I read a lot of articles online - most of them are from Still Standing. Or I read an article on Still Standing which leads me to someone's blog which leads me to someone else's blog, etc.
But there's so much comfort to be found in the words of others. I find myself reading and nodding my head in agreement. Or blinking away the tears. Or wishing that person was sitting beside me and talking to me. These words connect us in the baby loss community because these are words from people who get it!
Because there is something important in these, I'm going to start saving the link so I have reference them in the future...
How Many Kids Do You Have? I remember reading this article when she first wrote it and it wasn't long after I answered that question and didn't include the triplets...It's made me realize how many times we ask others this question but don't know how difficult it may be for them to answer...
If the World Understood Baby Loss - This article makes me ache. It makes me ache because people just don't get it. And worse then that, I don't think many of them care to...
Where's Our Miracle
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
10.28.13 - Special Place
Day 28 - Special Place
A sugar maple tree is planted at my parents' house in honor and memory of Leah, Rachel and Gabriel. Having this place in their side yard, in the heart of the family, is a place full of life, a place full of love. I look forward to watching this tree grow, produce leaves, see the leaves turn beautiful shades of orange, see the leaves on the ground, and then repeat the cycle every spring.
A sugar maple tree is planted at my parents' house in honor and memory of Leah, Rachel and Gabriel. Having this place in their side yard, in the heart of the family, is a place full of life, a place full of love. I look forward to watching this tree grow, produce leaves, see the leaves turn beautiful shades of orange, see the leaves on the ground, and then repeat the cycle every spring.
10.26.13 - Community
Day 26 - Community
What does this community mean to you?
Having people, having friends, to talk to, vent, cry, people that just get it means so much. I hate that this community has to exist but I am glad that I have found support.
What does this community mean to you?
Having people, having friends, to talk to, vent, cry, people that just get it means so much. I hate that this community has to exist but I am glad that I have found support.
10.25.13 - #sayitoutloud
Day 25 - #sayitoutloud
If you could say anything out loud about your journey with grief with the death or your baby, what would it be? What do you want the world to know? Is there a cause that touches your heart that you want to raise awareness for?
My children are real! Truly, if I could say anything about to anyone, it would be a reminder, or the knowledge that my babies are real. They are real people. And while they're time here on earth was short, it doesn't dimish their lives one bit.
I just read in "Cross Roads" that Every human being is a universe within themselves. Your mother and father participated with God to create a soul who would never cease to exist.
If you could say anything out loud about your journey with grief with the death or your baby, what would it be? What do you want the world to know? Is there a cause that touches your heart that you want to raise awareness for?
My children are real! Truly, if I could say anything about to anyone, it would be a reminder, or the knowledge that my babies are real. They are real people. And while they're time here on earth was short, it doesn't dimish their lives one bit.
I just read in "Cross Roads" that Every human being is a universe within themselves. Your mother and father participated with God to create a soul who would never cease to exist.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
10.24.13 - Artwork
Day 24 - Artwork
When we were in the hosptial, Pastor Jan gave us a sign that said "May every sunrise bring more promise and every sunset bring more peace." This resonated so closely with us at the time and continued to after their deaths.
One day this summer I really wanted to paint pottery, but didn't know what to paint. I decided I would try to paint a sunrise. (I'm not an artist. I express myself through music, NOT through drawing or painting. Most of my pottery paintings are stenciled or are more designs, not freehand, but I was feeling moved) I found a picture online that I used as my guide and I think the finished result turned out beautifully. It's a great reminder that even in death, even in grief, even at our low points, the sun still rises, God still grants us a new, beautiful day.
When we were in the hosptial, Pastor Jan gave us a sign that said "May every sunrise bring more promise and every sunset bring more peace." This resonated so closely with us at the time and continued to after their deaths.
One day this summer I really wanted to paint pottery, but didn't know what to paint. I decided I would try to paint a sunrise. (I'm not an artist. I express myself through music, NOT through drawing or painting. Most of my pottery paintings are stenciled or are more designs, not freehand, but I was feeling moved) I found a picture online that I used as my guide and I think the finished result turned out beautifully. It's a great reminder that even in death, even in grief, even at our low points, the sun still rises, God still grants us a new, beautiful day.
10.23.13 - Tatoos/Jewelry
Day 23 - Jewelry
A few weeks after Leah, Rachel and Gabriel died was Father's Day. I wanted to get Andy something from - or in honor of - the triplets and while I was searching for him, I came across The Vintage Pearl. They make BEAUTIFUL pieces and finally, after much consideration (including many reminders that this doesn't have to be my ONLY piece of jewelry ever - that they are my children, and I can remember them however I want with as many pieces of jewelry as I want - I decided on the "Golden Heart" necklace.
I was overwhelmed when it came and I opened it. It was beautiful and simple and perfect. I now wear it almost every day - it's how I keep them close at heart.
A few weeks after Leah, Rachel and Gabriel died was Father's Day. I wanted to get Andy something from - or in honor of - the triplets and while I was searching for him, I came across The Vintage Pearl. They make BEAUTIFUL pieces and finally, after much consideration (including many reminders that this doesn't have to be my ONLY piece of jewelry ever - that they are my children, and I can remember them however I want with as many pieces of jewelry as I want - I decided on the "Golden Heart" necklace.
I was overwhelmed when it came and I opened it. It was beautiful and simple and perfect. I now wear it almost every day - it's how I keep them close at heart.
10.22.13 - Words
Day 22 - Words
I could write and write and write about this one. I could share hundreds of quotes and scriptures, thousands of song lyrics, so I'll try to share the most important ones, or the ones that mean the most right now.
The lyrics to I Want You Here by Plumb have been in my head on repeat since I heard it perform it live and learned it was about a friend of hers who's baby died.
An ache so deep that I can hardly breath
This pain can't be imagined
Will it ever heal?
I want to scream "Is this a dream?"
How could this happen, happen to me?
This isn't fair. This nightmare.
This kind of torture, I just can't bear.
I want you here. I want you here.
I waited so long for you to come
You were here and now you're gone
I was not prepared for you to leave me
Oh, this is misery
I could write and write and write about this one. I could share hundreds of quotes and scriptures, thousands of song lyrics, so I'll try to share the most important ones, or the ones that mean the most right now.
The lyrics to I Want You Here by Plumb have been in my head on repeat since I heard it perform it live and learned it was about a friend of hers who's baby died.
An ache so deep that I can hardly breath
This pain can't be imagined
Will it ever heal?
I want to scream "Is this a dream?"
How could this happen, happen to me?
This isn't fair. This nightmare.
This kind of torture, I just can't bear.
I want you here. I want you here.
I waited so long for you to come
You were here and now you're gone
I was not prepared for you to leave me
Oh, this is misery
God, help me.
