinatologist in town. I usually didn't make it far enough to go to this appointment. In fact I'd only made it there once and it was during my pregnancy with Charlie. My experience with this doctor was far from good and to say I was nervous was a serious understatement. As you can imagine, even with my expectations as low as they were, it's impossible to not get more attached by the day. At the last minute during my last appointment with my RE I requested a different perinate. This would be the best decision of my life. He some-what hesitantly agreed to refer me to the doctor that would save this baby! 

The M word

Five is the number of Valentine Days Jared and I have spent together. Five is the number of months we spent engaged. And five is the number of miscarriages I've had. In a row. Five devastating miscarriages. After I lost our baby at 13 weeks I didn't think it could get much worse. Until I lost another baby at 11 weeks just days ago. I wasn't as far along but it seems my already broken heart just isn't able to take the pain that accompanies losing a baby.
Is it even possible to be numb to something and heartbroken about it at the same time? Perhaps numb is the wrong word to use.. Maybe I should say shock. I think I'm in a state of shock and I am sure it will wear off quickly and then all the feelings that come with a miscarriage will wrap it's arms around me and drown me. I am so tired of being sad. Its a terrible thing to be afraid to go to sleep at night because I don't want to wake up the next morning and face the fact that I am no longer pregnant. Reality is such a cruel place sometimes.
I feel so damaged. It's like my whole life changed but at the same time everything stayed the same. The hardest part is recovering from basically giving birth and being pregnant with no baby in my arms and all the while no body knowing what just happened. Instead of announcing a new edition to our family I'm picking up the pieces of a shattered dream. How do I even pick myself up and move on? What do I do now? This has defined me for so long and now it doesn't and I feel so lost and so alone in my heartache.
After five losses Jared and I have decided to call it quits. Maybe for a while, maybe forever. But all I know is that right now, we can't take anymore. With my pregnancies reaching the point they do it seems impossible to consider anything else. I just can't lose another baby.
As sad as it makes me to close this chapter of my life (because every inch of my being wants another baby so very badly) I am trying to focus on being excited to live life fully again. I have spent so much of the last year and a half pregnant (or miscarrying). What a trooper Jared has been.
This whole experience has made me grow so much as a person and as a mom. I feel like I have much more compassion than ever before and heart full of gratitude for being given my Charlie girl. Because the more I think about it the more I know what a miracle she truly is.
I don't know what life will be like tomorrow or even next week, and that scares the crap out of me. But I know I've got the best husband in the world that I don't even deserve and the sweetest little girl that makes me laugh and love more than I ever thought I could and I know that because of them I have to just keep living. Not because I'm strong. Because trust me, I am most certainly not. But because I have to. As much as I wish I could hit a pause button and wallow for few days weeks life does not stop and just has to go on.

'tis the season.

Preparing for Christmas is usually something I look forward to with so much excitement. This year is a little different. I am supposed to be having a baby probably what would have been any day now and my heart breaks that I am not. These past 6 months have been the hardest ever and there have been many days where I feel like I will never feel joy again. I have good days but I also have bad days that feel like they will never end. It's kind of hard to explain because I am happy, but there are times when joy is absent. 
There is nothing I want more than to make this Christmas extra special for Charlie. I feel like this is the first one where she will actually understand and remember it and I don't want her  only memory to be of her mom bawling every time silent night comes on. I don't know why it has to be so hard and I wish a thousand times over that it wasn't. I don't think losing a baby is ever easy no matter what the circumstances are. I want to be happy and I want to move on but sometimes I feel guilty for not mourning the loss. And then I feel guilty for wasting time sulking around when I could be busy being a better mom to Charlie. It's basically an endless cycle. That might sound silly but that is the thought process of a crazy hormonal lady. And let me tell you, my hormones are out of control. Jared thinks I'm exaggerating but if you've ever had a baby, you know what I mean. I am sad and frustrated that I have been pregnant 4 times in the last 14 months and have nothing to show for it except an extra 10 pounds that I can't say was worth it.
2014 has been a hard year. I can't say it's been a bad year because there have been many good times. And Charlie. Man, that girl makes me believe ice cream with sprinkles and sparkly high heels can fix anything. I love her so much. Anyway, I'm not exactly sad to see the year end. I wish I could say I have high hopes for 2015 being a better year but by now I feel like my soul has been crushed by the realization that life is not like it is in the movies and sometimes miracles don't happen twice and maybe I should just stop complaining and be happy with what I have... I'll get off my soapbox now and go eat a couple cookies and put that smile back on my face and try to focus on the good and the wonderful spirit Christmas brings.

