An unexpected diagnosis

We had a pretty crazy birth with our firstborn (see the first part of that series here), and I went back and forth with our current pregnancy about whether I wanted to have another C-section or not. After doing quite a bit of research, we felt like it was safer to opt for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean).

However, we went for a consultation this week that didn't end quite as expected. Although I knew most of what the doctor said, she mentioned that in our ultrasound that day it showed the baby has a velamentous cord insertion --- meaning that the umbilical cord actually doesn't reach the placenta, and the blood vessels then travel to the placenta unprotected. She said that could mean they could become compressed during labor and restrict blood and oxygen flow to the baby.

I just nodded my head as she talked, trying to absorb in my pregnancy-fogged brain what she was saying. It didn't mean we couldn't try for a VBAC. It was just up to us.

My mind fought against this news. Mainly because I had my heart set on a natural birth this time. We want more kids and having a natural birth would mean we wouldn't be limited by how many C-sections I've had. I don't want to not be able to lift up our daughter after surgery, because I don't want her to feel left out and like baby is getting special treatment. I had a horrible recovery last time, and I don't want to go through that again.

I fought back tears a bit as Nate and I talked through what the doctor had said.

Really, there is no answer right now. I have weekly appointments to check on the baby until it's due, and that should answer what the best thing is to do. However, with my already higher risk birth, adding this complication that can double the chance of stillbirth makes it seem like a C-section is on the table pretty firmly again.

We know that God is in control, and we certainly are not. If our pregnancies have taught us anything, it's that we really have no control in this whole process. I'm glad we have a God we can rely on when we can't do anything in the interim. When I was able to process a little bit and talk with my husband, we talked about how the most important thing is to get this baby here safely, and our future children are in the hands of God. If he plans a C-section for us now, then that may be our answer for how many children we are to have. We just need to figure out what the safest arrival for our baby will be right now.

As I started to research velamentous cord insertion, I ran across the statistic that about 33 percent of first trimester miscarriages have this issue and 26 percent of second trimester miscarriages. That made me think, maybe it's a miracle that our baby is alive and thriving with this condition. It could have ended differently. We had first trimester bleeding, diagnosed as a rather large subchorionic hematoma, that frightened us after our previous miscarriage (I wrote about that here). Instead of looking at this latest diagnosis as another scary proclamation, I need to look at it with gratefulness that God has sustained our little man through something that claims the lives of many growing little ones.

Plus, once VCI is diagnosed, it seems like it's not too scary and just needs extra monitoring. Without diagnosis and monitoring, it can be much riskier. Maybe the desire to have a VBAC was God's will to have an extra ultrasound and reveal this condition that allows us to make wiser decisions for the safety of our baby. Maybe if we hadn't uncovered this condition it would have led to something more serious during birth.

So today, I'm going to choose to be grateful. I'm grateful that our little man is growing well despite this abnormality, that he's a good size, that he's active, that he's alive. I'm grateful that we know exactly what's going on with him. I'm grateful that we're able to have doctor appointments to uncover issues such as this. I'm grateful I'm not in control but God is.

Good-bye Noveske; we love you

 We put down our sweet dog on Monday, and I've been trying to process that loss the past couple of days. Last night, it seemed like the only way I could get out what I was thinking and feeling was writing a letter to our daughter --- so I thought I would share it.

Dear baby girl,

I sit here crying and holding a disgusting cat stuffed animal that our bulldog, Noveske, held in her mouth while she slept so many nights, and I'm search for meaning as I cry out to God to help with the pain I feel in my heart. So I decided to write you a letter for the inevitable time that you will also experience the loss of a beloved pet.

You won't remember Noveske, which is sad, because she was the best dog ever --- your dad's and my first baby, which means she was spoiled rotten. Although stubborn as a mule, she had a heart of gold. She tenderly put up with a pet rat we brought into the family and patiently accepted the pokes and topples from you as a baby and even you playing with her food while she was trying to eat when you were a toddler. I already miss her scent and breathed in her dog bed smell and thought how I'd never again smell her paws that smelled exactly like Doritos.