God, help me.
God help me breathe!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Another song that has meant a lot to me has been Not For a Moment by Meredith Andrews
After all You are constant.
After all You are only good.
After all You are soveriegn.
Not for a moment will You forsake me.
You were singing in the dark,
whispering Your promise
even when I could not hear.
I was held in Your arms,
carried for a thousand miles to show
not for a moment did You forsake me.
In every step, every breath you are there.
Every tear, every cry, every prayer.
In my hurt, at my worst, when my world falls down.
Not for a moment will You forsake me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~Some quotes that have really stuck with are:
The agony is great and yet I will stand it. Had I not loved so much I would not hurt so much. But goodness know I would not want to diminish that precious love by one fraction of an ounce. I will hurt. And I will be grateful for that hurt for it bears witness to the depth of our meaning. And for that I will be eternally grateful. ~ Dr. Elisabeth Kubler - Ross
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Grief lasts longer than sympathy, which is one of the tragedies of the grieving ~ Elizabeth McCracken "An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
If a mother is mourning not for what she lost but for what her dead child has lost, it is a comfort to believe that the child has not lost the end for which it was created. And it is a comfort to believe that she herself, in lsoing her chief or only natural happiness, has not lost a greater thing, that she may still hope to "glorify God and enjoy Him forever." A comfort to the God-aimed, etermal spirit within her. But not to her motherhood. The specifically maternal happiness must be written off. Never, in any place or time, will she have her son on her knees, or bathe him, or tell him a story, or plan for his future, or see her grandchild.
Still, there's no denyning that in some sense I "feel better," and with that comes at once a sort of shame, and a feeling that one is under a sort of obligation to cherish and foment and prolong one's unhappiness.
Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may revewl a totally new landscape. As I've already noted, not every bend does. Sometimes the surprise is the opposite one; you are presented with exactly the same sort of country you thought you had left behind miles ago. That is when you wonder whether the valley isn't a circular trench. But it isn't. There are partial recurrences, but the sequence doesn't repeat. ~ C. S. Lewis "A Grief Observed"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Another song that has meant a lot to me has been Not For a Moment by Meredith Andrews
After all You are constant.
After all You are only good.
After all You are soveriegn.
Not for a moment will You forsake me.
You were singing in the dark,
whispering Your promise
even when I could not hear.
I was held in Your arms,
carried for a thousand miles to show
not for a moment did You forsake me.
In every step, every breath you are there.
Every tear, every cry, every prayer.
In my hurt, at my worst, when my world falls down.
Not for a moment will You forsake me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~Some quotes that have really stuck with are:
The agony is great and yet I will stand it. Had I not loved so much I would not hurt so much. But goodness know I would not want to diminish that precious love by one fraction of an ounce. I will hurt. And I will be grateful for that hurt for it bears witness to the depth of our meaning. And for that I will be eternally grateful. ~ Dr. Elisabeth Kubler - Ross
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Grief lasts longer than sympathy, which is one of the tragedies of the grieving ~ Elizabeth McCracken "An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
If a mother is mourning not for what she lost but for what her dead child has lost, it is a comfort to believe that the child has not lost the end for which it was created. And it is a comfort to believe that she herself, in lsoing her chief or only natural happiness, has not lost a greater thing, that she may still hope to "glorify God and enjoy Him forever." A comfort to the God-aimed, etermal spirit within her. But not to her motherhood. The specifically maternal happiness must be written off. Never, in any place or time, will she have her son on her knees, or bathe him, or tell him a story, or plan for his future, or see her grandchild.
Still, there's no denyning that in some sense I "feel better," and with that comes at once a sort of shame, and a feeling that one is under a sort of obligation to cherish and foment and prolong one's unhappiness.
Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may revewl a totally new landscape. As I've already noted, not every bend does. Sometimes the surprise is the opposite one; you are presented with exactly the same sort of country you thought you had left behind miles ago. That is when you wonder whether the valley isn't a circular trench. But it isn't. There are partial recurrences, but the sequence doesn't repeat. ~ C. S. Lewis "A Grief Observed"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
10.21.13 - Honor
Day 21 - Honor
Is there anything that you have done to honour your baby since they died? Did you give back to the community? Make a conscious decision to live as beautifully as possible? Take on the role of helping others in your situation? Maybe you work as an advocate for breaking the silence for our community.
I really had to think about this one. I think I've honored Leah, Rachel and Gabriel in a lot of small ways, but I can't really display these acts. It wasn't until October 15th that I had enough strength to honor them and post their names on Facebook for our family and friends to see as well as spread awareness about pregnancy and infant loss.
Is there anything that you have done to honour your baby since they died? Did you give back to the community? Make a conscious decision to live as beautifully as possible? Take on the role of helping others in your situation? Maybe you work as an advocate for breaking the silence for our community.
I really had to think about this one. I think I've honored Leah, Rachel and Gabriel in a lot of small ways, but I can't really display these acts. It wasn't until October 15th that I had enough strength to honor them and post their names on Facebook for our family and friends to see as well as spread awareness about pregnancy and infant loss.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
10.20.13 - Hope
Day 20 - Hope
Do you have hope for the future? What do you hope for those who will join this club in the future.
Of course I have hope for the future. Throughout our complications and death of our children, hope has always been alive. Sometimes it's been harder to find, like the sun behind a cloud, but it's always been there.
I hope that for people who will join this babyloss club that they know that they aren't alone. I hope that they find comfort from people like me, like I have found comfort from others. I also hope that they know it's okay to ask for help. It's GOOD to seek help and find others that understand. I hope they don't feel ashamed to share their precious children with the world.
Do you have hope for the future? What do you hope for those who will join this club in the future.
Of course I have hope for the future. Throughout our complications and death of our children, hope has always been alive. Sometimes it's been harder to find, like the sun behind a cloud, but it's always been there.
I hope that for people who will join this babyloss club that they know that they aren't alone. I hope that they find comfort from people like me, like I have found comfort from others. I also hope that they know it's okay to ask for help. It's GOOD to seek help and find others that understand. I hope they don't feel ashamed to share their precious children with the world.
10.19.13 - Support
Day 19 - Support
Share about what has been the best support for you since the loss of your baby. Maybe it is a special friend or family member? A pet? An organization? What have they done for you? Where would you be without them?
Hands down, my husband has been the best support for me. He is always there to listen, hold me, let me cry. He never judges, he never tells me to stop. He accepts me for who I am and who I am in that moment.
I cannot imagine life without him - and I don't want to. When I feel weak, he's there to hold me up, when I'm tired, he's there to rock me to sleep, and when I'm happy, he's there smiling along.
Share about what has been the best support for you since the loss of your baby. Maybe it is a special friend or family member? A pet? An organization? What have they done for you? Where would you be without them?
