Soon after our last post Chris and I went to Haiti (Oct 13), started fertility treatments as soon as my Haiti malaria prevention meds wore off (Nov 13) and found out we were pregnant just before New Years (Dec 13). We were thrilllllllllled, especially because things happened quickly and it felt like confirmation of a decision that took a long time for us to come to and be on the same page about (wretched grammar but whatevs).
On January 16th 2014 we had a big worship night with LOTS of friends to celebrate the anniversary of when Chris got meningitis and recovered. It was a wonderful night. Also the first night I took nausea meds for what turned out to be a horrendous bout with Hypermemesis Gravidarum.
By February I was in the hospital for my first round of emergency rehydration because I couldn't keep food or water down. Long story short I was soon diagnosed with a severe case of HG, put on bed rest, given a subcutaneous medicine pump (Chris had to stick me with needles in my stomach many times a day) and set up with home care nursing. Over the next 7 months things got more severe and I required a PICC line (basically a long term IV because every IV the home care nurses gave me blew out my vein or infiltrated within 24 hours). I ended up being on IV fluids anywhere from 24/7 to 8hrs a day but my PICC line clotted twice and had to be replaced (NOT FUN and apparently really abnormal) so I ended up needing to be on my big IV pole (plus the medicine pump) pretty much 24/7 so the line wouldn't clot. Meanwhile I was starting to eat after 5 months of not eating, still nauseas and throwing up often and generally feeling terrible all the time. I felt guilty and depressed and lonely and bored and like a huge burden to all of my family and friends who were cooking our food, watching my kids, cleaning my house. It was humbling and horrible. I've never felt so awful allllll the time in my entire life. But we pushed on because there was a wonderful prize at the end and as the screen on my phone said "it won't be easy, it'll be worth it."
The entire pregnancy our baby girl was highly monitored and never showed any signs of any problems. Every test, sonogram she was perfect and even growing completely normally even with my malnutrition which is normal for HG babies. They usually thrive and do well.
5 days before my due date my home care nurse came, as usual to change the dressing on my PICC line for the last time. Afterwards she checked the heartbeat with a Doppler on my living room couch and couldn't find it. Within an hour we were at the hospital being told the unthinkable. Sometime in the last few hours, our baby had died. I was in shock as I felt I was still feeling movement and just kept telling them "this can't be real, this can't be real". It turns out the movement I was feeling were contractions which (horrifyingly) continued up until she was born.
I had been at the OBs office the afternoon before for my final appointment before my c-section and had a 25 minute non-stress test where Sadie and I listened to Clara's heart beat and heard her move around like crazy the entire time. A doctor came out of her office to comment on how loud the monitors were because "that baby is moving like crazy!"
A few hours later I had a C-section and our baby girl, Clara Louise was stillborn (September 3, 2014).
She was 7lbs 11oz, 21.5 inches and born at 10:34pm. She was absolutely beautiful. She had bright blue eyes and dark hair. We were able to hold her and keep her with us until the next afternoon when it just became to hard to bear.
No cause of death was discovered.
We had a beautiful, terrible funeral on September 6th at the Child's Garden of a nearby cemetery.
It'll be 6 months next week and I'm still in shock. I'm horrified, confused, angry, and devastated. The sadness is so so deep. A part of me died, quite literally and honestly, I can't imagine how I'll ever really recover. I'm not sure what God is doing and why my near constant prayers for Clara's health during my pregnancy were not answered.
I'm learning a LOT though I feel like I'm very much in the middle of a journey and have very few conclusions at this point. The learning curve about tragic loss is steep and we were thrown in the deep end the second the doctor said "I'm sorry, there's no heartbeat." We've been struggling to keep our heads above water since.
Chris and I are using all the courage and strength we can muster to walk through this pain and not avoid it. I'm passionate about the fact that the only way out is through. I'm so not interested in the long term depression, addictions, self-medicating etc. that come from denying a loss like this and not working through it fully. My training as a therapist won't allow me to forget what happens when pain gets stuffed instead of expressed.
We're desperately trying to lavish the love we have for 3 girls on the 2 we have here on earth and love them through the loss of their highly anticipated baby sister. We're fighting to prioritize our marriage because we know tragic losses often kill marriages. We're seeing grief therapists who have lost children themselves and also meet weekly with the pastor we're very close to from church. We're trying to do the right things to get healthy and heal though we know, we'll never be the same again.
Day to day I have moments/hours where I have energy and motivation to cook, clean, shop, be with close friends or entertain the kids. In the same day, usually, my pain is so deep and broad and my questions are followed by such deafening silence that it often feels hard to breath. I have to retreat into my bed until I can come out again. I require much more alone time to not be an irritable wreck. I have very low tolerance for small talk and even less tolerance for people who want to act like this didn't happen. I'm definitely functioning in survival mode and learning how to restructure my life and relationships and habits under the new load of grief and trauma (that bring depression, anxiety, PTSD) that I have to carry. I'm told by others who have been through similar losses that the first year or two don't get much easier. Blehhh.
Life is much, much harder than I knew it could be. And I've had some legit crap in my life before this. But when you sit by your newborn's casket, everything changes.
I'm on a journey and I don't know where I'll end up. But, I feel strongly that I will honor my daughter by mourning her fully and not running from the pain her loss brings.
I will honor her by suffering with others who bear deep-heart-pains like this one so we can at least know we're not totally alone or crazy.
I will honor her by seeking out who God is in this when I can't hear or see Him.
I will honor her by doing what I need to do to take care of myself so I can be here to love her Dad and sisters well.
I will honor her by talking about her, telling her story, and saying her sweet name to anyone who will listen.
I will honor her by living in the pain each day because it is the cost of love. And oh how I love that little baby. I will not deny my reality for the people around me who just want me to be "doing better." It's a long road people. And I intend to honor Clara by walking it.
So, I'm thankful 2014 is over and though I feel quite unsafe about what the future may bring, I'm living each day like it could be the last. No more saving the cute outfit for another day. Who knows if that'll come? No more taking my kids for granted or not taking health concerns seriously. BAD things do happen. To me. So I'm sucking in and cherishing every moment with Chris and Ella and Sadie.
Hug your people tight tonight.
Hoping to blog again soon-no more 18 month hiatuses but clearly...I had a lot going on ;-)
Thank you for sharing your heart. You and your family are in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteLynne