Deeper still

almost one month later...I'm making progress

It is strange to walk in the back door of your own home and not recognize it anymore. She had never been there, outside of my womb that is, but she was clearly missing. There were plans for her in our house. I pictured a swing in the living room. I envisioned a car seat sitting in the floor with her sleeping inside. We furnished the bonus room, anticipating the three of us would spend a lot of time there. It was divided into thirds: an area for the computer, a place to sit and watch TV and a spot to house lots and lots of toys. The perfect multipurpose room for a family. And then, of course, there is the room we had planned to be her nursery. The walls has not been painted and the furniture was never ordered. Though each room was just as we left them on Tuesday night, everything had changed. The house felt empty.

My parents were waiting when we arrived. They had a meal for us, which was greatly appreciated. I usually enjoy cooking but had zero desire to return to the kitchen at that point in time. That would be way to normal and life had become anything but. We hung out in the living room, watching TV and talking. I would occasionally go upstairs to use the bathroom, which was now a chore that involved massive pads and water bottles. Just one of the many constant, physical reminders. In those moments alone, it would hit me. The reality of what happened would creep in and panic would start to fill my mind before Blake would rescue me from myself. He wouldn't let me out of his sight for more than 5 minutes, attempting to protect me any way he could.The next day, I took my mom to a local pharmacy. Blake wanted to try a half day of work to ease himself back in. He called at lunch saying he needed a haircut. I didn't give it much thought because mom and I were still downtown. He was home when we returned but I payed no attention to his hair. I was concerned with showing my parents Finley's "mementos" from the hospital before they headed home. We had been given a quilted, yellow bag that contained her footprints, her dress, her blanket, her pictures, a gold, baby ring that had been placed in her hand, paperwork and grief booklets. I explained the significance of each as I went through the bag with them. My heart started to pound and I could not breath as I frantically searched. The ring...where was it? It was not in the bag. Blake saw the distress in my face and quickly stepped up with a gray, velvet box. I opened it to find beautiful diamond earrings and a silver chain holding her tiny, gold ring. Emotions I had been holding in for the past 24 hours came flooding out. I started shaking, sobbing. We all cried. A friend told me that you are "supposed" to get diamonds when you have a baby. I had mentioned that to Blake as a joke a few weeks before, knowing that would not be in the budget when the baby came. Then I noticed his hair. I looked no different than it did when he left for work that morning. He remembered the story. He hadn't gotten his hair cut. He was out, thinking of me.

Another physical reminder showed up the next day. My chest was engorged. I had been told it would happened, but hoped I would be spared. No such luck. I can remember trying to find a dress to wear on Easter. Nothing fit. The top and the waist were too tight in every dress I owned. I managed to squeeze into one, praying the seems wouldn't bust when I sat in the pew. Just what I needed to be concerned with on Easter, 5 short days after I lost my first child.Despite the discomfort, it felt good to be in church that Sunday. The service was great, with testimonies from people who had been through various trials. It seemed as if they were there to give me hope. They had reached the light at the end of the tunnel into which we had just stepped, with light yet to be found. The songs we sang were powerful. It was almost as if they were chosen specifically for me. In Christ Alone and Blessed Be Your Name are two that stand out in my mind. I was reminded that God knew what it was like to lose a child. He had willingly done so. For my sake, nonetheless. Relatively new to the church, few people knew us at the time. As I looked around, I realized that no one had a clue what we had just been through. You could not tell by looking at me that I had just given birth to a baby that died. For those sitting near us, it was apparent by the end of the service that something was wrong. The emotions came flooding, again. Tears poured down my face as Blake and I walked to the front of the church to pray with one of the elders. The members of our small group made their way down to surrounded us as he prayed. It was a special moment. Mentally and spiritually, I felt better after the service. Physically, the pain only doubled when we received hugs of love and encouragement left and right. You can't exactly say, "Be gentle, my chest could explode."

The first few weeks were a blur. Yet, each Thursday I was reminded, "I would have been 21 weeks, 22 weeks, 23 weeks... "And on Wednesdays, I would think, "I can't believe she has been gone 1 week, 2 weeks, 3 weeks..." As time moved on, adjusting to this new life seemed to get harder and harder. It felt as if I was regressing. I was slowly losing myself in the days and weeks that followed her passing. At first, I could talk to people until I was blue in the face. For most who know me, that should come as no surprise. I was doing good, feeling okay. It was not until I sat, staring at the phone as it rang, making no attempt to answer, that I knew I was slipping. The social butterfly's wings had been broken. I could no longer talk on the phone. I would cry before most social functions, not wanting to go and just not going to many. I hated small talk. I hated that everyone spoke to me as if nothing ever happened. They had no idea what to say and I knew that. I understood that they did not bringing her up in an attempt to protect me. But to never acknowledge her hurt even more. I was nothing but an awkward situation waiting to happen. Some people just avoided me. I probably would have avoided me, too. What do you say? How do I respond? It was too much work. How could I put on a happy face, when inside, I had been ripped apart?