Hands down, my husband has been the best support for me. He is always there to listen, hold me, let me cry. He never judges, he never tells me to stop. He accepts me for who I am and who I am in that moment.
I cannot imagine life without him - and I don't want to. When I feel weak, he's there to hold me up, when I'm tired, he's there to rock me to sleep, and when I'm happy, he's there smiling along.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Sunday, October 13, 2013
10.15.13 - Wave of Light
Day 15 - Wave of Light
Today is October 15th Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Light a candle at 7pm to help create a continuous wave of light around the world for 24 hours. Photograph your light! Please remember to share your location for this day as well. Wishing you all a ton of love for this sacred day of remembrance.
I have my fall choir concert tonight - this was planned while I was still pregnant, before I knew anything about Pregnancy/Infant Loss Rememberance Month or Day - and couldn't reschedule. That being said I so desperately want to be a part of this wave of light - especially during the 7 o'clock hour (when my concert will be happening). So, this morning, I placed these flameless candles on our front porch to shine all day and will shine through the wave of light. We placed three candles in honor and memory of Leah, Rachel and Gabriel. (We're suppose to have rain today, so there's plastic wrap over them to keep the candles burning.)
Today I say many prayers, not just for my children, but for the children I've learned of since Leah, Rachel and Gabriel died. I pray for the babies that family and friends have shared with us that we'll never meet, the babies of friends I've met through online and in person support groups, and for all the babies I'll never know about. Today I also give so many prayers for the families of these children. I guess the more I think about it, our babies don't need our prayers, they're pain and suffering (if there was any) is over, but for us that live without them, I pray we find peace and a way to keep their legacies and memories alive.
Today is October 15th Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Light a candle at 7pm to help create a continuous wave of light around the world for 24 hours. Photograph your light! Please remember to share your location for this day as well. Wishing you all a ton of love for this sacred day of remembrance.
I have my fall choir concert tonight - this was planned while I was still pregnant, before I knew anything about Pregnancy/Infant Loss Rememberance Month or Day - and couldn't reschedule. That being said I so desperately want to be a part of this wave of light - especially during the 7 o'clock hour (when my concert will be happening). So, this morning, I placed these flameless candles on our front porch to shine all day and will shine through the wave of light. We placed three candles in honor and memory of Leah, Rachel and Gabriel. (We're suppose to have rain today, so there's plastic wrap over them to keep the candles burning.)
Today I say many prayers, not just for my children, but for the children I've learned of since Leah, Rachel and Gabriel died. I pray for the babies that family and friends have shared with us that we'll never meet, the babies of friends I've met through online and in person support groups, and for all the babies I'll never know about. Today I also give so many prayers for the families of these children. I guess the more I think about it, our babies don't need our prayers, they're pain and suffering (if there was any) is over, but for us that live without them, I pray we find peace and a way to keep their legacies and memories alive.
I pray that you, reading this, will take a moment to remember my Leah, Rachel and Gabriel and all of the babies we may or may not know about.
10.14.13 - Family
Day 14 - Family
What does you family look like now? Is it just yourself carrying your child’s heart in yours? Do you have other children? A partner? A pet? You may not have what society perceives as a family but we all know that just because you cannot see any children, that does not mean that they are not a part of your family.
I am blessed to have an amazing husband, a stepson and large, loving family. This is the last family picture I have of Leah, Rachel and Gabriel alive. I've wanted to take new pictures, but just can't bring myself to capture a new image yet. One day I will, and their necklace (or something else) will be present in the picture, but for now, I cling to this family picture.
What does you family look like now? Is it just yourself carrying your child’s heart in yours? Do you have other children? A partner? A pet? You may not have what society perceives as a family but we all know that just because you cannot see any children, that does not mean that they are not a part of your family.
I am blessed to have an amazing husband, a stepson and large, loving family. This is the last family picture I have of Leah, Rachel and Gabriel alive. I've wanted to take new pictures, but just can't bring myself to capture a new image yet. One day I will, and their necklace (or something else) will be present in the picture, but for now, I cling to this family picture.
10.13.13 - Book
Day 13 - Book
Have you read a book about grief that helped you immensely in your journey of grief?
There are a few books that I've read that have helped immensely in this journey. The top three are C.S. Lewis' A Grief Observed, Elizabeth McCracken's An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, and William P. Young's The Shack.
All three books are about different things - Lewis talks about the death of his wife, McCracken about the birth of her still born and Young about the abduction and death of his young daughter - but all three touched me in so many different ways. There are many quotes I wrote down that I look at from time to time.
Have you read a book about grief that helped you immensely in your journey of grief?
There are a few books that I've read that have helped immensely in this journey. The top three are C.S. Lewis' A Grief Observed, Elizabeth McCracken's An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, and William P. Young's The Shack.
All three books are about different things - Lewis talks about the death of his wife, McCracken about the birth of her still born and Young about the abduction and death of his young daughter - but all three touched me in so many different ways. There are many quotes I wrote down that I look at from time to time.
Friday, October 11, 2013
10.11.13 - Emotional Triggers
Day 11 - Emotional Triggers
There are so many triggers that set me off in an array of emotions. Beautiful sunsets and sunrises, beautiful skies in general.
Anything in a set of threes. I see sets of threes and automatically think of the triplets. Similarly, seeing twins sets me off on a roller coaster. I know, I wasn't having twins, but when I see identical twins, I picture Leah and Rachel. And when I see multiples, in general, I think about how I don't get to be considered part of that special club any more.
In the beginning, seeing pregnant women and newborns through elementary age children was difficult. While I'd never wish this on my worst enemy, I often thought, why does she get to still be pregnant? Or why won't I ever see my babies turn 5? These things mad me very mad.
Of course, there are many songs that have been emotional triggers. Songs about sad situations to songs that remind me that I'm not - and can't be - in control.
While I don't always like my feelings that accompany these triggers, I do enjoy being reminded of my babies. And if that's what I have to go through to keep them with me, so be it.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
10.10.13 - Belief
Day 10 - Belief
I believe that Leah, Rachel and Gabriel are in heaven.
I believe they are being held and rocked and sang to by our grandparents and friends that have passed on. I have this beautiful picture of our grandparents fighting over who gets to hold who! (Just like grandparents do on earth!)
I chose a picture of our church - which I guess is also their church. They attended many services, heard many sermons, hymns and me singing - I think it's an appropriate picture for today.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
10.9.13 - Music
Day 9- Music
As a musician (high school choir director and director of music at church) my life is surrounded with music. There are many songs that make me think of Leah, Rachel and Gabriel (or that make me think of how much I'm hurting) but the one that is the most powerful is "Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel)" by Billy Joel.
