Grieving

Grieving Sucks.

I hate it.

Grieving is a ridiculously difficult process.

I was 25 years old when our daughter, Mackenzie, arrived stillborn.  Grieving the loss of her life was single-handedly the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life.  I took the grieving process head-on, and attempted to actively grieve, and followed all of the advice to get through the process well.  I learned four very important truths through grieving:

1)  God is in control.

2)  People care, and want to offer comfort and support.

3)  The pain of grief must be carried, and cannot be handed to anyone else (not that you would want anyone else to feel how horrible you feel anyway).  

4)  You really do survive the pain.  As the days pass, life fills up your heart so that the hole that is there does not feel as intense.

In spite of those powerful lessons, I still say that grieving is terribly agonizing.

It was so awful that when my second pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage, I tried to refuse to grieve.  I did not want to go down that path again.  It was too much. 

Well, it became obvious to me that grieving is a requirement, and to try to avoid it only succeeded in getting me stuck in various places in the cycle.  

I got stuck in anger.  I got stuck in the intense sadness.  I had to be treated for clinical depression.

No fun.

Lesson learned:  Grieve.  Go through the process.  Any attempt to avoid it really messes up your ability to function in your life.

Well, here I am again.  Grieving.  Living through the heartbreak of the death of a child.

I already know how tough this road is going to be.  I already know that I can't avoid it.  I would rather avoid it.  But, I already know what I have to do...

There are 5 stages to the grieving process, and we go through it in cycles.  There is no particular order.  It is not certain how many times you will have to visit each stage, or how long or how quickly you will jump to another stage.  But, it seems clear that you can't skip any stage or the process entirely.  The 5 stages of grief (according to my personal description, not a professional declaration) are:

• Shock/Numbness
• Intense Sadness/Crying
• Anger (this is SO unfair!)
• Bargaining/Spiritual Struggle (Why me?!?)
• Resolution/Acceptance (I am getting through this, and life does go on)

This time around, I am not naive enough to believe that I can make the path easier by actively pursuing it.  

I had jumped into the grieving process after Mackenzie's death--full force--by joining a support group for bereaved parents, reading a slew of books, pamphlets, and websites about the grieving process and how to handle it, and by talking to anyone and everyone who would listen to my story.  I admired the pictures and mementos that I had.  I lit candles at memorial events.  I made donations to charity in memory of our daughter.

Being the goal-oriented person that I am, I attempted to achieve the "resolution" phase of grief just as fast as I could.  

It doesn't work that way.  There does not appear to be an efficient way to grieve.

The pain is so intense.  It must be felt.  It must be endured until it lessens.  

I did not want to sit still and feel.  So, I threw myself into my work.  That proved to be highly beneficial for my career....arriving early, staying late, taking on an extra workload.  It kept me moving forward through life, but it could not remove the emotion.

There were still random times when the emotion took hold of me.

One such time was when I was taking Jersey #1 to daycare.  As we walked down the hall, another child was out-walking her parents to her classroom.  They called out to her, "Mackenzie wait for me."  The sound of someone calling the name Mackenzie stopped me in my tracks.  My heart raced.  I was actually frozen for a second.  I had to collect myself and re-focus on the task at hand.  I did not even turn around and see the family with the daughter named Mackenzie.  It was shocking to me that I would be so strongly affected like that, even though over 2 years had passed.  

This time around, grieving the death of Titus, I am trying to just endure.  I know I can't race through grief.  I know I can't avoid it.  Hopefully, if I can endure it, feel it, live it, and survive it, I will come out stronger on the other side.

From the very start, I have been making a point to do all I can to live this experience with integrity.  I tried to make choices for his delivery that would bring me the most peace of mind.  I planned a memorial service to honor God and the sweet, short life of Titus.  Burying his body along with Mackenzie's cremains was another attempt to bring closure.  A friend of mine took a ton of pictures of Titus for me.  I cherished the pictures I had of Mackenzie, so I knew I would cherish the pictures of Titus as well.  I love pictures, especially pictures of my children.  This time around, I was able to use my past experiences to help me focus on what would bring me the most comfort.  