Pregnant women were drawn to me. They were everywhere I went, from Target to Victoria's Secret. I sat next to a girl in the salon that was due in 10 days. She spoke of all the things she still needed to do to get ready for the big day. The room needed finishing touches. Her toes were "horrible" so she had a pedicure scheduled the next day. She complained about swelling, being hot and uncomfortable. She did not know if she was ready for a newborn AND a toddler. I sat in my chair contemplating whether I should just get up and run out crying with foil on my head or if I should ask her if she would like to trade seats with me. I would have gladly switched places with her in that moment. I did neither. I just sat there trying to distract my ears as best I could. She had no idea. I am sure I would have been saying the same things had I been given the opportunity. But there was a huge part of me that wanted to shake her and tell her to enjoy every second of that baby. Did she not know the future she was planning could change in a split second? Did she not realize how fortunate she was to be carrying that baby to term? Similar scenarios followed me everywhere I went. At parties, at dinner, at church and at weddings. My ears were in tune to baby talk. I could be in a room of 1,000 people and sit next to women talking about babies and breastfeeding and deliveries. Please, Lord, give me a break. Make this go away. It was much easier to just stay home.

Grief tests the strength of a marriage. Initially, it drew Blake and I closer than we have ever been. We were heartbroken, together. Yet, within weeks, Blake and I were on two different pages in dealing with her loss. I would still cry at the drop of a hat, constantly thinking of her and the events of April 3rd and 4th. Blake no longer shed tears. Worked forced him to focus his thoughts on the task at hand. I went to work and was reminded of her. She had been there with me. She was the topic of conversation on a daily basis for me and my coworkers. Blake had not carried her for 20+ weeks. He did not feel her moving inside throughout the day. Their bonding was very different than ours. I wanted to talk about her a lot. He was ready to move forward with our life and I could only stand still. We walked a fine line in an attempt to be sensitive to each others needs while dealing with our own. My thoughts were on her. His concerns were for me. Would we ever be the same? Would I ever feel true happiness again? All normal phases in the process but not easy to live endure. It did not help that my body image was at an all time low. I was left with a soft, mushy layer where a "Body for Life" once existed. I hated my figure. More than shape, I hated my body for failing me...failing Blake...failing her.

I was introduced to the world of blogging after losing Finley. A friend told me of a girl who had recently lost her baby. And then there was a link to another family, and another family and another family. Our stories were different, but our grief was the same. While I would never wish this experience on my worst enemy, it was nice to know I was not alone. My feelings were validated. Although I don't know any of the bloggers I follow, they are precious to me. They helped me through a difficult time. The posts below are 2 that describe my feelings better than I could myself. So why reinvent the wheel?http://jonathanjarededwards.blogspot.com/2008/04/counsel-for-griever.html
http://jonathanjarededwards.blogspot.com/2008/07/timy-glimpse-of-what-hes-doing.html
Blogs have been a huge part of the healing process for me.

My spiritual life was up and down. Some days, I could feel the presence of God ever near. On other's, I was convinced He was no where to be found. Why had He allowed this to happen to us? What had we done to deserve losing our baby? I don't pray enough. I don't spend time in the Word, daily. I don't do enough. My head knew the answers to the questions. God did not DO this to us. I was not being punished for my measly attempts at service for Him. It is part of the fallen work in which we live. Bad things happen to "good" people. I have watched bad things happen to my "good" friends. They didn't deserve it either. I could not allow myself to believe that God did it to them, much less to me. But, daily, I did ask why He had chosen not to intervene when He had the power to do so. Why didn't he stop it from happening? The only way I could rationalize the situation in my head was to believe He was using this trial to strengthen me for His purpose. I did not like this idea, but it gave me some sense of peace.

Before we left the hospital, Dr. B voiced concern that I may have underlying medical conditions. At my 6 week checkup, 15 vials of blood were drawn to test me for various autoimmune disorders and thrombophilias. I had mixed emotions about the results. If I tested positive for one of them, there would be a reason this happened to us. We would be better equipped to prevent this from happening in the future. If nothing turned up, losing Finley would have been a case of "bad luck." We would be left with unanswered questions and I didn't like that option. I needed a reason. I wanted to know why. We would have to wait 3 weeks for the results to come in. The waiting game was miserable. My mind raced with "what ifs"constantly. Like clockwork, the phone rang 3 weeks from the day my blood was drawn. It was Dr. B himself calling to share what he had learned. Genetic testing revealed I had a clotting disorder-homozygous PAI-1(plasminogen activator inhibitor-1) deficiency. I was/am a clotter. Who knew? Such information could explain why I had the abruption that ultimately took Finley's life. There was a medical reason for her loss. The "why" I had been asking for weeks had an answer.