She got congestive heart failure, and she went downhill quickly. I didn't see all the signs of failure, because I still saw my baby --- honestly, I've beaten myself up a bit for not being more patient with her because I thought she was just being a punk when now I realize her body was just starting to fail her. The day we put her down, there are a few moments I wish I could change. I would go inside and lay by her while she napped right before the vet came --- even though company came by and I had been cuddling with her all day, and I'm sure she really wanted that nap. I would clarify with the vet that your dad and I were switching places so they didn't rush so fast and she was left alone for 20 seconds with them while I took you outside and Dad took his place by her. But you know what? It's over. So, whatever happens with your beloved pet in those last moments --- let it go. It's over. It isn't right to relive the details and what could have been different. Process them, feel them, and then let them go.

Don't get rid of everything immediately. Did I think I'd go get her gross stuffed animal to smell and cuddle? No. But I did. Give yourself some time, even if you need to put it out of sight for a bit.

Talk about what you're feeling. I tend to stay quiet, especially with grief. But talking about our decision to put Novie down and why has helped me be confident in our decision, even amidst the grief.

It's OK to be sad, for as long as you need to. You're such a tough kid. When I was crying, you looked at your dad and wondered why. You were too young to understand, but Dad said, "She's sad. It's OK to be sad."

Look for the good God is working. Novie's impending death helped keep my mind off the due date of a baby we lost to miscarriage. You have a cold that has helped keep my mind from constantly being on Novie.

Let the sorrow help others. I hope I have empathy for those who lose a pet now. This has also reminded me to pray for those who have lost more than a pet, for people we know who are walking into a room and expecting to see a husband or wife there instead of a dog. We are blessed our human family is intact.

Remember the good times and the little things --- the feeling of Novie's soft, squishy neck that I buried my face in when I told her good-bye; her fat, stubby tail that only wagged when she really meant it; the feeling of her heavy body draped across me when she cuddled; her smooshy face that sometimes looked like she melted into the blankets; the time Dad had to come pick us up on a walk because she couldn't go any farther; her dry, cat-like tongue. What do you remember about your pet? Tell someone. Write it down.

Know there is a time for everything. "...a time to be born and a time to die...a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance." (Ecclesiastes 3:2a&4)

Get out of the house. Don't just sit around. Get out and do something. We went bowling, got burgers and ate ice cream. We smiled, and it took our minds off the grief and made nice memories to look back on that day.

Know that I'm here. I've been through this sorrow, and I'm so sorry that you're experiencing grief, and I wish I could fix it for you. But I'm here -- for a hug or just to listen. I love you so so much, and I'm so so sorry for your loss.

It will get better.

I love you,

Mama

People without hope don't want to have children

 I just read this article about how millennials are having children at a far lesser rate than previous generations, and some are even choosing to undergo sterilization so that their choice to be child-free is permanent.

It's cited in the article that people are afraid to bring children into this world because of how messed up everything is. And also it says that they don't see a hope for this world, so they don't want to have children because they just want to behave as hedonistically as possible.

Honestly, I understand that.

If there's no hope for the future, why not have as much fun now as you can? Why not travel, see the sights and enjoy having no responsibility? I can see those people saying kids are just a responsibility that they don't need to have.

We almost decided to not have children. We agreed that the world is messed up, and did we really want to bring children into that?

We found God worked in our hearts and changed our minds to help us realize that if we want the world to be any better that we need to be the ones to raise children that make the world better. In addition to that, we don't believe that this is all there is. We have the hope in Jesus Christ that he came to Earth, died and rose from the dead to beat death so that we can accept his free gift of grace and salvation so that someday we can live with him in a perfect place where there is no more pain, no more sickness, no more death, no more anxiety, no more sadness. And we pray that we raise our children right so they also know Jesus and also will spend eternity in heaven with us.

I understand people who don't have that hope and don't know Jesus and believe that all there is is life here on Earth not wanting to bring children into it. Why subject them to pain and sickness and sadness and death?

However, we believe this is only temporary. But life with Jesus and life in a perfect place that he's prepared for us is forever after death. With that, we want to create as many souls as possible that will have that hope. We pray daily that our daughter will know Jesus and will spend eternity in heaven with him and with us. We had a miscarriage recently, and I am thankful that we created a soul that has already been blessed to be with Jesus forever.

In the article, one girl said why not get sterilized now because she lives in Texas and if she gets pregnant, she won't be able to abort her baby? For her, I kind of agree that sterilization would be a smart thing to do. Better at this point to not have any children at all than to have the chance of a child being killed.

It sounds crazy to get sterilized when you're young, but for those without hope and a future, I think I understand the reasoning.

I'm just thankful to God that he worked in our hearts to help us see that this is not all there is and that we have hope and a future with Jesus forever and that we can provide that hope to our children. And our hope is that our children will spread that message and even more people will believe and have a future hope with Jesus as well.

He is with you

 Our daughter recently noticed the baby photos of me, her and my husband hanging in her room, and pretty much daily she wants to give them each a kiss.

One morning, I just thought, "She loves babies. She would have been such a good sister. Why isn't she going to be a sister?"

She still could someday, but it just seems like she's ready now. We're ready now for a new little one. It's hard to not know why our baby won't be arriving in March as we expected.

"But now, this is what the Lord says --- he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel:

    'Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name, you are mine.
    'When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.' " (Isaiah 43:1-2)

We're not promised an explanation. In Job, we see God talking to Satan about why Job went through his trials, but Job didn't see that. However, we're told trials are for our good and for God's glory, so that should be reason enough.

We're not told life won't be hard or painful, in fact, we're told it will be. But we're told we will remain afloat in the river of struggle and unscorched in the heat of fire. Because we're God's, and not just one of many, but by name. He knows each of us --- we're his.

I thank God for being with us through it all. He isn't just watching as we go through the pain of miscarriage; he's WITH US. He's not standing on the shore and watching; he's with us in the torrent of rushing water. That's so much more comforting. Think of it like a lifeguard, who loves you, not just watching to make sure you're not drowning as you flail while learning to swim but one who is in the water next to you, holding you up when you need a breath and a break, promising you'll get strong if you keep going, encouraging you, making sure nothing will happen to you.

God is with you every step of the way.

What's our ultimate goal as parents?

 After our miscarriage, I decided to put together cards people had written, Bible verses that spoke to me, our ultrasound pictures and other thoughts in a notebook my mother-in-law gave me when it happened. I hope that maybe someday my children can learn from the lessons that I have been given through this experience, and I thought I'd share some of them on here too.

If you know anyone someday going through the same thing, please share these blogs. I'd love for someone else to find hope through what we've gone through, for God to redeem this situation and find glory if I can help someone else find him through the hardship.

---

I decided to listen to an audiobook about Jeannie Gaffigan --- a comedian's wife who had brain surgery to remove a pear-sized tumor --- because I knew I needed some perspective. It turned out that although they have five kids, she mentioned miscarriages and told the story of going into preterm labor at 22 weeks, after seeing a healthy baby girl on an ultrasound only a couple of weeks before.

They knew the baby couldn't survive at that age, and she only lived a few hours. Jeannie asked a nun to save her baby girl, and the nun said, "What is your ultimate goal as parents? Is it to get your children to heaven? Well, this one's already going."

I was driving when I hear that, and I called my husband, tears coming to our eyes, because that's our ultimate goal -- for our children to get to heaven and love Jesus. Well, we already have one baby there. I thank the Lord Jesus we will get to spend eternity with our child, even though we missed a few years here.

"Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and you right hand shall hold me. If I say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,' even the darkness is as light with you. For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them." (Psalm 139:7-16)

I prayed this over our baby. I was fearfully and wonderfully made, and so was this little one, in miniature, perfect form. I know God saw this baby, and he knew exactly how long it would be on this earth as a blessing to us. He wasn't surprised when our babe went to be with him.

Things looked dark here to us, but that darkness is light to him, because he lights it up and because he sees the victory that comes at the end when Jesus will finally come back and defeat evil once and for all. I am so thankful for our child and that he or she now makes his or her bed in heaven, where Jesus is. I absolutely cannot wait to meet him or her, give him or her a hug and tell him or her I love them. We will get to spend forever together.

To others going through miscarriage --- there's hope beyond the now

I wrote this the week it happened, but I couldn't share it. It still hurts --- I'm sure it always will. But I pray someday these next few blogs will help someone else going through the same pain.

----

With a spotting concern, I drove to the ER, hoping to get an ultrasound to see that our baby was kicking away and there wasn't anything unusual going on.