Loss

For me, pregnancy can be summed up in one word: terrifying. From the moment I get a positive I am scared. At first the scared went right along with the excitement but now its just plain fear. I'll never forget the terror I had the day Charlotte was born. But oh was she worth it, and if do it all again if it meant I could have another baby to snuggle in my arms.

I have never really shared a ton of pictures from when Charlie was in the hospital because that was a time that was so sacred for me and I hold it so close to my heart. Seeing her hooked up to all these wires with a machine breathing for her was the hardest thing ever. This picture was taken shortly after she was born before I even met her. I already loved her so much! I can't tell you how grateful I am for her.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss awareness month and although not a day goes by that I don't think about my losses, it weighs especially heavy on my heart this month. It has not been an easy month as I've lost another pregnancy (which I feel like needs a post of its own to explain the torture of that one..) This year has been such a roller coaster of emotions. I feel so weak. So hopeless and so done. There are times when I want to give up. I think about Charlie being an only child and how different my life would become from the one I once imagined it would be. I see her rocking her baby swaying her hips and patting it's back and I melt and I come to realize that I would rather be dirt poor and make family memories at the park down the street from our house and buy her a used bike off craigslist and have a small house filled with laughter (and screaming.. Because let's keep it real) of my bunch of kids! She needs to be a big sister. There is nothing I want more than that.
I don't think it will come as a shock that I am struggling. Struggling to keep a smile on my face and to move on. I've learned time does not heal the wounds. Just makes them easier to bear. Perhaps that means I'm getting stronger despite me not feeling so in the least.
I also don't think it will come as a shock that I think it's important to speak out about this and to know you're not alone. Since we've started this journey to grow our family I have learned of so many wonderful women who (I never would've even guessed) have had the same struggles, and it has sometimes been the best support.
Grief has taught me so much about myself. It has taught me to be more compassionate to others and to be grateful for what I do have because I know how quickly things can go wrong and how difficult it can be to try everything you can think of to get what you want knowing that in the end it might all be for nothing. Grief has changed me into a different person. I just hope through my experience I can help others. Talk about if you need to. I think if I was dealing with this in my own world I would still be in that dark place I started out in. I'm writing this because I feel like it needs to be said that it's okay to be upset. But it's also okay to be okay. Sometimes I find myself feeling guilty for being happy and for not mourning my losses and I have to tell myself that moving on and forgetting are totally different things. The struggle is real and we can't ignore our feelings and hope it goes away. My heart will probably never find the pieces it's missing but I know talking about it makes it a little easier to bear.

Charlie Lately

This age is so much fun. Charlie is talking more and forming full in sentences ALL BY HERSELF! Not just saying things I tell her to say. I never want to forget the way she says words right now. I love how much she is discovering everyday! So here are some things I don't want to forget about Charlie right now:

She calls grapes straws (..strawberries? Not really sure how that came about but it sure does make snack time confusing sometimes..)

She calls Grandmas dog Bella  "Myah"

Pink is her favorite color- she eats all the pink candies/cookies first always! (Can they make some pink vegetables?!

Loves to color and is learning to name the colors too! (ba-LUE, geen, lo-lo, back,)

Sings twinkle twinkle to all her babies- literally just that. "Twinkle, twinkle" over and over. It's possible the cutest thing ever.

The way she says she needs things so matter of factly "I need can-yay"(candy).

Before going up or down stairs every time she turns around and looks at me and says "I won't fall. Pompies." (Promise)

"Tea potty" all day everyday

She loves doing my hair, and takes it super seriously. I must be serious when I'm doing her hair.. (But if you have ever done a two year olds hair you know it's SERIOUSLY difficult)

At nap time I tell her to close her eyes and go to sleep so she does this

LOVES to help me bake

Always wants to look at pic-ters (pictures) on my phone.

And here are some moments I don't want to forget:

Jared skateboarding with Charlie while walking the dog...And looking good while doing it ;) Can you say Superdad?

SO lucky that this is my day. Endless hours with my girl. Wouldn't have it any other way.