What about the future? I would need to take an 81 mg aspirin daily for the rest of my life to help prevent a stroke or heart attack. Easy enough. I could still get pregnant but would need to accompany the daily aspirin with a stronger blood thinner, Lovenox. I would, of course, be a higher risk pregnancy but was confidently told we should be able to have as many children as we wanted. What a relief. Initially, I felt good about the new information and was eager to move on to the next phase of our life. We were told to wait 3 months from delivery before trying to conceive again. It took 13 weeks for my body to regulate so we had no choice. Another waiting game.In the meantime, I start to think more about the new diagnosis. At first, I was able to focus on Finley as my saving grace. It was her loss that taught me about the PAI-1 deficiency. She may have prevented me from having a serious heart attack or stroke in the future. She was my angel in more ways than one. Yet, Satan uses various tactics to kick you when you are down. I became overwhelmed with guilt. I was the reason Finley was gone. It was my genes, my DNA, my womb that failed our child. It was my fault our parents would never meet their granddaughter, our siblings would never hold their niece, our nephews would never play with their cousin, so on and so forth. How could I even think about trying again when I had done this to our first, perfectly healthy daughter? What if it happened again? Could I live with myself? Hard questions to wrestled with in the middle of the night when no one is up to convince you otherwise.

Fortunately, my desire to have children was stronger than the demons inside my head. We were given the green light to try and I was consumed. I knew my cycle backward and forward. I could feel every sensation my uterus produced and more than likely, what it meant. I had an agenda. I just wanted to be pregnant again. I needed new hope, a good ending to a terrible story. When nothing happened the first month, I was devastated. The next month appeared to be the same with the exact same "symptoms" during the infamous 2 week wait. But, much to my surprise, a test told me otherwise on October 7th, 2007. The day after Blake's sister was married, I learned I was, again, pregnant. The roller coaster takes off...

The Big Easy

The AVMA hosted their annual meeting in New Orleans this year. Since Blake needed continuing education hours and a vacation sounded good, we headed off to the Big Easy! We boarded a plane on the 17th of July and spent the next 6 days playing, eating, lounging, walking, eating, learning (Blake, anyway), eating, taking tours and eating. One thing was constantly on my mind...if you can't tell. "Where are we eating next?"Let's just say I've got people who gave me the scoop on the best eateries in town. Blake and I managed to put a pretty large dent in the list, as you will see!

We started the 18th with an early morning walk to Cafe Du Monde for beignets and orange juice. Delicious. We then walked along the river and ended up in a mall! Blake forgot to bring shorts and was ready to pass out from overheating by 10:30. So, he bought a few new pair to make it through the week. We walked around River Walk and grabbed a muffelata for lunch. It was good, not great. Probably because it was not on the list of must do's supplied by B. Majors. We did a city tour that afternoon and got to see more of the French Quarter, the Garden District, St. Charles Street, a cemetery, and the Katrina devastation in the lower 9th ward. The evening ended with a nice dinner at Acme Oyster House consisting of grilled oysters, crawfish etouffee, jambalya, gumbo and red beans and rice. Great meal!

Blake spent all day on the 19th in lectures while I read a book by the pool. I walked to Johnny's Po-Boy's for lunch and it was another good, not great meal. What did I expect? It was also not one of B. Majors recommendations! But dinner was a different story. We boarded the St. Charles Street car and headed to S Carrollton for a meal at Camellia Grill. It was fabulous. We ordered burgers, fries and a chocolate freeze (milkshake). I would have to say that was one of the best burgers I have ever put in my mouth. We were in heaven! We rode the street car back to Canal Street and walked down Bourbon Street to get to our hotel. An interesting walk, to say the least, full of lovely sights and smells coming from all directions!

Blake spent the morning of the 20th in lectures. I met him for lunch at a place called Mother's. Not only was on the list but Blake had been there before. I had quite a hike from Bourbon Street to Poydras in 95+ degree weather. It managed to work up a good sweat by the time I arrived, only to find a line outside the door. To top that off, it was in the direct sunlight. Fortunately, we only had to wait outside for 5 minutes, tops. But the damage had been done. Once inside, I scanned a rather large menu and had a hard time deciding what to order. All of a sudden, I wasn't feeling so good. My pulse was racing and once again found myself sweating...in an air conditioned room. Luckily, there was an empty seat next to me that my butt managed to find before the room went black! Nearly passed out in at Mother's in New Orleans. Good thing I was with a doctor...for animals...who got me water. All was well once I was hydrated but I must admit it was a little scary. Blake got breakfast, a crawfish etouffee omelet and a debris biscuit. I was in no state to place my order and ended up with red beans and rice. Great meal despite my near fainting experience. Recouped with a full belly, we headed to the aquarium to check out all the creatures. We saw lots and lots of fish, shark, jelly fish, seahorses, otters, penguins, frogs, etc. Great facility. Then we headed to the IMAX to watch Hurricane in the Bayou, which we enjoyed as well. We headed back to the room for a nap before getting ready for dinner. We ended up eating at Cafe Maspero. We weren't starved and heard the had a $10 seafood platter with salad included. Good, not great but a nice end to a hectic day.

On the 21st, the first half of the day was more education for Blake. I spent the morning piddling on the computer in the room and then reading by the pool. I picked Blake up at noon and we headed to get the best po-boy in town per B. Majors. She was right. Fabulous meal at Domilise's on Annunciation. We couldn't decide which sandwich to get so we tried the 3 she recommended: fried shrimp, fried oyster and roast beef with gravy. Basically, they were to die for! The place was a hole in the wall but has been around for 70+ years. We were even so lucky to have Dot Domilise herself make our sandwich! Pretty special! With full bellies, yet again, we headed to Magazine Street to do a little boutique browsing. I managed to get a pair of shoes before having to take Blake back to the convention center. No point in heading back to the room. I finished out the afternoon walking up and down Magazine finding a few more goodies to purchase! Picked up Blake and headed back to the Inn. Ended the night with pizza in the French Quarter. Not recommended but a pretty tasty meal.

Our final day, the 22nd, started out the same as each day before. Blake class...me by the pool reading The Secret Life of Cece Wilkes (good read). After 22 hours of lecture, Blake was finished with his continuing education by noon. We drove back to Camellia Grill for one more burger. Well, not exactly true. Blake got an onion omelet and a pecan waffle. There was no way I could pass up grilled ground chuck with cheese, mayo and ketchup stuffed between 2 buns! To top it off, I got chili cheese fries! What a pig. It was, again, one of the best burgers I have had the privilege of eating in my entire life. We had to go back to the hotel and rest after that meal but had plans to eat at Pascal's Manale for dinner. Too bad Blake's stomach wimped out on us. He was in no shape to eat by dinner time so we had to miss out on the home of the original BBQ shrimp :(. Next time!

Our flight was scheduled to leave at 7:25 am on the 23rd. Our trip was officially over. We had a great time together. It was so nice to get away for a few days and relax. I must say a change in scenery was good for the spirit! As you can tell, we ate lots and lots of really good food. I can't believe I didn't gain a pound. Maybe it had to something to do with the fact that we walked around in nothing but heat and humidity for 5 days! Good times! Hope to do it again.

Pretty boring

It feels like I haven't been on here in ages. What can I say? We are pretty dull most of the time! For example, I have been playing this for the past week...

I have a hard time stopping until I win. That can take a while if you play it correctly. I had been playing Spider Solitaire on the computer and got some of my rules jumbled. Lesley took care of that for me and I have been playing according to her rules ever since!!! Just so you know, I lost that game. But...

I won this one! And finally stopped to type this. As if this is EVEN blog worthy?!!?

Blake has been saving lives as usual. He has probably, gently, ended a few as well. Comes with the job description. He did go on a camping trip with the boys last weekend. He does not take pictures of anything so I have none to share. Chris Miller does. You will have to ask to be his friend on Facebook if you want to see them though!!!

I did break down and get Blake Guitar Hero for our anniversary, against my better judgement. It is something he likes to play but would never get for himself. I got a few action shots...

He will kill me for putting this online. Go ahead and harass him. He never gets on here so I can post what I want, right?! He is pretty good at the game if passing(?) all the songs on medium makes you good. (Sorry, I don't know guitar hero lingo) I am not so bad myself. However, there are no pictures of me playing because I can't play and take pictures at the same time. Well, I could... with the tripod...and the timer... but lets get real.

The pets are as entertaining as always. Nugget acts like an old man. His cousin, Reba,

was here yesterday and he had absolutely nothing to do with her. He preferred to stay in our room on his bed and sleep. That is what he usually does. Sleep.

He enjoys doing so in the sun.

And of course there is Olive. She is a mess. You never know where you will find her...

Under the covers in bed, in the toilet, in the bathtub and under the table are a few places we look. She is so stinkin' cute that I really don't care where she goes.