After they died, Andy shared with me how he had songs running through his head for each of them. (I hope he doesn't mind me sharing). Leah's song is "Lullabye" Rachel's song is "Homesick" by MercyMe and Gabriel's song is "Joseph's Lullaby" also by MercyMe. When we saw them, together for the first and last time, Andy sang a verse of "Lullabye" to them. That will always be the song I hear when I think of them. And they will always be my first thoughts when I hear that song.
Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say
I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Wherever you may go, no matter where you are
I never will be far away
Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to sleep
And still so many things I want to say
Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went sailing on an Emerald Bay
And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and deep inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me
Goodnight, my angel, not it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullabye
Then in your heart there will always be a part of me
Monday, October 7, 2013
10.7.13 - You Now
Day 7 - You Now
Where are you in your grief right now? How are you feeling? Are you wrestling with anything? Is your heart heavier or lighter now?
Right now, in this exact moment, I'm happy. Right now, in this moment of my grief, I've accepted and am doing ok - I'd even say I'm doing well. But that doesn't mean that I don't have bad moments or bad days.
But I've learned that it's ok to be happy. It's ok to smile during the storm.
Most days I'm doing well, but then will have very difficult moments where a trigger gets pulled and I lose it. Truly , most of the time I can think of Leah, Rachel and Gabriel and SMILE! I was even able to talk about them and smile and not completely breakdown (progress)
My heart is definitely heavier in good and bad ways. It's heavier because it's taken on more - I'm loving more - than I knew possible. But it's also heavier because the weight of missing them is so much.
But like I said - I know it's ok to be happy, that's why I chose a picture of Andy and I smiling on vacation this summer. We can still love, still smile, still breathe, still stand through this storm...
Sunday, October 6, 2013
10.6.13 - Rituals
Day 6 - Rituals
On the 27th of every month I light their candles. It's the only time I light these particular candles and remove whatever decorations may be on the mantle and put their candles front and center for the evening.
It may not be a big ritual, but it's important to me.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
10.5.13 - Memory
Day 5 - Memory
One of my favorite memories of the triplets was the moments we found out that our "identicals" we're girls and we were also having a boy! I will never forget Andy's face when the technician told us.
One other highlight would have to be when I started feeling them kick and move -especially the few times I could feel ALL THREE moving.
I very blessed to have these memories, even if there aren't as many as I had hoped.
Friday, October 4, 2013
10.4.13 - Legacy
Day 4 - Legacy
The legacy that Leah, Rachel and Gabriel leave is hope.
Even through all our complications, and even during their labors, they always gave me hope. Hope that even if Leah's water broke, we wouldn't go right into labor (and we didn't! She lasted over two more weeks!) hope that even though they were born at 23 weeks they still might survive - and Rachel did for a few hours. Hope that while nothing has turned out the way we ever would've wanted, that we and they have made a positive impact on all we've come into contact.
Always, always, hope...
Thursday, October 3, 2013
10.3.13 - Myths
Day 3 - Myths
(Do I believer there are any myths about grief?)
The first time someone said to me "I'm really sorry to hear about what happened... But at least you're young!" It really took me by surprise. I think I stood there with a blank look on my face and then walked away.
"At least I'm young"?!?! As if my age has anything to do with this sorrow. As if my age makes it easier to deal with the death of my children?
It took me awhile to realize they (yes, more than one person said that to me) that what they were trying to say was I am young so I can still have more children, but that simple phrase really hurt.
My age has nothing to do with this grief. Grief is grief - pain is pain - sadness is sadness regardless of your age. I know this to be true because I see the grief, pain and sadness in my parents and they're older than me. I know this to be true because I also see moments of grief in J and he's only 6.
You're right, I'm glad I'm young and still "have time" to have more children, but that doesn't make me love or miss Leah, Rachel and Gabriel any less.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
10.2.13 - Identity
Day 2 - Identity
I almost always refer to Leah, Rachel and Gabriel as "the triplets" or "our babies" but because this is about their own unique identity, I'm going to talk about each one separately.
Leah Naomi - we chose Leah before we were pregnant (as we did with all their first names) we really liked the name. About a week before Leah was born we realized we hadn't found her a middle name. After reading through many names, we both noticed that multiple times our minds went back to Naomi.
Leah means "weary, tired" and Naomi means "pleasant, delightful".
Leah was born on May 27, 2013 at 5:52 am, weighing 1 pound 4 ounces and was 11.25 inches long. She took very few breaths on this earth before she became an angel
Rachel Elizabeth - Rachel was the other girls name that we chose and Elizabeth is my middle name (and my great grandmother's name).
Rachel means "ewe, female sheep" and Elizabeth means "my God is an oath, pledged to God".
Rachel was born on May 27, 2013 at 8:40am weighing 1 pound 7 ounces and was 11.5 inches long. Rachel fought so very hard to breathe and live for a few hours, but she simply was too small/lungs were under developed to survive.
Gabriel Andrew - As mentioned, Gabriel was a name we loved for a boy and Andrew is my husband's name.
Gabriel means "God is my strength" and Andrew means "strong, manly, brave". I often though of Gabriel as Leah and Rachel's guadian angel. When the girls were fighting TTTS, Gabe was just hanging out "above" them making sure nothing bad happened.
Gabriel was born still on May 27, 2013 at 2:05pm weighing 1 pound 6 ounces and was 11.5 inches long.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
10.1.13 - Sunrise
I have decided this October to participate in "Capture Your Grief" where I'll be taking and posting pictures (hopefully) every day as part of documenting this grief journey.
The month begins with the sunrise. Living in the city, you can't often capture the actual sunrise like you could if you were near water or an open field, but I can still find beauty and warmth in the sunrise - even if it's been up for a half hour before I could see it.
Day 1 - Sunrise - Cleveland, OH
Monday, September 23, 2013
Due Dates
Dates are used throughout our lives (and history) as important markers.
We celebrate lives on birthdays, marriages on anniversaries, holidays on their respect day. We learn from a young age that certain dates are important (mostly your birthday and Christmas!)
Then you grow up and learn there are other days that will become important. Maybe it's the day of your first kiss, or first date. Perhaps a high school or college graduation.
Or maybe it's the day you took a home pregnancy test and it was POSITIVE after months of trying!
And that day of your first appointment with the OB, your husband holds your hand during your very first ultrasound (because "we should be able to find a heartbeat by now") and you find THREE HEARTBEATS. And you learn that your "due date" is September 23 and you memorize that date. I mean, it's usually the first thing people ask when they find out you're pregnant - "So, when are you due?"
I always answered "September 23, but multiples are born earlier than 40 weeks, so we're looking at August babies."
I knew I would never deliver our babies in September. We knew best case scenario was we made it to 36 weeks which was the end of August. But that doesn't mean September 23 was ever less important.
September 23 will always be the due date of my first pregnancy. A date I'll remember and cherish just like loved ones birthdays, Andy and I's anniversary, holidays and many more. It will always hold a special place in my heart.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Your feelings? Or mine?
I've been struggling with a lot of different things lately.
One of my main struggles is how to respond to people when they ask if I have kids.
I do.
Inevitably, their next question is "How many?"
I've only been asked this question twice since Leah, Rachel and Gabriel died and I'm almost ashamed to admit that I answered "one - a stepson." But I don't want to keep answering this way, so I'm trying to work it all out in my head so I can respond better next time.
Because in my head and heart I want to answer FOUR! I have four beautiful children. But if I answer four the next question will be "how old are they?"
Well, my stepson is almost 7 and then ... how do I say this so it doesn't make you uncomfortable? My other three children are dead. I had triplets that died shortly after they were born. I have babies in heaven that would be ___ old if they were alive. Which one is the most comfortable answer?
That's right, there is no comfortable answer.
Yet, why do I care so much if they're comfortable? Whose feelings matter most in my life - mine or theirs?
Of course, mine. It's my life, they are my children. Why do I care so much about how it makes other people feel?
I wish it was easier, I wish I was stronger.
But I think the only way it will become easier is to start giving them the truth.
No matter how uncomfortable it is.
Wish it could be easy, why is life so messy, why is pain a part of us
One of my main struggles is how to respond to people when they ask if I have kids.
I do.
Inevitably, their next question is "How many?"
I've only been asked this question twice since Leah, Rachel and Gabriel died and I'm almost ashamed to admit that I answered "one - a stepson." But I don't want to keep answering this way, so I'm trying to work it all out in my head so I can respond better next time.
Because in my head and heart I want to answer FOUR! I have four beautiful children. But if I answer four the next question will be "how old are they?"
Well, my stepson is almost 7 and then ... how do I say this so it doesn't make you uncomfortable? My other three children are dead. I had triplets that died shortly after they were born. I have babies in heaven that would be ___ old if they were alive. Which one is the most comfortable answer?
That's right, there is no comfortable answer.
Yet, why do I care so much if they're comfortable? Whose feelings matter most in my life - mine or theirs?
Of course, mine. It's my life, they are my children. Why do I care so much about how it makes other people feel?
I wish it was easier, I wish I was stronger.
But I think the only way it will become easier is to start giving them the truth.
No matter how uncomfortable it is.
Wish it could be easy, why is life so messy, why is pain a part of us
Monday, July 29, 2013
A coat of fresh paint
Before we found out the genders, I had decided I wanted to keep the babies' room in fairly neutral colors - brown and green.
Since life has been turned upside down since the day we found out the genders, we never got around to painting their room. There was a part of me that was relieved to come home from the hospital and NOT have to deal with a nursery full of baby things. That being said, I knew I didn't want to leave that room "unpainted" long.
After much thought and encouragement from Andy, I decided I would paint and decorate the room in the colors I had originally planned.
This past week I cleaned, prepped and painted. Here's a before shot:
And here's the beginning of the new color (cup of cocoa):
On Friday, I was three quarters of the way done when I turned to finish the last wall. The big wall (opposite the blue wall) is an inside wall, the longest and was going to be where I had envisioned putting their cribs. (I say envisioned because I bet you never really know where to put three cribs until they're in the room).
As I finished cutting in on that wall, I looked down at the brush and realized I still had a good amount of paint build up. I didn't want to waste it, so I wrote their initials on the wall.
I wrote their initials - L R G - on the wall that I had planned to spend so much time looking at as they would go to sleep and wake up. I wrote their initials because I never had the chance to make fancy initials for the walls to decorate their room. I wrote their initials because their room never became their room. I wrote their initials because I love and miss them so much and look for ways to say or write their name. So I wrote their initials:
Then I slowly painted around their initials:
And then, eventually, painted over their initials:
One day, a baby will be in this room and his or her crib will be against the wall with Leah, Rachel and Gabriel's initials.
And whenever that baby wakes up or goes to sleep, and I look at that wall, I will be reminded of L R G.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Candles of Hope
A couple weeks ago I got a package in the mail from a name I didn't know. The package turned out to be a care package from a fellow TTTS mom, one who had one angel and one survivor.
In the package was many different things - fuzzy socks, Hershey kisses & hugs, coffee beans, a journal, a book, a photo frame, a cross tea light candle holder and tea lights
and three candles
I was overwhelmed with the thoughtfulness and love that when into this care package, I hope one day I can send one to a family in need of love and support.
But let me go back to the candles.
I have always loved candles! Anyone who knows me knows that I love candles!
I had heard of people having "memory candles" for their babies that they light only on special days and thought this was a neat idea, but didn't know how to find the right candles.
Then in dawned on me, I already had the right candles.
We had candles for each baby-2 pink candles for Leah and Rachel and 1 brown candle for Gabriel.
Yesterday, I decided to clear our mantel of all the cards and decided I would display these candles, along with other gifts that had been given to us.
It's probably difficult to see, so let me walk you through what is on our mantel.
On the far left is the carnation that was given to us the day after our babies were born.
Next is the "Angel of Hope" given to us by our dear friends Anna and Jeff (normally I don't care too much for the "faceless people," but this one is perfect!)
Then are the candles for Leah, Rachel and Gabriel, in that order-birth order.
Then the cross tea light holder.
As I was looking at all these and thinking about when I would like these candles, it dawned on me that in my care package was a pack of 12 tea light candles.
I have decided that I will use one tea light candle on the 27th of every month for the next year to honor and remember our beloved children. As the tea light is burning, I will also burn "their" candles.
Tonight we burned these candles.
It may not seem like much, but the simple act of lighting a candle gave me a moment to reflect on each one individually.
Their lights burn ever so brightly.
And tonight, they remind me that these candles, just like the angel, are candles of peace, love and especially hope.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
...and every sunset hold more peace
I love watching the sun go down and soaking in the different colors.
I find it all very peaceful and somewhat magical.
Last Monday I went to Lakeside for a few reasons. I had hoped that attending opening worship of the East Ohio Annual Conference would be up lifting. Last year I had the honor of being a part of the service and while I longed to be up there again this year, I was hoping my soul would be moved without touching the piano and without hundreds hearing my voice.
Another reason I went was because my Uncle Mike would be there. I don't see my Uncle Mike too often but I hear from him when he texts a daily bible verse. We created some wonderful memories last summer during Annual Conference, so while I was looking forward to sometime alone, I was also looking forward to spending time with him.
Lastly, I was looking forward to watching the sunset.
Last summer I was absolutely amazed by the beauty shown across the sky as the sun set into Lake Erie. I would make my way to the pier well before it set because I loved to watch the whole play, not just the final scene. You enjoy the final moments of the sunset so much more if you see and remember where it was coming from.