However, as a doctor entering the hospital for his shift told me to sit down and wait a minute until a nurse could check in with me, tears starting overflowing the fear that churned inside me.

The intercom turned on.

"Have you been helped?"

"No."

"What can we do?"

"I'm 15 weeks pregnant and I'm having some bleeding," I said, barely able to say the words through my the tears breaking my voice.

----

The ultrasound popped up on the screen of the cart that was rolled into my room, and the physician's assistant that had walked past me when I first entered the ER entrance rolled the wand along my bare stomach.

"I don't like it," he murmured to himself.

I saw the blurred image on the screen, and I could see the bright spot in the center of the little body that a few weeks ago was blinking quickly. However, that bright spot was still.

He kept rolling the wand around in different angles.

"I don't see a heartbeat."

A sob rocked my body, and I pressed my hands over my eyes as I lay on the table, trying to keep my belly still as I cried so that the PA-C could continue his job. I felt the nurse's hand gently on my blanket-covered foot.

"It doesn't mean...that's just what I'm seeing right now and I want to tell you what I'm seeing."

No heartbeat on the monitor, no heartbeat other than my own on the doppler. The PA-C called a larger hospital that my OB-Gyn was based out of and decided I needed a more formal ultrasound.

"I hope I'm wrong, but I don't think I am," he said.

----

We headed to the other hospital, but I told my husband what had happened and that I could see on the monitor there wasn't a heartbeat. Of course, I prayed that God would do a miracle and we would arrive there to find our baby was just resting and was up and moving.

It wasn't to be.

The ultrasound tech turned the lights off and started by "taking some routine pictures" of my uterus and ovaries. But I knew that if the baby was OK, she would have said immediately that she saw a heartbeat. She didn't.

She measured the baby, and the screen read 10w6d. I was supposed to be 15 weeks along.

She pulled up a view of the baby again.

"Do you want a photo for a keepsake?"

That was it. That was her way of saying it.

Our baby was gone.

"Did I read that right? The baby is measuring at 10 weeks?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"That's when we had our first ultrasound. It was fine then, with a strong heartbeat. It must have happened right after."

She showed us where the skin had thickened on the little skull. She said that only happens when the child has been gone for a few weeks.

The ultrasound tech left the room after kindly asking if she could get our daughter some crackers as she was starting to get antsy. We declined but thanked her for the thoughtfulness.

Tears welled as I asked my husband if he would pray.

"I don't know what to say," I said.

He prayed for us --- for our sorrow --- and he thanked God that our baby was in the arms of Jesus and was able to circumvent the harshness of this world.

I hadn't thought of that. We had created a new soul, and although that little one never made it out to this earth, it was still a human and that meant it went to heaven that day more than a month before. It meant that it had the incredible blessing of never having to experience pain, disappointment, illness, heartache, fear. It was able to escape immediately to a place that God has created for all of his children.

That kind of blew my mind. If there's anything to be thankful for, it's that. What a blessing that our child never had to experience suffering.

----

I didn't want to tell people. I selfishly didn't want to hear the sympathetic words or to see anyone else grieve our loss. It's too personal. I didn't want constant reminders as I tried to sort through my thoughts. My man is my rock, and he did what needed to be done. I don't know how I'd do life without him or get through something like this without him.

My thoughts are still churning. One second I'm fine. The next I'm heartbroken that I'll never get to see this child, never get to hold it in my arms. I'm terrified at how I'll feel when I have the surgery and I'm actually no longer pregnant, when this child that I know has been gone for a while is truly gone.

But our Romans commentary, which I made my husband read when I couldn't get the words out, talked about how the Holy Spirit suffers with us. Literally, that night it said when a mother holds her lifeless child, the Spirit is there is anguish right alongside us. No one can tell me that God wasn't directly speaking to me through that passage on that exact night.

Plus, the next day, as I continued to lean on Romans 8:26-27 --- now inscribed on a necklace I wear with a heart that bears the pregnancy and infant loss awareness ribbon --- my best friend texted me that she was praying this exact verse over us.

Again, you can't tell me that our dear Father wasn't speaking directly to us through other people.

So I keep crying out, "Lord." That's it. I don't really have any other words. I keep relying on the Holy Spirit to do the talking for me.