I could post about our exciting July 4th extravaganza, had there been one. We just grilled out. Fish and veggies, not the norm. We did make homemade vanilla ice cream with strawberries and hot fudge to put on top. Blake thoroughly enjoyed my singing patriotic tunes as we watched the Macy's fireworks on TV. After an episode of 20/20, we called it a night.

Did I mention we are pretty boring?

There is always some sort of drama going on in our world. We just can't escape it. But, that requires to much energy for me to divulge at this point so I will save it for another day. A thrilling cliff hanger to keep you coming back for more. Don't get too excited. From what you have just seen, how could it be all that interesting?

Going deep

I cannot believe I am actually about to post this. I have been writing my thoughts and memories out for over a month now. And to think there is more to follow... My guess, you will be reading it in a few years from now!

I feel the need to start from the beginning, a desire to share my experience and details surrounding the pregnancy and birth of my girls. What happened? What went wrong? What next? This is my attempt to explain our stories, one at a time…

Finley Grace

Conceiving was easy for us. It happened the first try. On December 12th, 2006 I found myself staring at two pink lines…it was positive. So I took another one. There they were, again, two pink lines. Yet, it was not until I took a digital test the next morning that I was convinced what I was seeing was true. Indeed, I was pregnant!

Having recently moved to Nashville, I had yet to find an OB/GYN. Because we had been planning to start a family, I kept my ears open at work. In random, lunch time conversation, a friend frequently spoke of her physician. She went on and on about him and how wonderful he was. He sounded too good to be true. Because I wanted to get his name and number, she was the first person to hear our news. My initial appointment was set a few weeks later, December 26th to be exact. Just as my friend described, there was an immediate connection with Dr. B. He sat before us as if he had all the time in the world. He shared a timeline, of sorts, describing what we could expect in the upcoming weeks and months. With questions of our own, he listened to each one and answered them in a manner that showed genuine interest in our family. My initial jitters were quickly calmed. After an exam and blood work, I went for my first ultrasound. We were able to see our sweet baby that day, a tiny bean with a flickering heart. What an amazing moment.

My pregnancy started out a textbook case. The nausea hit around 7 weeks. It came at all times of the day, morning and/or night. An admitted gum addict, I found that chewing it made me feel 10 times worse, especially minty flavors. I had to put the gum away. I also learned that hunger made me sick. The only way to minimize the urge to vomit was by keeping my stomach full. A little "snack" did not cut it. Having once believed the extreme hunger proclaimed by pregnant women was simply an excuse for lack of self control, I quickly learned otherwise. Blake was amazed by my appetite, watching me eat every few hours. How could a tiny being require so many calories? There were no particular cravings. I just wanted what I wanted when I wanted it...whatever that was. If eating was delayed, I became nauseated. Luckily, all of this seemed to calm down by week 12.

My 16th week of pregnancy began in early March. I was lying in bed on the 3rd, a Saturday, when I felt movement for the first time. Three kicks, back to back, in the same spot. Little bubbles popping in my lower abdomen. For the next five minutes, I could not move, wanting to feel it again and again. At that moment, the reality of the life within reached a new level. By March 16th, Blake was able to share in the excitement and feel the kicks and punches himself. Oddly enough, the first time he felt movement, it was 3 times, back to back, in the same spot. There was a pattern to the baby's activity and it always seemed to increase just as we were settling into bed. Those were precious times.

My 20 week ultrasound was scheduled a little early, at 18 weeks and 5 days. I must admit I was anxious about that day. First and foremost, I wanted to see a healthy baby. With a degree in health care, I was concerned about the development of the baby and could not help but worry things might not go as I had planned. Like every other parent, we wanted a "perfect" child. I cannot describe the relief I felt when our baby measured beautifully, 4 heart chambers, 2 kidneys, a stomach, a bladder, 10 fingers, 10 toes. We watched the baby's mouth open and close while he or she swallowed amniotic fluid. We could see little hands, arms and legs gently moving around. Otherwise preferring to lay still, our little one did not cooperate in revealing his or her gender to us. I appreciate modesty but we wanted to see “parts,” or lack there of. Despite the technician‘s best attempts to get our child moving, “I am pretty sure it's a girl” was the best we got. While Blake was satisfied with that answer, I wanted certainty. How convenient that he works at a vet clinic…with ultrasound. We took another look a few days later and were pretty convinced she was a little girl. Just to clarify, my doctor knew about this! :)

I was halfway there with a healthy, baby girl growing inside. Having the ultrasound out of the way, my mind was now at ease. Let the planning begin. Expected to arrive on August 16th, I spent hours online looking at cribs, bedding, gliders, dressers. I wanted her room to be feminine, delicate, sweet. Only willing to get the safest and best for our daughter, consumer reports ratings on car seats and strollers were more important than color or design. There was so much to think of, so much we would need. Showers had been mentioned and a few dates were set. We would need to register soon. It was easy to let my mind drift into the future, in an attempt to picture life with our little girl. Was I ready? Would we be good parents? Who would she look like? What color would her hair be? The excitement and anticipation was building minute by minute. I could not wait for her arrival.

I noticed my first contractions on, of all days, April 1st. I had a busy day with church, shopping and a workout at the YMCA. While talking to Blake and making dinner, I noticed a rhythmical, painless tightening in my lower abdomen. That was odd. Having never felt this sensation before, I was a little concerned. I called my doctor’s office and Dr. B just happened to be on call. After describing my symptoms, he felt I may be dehydrated and recommended I lie on my left side and drink a large glass of water as quickly as possible. If the contractions continued, I was to call him back. Sure enough, I must have been dehydrated. What I had been feeling was now gone. Dr. B called back to check in and I told him the good news. To be safe, he wanted to see me the next morning. When I arrived at his office the next morning, her heart rate was strong and there was no dilation. No worries.

Blake had tickets to watch practice rounds for the Masters. A bit spooked by the events of Sunday, he questioned whether he should stay or go. After the good report, I sent him on his way. There was no reason for plans to change. I was fine. She was fine. We were fine. Feeling confident all was well, I went on in to work. There were a few new sensations that day, different from the day before. Best I can describe, my abdomen would randomly “knot up.” I was convinced it was part of pregnancy. She was just bigger and becoming more active. She was flipping around and it was her head or her bottom I was feeling. It continued on Tuesday. Nothing painful, just strange. I didn't call. This was normal.

Around 6:30 Tuesday night, things changed. Blake would not be home until late that evening so I made plans to eat out with friends. As I was getting ready, something just felt different. I was not in pain, but the knots seemed more consistent. I was convinced I was being paranoid, she was just moving. I had just seen the doctor and we were fine. I went on to dinner. On edge the whole time, all attempts to hide my concern were ineffective, as my words were few and I only picked at my meal. My mind could not focus on anything other than the activity of my uterus. Not to mention I was trying to drink as much water as I could. By the time I got home, the knots seemed more frequent. I got on the phone with Blake, every few minutes it seemed, trying to describe it all to him. In a car, over and hour and a half away from home, he tried to keep me calm and encouraged me to call the doctor. That is what they are for. So I did. After explaining the situation, the doctor on call did not seem too concerned. He recommended I watch the clock to make sure they were not regular. I was to call back if they were less than five minutes apart. As I lay on my left side, consuming glass after glass of water, I began to watch the clock. With each passing minute, I noticed a pattern. They were about 5 minutes apart. By this time, Blake was in Murfreesboro, about 45 minutes away and a severe storm was moving into the area. I called the doctor back to give him an update. He wanted me to come in but not by myself. He suggested I have someone drive me in. So, I would wait for Blake, as he was closer than anyone else at that point.

Shortly thereafter, things turned in a different direction. At 9:35, the first painful contraction hit. They lasted for around 45 seconds from start to finish. It was intense and I knew something was wrong. They continued with no hint of deceleration in sight. I kept calling Blake, begging him to carefully hurry home. I was scared, he was scared. When he pulled into the garage, I could barely stand. Through the thunder, lightening and pouring rain, it seemed like an hour from our house to Baptist. Of course, traffic was backed up due to a weather related accident. When we finally made it to the hospital, we parked on the 3rd floor of the garage and walked right in the door. I had not decided where I would deliver at that point in the pregnancy so I had not completed the pre-registration process. They would need all of my information. As I began to state my social security number to the receptionist, I had a major contraction and it happened. My water broke. Not just a trickle. My membranes ruptured. The physical pain immediately stopped. But the emotional pain was only beginning. At that moment, we were fully aware what the outcome would be. We were going to lose our baby.

Then next thing I can recall is being placed in a wheelchair, Blake going one direction and me in another. They did not know what to do with me. Initially, I was taken to triage, where several nurses sat looking as I repeated over and over, "I'm losing this baby... I am LOSING this baby...Lord please don't let this happen...I need my husband...WHERE is my husband?" From there I was taken to a labor and delivery room, just like we had seen on a tour a few weeks back. Blake walked through the door within seconds of my arrival. Nurses filled the room, monitors were strapped to my belly, an IV went into my left arm. Panic and confusion filled the room. Was this a dream? Could this REALLY be happening to us?

The doctor on call came in and confirmed what we already knew. He stood at the foot of the bed, with his lab coat thrown over his shoulder as he told us our child would not survive. At only 20 weeks and 5 days gestation, she was not "viable." There were no medicines they could give. There were no procedures they could perform. Life outside of my womb was not possible. He was very "matter of fact" with his presentation. I will never forget his face...his bedside manner... his lack of compassion. Meanwhile, all I could hear in the background was my baby's heart beating on the monitor. It was too much to bear. I could not listen. I asked that them to turn the sound off.

