Funny 3-year old

Jersey #5 is every bit of 3-years old these days.

He is full of curiosity about the world, full of his own conclusions about how things should work, and full of thoughts and comments that often catch me off guard and make me laugh.

At the start of a school day last week, I was explaining the lesson plans for the day to each of the older kids.  Jersey #3 interrupted me and clarified that 3-year old do not have homework right?  I agreed.  We do not make our 3-year olds work on preschool workbooks and activities unless they want to.  Jersey #3 was happy with that answer, and resumed his playing.

Later that same afternoon, I was organizing the chore list and getting the kids started on their chore tasks.  Jersey #3 interrupted me and suggested that 3-year olds do not have homework......pause......and 3 year olds do not have to do chores, right?  

Nice try.

One of the meals delivered by friends recently was Frito Pie.  It comes with a nice chilli, meat and bean mixture, to eat with chips, or specifically with Fritos.  I had reheated some left-overs for lunch.  Jersey #5 ate his serving and asked for seconds.

As I was spooning more chili on his plate, I praised him for eating so well.  I told him that eating his meat and beans would help him grow big and strong.  

Jersey #5 corrected me by explaining,

"I eat more beans so I can fart."

Ah, boys!  I almost forgot how important farting was to them.

Friends

One of the biggest realizations I have had lately is that I have some of the most incredible friends.  

It is during times of crisis when you really see who your friends are.  Those are the people who are running toward you, because you are in need...and not running away from you, because you are no longer servicing them.  

I just had no idea how deep some of the friendships I have, really are.  I stand amazed.  

When I needed a friend to live at the hospital with me, to labor and deliver a baby, I had 2 come to mind immediately.  I knew they would be there for me.  They would support me.  They would pray for me if complications arose.  I knew that they would be kind and respectful of The Referee, even in spite of the challenges of our marriage.  I knew they would be supportive of him as well.  I knew who I could call on.

When, instead, I needed to go to go to the hospital and deliver a dead baby, I knew I could count on my 2 friends to be there for me.  What I did not realize, was that I actually had 4 friends who were ready to be there for me.  What a blessing!  2 of the 4 practically invited themselves to accompany me to the hospital....offering to drive me and everything.  I am so thankful they did.  I wanted them there.  I needed them there.  I will be forever grateful for their kindness and support during that most difficult time.

It would almost appear that these same friends coordinate with each other (but I know that they don't), to take turns calling me, visiting me, encouraging me, and continuing to support me through this grieving process.  

In addition, a slew of friends have emerged into the center of my life, to help me in ways I never realized I needed.  It is really nice to say to someone, "call me if you need anything, or if there is anything I can do for you."  I say that same thing to people, and I sincerely mean it.

But, I have the kind of friends who don't wait for my call.  Friends who contact me instead and inform me of the ways that they will be helping me.  This was absolutely perfect when I was still in shock.  It is absolutely precious to me, now that the shock is wearing off and I am remembering the details of how they came to my aid.  

When I couldn't even think about food, I had a friend start up a meal calendar, to organize other friends bringing meals to our home.  People blessed us for over 2 weeks, and I still have a few meals in the freezer!  One friend brought a gallon of milk with her meal, because she just knew we could use a gallon of milk.  A house with kids always seems to need milk.  Another friend brought me a bottle of Mountain Dew, just because she had read on Facebook that I liked Mountain Dew.  So sweet!

When I couldn't even get past what I needed to handle in the next hour, I had a friend email me and tell me she would be driving my girls to their activity that was on the calendar in 4 days....and in addition to that, she had already purchased the snacks that they were signed up to bring.  I am so impressed that she took care of every single detail, and I did not have to think about any of it, or make any decisions about it.

When I thought I was only going to the hospital for a procedure, and then would return home, I had a friend call me and say she wanted to be there with me....and she was prepared to stay with me all night.  It turned out, I stayed at the hospital all night.  She was right there with me the entire time.  How did she know?

I have a friend who came to the hospital just to take pictures of Titus, after he was born, because she knows how much I cherish pictures.  She took well over 100 pictures of my precious baby boy!  I am not even sure how she took so many in that short time, but watching a slideshow of all those photos is so comforting to my heart.  

I have friends living in other states who sent me flowers, money, and a gift card to order pizza.  

In addition, I have a friend who made a point to show up to the memorial service, even though she has 7 children, and many of them were involved in a music competition that same day.  She simply told me, "I wanted to be here.  This is more important."  