Unfortunately, I still have to endure the emotion.  

A couple days after the death, I met with our Family Physician to go over things.  He likes to have "grieving appointments" to check up on the state of health of his grieving patients.  He has also buried a child, so he knows what that pain is like.  It takes one to know one, and he brings comfort because he understands.  

He gave me a great compliment, because he told me that he knew he did not have to worry about me.  He knew I was of strong mind.  He knew I was of strong faith.  He knew I have a tremendous network of support.  (I really do have the most amazing friends and family).  

I assured him that I was not going through the list of "what ifs", "why", or "was it something I did?"  

I am not questioning how did this happen.  Bad things happen.  We live in a world that is ruined by sin.  Death happens.  I don't blame myself.  I don't blame The Referee.  I don't blame anyone or anything.

I know God is in control.  His ways are higher than our ways, and we don't always get to understand the full picture.  I take comfort in knowing that Titus is happy in heaven, waiting on me.  He truly is in a better place, even though my selfish desire is for him to be here in my arms. 

Although well-meaning people try to find a silver lining, I really do not want an answer to "why" did this happen?  If you can come up with a good reason for a baby to die, I would rather not hear it.  There is no reason for a baby to die, in my opinion.  I think that is sick to think it was a good thing.  

I am thankful that The Referee was able to be strong during this crisis, and willing to provide comfort and support to me and the children.  This is his character, and I expected him to rise so well to the occasion.  I am grateful that he was willing to have a memorial service, even though returning to our church, and facing our friends and family was very difficult for him.  He blessed me greatly, and I am thankful.   

 I realize that in the midst of my current broken marriage, it is easy to suggest that maybe this crisis will warm my husband's heart and bring him home.....  but really?  Should a baby die just to get a husband to realize he belongs at home with his family?  I still think that notion is sick.  I do not equate the two situations or link them in that way.  Yuck.  I would much rather that my husband have never left, and that our son would have lived. 

I really do have amazing support.  Friends and family are grieving with me, and they do not want to see me suffer.  They are doing all they can to bring comfort, encouragement, and support.  I know I am being bathed in prayer.  I can practically feel it.  The children and I are also being spoiled with food.  A friend set up a meal calendar, and friends have signed up to bring us dinner for over two weeks.  It is wild!  Every day, a friend stops by with a hot meal, and often extras like cookies or juice for the kids.  I have not had to worry about meal planning or cooking, which has been a real treat.  Hugs, prayers, tears, flowers, emails, texts, visits....the love is abundant, and it really brings me comfort during this most difficult time.

Having living children is one of the greatest comforts to me right now.  Mackenzie was my first child, so her death left me a mother who did not have any children to raise.  That was torture.  I even avoided babies and children in general, because I felt so uncomfortable with the status of my motherhood.  This time around, I have 5 delightful youngin's who bring me joy even when I am sad.  I am no longer uncomfortable around babies or other children.  Actually, I enjoy them.  I can even hold and admire the babies of my friends, with ease.  I try to keep attending my kids' activities, because being around children is a blessing.  They cause such random laughter and amusement, even while I grieve.

Still, I must get through the grieving process, and it is not easy.

I tried to set goals and start moving forward.  My physical health would not allow it.  In addition to what I think is a slow recovery from childbirth, this time around, I also came down sick with a fever and head cold.  Well, there is nothing like feeling crummy to help you feel sorry for yourself.

I spent most of Saturday crying.  I was so sad and heartbroken.  I was wrestling with the challenges of my life, the loss of my hopes and dreams, and the things that were preventing me from moving forward.  I was frustrated.  So, I cried.  And I cried.  The Referee and Jersey #1 recognized the intensity of my grief and called upon a friend to come over and comfort me.  My friend hung out with me for hours, letting me cry and talk and cry some more.  She did not try to give me answers.  She did not try to make me laugh.  She just stayed with me and let me feel, express, and endure....but not alone.