I know it may not look like fun sleeping in this bed.. But I'm sure one day when she's grown and off to college I am going to miss those midnight snuggles.

Family Lego building night (i.e. Jared and I have a...friendly competion of who can build the best house. Mine is always prettier, but his usually stands the Charlie test.)

We enjoy lots of time outside. (Umm Excuse me, can someone have a talk with Mother Nature about this weather never leaving?!)

She must have been eating cereal with her dad.. 

Yay for you if you're still reading! This girl is my life. She makes me laugh more than anyone and teaches me more than I ever imagined. She really is the coolest person I know. 

Being Brave

These last couple of months after being told that I probably will not be able to have more children have felt almost like I am living someone else's life. It's one of those things that is just so bad that "it only happens to other people" - you know what I'm talking about. I can't tell you how difficult hearing that news was. Those of you who know me well know that I am an avid planner, almost a little OCD about it. I always planned to have kids close in age to grow up together and with two dues dates that have come and gone and a third quickly approaching and still no baby, my heart is breaking.

It is so easy to get caught up in the fact that I don't have a baby right now. That Charlie isn't a big sister, and she might never get to be one. I find myself getting wrapped up in other peoples’ lives and seeing their cute families grow and wanting what they have so badly. But not just for me, for Jared and for Charlie (please tell me that makes me less selfish?!). So I have been focusing extra hard lately on the life that is in front of me. As hard as it is some mornings to drag myself out of the house I do because I made a decision to refuse to let Charlie miss out on anything. As much as it pains me to not have another little baby I am trying to take advantage of special time with Charlie and we are doing everything we probably wouldn't be able to do if I just had a baby or was still pregnant (included but not limited to: eating raw cookie dough, sushi, dance class, girls nights, date nights ect.). We've been surviving on the little things lately.

Like donuts in the park.

End of summer evening walks.

LOTS of Lake days.

 

And snuggles.

SO.MUCH.BAKING.

And probably a little bit too much spoiling of my girl.

But can you blame me?

I've been thinking a lot about motherhood and what it means. I don't think it can't be summed up in just one word. A mother is a nurturer; someone whole loves unconditionally and with their whole heart. Someone who puts anothers needs far above their own. A mother is a source of patience, of love and of kindness. I could go on forever because I just think motherhood is that great, but lately for me when I think of motherhood the first thing that comes to my mind is the word brave.
It takes so much courage to become a mother. Even to think about becoming a mother and more so trying to become one. The waiting for that baby and the disappointment when you don't get the results you want, the terror of the unknown, being solely responsible for the life of an innocent, sending them out into the world hoping and praying they make good choices or don't get hurt. Perhaps for some it comes easy, but I have found this job to require more bravery than I ever thought I could muster up. I have had several people tell me how strong I am but can I tell you guys a secret? I don't feel strong at all! I feel like the only reason why I can handle it is because I have to.

At the end of my hall (placed ever so strategically right above a mirror) are the words "be brave". I walk down that hall a hundred times a day and see these words staring back at me, and sometimes that's what gets me through the moment, because sometimes I just need a little reminder to be brave in this scary world. Even if it just means letting my child grow up and try new things.

There is a talk by Elder Hugh B. Brown that I've found I turn to often during different times of my life and I always feel like it applies. It was written many years before I was born or probably even thought of, but I just know it was written especially for me! It is my favorite talk so I'm going to share a small part of it.

"I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’”

Things have always come pretty easy for me but I am quickly learning that there are times in life when things simply do not go the way that we want. We try as hard as we can and strive to make choices we believe to be righteous and yet sometimes opportunities are denied and disappointment occurs.  So in my times of sorrow and disappointment I pull strength from knowing I have a loving Heavenly Father that has a plan for me. A good plan. The right plan. Even if it's not the plan I made for myself. He knows. And as hard as it may be some days I trust him because I know he loves me enough to cut me down.

***When I shared the recent struggles we've been having I had no idea it would get the response that it did! I honestly wrote it more for myself that anything else. I am in shock at the outpouring of love I’ve received and I cannot thank you all enough for reaching out to me with kind words and your own personal stories. I know how sacred those can be and I feel honored that you would share them with me to make me feel better. So, THANK YOU! Thank you for all the prayers and thoughts and words. It has helped and I am so grateful to be surrounded by such wonderful people. 

Miracle Baby

Today's the day I was supposed to have a baby. And as I sit here and think about how different my life almost was on this day I feel more sad and empty than ever. Lately it seems like everywhere I look I'm reminded of the baby that's not here to snuggle with me today.

A little over two years ago I wrote a post called "Miracle Baby". At the time, Charlotte was more of a miracle than I could ever imagine. But after three miscarriages (the last one being the most tragic happening at almost 13 weeks) in the last 12 months-struggling to keep a pregnancy, hoping, planing and praying for a baby that may or may not make it into this world, I realized just how much of a miracle my little Charlie is. Not just because she was born at 30 weeks, but because she survived inside me for that long. She beat the odds. She's one in a million billion! The sad reality is, after a lifetime of dreaming of a large family, I'll now have to try and accept that my chances of having children on my own will be nearly impossible. Since we've learned about this, thinking about the future has been daunting and life has become overwhelming. At times I've felt as though my world is falling apart. Admitting this is like swallowing a golf ball. And the sad truth is, there is just not enough ice cream, or Oreos, or flowers in the world to make me feel better.

I truly hope you won't mistake my heartache for me being ungrateful for the miracle that I have been given. I am so thankful everyday of my life for  Charlie- now more than ever! But I also feel that longing to grow my family is a righteous desire and it's confusing and it hurts to not be able to fulfill it.

I've got a not so rare (but rare enough that most people have never heard of it) blood clotting disorder called Hughes Syndrome (also known as sticky blood). I was excited when I got this diagnosis because it meant there was a treatment, it meant there was hope, and I thought for sure it would lead to having a healthy baby. Not long after receiving this news I got pregnant and began twice daily heparin injections. The blood thinners have two main jobs, increase blood flow to my placenta and prevent any clots that could form in between my placenta and uterus. This treatment increases chances of a healthy pregnancy to 80%. I never thought I would be part of the other 20%.  Like I mentioned earlier, my most recent was the worst, I was almost out of my first trimester and into the most exciting part of pregnancy when most people announce to the world they are expecting. I suppose this is what most people refer to as the "safe zone". Although I was very much aware that regardless of whether or not I made it past 14 weeks, there's absolutely nothing about my pregnancy that would be considered in that zone of safety.. To say this loss has been completely devastating would be an understatement. Not 36 hours before I saw this perfect little peanut moving around inside my tummy. Heart fluttering, arms waving about, legs dancing. I will always be sad for that baby that I will never get to hold. How could this suddenly change? It's so hard not to feel completely guilty. I feel guilty that I've let Jared down and even worse that I can't give Charlie a baby brother or sister when she loves babies so much. I feel like I've robbed her of her big sister title one too many times. It's so frustrating and even, at times, embarrassing that my body can't do something it was supposed to be made to do! And the fact that there is literally nothing I can do about it makes it all the more tragic. There is nothing anyone can say to make me feel better (unless you're going to offer to be my surrogate). Especially when doctors cannot give me answers to why this happened and when they tell me it will likely happen again.
I miss the days where a scraped knee was my biggest problem and a kiss from mom took away all the pain.

I was pregnant with Charlie pre-diagnosis so I wasn't on any medication to thin my blood. Not only was she born at 30 wks but she had stopped growing two weeks before and the umbilical cord that was supposed to be providing her with life was slowly detaching. Literally one more hour inside me and I might not have her to snuggle today. I don't even want to think about what that world would be like.. I've said it once before and I'll say it again (and again, and again), Charlie is a miracle. Not in the way that all babies are miracles, but a whole new meaning of miracle (like a- defy the odds, one of a kind, how is it possible that she's alive and healthy- miracle).

So, as much as I want to crawl into a hole and wallow in my tears, I'll pick myself up. Because I have to. For that sweet little girl of mine that says "peeeese" in the softest little voice with her head tilted to the side and a grin that spreads across her perfect face. For that girl who, when I was crying and so sad just sat with me and wiped my tears and gave me kisses and hugged me real tight. For her, I'll go on. I'll put on a brave face and fake the happiness a little harder. And for my husband, who has put up with a pregnant wife (in the first trimester no less) for far longer than any man should. For doing more loads of laundry and dishes than I can even count. For making me breakfast in bed and dinner that had been followed by a long day at work. Those two are my saving grace. My miracles in this world that has lately, had way too much heartache.