One of the lessons I try to teach my children is to be careful of who they choose as friends.  The people we hang out with have a great influence over us.  I warn them that if they hang out with friends who make bad choices, they will be tempted to join in on bad choices.  I encourage them to choose godly friends who obey God's Word, so that they will be influenced to make good choices too.

What I have recently learned is that if you choose loving friends, you will not be alone during the trials of life.  

You will be surrounded with love.

Estranged

Our marriage relationship has is completely bizarre right now.  I don't even know what to think about it.

Estranged:  separated and living apart from one's spouse.

Even though I know he was entertaining the idea of moving out for quite some time, I admit that I am still surprised he actually carried through with it.

I never expected him to actually leave.

It is just so wrong to quit on marriage, and break up a family.  

As it became clearer that that he was actually going to leave....the day he finally told me that he had signed a lease on an apartment.....I think I went numb to the reality of the situation.

I tried to just stay focused on taking care of the kids.  Five kids, 1 pregnancy, extracurricular activities, housework, and homeschooling really helps one keep occupied.  

His random, financial threats gave me enough adrenaline to focus on survival, instead of the pain of rejection.

Any time that I would start to feel sad, I would comfort myself with the reminder that Baby Titus was due the week of our 14th wedding anniversary.  I had this new life to focus on, to help restore my joy in life.  There was no reason to focus on the negativity of the situation.

I also assured myself that this had to be a temporary situation.  Once The Referee got out to his own, he would be lonely and miss our family, right?  He would realize the grass isn't greener on the other side.  He would realize our life wasn't so bad after all.  I would just have to wait it out.

At least, that is what I told myself.

Unfortunately, that is not what has happened.

The Referee was serious about moving out.  He is convinced he needs to live alone.  

He still oscillates between assuring me that he is the one who is broken and needs time to heal and figure out how he can manage his life, and blaming me for his unhappiness.  I don't blame myself, but it sure hurts just the same to hear such comments when they are made.  Even if he takes them back or apologizes later, it seems there is still a desire to blame me.  

My friends and family rallied around me, assuring me they were praying for reconciliation, and asked if the kids and I had enough food and money to live.  My family is so pleased that The Referee is still so good to the kids, that they say they do not feel awkward around him.  He is being a good father, and that really matters.

The Referee's family helped him move, bought him housewarming gifts for his apartment, and counseled him to work within the legal system to get to keep more money for himself and provide less for me and the children.  (Even though when he started making plans to move out, he assured me he was going to provide for his children.)  They also encouraged him to file bankruptcy, claiming it will give him a fresh start.  One Uncle even encouraged him to use the information I emailed to family and friends about Titus' death and pending delivery, against me in court....certain that my sharing details about my life situation on email or Facebook would cause a judge to sympathize with The Referee.  I am not sure how my having to deliver a dead baby was going to help The Referee in a divorce hearing, but it certainly opened my eyes to the how low I rate in that maternal side of the family.  Not one person has inquired about how the children are doing, or if we need anything.  Not one person has encouraged reconciliation.   They appear to be pleased with the failed marriage, and the broken family.  It is really sickening.  (Thankfully, his paternal side of the  extended family has still been very kind toward me.  That side of the family does not appear to celebrate divorce.) 

Thankfully, the priorities of his family around the time of Titus' death, troubled The Referee as well.  He assured me that he did not share their attitudes about me.  His heart was completely softened toward me, as we had to face the death of our son.  He took time off work and stayed with me at the hospital for the induction and delivery.  He held Titus, took pictures, and admired this beautiful boy we had been briefly given.  He drove me home from the hospital, and inquired about my health and recovery.  He joined me in making funeral arrangements, and he blessed me with his participation at the memorial service.  

After seeing how much he still cared for his kids, and how kind he was being toward me, friends started to suggest that this tragedy might change hearts and bring forth healing of our marriage and family.  I can understand the thinking, because people just want the suffering to end.  But, I really can't see how the death of a baby can heal a marriage.  That just does not connect.  The two are not that related.  I am thankful that The Referee is being kinder toward me now though.  

Communication has improved for me, because I have been able to share my thoughts and feelings and pains about the situation.  The Referee has been able to apologize for some of his hot-headed threats, and  establish his full intent to provide for his children, and to spend time with them regularly, even though he is certain that he needs time to himself right now.  It is nice that we are both able to focus on the kids, and try to make things as easy on them as possible.

Without my coping tool of being able to focus on the new baby, I am really feeling the depth of my reality now.  I think it compounds my grief to have the failed marriage intertwined with the death of the baby who was suppose to be born the week of our wedding anniversary.  

Right now, we are not pursuing divorce.

We are physically separated, but not legally separated.  I suppose that is why the term estranged is needed.

There does not appear to be any affairs going on, or addictions, or double lives, or any of those common things that seem to complicate marital problems and speed up divorces.  

I suppose I should be thankful for that, as it certainly opens up more opportunity for reconciliation.  

I know that marriage is a covenant, and it is not to be broken.  I know that God hates divorce.  I know that it is best for the children to have both parents in the home.  So, I know that I need to be open to reconciliation of our marriage and our family...

Unfortunately, I think it would require multiple miracles for reconciliation to actually occur.

The pain of rejection is so fierce to me, that I think it would take a miracle to heal my broken heart.

I think it would take a miracle for The Referee to turn around from a bad decision and choose differently.  I have never known him to be remorseful, or to feel sorry for past action.  He usually tries to justify his choices, or else tries to bury them and ignore them and move forward pretending he doesn't have to deal with them.

As the numbness fades, I am feeling the vast pain of the reality of our relationship.  Right now, I oscillate between intense sadness, and anger.  I am sure that I am quite confusing to deal with lately.  At one interaction, I am able to be kind and focus on working out visitation plans with the kids, and be sympathetic to The Referee's grieving process.  At the next interaction (which can even be same day), I am either crying about the unfairness of it all.....or debating in anger about the unfairness of it all.  

I am doing a good job of getting out of bed each day, caring for the kids and the home.  Schooling is going well, and I am able to cheer the kids in their accomplishments.  I am allowing myself to heal from childbirth.  I am able to manage my main volunteer activities.  I am going through the motions of life.

I am just not yet to a point of being able to accept where my life is right now.  It seems so incredibly wrong  to have an estranged marriage and a broken family.  Unfortunately, I don't appear to get a choice in the matter.  

Worst of all, I no longer get to comfort myself with the joy of a new baby.  

Slumber Party

Jersey #1 turned 10 years old in January.  She decided to celebrate with a slumber party.

That turned out to be quite an experience!  

Considering how much I enjoy sleep, I am not sure how much of a slumber party Mommy I really am.

It was also wild to have that many 10, 11, and 12 year old girls in our house at once.  Oh my!  

At one point, Jersey #3 ran through the house with his ears covered, yelling, "There are too many girls here!"  He hid in his room a while.

Jersey #1 invited the girls from her enrichment class, as well as friends from church.  Usually, about half the people you invite will actually be able to make it.  That rule did not apply this time.  Instead, about 90% of the girls invited were able to attend.  Half of those were able to sleep-over for the slumber party part.

Slumber party is a misnomer--there was no slumbering going on!  I was surprised those girls didn't wear themselves out.  Maybe it was because there was so much junk food available.  They even enjoyed a competition to create a junk food "treat" for the birthday girl.  She was afraid to sample the creations...

The girls, and certainly Jersey #1, had a really good time.  There was lots of food....

There was time for dressing up real fancy....

Everyone brought sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets.  They were set up to "look" like sleeping would be happening....

Jersey #1 received a ton of really nice gifts...

Granny and PawPaw sent her money to buy her own gift.  Money is really fun at this age...

What is not-so-fun is the emerging attitude of our new 10-year-old.  Somehow, she thinks she is going to avoid pictures now.  Ha!  Like that is going to be an option with her photo-loving Mom...

She could not resist posing for a photo when she tried on her new cowgirl outfit.  She is all decked out with hat, boots, and shirt, and ready to ride horses this summer....

10.  A double-digit birthday.  Who is letting this child grow up so fast?

Struggling to Make Sense

I believe that the most difficult part of grieving is the loss of the hopes, dreams, and plans.  Those ideas for the future are abruptly halted, and a deep void remains instead.

Feeling that void seems to be the catalyst for the spiritual struggle.

The most popular question is Why?  Why did this happen?  Why me?

I've been there before, and it is a difficult, painful road.

Comfort and understanding can be found in the Bible.  The study of Job, in particular, is a common reference point for the question Why?  The simplistic conclusions that I have drawn from such study is:

1)  God is in control, and I won't always understand why things are happening the way they are.

Isaiah 55:8-9

King James Version (KJV)

 ⁸For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD.