I learned a lot that day about this stinking grief.  I am going to have to FEEL it.  Ugh.  I actually have to slow down and feel the intense pain and sadness.  It is the only way to get through it well.  I also learned that I am going to have to slow down for physical reasons too.  My body wants more time to heal.  Two weeks is not enough.  I joke that maybe I should go ahead and rest for at least as long as it take the bruises from the IV lines to heal.  My sore hands and arms are still reminding me of painful IVs and blood draws that took place while I was at the hospital.  If I slow down, I will really feel the heartache.  No fun. 

There are 5 stages to grieving, and an entire stage is dedicated to intense emotional pain and crying.  

Ugh.

Did I mention that grieving sucks?!?!

Picture Perfect

Who would have thought that I would ever get the opportunity to take a picture of my SEVEN babies together????

In this photo are my 5 precious living children......and the earthly remains of my 2 stillborn children (in the casket).  

The idea came to me to take this photo, the morning of the burial, when Jersey #5 asked if he could "hold the box."  

After I took this picture of my kids together, I gave Jersey #5 a turn to hold the box.  He was thrilled....

Living children bring an element of delight even in the darkest of circumstances.  Standing in a somber funeral home, I could not help but laugh at the expression on Jersey #5's face!

Titus

It has been nearly 2 months since my last blog post on New Year's Day.  Life has been overwhelming.  At first, I chose not to blog about it, to reduce conflict with The Referee.  When my computer keyboard began to malfunction, it was that much easier to avoid blogging.  My life has taken an even graver turn.  The absolute worst tragedy has occurred.  We have had to bury another child.  I know grieving is hard, but I am realizing that it is a tough struggle for me right now.  Writing helps me work through my thoughts and emotions.  Because he knows this about me, The Referee bought me a new keyboard for my computer, when our son died.  After the tough grieving day I had yesterday, I think it is time to put this new keyboard to work, and write my way through the pain...

 In loving memory of our precious, tiny son:

Titus 

Arrived Stillborn Tuesday February 14, 2012, 5:40 AM

(Expected due date:  July 1, 2012)

6 ounces

9 1/2 inches    

Birth Story:

We do not know the reason our baby's heart was silenced prior to birth.  I went to the hospital to check on bleeding that had occurred.  An ultrasound revealed that the baby had died in the womb (fetal demise in the uterus).  I saw for myself on the ultrasound that the baby was not moving, and his heart was not beating.  I was 20 weeks along in the pregnancy, the half-way point.

The attending doctor who oversaw the diagnosis, strongly encouraged that I go through a surgical procedure, and quickly get rid of the baby, without seeing him, and be done with it.  (Clearly, she did not have a clue about me).  She discussed a D&E procedure at her clinic.  The D&E (dilation and extraction) is a common abortion procedure, where the baby is removed from the womb in pieces.  The clinic this doctor intended to send me to was the hospital's abortion clinic.  When I refused the clinic and the procedure, the doctor attempted to persuade me by saying that an induction of labor would be too risky for my health, due to my previous 2 c-sections.  She was certain my c-section scar would rupture from the high doses of induction medication.  When I insisted that I wanted the opportunity to see and hold my baby, and I was not going to have it ripped apart at an abortion clinic, the doctor was able to come up with a compromise.  She suggested I return the next afternoon (Monday), and have seaweed sticks inserted into my cervix to dilate the cervix, return home for the night, then be admitted to the hospital Tuesday morning for an induction.  The induction was presumed to be safer, if the cervix was already forced open.

I sought a 2nd opinion from an OB doctor who valued life.  He brought me comfort, peace, and understanding of my options and risks.  He confirmed that the current plan was acceptable.  He also assured me that a full induction would also be acceptable, and lower doses of induction medication could be used.  He gave me insight that the values of the Doctor giving the diagnosis comes into account, when recommendations are given.  A Doctor who does not perform the D&E procedure, would not have even made such a recommendation.  Unfortunately, for me, I was diagnosed by an abortionist, so the abortion procedure was her focused recommendation.  I was forced to take a stand for my values.