I look at my life, and there is so much good. I'm so thankful I have my daughter to hold onto when my arms are empty, and I have my husband to hold me when I can't hold myself up. Mostly, I'm thankful that our dear Savior has given us hope that those who believe in his sacrifice on the cross will have life after death. So it breaks my heart, but I pray that Jesus will tell our child --- who is now whole and perfect --- that I love him or her and I can't wait to meet him or her.

And I pray that on this side, good comes out of this as well. Maybe it will be a way that we can tell people about the hope of Jesus. Maybe it will be a way that we can empathize with others in the future. Maybe it will be a way for God to bring us even closer together, to make us more appreciative, to make us stronger, to help us know him more --- I mean, God lost a son too, on the cross. Maybe we'll never know what the good is, but God does. He promises that his plan is for the good of those who love him. There's going to be many more ups, downs, questions, fears, tears, thankfulness, pain and love, but I'm so blessed that I have hope beyond the now.

A 99-cent dress

 I looked in my closet and pulled out the black and gold dress that I had planned to wear to an upcoming wedding.

It's been a few years since we've been to a wedding, so most of my nice dresses have been put away for a while.

I slipped into the dress and looked in the mirror, but it didn't fit the way that I thought it would. I tried on a few more and came across one that fit better than I thought, but it was about 12 years old and I thought maybe it was out of style --- or maybe I've had it for so long that it's back in style!

I had pretty much decided on this gray dress when I spotted a darkened stain on the skirt. I put some stain remover on it and washed it, but I guess a decade-old stain doesn't wash away so easily, so there I was back at square one.

There were a few more options, another older dress that still looks nice but has been worn plenty of times, or the black and gold original option that was OK but nothing stunning.

We're tightening up our budget a lot now that I'm not working, and I knew we didn't have any extra funds this month to be buying new clothes, especially for just one occasion, but I decided to head to a local discount store with our daughter to see if I could find anything.

I didn't.

So, I took a walk through Goodwill on our way back home and spotted a peach dress I thought might work. Dresses were $4.75, more than I really wanted to spend (yes, I didn't want to spend $5...) but I tried it on anyway.

I took it into the dressing room and saw that it had a red tag, which meant it was on sale. I didn't know how much, but I thought usually sale meant half-price at Goodwill.

The dress was nice, and I sent a video to my husband to see if he liked it. He was busy at work, so I walked around the store a bit to wait to see if he answered. He wasn't able to, and I debated whether I really needed to spend money on another dress when I had suitable options at home.

I decided to go for it and knew I could return it if I decided against it this week.

I took the dress to the register, and the cashier rang it up.

"99 cents," she said.

My eyes widened a bit.

"Wow. Well, can't beat that."

"Did you need the receipt?"

"No, I'm good." With a price like that, I didn't figure I needed to worry about returning it.

I took the dress home and tried it on with a pair of pumps and liked the look.

I had told my friend that I wasn't finding anything suitable to wear for the wedding, and she said she'd pray for me. I texted her and thanked her for her prayers and said I had found something, and for only 99 cents.

I have struggled a bit with what to pray for lately. We have some big things in our lives, and I bring them to God but I don't want to be too needy about material things. Especially with what has been happening to Christians around the world, most recently with those in Afghanistan, I just haven't felt like I could pray for trivial things.

But you know what? It seems silly, but that dress was like a little message from God telling me that he cares. He cares how I feel. And I thought, if God would bless me with something so silly as a 99-cent dress, why do I think that he doesn't care about the bigger things, trivial in the grand scheme of things or not?

It's a message that's been repeated several times in the last few days now that I look at it. Our pastor on Sunday said he was convicted during worship that he has been focusing on us pursuing God and loving God and not about how much God loves us. Our old pastor said in a sermon that I read that if we as parents, as evil humans, give gifts to our children, how much more so does God give good gifts to us? Nate even commented on a song on the radio that began with a nod to the verses about how the lilies of the fields don't worry about clothes and the sparrows don't worry about food but God cares for them, how much more does he care about us? Then the book I'm reading has been all about how God loves us and pursues us because we are valuable.

If you don't know it today --- God loves you. He cares about you. He's not bothered by your life; he has given you your life and he wants you to share it with him.

We are his first love, and he'll never stop trying to win us back.