We had a few moments to ourselves and all we could do was sob. Blake had to make the dreaded phone call to our parents. He could barely get words out, "We're losing the baby." It broke my heart to see him so broken, so devastated. He came back and laid beside me in the bed and we just held each other, trying to take it all in. I tried to pull it together the best I could in an attempt to encourage him. "We can do this...we will make it...we have been so blessed..." I may have said it but my heart was having a difficult time believing them.

Within an hour of my admission, Dr. B was there. He entered the room and the tears flowed even harder. Visibly shaken, he held our hands and gently walked us through his findings. More than likely, I had a placental abruption. The placenta separated from my uterus, triggering labor. He was perplexed, as I had no known risk factors for such an occurrence. He prepared us, as best he could, for what we could expect in the hours to come. Ethically, they could not induce labor. She was alive and they could not accelerate her passing. We would have to wait for the inevitable. Nature would have to take its course and her heart would have to stop. Given an option, we would not have done anything differently. He was there for us and would be throughout the night. He was a gift in the midst of a storm.

Every half hour or so, the nurse came in to check her heart rate. She would turn up the volume on the monitor to see if sounds would follow. The first few times, her heart was so strongly, beating away. I could still occasionally feel her move. It was killed me inside to know it they would be the last kicks I would feel. What was she thinking? Was she scared? Was she in pain? I am her mother, for heaven's sake, why can't I do something to help her? Helpless. Hopeless. Gradually, the beats were slower and weaker and the movement faded. Around 5:00 in the morning, on April 4th, they turned the volume up one final time. The monitor was silent. Dr. B came in to perform an ultrasound to confirm the nurses findings. They were correct. Our little one was gone. My labor was induced and slowly progressed throughout the morning. Around 2:30 that afternoon, the contractions intensified and indescribable pain followed. She was born around 3:15pm. I did not pass tissue. I gave birth to a child; a tiny and perfect baby. The pain stopped and in the blink of an eye, it was over.

Wrapped in a blanket, a nurse brought our daughter to the bedside. 15.4 ounces and 11.5 inches. Long and skinny. 10 fingers. 10 toes. The effects of delivery were apparent. Bruised and battered, her skeletal system was immature and delivery took a toll on her tiny frame. There was no way we could have prepared for such a moment. This was not how I had envisioned her arrival. I had not pictured her this way. So many emotions ran through my mind as a look down at my daughter. Love, sadness, disbelief, anger, shock, disappointment, fear, agony, emptiness. It is, by far, the hardest experience of my life. Our time with her was brief. It hurt so much to see her that we quickly sent her away. I would give anything to change that moment in time. Had I only known how to handle the situation...

We were eventually taken to a room on another floor; one where we couldn't hear the the cries of babies next door. As I was wheeled into the room, I noticed a picture of a leaf with a water droplet on it hanging from the door. It almost looked like a tear. My guess, it was a sign to employees. A discrete way of alerting anyone who entered the room that it's occupants were grieving. Once we settled in, I was encouraged to take a shower because it would make me feel better. I guess, physically, it did. But emotionally, it was quite difficult. A belly that was tight and round when I walked into the hospital doors was now soft and mushy. Completely empty. I could not even look at myself in the mirror. I just dried of and got into bed. Though I was physically and mentally exhausted, I was too scared to close my eyes. I did not even attempt to try and sleep on my own. I asked for Ambien and it quickly allowed me to rest. Having been awake for over 36 hours at that point, Blake was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

We were discharged the next morning, Thursday. A transporter wheeled me to the side door where Blake was waiting with the car. I noticed my seat, still in the reclined position as I had left it Tuesday night. We would drive away from the hospital together. As we drove, everyone we passed seemed happy. They were singing to the radio, talking on the phone, laughing with others in the car. Life was normal. Our car was anything but normal. There was one less person riding. There was no car seat. No baby. How would we go home and resume a normal life? There was nothing normal about what we had just experienced. Life, as we knew it, was forever changed.

Dates

Most folks use some form of calender to remind them of important events in life. A desk calender, a wall calendar, a computer or a phone. We use something to remember anniversaries, weddings, meetings, birthdays, vacations, appointments and holidays. Things we would not want to forget.

If you were to glance at the side of our fridge to the Mary Engelbreit calendar hanging by a magnet, it would seem as if today holds no significance in our life. Our calender is blank on June 17th. Nothing has been written. Strangely enough, I can see two words clearly written, "Baby Due!!!"