I returned to the hospital Monday afternoon to begin the seaweed dilation procedure (laminaria).  The OB Doctor working that day, entered the room and boldly informed me that she was well aware of the recommendations I was given the day before, and that she believed I was not fully informed of ALL of my options.  She asked if she could take the time to explain more options and give her recommendation.  The primary option I was not offered the day before, was to begin a slow, low-dose induction (the same option the doctor mentioned in my 2nd opinion), which was actually a common practice at that hospital.  I was at immediate peace that this was the option I needed to pursue, even though it took me longer to wrap my mind around the idea of starting then, and not the next day.  The Referee, my Mom, and my friend, had all previously expressed their concern about me returning home after the seaweed dilation procedure, and ending up having the baby or a bleeding emergency at home.  Their concerns were at the front of my mind when I learned of my new option.  Plus, the new option was familiar--I had already delivered 4 babies with this same induction medication in the past (prior to the c-sections).  I already knew how the medication worked in my body, and it worked very well.

I was admitted to the labor & delivery floor, for the slow, low-dose induction.  (The dose was one quarter the amount typically used in this situation, with the option to increase to half the typical dose, if necessary).  Medication would be given every 4 hours, after my cervix was checked for progress.  I already knew my 2nd opinion doctor was in agreement.  I called Dr. S, our beloved Family Doctor, and he also agreed with the plan.  The Referee agreed.  My Mom agreed.  My friends agreed.  I had peace....

....until the big-wig family practice abortion doctor entered the room.  (He was the surgeon who performed my 2 c-sections.  After the 2nd c-section, I learned this doctor was an abortionist, credited with bringing surgical abortions to that hospital.  He is prominent in training the next generation of doctors in abortion procedures, directs the abortion clinic, and hosts the grant to bring medication abortions to family practice clinics all over the state.  He is the very reason I knew I had to request an OB doctor for any future deliveries, as the Family Practice Department has taken a strong turn away from family values.  I set out on a quest to find a pro-life OB to deliver my baby, but did not make it far enough in the process before this birth.)  This doctor was not my doctor, and was not even working in the department that was overseeing my care.  I do not know why he invited himself into my room to discuss my case.  He presented me with his solution to perform the D&E procedure in the hospital operating room, instead of the abortion clinic.  I informed him that not only would I not set foot in the clinic, but I did not want the procedure at all.  He made 4 attempts to insist that I have the D&E procedure in the OR....stopping his demand only after I insisted that I wanted to deliver and hold my baby, and would not let him rip it to shreds!!!

I do not fully understand what was going on, but it was clear that my case was a battle ground, and the values of the doctors at that hospital are strongly split.  I was still shaking from the argument with the big-wig abortion doctor when my new favorite OB doctor (who reviewed my case and gave me a 2nd opinion), came for a visit to meet me and shake my hand.  Once again, he brought me peace.  He told me that not only was the current induction plan a good one, but that due to the fever I had just begun, I was showing symptoms of infection, and they were obligated to deliver me and not send me home.  He also let me know that he informed the other doctors that he was on another service at the hospital that night, but could be called at any time if I had questions, complications, or wanted a 2nd opinion.  What a blessing!  

The rest of my night was peaceful.  I had great support from The Referee, and 3 dear friends who also happen to be nurses.  The doctors overseeing my care were sweet.  My nurses were sweet.  And, my Pastor visited and prayed with us.  Friends and family were bathing me in prayer, and emails and texts of encouragement.  Most of all, I knew my God was in control.