When I first got down to the pier (around 7) I was afraid that I was going to be disappointed in the sunset. It looked like there were some clouds that may get in the way. But I wasn't giving up hope just yet.
I sat there, reading my book (C. S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed") and glancing up every few minutes to see how the portrait was changing.
Don't get me wrong, it was turning out to be a nice sunset, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling a little disappointed.
It wasn't quite what I wanted.
I wanted to feel more, to see more... I wanted more.
And it was at that moment, when the sun had set, that I looked up and saw God paint a most gorgeous scene. It was as if He heard me and replied "Don't stop looking too soon. What you've already seen was beautiful, but the best is yet to come."
And it was beautiful and breathtaking. All the colors you can imagine, vivid and bright yet soothing and peaceful. It was in this moment I felt God reminding me that life isn't over, that I can't "stop watching"
Easier said than done, right?!
I kept hearing over and over again in my head a quote that got us through our last few days in the hospital - "May every sunrise hold more promise and every sunset hold more peace."
I know that we will continue to have rough and difficult days. I know that this isn't an easy road and that somedays will seem more difficult than others. But it's during those times that I will cling to that Sunset and the peace it gives just as I will cling to the Sunrise and the hope and promise it brings.
In some ways, it's just like being in the hospital on bed rest, celebrating every day. And when a day seems overwhelming, celebrating an hour - or if need be - the moment.
One moment, one hour, one day at a time...and I'll say a prayer of thanks for every one of them!
Monday, June 10, 2013
Finding our new "normal"
Writing about the birth - and death - of our Leah, Rachel and Gabriel was very hard, but something I know I'll appreciate having. Knowing that whenever I want to, I can read my thoughts and reflect and remember those precious, yet horrific moments seems to help a little.
It's been two weeks since we said hello and goodbye. And just like many would expect, it's been a roller coaster as we try to find our new "normal."
Through the three deliveries, I had lost a lot of blood (over a liter, I think they said...) and while I was feeling fine physically the next morning, my blood counts kept getting lower and lower (If I remember correctly, normal is around 11-12, at one point I was down to 6-7). So I ended up getting two blood transfustions.
What I didn't know about transfusions was that each transfusion was going to take around two hours, and then we'd have to wait five to six hours after the last one ended to check my blood again. It was around noon when they started the first transfusion, so we knew that if we were going to be discharged on Tuesday it would be late. Thankfully, Dr. Wolfe understood that we wanted to go home and told us that as long as my blood counts came back OK, they would discharge us, regardless of the time.
As the evening went on, waiting for the blood count to come back, I asked Andy if we could see our babies once before we left. I needed to see them all together. They had spent five months growing inside me together, and while we had time with each baby individually, it was important that the last time I see them on earth (even though they're already happy in heaven) be a time that they're all together. Right away, Andy said he wanted to see them, also.
Maddie (our favorite nurse) told us my blood counts came back OK and they were working on the discharge papers (it was after 10). Andy started taking our stuff to the car (we had accumulated a lot in the 2+ weeks we were there) and Maddie went over my discharge papers with me. I them told her that after everything was done, signed, we would like to see our babies before we left. As soon as everything was taken care of, Maddie brought us our babies.
I will never forget those moments. Seeing our children together, laying side by side, looking like they were sleeping, will be the memories that I will see first when I think of them. When I talk of them, I will see the beautiful, yet different, faces looking peaceful. When others ask how I am doing, I will see our three side by side, knowing that they never will experience the pain of this world.
Andy and I prayed for them, we put our hands on them, Andy sang to them, I kissed each baby and then we said our goodbye.
Those were - are - beautiful moments.
We left University Hospitals, hand in hand, holding back tears (or sometimes letting them out). It was an overwhelmingly emotional moment. Saying goodbye to what had been our "home" was harder than I expected. Don't get me wrong, I was so thankful to be going to our real home, sleeping in our own bed, getting my own food whenever I wanted, feeling human again. Yet, here we were, leaving the hospital without our babies. As a pregnant woman, you don't enter a hospital pregnant and expect to leave without your babies. Whether they are still growing inside you or in your arms, they're with you. I now had to leave the place that carried the most hope for our babies, the best care and go home empty.
I cried myself to sleep that night, but I was thankful to do it in Andy's arms. I knew the road before us was going to be rough and long, but I knew we could do it together.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We spent the next few days together. We found an "excuse" to get out of the house every day - groceries, little things for home improvement stuff, out for lunch, etc. We watched TV. We rested. We cried. We felt loved.
We got together with our parents and shared our memories with them. Our parents met Leah, Rachel and Gabriel through their memory boxes. Not the way any grandparent wants to meet their grandchildren, but this was the only way we had to offer and we felt it was important for them to meet them.
The following Monday Andy went back to work. He worked from home that day, so it wasn't like I was alone (plus Mindy came up to visit) but, this was one step toward our new normal. When he went to the office on Tuesday I didn't realize how much I would miss him. I kept busy, but it wasn't the same. Andy and I hadn't spent more than a few hours apart for the past month. Even when he was working, he was always by my side.
The love and support we've been receiving from family and friends has been overwhelming. Don't get me wrong, nothing can truly help us heal except for time, but people do help. Sometimes it's more painful, though. Sometimes reading through the cards, especially if we've had a "good day" just reminds us of all we've lost - all our hopes, dreams, prayers.
Don't get me wrong, I would much rather have people remember our babies and acknowledge their existence, even if it's only with cards.
But it doesn't make it any easier.
Then again, nothing about this process has been easy.
So for now, we (continue to) take it a day at a time and find our new normal.
It's been two weeks since we said hello and goodbye. And just like many would expect, it's been a roller coaster as we try to find our new "normal."
Through the three deliveries, I had lost a lot of blood (over a liter, I think they said...) and while I was feeling fine physically the next morning, my blood counts kept getting lower and lower (If I remember correctly, normal is around 11-12, at one point I was down to 6-7). So I ended up getting two blood transfustions.
What I didn't know about transfusions was that each transfusion was going to take around two hours, and then we'd have to wait five to six hours after the last one ended to check my blood again. It was around noon when they started the first transfusion, so we knew that if we were going to be discharged on Tuesday it would be late. Thankfully, Dr. Wolfe understood that we wanted to go home and told us that as long as my blood counts came back OK, they would discharge us, regardless of the time.
As the evening went on, waiting for the blood count to come back, I asked Andy if we could see our babies once before we left. I needed to see them all together. They had spent five months growing inside me together, and while we had time with each baby individually, it was important that the last time I see them on earth (even though they're already happy in heaven) be a time that they're all together. Right away, Andy said he wanted to see them, also.