The first thing I did when we got an official due date for Finley was flip to August 16th and write in big, bold letters "Baby Due!!!" I did not want to forget that date! (Even though I am pretty sure that would not have happened!) But when August came and she did not, the words I had written remained. It was all I could see when I looked at the month of August. Should I white them out? Should I scratch through them? I couldn't bear to see the words day after day. So, last year, I went straight from July to September, in an attempt to spare myself the daily visual reminder of what would not be. I preferred to occasionally lift the July page to make sure I didn't miss anything or anyone important in August! It was just easier that way and it worked.

I never had the courage to fill in Caroline's due date on this years M.E. calendar. Even though I never believed it would happen again, what if it did? It felt like a jinx that I wanted to avoid. It presumed too much. It would be there even if the baby was not and I didn't want to go through that again. At least that was my rationale.

I have talked myself out of really believing that Caroline was due today by saying,"Technically, they would have taken her at 39 weeks." That would have been a week ago. June 1oth. But that just happened to be our anniversary. So, for the sake of celebrating our anniversary, I convinced myself that an induction date was never set and the 10th didn't count either.

Basically, I have been attempting to avoid Caroline's due date in any way possible. But the mind games have not worked. I am well aware that we would be celebrating the birth of our child by now had the events of February not taken place.

When I look at the calendar, there are dates and months that have taken on a new "significance" for me. Some are harder to get through than others. To list them out:

February-We lost Caroline

April- We lost Finley

June- Caroline was due

August- Finley was due

September- Caroline was conceived

October- We learned we were pregnant with Caroline

November- Finley was conceived

December- We learned we were pregnant with Finley

Eight out of 12 months have some sort of milestone to the life and death of our girls. Please know that I do not sit and dwell on this stuff. Sure, it crosses my mind every now and then. Especially when a significant date rolls around. I think this is just part of pregnancy. Your calendar changes the minute you learn the big news. "I will be 13 weeks when we go on the cruise...Blake can't go to the AVMA conference because that is only 1 month from my due date...I am having a shower on...The baby will be 6 weeks when we go to... so on and so forth..." Every moment from the positive test on revolves around pregnancy and the birth of a baby. It is hard to change 20+ weeks of thinking and planning when the outcome is not as expected.

If I am honest, the anticipation of significant dates is much worse than the dates themselves, most of the time. Today was not a bad day. We bought and Blake planted a new Laurel in the front yard because one of our transplants bit the dust. We had a great lunch of leftovers from J. Alexanders. We drove out to Montgomery Bell State Park to play 18 holes. Well, I drove/rode while Blake played. It was a beautiful day to be outside, enjoying time off together. After dinner with friends and a little guitar hero, the day was basically over. We made it through another date. Not a tear was shed. There was little discussion about what might of been. We chose not to go there.

I am grateful for peace today. I am glad that today was not filled with sorrow. By the grace of God, this date was pretty good. But, I am glad it is over!

Hand of a father

Us

It has officially been 8 years of wedded bliss! June 10th, 2000 was the day we became "The Malones"!!!!! Our vows have been tested-for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. By the grace of God, we have survived it all together!

Most of you know there are more than 8 years to our story. Technically, today marked 15 years, 9 months and 2 days of our life as a couple. Who knew that a little flirting by the locker in the 9th grade would lead to this! Rather than posting a million pictures, I have attempted a "collage of eras," if you will...

A few fun facts:

• It all started on September, 8th 1992




• Blake had just turned 15, I was still 14




• Our parents took us to the movies the first year we were "going together"




• Our first car date was together (CHS football game!)




• We had the same schedule our 11th grade year in high school. Blake decided it would not be good for our relationship so he changed his! How mature is that?



• We were prom king and queen!




• We went to college in different states




• We never broke up




• We have lived in Lexington, KY; Auburn, AL; and Nashville, TN - I get to claim Kansas City, MO because I was stuck there for 12 weeks!!!




• Blake worked while I finished school, I worked when he went back to school




• Since we have been married we have been to St. Thomas, St. Marteen, St. Lucia, Barbados, Antigua, San Juan, San Diego, San Francisco, Palm Springs, Scottsdale, Lake Tahoe, Breckenridge, Grand Cayman, Cozumel, Belize, Costa Maya, Orlando, Curacao, Aruba...maybe more!




• We have both had our names legally changed...the middle name curse

There you have it, more pictures of the Malones than you ever wanted to see. It took me hours to go through them all. Of course it brought back a lot of great memories and may have even caused me to shed a tear or two! Lucky for me, we have changed a lot since 1992. I look back at old pictures and wonder what I was thinking?!? I chose to believe we are getting better each year!

I am blessed with an amazing husband and am grateful for the life we have been given! Happy Anniversary! Here's to many more!