My body had already started to show signs of being ready to let go of the baby, as my cervix was preparing for delivery.  The fever was a symptom of infection, the biggest risk of having a dead baby in the womb for too long.  IV antibiotics improved that immediately, and my fever went away and never returned.  The first dose of induction medicine brought me to 50% effaced.  The second dose (4 hours later) brought me to 1 cm dilated.  The 3rd dose (another 4 hours later), kicked my body into gear, with steady contractions.  1 hour later, contractions were regular enough for me to sit up and take notice.  By the 3rd hour, I was saying I thought I might be dilated to a 3 or 4 by the time they check me again.  Then, I commented that I felt like my water was going to break soon.  Contractions were just starting to catch my breath.  Things took a very FAST turn at that point...

My friend had just stepped out of the room, when my water broke.  The Referee helped me get to the bathroom.  I was just starting to undress when another fluid gush showed me that my bag of waters was a bag of brown, muddy water.  I knew that was not a good sign, so I asked The Referee to call the nurse.  The Referee decided to get her in person.  As soon as I heard the door close behind him, I felt Titus exiting my body.  I reached down and caught him.  I pulled the help button in the bathroom, sounding the alarm and sending the nurse into a full sprint.  When she arrived, I called out that the baby was born, and I caught him.  The nurse was calm as could be as she clamped the cord, cradled the baby, and took him to the warmer for assessment and to wrap him in a blanket.  By this time, other caregivers were also in the room.  Another nurse and the doctor helped me to the bed, to deliver the placenta.  Delivery of the placenta was critical....it all needed to come out.  If any remained attached to the uterus, I could hemorrhage and need surgery to get it out.  The Doctor took the greatest care I have ever seen given to a placenta.  She massaged my abdomen, and gently coaxed the placenta out, with the skill of a snake charmer.  I think she may have been holding her breath.  The placenta was delivered a few minutes later, full and intact.  The Doctor let out a huge sigh of relief and announced, "It's all here!"  

Titus was a sight to behold.  He was such a tiny, perfectly-formed little guy.  Every feature was present, even his fingernails.  It was already clear that his cheeks, nose, and eye shape were so similar to his big brother, Jersey #3.  Had he been born alive, he would have been another replica of his brothers.  When I held his hand in mine, his whole hand was not even as big as two of my fingers.  Titus was longer than my hand, but fit into The Referee's hand perfectly.  When The Referee held him, swaddled in a blanket, it looked like he was holding a small baby doll.

The OB Doctor who delivered the placenta informed me that she could not see any obvious cause of death, just from the look of the baby, the placenta, or the cord.  We signed consent for a Pathology exam, and genetics testing, but we may or may not receive answers as to why Titus died in the womb so young.  Titus was too small for an autopsy.  500 gram size is required, and Titus was only 173 grams.  Jersey #2's Cardiologist visited us, to let us know she cared, and that she was keeping an eye on my case too.  She let us know that the doctor report measured Titus to be about the size of 16-week gestation.  

Due to his small size, he is legally considered a miscarriage, not a stillbirth, so there will be no death certificate.  (In our state, there is no birth certificate unless the baby is born alive, so we did not get a birth certificate for Mackenzie, only a death certificate).  These legal standards will not stop us from honoring his precious life, with a memorial service and burial. We are planning to bury Titus' body and Mackenzie's cremains in a graveyard plot, together.  At the time of her stillbirth, we did not like the idea of burying Mackenzie alone.  Now, we will bury their earthly remains together, knowing sister and brother are in heaven together, waiting for us. 

As difficult as it is to have to bury a child, it is nice that the birth of Titus went as healthy and as smooth as possible.  Prayers were answered.  God is Good!  The slow, low-dose induction process proved to be the best option for my own physical health, as well as mine and The Referee's emotional health.  Titus was born the natural way, freeing me from surgical scars on my womb.  (The Referee says I just dealt a huge blow to the abortion doctors' risk statistics that they were trying to use to scare me into agreeing to their methods!)  It was exhilarating that he was born into my hands!  It was heartwarming for us to be able to hold our son, even though we have to say goodbye to him too soon...