Maddie (our favorite nurse) told us my blood counts came back OK and they were working on the discharge papers (it was after 10). Andy started taking our stuff to the car (we had accumulated a lot in the 2+ weeks we were there) and Maddie went over my discharge papers with me. I them told her that after everything was done, signed, we would like to see our babies before we left. As soon as everything was taken care of, Maddie brought us our babies.
I will never forget those moments. Seeing our children together, laying side by side, looking like they were sleeping, will be the memories that I will see first when I think of them. When I talk of them, I will see the beautiful, yet different, faces looking peaceful. When others ask how I am doing, I will see our three side by side, knowing that they never will experience the pain of this world.
Andy and I prayed for them, we put our hands on them, Andy sang to them, I kissed each baby and then we said our goodbye.
Those were - are - beautiful moments.
We left University Hospitals, hand in hand, holding back tears (or sometimes letting them out). It was an overwhelmingly emotional moment. Saying goodbye to what had been our "home" was harder than I expected. Don't get me wrong, I was so thankful to be going to our real home, sleeping in our own bed, getting my own food whenever I wanted, feeling human again. Yet, here we were, leaving the hospital without our babies. As a pregnant woman, you don't enter a hospital pregnant and expect to leave without your babies. Whether they are still growing inside you or in your arms, they're with you. I now had to leave the place that carried the most hope for our babies, the best care and go home empty.
I cried myself to sleep that night, but I was thankful to do it in Andy's arms. I knew the road before us was going to be rough and long, but I knew we could do it together.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We spent the next few days together. We found an "excuse" to get out of the house every day - groceries, little things for home improvement stuff, out for lunch, etc. We watched TV. We rested. We cried. We felt loved.
We got together with our parents and shared our memories with them. Our parents met Leah, Rachel and Gabriel through their memory boxes. Not the way any grandparent wants to meet their grandchildren, but this was the only way we had to offer and we felt it was important for them to meet them.
The following Monday Andy went back to work. He worked from home that day, so it wasn't like I was alone (plus Mindy came up to visit) but, this was one step toward our new normal. When he went to the office on Tuesday I didn't realize how much I would miss him. I kept busy, but it wasn't the same. Andy and I hadn't spent more than a few hours apart for the past month. Even when he was working, he was always by my side.
The love and support we've been receiving from family and friends has been overwhelming. Don't get me wrong, nothing can truly help us heal except for time, but people do help. Sometimes it's more painful, though. Sometimes reading through the cards, especially if we've had a "good day" just reminds us of all we've lost - all our hopes, dreams, prayers.
Don't get me wrong, I would much rather have people remember our babies and acknowledge their existence, even if it's only with cards.
But it doesn't make it any easier.
Then again, nothing about this process has been easy.
So for now, we (continue to) take it a day at a time and find our new normal.
our hearts are broken, but our spirits aren't...part 4
It was then that our
already horrible day was about to get worse news.
Since my epidural was now working, the
Doctors came back to scan Baby C and see where we were.
Throughout this pregnancy, Andy and I
have seen a lot of ultrasounds. We know what the heart looks like,
stomachs and bladders, amniotic fluid levels, etc. And while we weren't
technicians, we knew the moment they scanned Baby C that something wasn't right.
The Dr. stopped the ultrasound and told
us that someone, Baby C's heartbeat had stopped.
Are you kidding me?
His heartbeat couldn't have
stopped! He was our strong baby boy. He never had any issues, why
would he now? I just gave birth to our baby girls - they were born with
heartbeats - how could his have stopped? Why would it have stopped?
Then I realized something
terrible. After Leah died, we still had hope for Rachel. After
Rachel died, we still had so much hope for our baby boy. Now that our baby boy was dead, where would we find hope? How
was I suppose to give birth to our baby that had no hope for survival?
How was I suppose to give birth to our baby that was already dead?
I wept and cried out to Andy that this
wasn't fair and I couldn't do it. How could I do this? How was I
suppose to do this? I was exhausted - emotionally and physically - I
couldn't bear the thought of having
to do this, let alone knowing there was no turning back.
How Andy stayed strong, I'll never
know, but he held me, cried with me, and told me we could get through
this. He promised he would stay by my side, continue holding my hand and
we would go forward. He reminded me that our boy was already with his
sisters again.
Once again, Dr. Armstrong told me whenever
I felt a contraction to begin pushing. This time, with the epidural in
place, it was a little more difficult to feel the contractions. I
literally had to keep my hand on my stomach to feel it tighten or the nurse had
to keep watching the contraction monitor to tell me when to push.
Just like Rachel, our Baby Boy was breech and Dr. Armstrong had to break his water. After that, I don't think it was many contractions/pushes before he was out. Gabriel Andrew was born at 2:05pm.
What a different experience from Leah and Rachel. All three births were so different - just like all three babies are so different. At Gabriel's birth, there was the Neonatologists and pediatrician teams waiting. There was no "nurse" - or whatever she was - waiting with the standard baby blanket on her chest and holding her arms out, ready to take him after he was delivered. There was no one there for our Gabriel.
Before he was born, Dr. Armstrong asked if we wanted to hold him immediately after birth. I remember thinking "Why? Why would I want to hold him immediately - he's already dead - he has already left his body and joined his sisters?" So we asked for the nurse to clean and wrap him first.
After Gabriel was born, Dr. Armstrong asked Andy if he wanted to cut his cord. I sat there, silently weeping as Andy said no. I can't blame him.
I can only imagine how Dads feel during childbirth. Here is the woman you love (hopefully) who's body has grown and adapted to grow this child (or children) and now she has to physically get it out of her body and all you can do is stand there beside her. All you can do is hold her hand. All you can do is remind her that you love her and that she's so strong. Eventually, when the baby is born, cutting the cord, I feel, is traditionally saved for the Dad. That is HIS moment. Dad may not be able to actually participate in the labor of the birth, but he can cut the cord. He can free his child from the womb, so that it can be welcomed into loving arms.
But that's all for a live baby. And our Gabriel was not alive.
So, while I don't know what was going on in Andy's head during that moment, if I were him, I wouldn't have wanted to cut the cord.
I just have to give a side note for a moment: Andy had done so much - he held my hand, he stayed by my side, he encouraged me (he even told me that if he was doing something I didn't like or want, to just tell him and he would stop!), he told me he loved me, he told me I could do it, he told me I was strong, he told me it was going to be OK - he did everything he could, everything I needed him to do.
While the nurse was cleaning Gabriel, Dr. Armstrong told me that I would still need to deliver the placentas and she was hoping I could (and that we wouldn't have to go back into the OR) I, too, hoped it would be easy. Within mere minutes of Gabriel's birth, I felt the need to push again and asked Dr. Armstrong if I could. She said it was probably one of the placentas and if I wanted to push, I could. It didn't take much to get what was left of the pregnancy out of my body.
After looking it over, Dr. Armstrong, noticed that all three babies' cords were connected to this one piece. It seemed that somehow Gabriel's placenta had fused together with Rachel and Leah's. Assuming this was the case, after Leah and Rachel were born, their placenta probably began to detach from my uterus, and since they were fused together, it took Gabriel's too. With a detached placenta, Gabriel was no longer receiving what he needed to survive.
Of course, for a brief moment I wondered "Could we have changed this? What if we hadn't waited the hours we did after Rachel? What if we delivered him right away?" But as quickly as those thoughts entered my mind, I quickly pushed them back out again. There was no room for any "what ifs..." Because truthfully, I believe that our outcomes were going to be what they were going to be, and I had to believe that God spaced out the births for some reason. Even if only to give us time to grieve over Rachel and receive the epidural for help with the physical pain. He knew we needed a little time.
After all these thoughts, I knew it was time to hold our baby boy.
One might think after already holding and crying over two babies earlier that day that this might be easier - but nothing can prepare you for what it's like to hold your dead baby.
Gabriel, our sweet angel, was beautiful. Long fingers like his sisters and already had eyebrows like Andy. Andy said, and I agreed, that he looked the most like a "normal" newborn. Gabriel seemed to have the best coloring.
Just like we had done two times before, we held our precious baby. We prayed for him, we surrounded him with love and we told him to continue watching over his sisters. (We had decided on the name Gabriel long before we were pregnant and the name stayed as we learned we were having two girls and one boy. It was only appropriate as the girls developed TTTS, that their baby brother who's name was that of the angel Gabriel in the bible - "the strength of God" - was physically on top of, protecting his sisters. He was always higher up in my belly and usually sideways...)
After our time with him - we said goodbye.
Our nurse took him away and said they would prepare a memory box for him, just like his sisters'.
Andy held me and we cried. There was nothing we could say to each other that we hadn't already said - or that would help. There was nothing anyone could say or do that was going to help in that moment (or in the moment and days to come) our three, precious babies that we had been praying for, that we longed for for months, that we were so excited and honored to be the parents of had been born and died all within nine hours of each other. This had to be more than any person should ever have to face, more than anyone should ever have to go through, yet we were. We did.
The worst, physically, was over, but the emotional pain was just beginning.
Just like Rachel, our Baby Boy was breech and Dr. Armstrong had to break his water. After that, I don't think it was many contractions/pushes before he was out. Gabriel Andrew was born at 2:05pm.
What a different experience from Leah and Rachel. All three births were so different - just like all three babies are so different. At Gabriel's birth, there was the Neonatologists and pediatrician teams waiting. There was no "nurse" - or whatever she was - waiting with the standard baby blanket on her chest and holding her arms out, ready to take him after he was delivered. There was no one there for our Gabriel.
Before he was born, Dr. Armstrong asked if we wanted to hold him immediately after birth. I remember thinking "Why? Why would I want to hold him immediately - he's already dead - he has already left his body and joined his sisters?" So we asked for the nurse to clean and wrap him first.
After Gabriel was born, Dr. Armstrong asked Andy if he wanted to cut his cord. I sat there, silently weeping as Andy said no. I can't blame him.
I can only imagine how Dads feel during childbirth. Here is the woman you love (hopefully) who's body has grown and adapted to grow this child (or children) and now she has to physically get it out of her body and all you can do is stand there beside her. All you can do is hold her hand. All you can do is remind her that you love her and that she's so strong. Eventually, when the baby is born, cutting the cord, I feel, is traditionally saved for the Dad. That is HIS moment. Dad may not be able to actually participate in the labor of the birth, but he can cut the cord. He can free his child from the womb, so that it can be welcomed into loving arms.
But that's all for a live baby. And our Gabriel was not alive.
So, while I don't know what was going on in Andy's head during that moment, if I were him, I wouldn't have wanted to cut the cord.
I just have to give a side note for a moment: Andy had done so much - he held my hand, he stayed by my side, he encouraged me (he even told me that if he was doing something I didn't like or want, to just tell him and he would stop!), he told me he loved me, he told me I could do it, he told me I was strong, he told me it was going to be OK - he did everything he could, everything I needed him to do.
While the nurse was cleaning Gabriel, Dr. Armstrong told me that I would still need to deliver the placentas and she was hoping I could (and that we wouldn't have to go back into the OR) I, too, hoped it would be easy. Within mere minutes of Gabriel's birth, I felt the need to push again and asked Dr. Armstrong if I could. She said it was probably one of the placentas and if I wanted to push, I could. It didn't take much to get what was left of the pregnancy out of my body.
After looking it over, Dr. Armstrong, noticed that all three babies' cords were connected to this one piece. It seemed that somehow Gabriel's placenta had fused together with Rachel and Leah's. Assuming this was the case, after Leah and Rachel were born, their placenta probably began to detach from my uterus, and since they were fused together, it took Gabriel's too. With a detached placenta, Gabriel was no longer receiving what he needed to survive.
Of course, for a brief moment I wondered "Could we have changed this? What if we hadn't waited the hours we did after Rachel? What if we delivered him right away?" But as quickly as those thoughts entered my mind, I quickly pushed them back out again. There was no room for any "what ifs..." Because truthfully, I believe that our outcomes were going to be what they were going to be, and I had to believe that God spaced out the births for some reason. Even if only to give us time to grieve over Rachel and receive the epidural for help with the physical pain. He knew we needed a little time.
After all these thoughts, I knew it was time to hold our baby boy.
One might think after already holding and crying over two babies earlier that day that this might be easier - but nothing can prepare you for what it's like to hold your dead baby.
Gabriel, our sweet angel, was beautiful. Long fingers like his sisters and already had eyebrows like Andy. Andy said, and I agreed, that he looked the most like a "normal" newborn. Gabriel seemed to have the best coloring.
Just like we had done two times before, we held our precious baby. We prayed for him, we surrounded him with love and we told him to continue watching over his sisters. (We had decided on the name Gabriel long before we were pregnant and the name stayed as we learned we were having two girls and one boy. It was only appropriate as the girls developed TTTS, that their baby brother who's name was that of the angel Gabriel in the bible - "the strength of God" - was physically on top of, protecting his sisters. He was always higher up in my belly and usually sideways...)
After our time with him - we said goodbye.
Our nurse took him away and said they would prepare a memory box for him, just like his sisters'.
Andy held me and we cried. There was nothing we could say to each other that we hadn't already said - or that would help. There was nothing anyone could say or do that was going to help in that moment (or in the moment and days to come) our three, precious babies that we had been praying for, that we longed for for months, that we were so excited and honored to be the parents of had been born and died all within nine hours of each other. This had to be more than any person should ever have to face, more than anyone should ever have to go through, yet we were. We did.
The worst, physically, was over, but the emotional pain was just beginning.
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