 ⁹For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

2)  Bad things happen.  It doesn't mean that a person is good or bad, deserving or undeserving.  The depth of the tragedy is not a reflection on the character or choices of the person who is suffering.  Innocent victims die, when the drunk driver who rams their vehicle lives.  As we learn in the book of Job, the righteous suffer too.  Bad things happen.  Period.  Earth is a sinful world.  Earth is not Heaven.  Death is rampant here on Earth.  The biblical promises of hope and life everlasting are about Heaven.      

I certainly don't like the ways that I am suffering, but I am at peace with the knowledge that God is in control, this time on Earth is temporary (so my suffering won't last forever), Titus is happy in heaven, and one day I will see him again there.  

Even with that knowledge and peace, I am in the midst of a gut-wrenching spiritual struggle.  

I just cannot make sense of this situation.  

Something must be missing in my faith.

I am well aware that The Referee has struggled with the size of our family.  He did not want a large family, especially after the death of Mackenzie, because he did not want to be vulnerable to the pain of losing another child.  If the choice were entirely up to him, he says he would not have attempted to have any other children after Mackenzie's death.  He has more children.  He clearly loves them.  He is a good father.  But, he always explains that the reason he has this large family is because I wanted a houseful of children.

It is no secret that I enjoy children, and want a houseful.  I think I could easily be part of the quiverfull movement, and happily accept as many children as God chose to bless me with.  I was not always of that mindset, as I started out adulthood with plans for a very big career in medicine.  My heart was changed dramatically, with Jersey #2's health issues, so I put the big career on hold and embraced Motherhood as a profession.  Motherhood is a calling....giving up your selfishness for the sake of another person.  At first, that profession was only going to consume my days until the children were old enough to attend private school, then I would be back on track for my career.  When we made the decision to homeschool, the big career faded even further, knowing decades would pass before my responsibilities at home would lessen.  I have been at peace with these choices and changes, because I could always see the beauty in the traditional family dynamic.  I respected The Referee's desire and ability to provide for his family.  He praised my efforts and the effect they brought out in the children.  That level of teamwork produces great outcomes.

In an instant, the beauty of our traditional family teamwork crashed, leaving me questioning if I had made a grave mistake.  When The Referee actually left our home, he made some very serious threats about how he was going to remove my medical coverage and refuse to pay any support until a judge made him.  It was later revealed that he was lashing out in anger, and had no real intention of following through on those threats.  Unfortunately, he did not let me know this, did not apologize, nor make things better with me.  So, I spent a week stressed out of my mind, pregnant with the fear of having no medical coverage, with 5 kids to feed and $150 to my name.  Fear of the unknown shook me to the core.  I did not have a plan in place for such a situation.  Would I have to move in with my parents and have them support me and the kids until the baby was born and I could get back on my feet?  Would anyone hire me now, while I was already showing the pregnancy?  

I was stuck in bed the first few days, due to a bleeding scare in the pregnancy.  That gave my friends plenty of time to get my attention and advise me about the ways I could seek help from the court system and/or government programs.  There went my pride.  I have always worked hard to be independent, and I thought that was a value The Referee shared as well.  We had always tried to manage our life circumstances ourselves, and not depend on others to help us make it.  So much for that shared value, as I found myself asking my parents if I could borrow money to retain a lawyer, in order to ask the legal system to help me get child support from my husband.  Another option presented by my friends was to seek state support for food and utilities.  

I was empowered as I learned about my rights and options in this situation.  I was also humbled as I listened to the lawyer....a career woman herself....ask me how in the world a woman of my education and career background could find myself so dependent on a man.  Ouch!  

Spiritual doubt #1:  Did I miss something in the Bible when I thought the traditional family of Husband providing and Wife tending was so beautiful, so perfect, and so effective? Was I wrong to give up my career in order to fully care for my kids?  Should I have always kept a job, so that I did not have to depend on my husband for financial support?  Was I wrong to trust that he would provide?  

Things have worked out well enough.  I learned enough about my rights and legal protection from the government to know where to turn if I became desperate for help.  I was able to wait out the time until the following payday to see if The Referee was serious about his threats or not.  Thankfully, he decided to continue to provide.

Through this whole marital trial, I have held to my values, believing that the outcome is bound to be best if I stay true to the truth.  Regardless of the threats that were made, I decided to not pursue legal action myself.  It is wrong to divorce my husband.  I decided it had to be best to live within the context of the marriage, even if the road was difficult, than to blatantly disobey God.  I did not even pursue Legal Separation.  I did not pursue legal help with child support.  How can I justify taking another Christian to court, when the Bible says that is not the way to handle conflict?  Of course, the well-meaning folks who were advising legal action were tugging at my heartstrings by reminding me that I have an obligation to take care of my children. 

Spiritual doubt #2:  How do I justify what the Bible teaches about legal action against my husband versus what the Bible teaches about the responsibility to care for my children, and vice versa???

I sought counsel from my Pastor about this conflict of interest.  In the midst of his advice, he said something that I wrestled with a while, which ultimately framed my decision.  He mentioned options.  Has The Referee left me with no other option but to seek help from my government?  Legal protection is there for a reason.  Many folks would support me using it at this time.  I decided to hold off as long as there were still options for me to care for my children.  I was not out of options, entirely, yet.

Right now, it would seem that sticking to my value to care for my children over any other conflict is the best way to approach things.  The Referee has been visiting the kids regularly, which thrills them.  He continues to provide financial support.  Our basic needs...food, shelter, clothing...are covered.  We even have a vehicle and gasoline!  My hopes and dreams for our life together are gone, along with companionship.  But, at least I can still do what I am suppose to do to raise the kids.

Staying strong to my value of LIFE proved to be the best way to manage the death and delivery of Titus.  I refused to allow the abortion-minded doctors to pressure me into the surgical procedure that would dismantle my baby.  I fought hard for the opportunity to hold him instead.  In the end, not only did I get to hold him....but I got to catch him myself!

As I sit and deal with the emotional pain of his death, the biggest spiritual doubt overcomes me...

Spiritual doubt#3:  Was it wrong to believe that I was being blessed with Titus as a result of my faithfulness to my husband and my family?  I thought I was counting my blessings, seeing the way that God was working in my life.  

It is not that I thought that I had somehow earned him or deserved him.  It is that I thought God was giving me the desire of my heart.....to have another baby.

When my husband insisted that Jersey #5 be the last baby, I submitted.  I gave away the baby items.  I even scheduled his appointment for the vasectomy he desired.  I tried to focus on the blessings of our family moving into the stage of older children.  In my heart, I desired another baby.  I prayed for The Referee to have a change of heart.  I waited.  I prayed.  As the years passed, I saw glimpses that his heart was changing.  I still had to remain patient and wait.  I endured the turbulent cycles of being married to a depressed spouse, while treatment options were explored.  I just knew that the eventual outcome would be the strong marriage and family I desired.

Titus was conceived at a point of the healthiest, and most stable time our family has experienced in years.  I was confident that the valleys were behind us and we are going toward mountain top moments for a change.

Even when The Referee decided to move out a few months later, I knew that God was in control.  Clearly, the trials were not over.  But, it seemed that Titus' due date was divine timing.  He was due the week of our wedding anniversary.  I saw the blessing there.  Instead of focusing on the grief of my broken marriage, at our next anniversary, I would get to celebrate the gift of new life.  I thought that this child....the desire of my heart....would help me endure the time I had to wait until God restored our marriage and our family.

Spiritual doubt #4:  If the desire of my heart is a strong family and a new baby....AND marriage, and children seem to be extremely important to God as well....then why must I lose both and face double-grieving anniversaries this July?  Am I missing something about God's will for my life?  Are my values not biblically accurate?  How did I end up so wrong, when I thought I was focusing on what was right?

I am so confused.

Heartbroken and confused.

I feel like the biggest failure of a Christian of all time.

Balloon Release

We took balloons to the cemetery, to let the children release them as part of the burial ceremony.

Pink hearts for Mackenzie.

Blue stars for Titus.

Each of our 5 living children held a balloon of each color.  There were 2 balloons left over (because I bought extra in case one collapsed before the burial).  The Referee and I each took an extra balloon.

It was a bitter cold, windy day.  The shining sun was deceiving, as the temperature was winter cold.  

The wind whipped those balloon away in an instant.

As we watched them fly off, Jersey #5 asked,

"Can we go chase them now?"

Oh the laughter from the adults that were around.  Can you just imagine if we had turned our thundering herd loose to run across a cemetery, in pursuit of helium balloons?  Oh what a sight that would be.

We politely declined his request, and distracted him instead.

But, it was nice to end the burial with a spontaneous laugh!

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...

Happy New Year!