Return

I haven't posted in months. I know. Because it wasn't important anymore. Since Emelia joined our lives, well, they have changed drastically. Not because of her, but in spite of her really. I don't have the energy for a long, long post tonight, but finally, I must write, no matter how long it takes.

This has been the hardest 6 months of my life. Adjusting to Emelia was fine, good, great even. She was a dream baby. Full-term, slept through the night by 6 weeks, smiling, very content, so happy. She was just wonderful. (Still is actually.) But about the time she was 6 weeks old, our lives were flipped upside down, and they just kept flipping. Andrew learned on June 26th that the station he worked for was closing. Like that day. Talk about no warning. He was offered 2 more months of work (with a bonus as incentive to stay those 2 months) as well as severance, insurance, and more for quite a while. And while we were thankful he had those two months when others only had the 1 day, we suddenly knew life WAS going to change. We had no choice in the matter.

Then, the end of July, just after my birthday, we were going camping for the weekend with Andrew's sister and her husband, and we were running late, as usual when we're going someplace for a few days, and I had to run to the grocery store for syrup because I had spaced that out before. I pulled onto the street, 4 lanes, 5 really, 2 going both ways with a turn lane in between. I moved into the middle lane and realized the car in the other lane had stopped for someone in the crosswalk, so I stopped too. And looked in my rearview mirror, just in time to see a car switch lanes and be behind me, and they weren't stopping. I was rear-ended. The jolt of the impact sent me forward way past the intersection. Thankfully the pedestrians were not in front of my car. Praise God. But I freaked. I pulled into a parking lot and desperately tried to find my phone as I got out of the car crying. Because Emelia was in the back seat. I was so scared. She was crying, because she was scared I assume, but she was fine. I was fine. There was a cop driving by that the other driver (a very elderly WWII vet) flagged down. I got ahold of Andrew and he came with Levi. Praise God Levi wasn't with me. He would have freaked too I'm sure.
Long story short? Our car was totaled, we spent several weeks with a tiny rental, trying desperately to find a new vehicle we could afford while dealing with the insurance and estimates and checks and new carseats and ugh. It was a nightmare to me. It could have been HUGELY worse. The other party's insurance covered everything, including x-rays and carseat and a new/used van, even giving us more than we had originally paid for our car. But it was stressful, and physically painful. And in the process our house was being reroofed by volunteers from the church. Off and on for weeks, almost months. My kids were being woken from naps by pounding and shaking. Men were outside my windows every day.
Oh, and Emelia started teething at 3 months old. By her 3month birthday she had 2 bottom teeth. CRAZY. She was so good, but fairly fussy and we didn't know why.
And then, Levi got sick. I mean like puking sick. Off and on so randomly. Then he was better. But it was by then the end of August and Andrew was done working. And he didn't have a new job. Now, he was getting severance, but we were both stressed. So we decided to go camping. Family time you know? Except Levi kept puking, and pooping, and feeling generally horrible. The day at the campsite was NOT fun. We finally packed up after one day and night and drove home at 10pm. Not good. Dr.'s visits and ER visits and he'd be fine for a week and then randomly puke again. It was awful. No answers other than a bad bug that just wasn't working it's way out fast enough. No tests showed anything wrong.
By this time it's September, and I was losing it. I mean really losing it. Like can hardly make dinner and get my children alive through the day. It was awful. I didn't recognize the depression at the time. Looking back it just seems like "huh, that wasn't fun" but at the time, it felt like our entire world was falling apart. And our marriage? Oh man, not good. This is where you don't get details, except to say it wasn't good.
So not good that I was at my wit's end. I didn't know what else to do, other than leave, but I knew that wasn't the answer. But it hurt so much to keep living my daily reality. I honestly was just tossing up which would hurt worse.
We had our home group from church one Thursday night, and some things happened that day and that evening that made me so upset with my husband. So much so that we came home and got our kids to bed and had it out. I mean OUT. I've never seen either one of us like that. But it was needed. Sort of a "Wow we both realizes this sucks and we're hurt and we're angry so what's going to happen?". Your move Bobby. (chess reference from my youth, don't ask me why) And I was honest, with myself, with my husband. And he called our pastor, and set up an appointment for the next day. I was so angry and sad still I could barely sleep or deal the next day. But we went, and got help. And are continueing to get help. God is picking us out of the miry clay.

Oh, and ironically, Andrew's truck died this fall too. The same week we ALL got the stomach flu, BAD. So new car again. Praise God for that bonus paycheck. New/Used vehicle shopping was getting old, but once again God guided us.

A friend asked me once this fall if sometimes I just felt like screaming. And the answer was "Yes, but what good would it do?" It almost felt like God was using a huge REDO card on us. Just wiping everything clean to start over. And frankly, maybe we needed it. I did sort of wonder if our house was going to burn down at some point though.

For the first time in a long time, I have hope for the future. Yes, I talked to my pastor and then saw my Dr. about my post-partum depression. I never thought that would be me, but between being post-partum and everything falling to pieces in our lives, I needed help. And it did help. It helped me sleep, something I don't think I had done well in months, and help me be excited about the day, about life. About living it.
But above all my hope is in God. He alone can bring us forth from the darkness.

And so we're here, December 8th, almost 9th actually. And I'm crying tears of overwhelming sadness. Because it hit me today. I missed it. The date in November, when I lost my baby. And I frankly don't even remember what the actual date is without looking. In some ways, this means I've healed. That I am and have moved past it. I don't think you ever "get over" it, but you can move past it. To where sorrow doesn't consume you.

But I'm crying, because I didn't mourn on that day. I forgot. And I'm angry I forgot. I never want to forget my babies. My 3 children who are with Jesus. Where there is no pain, no sorrow, and where there is no night.

And it's December, and this time of year always makes me cry. Ever since Levi was born. I remember those days, those days of waiting for his birth, and those incredibly lonely days after his birth. Of sitting in the NICU and just not wanting it to be real. To not want to be the Momma of a preemie, but to just pretend he would go home and we'd be fine. To hope against what would be the reality of several years of carefullness because he was so fragile, his lungs just not up to par. Even now when he coughs I cringe, waiting. The lonliness of that time can overwhelm me if I let it. The pure sleep-deprived willing myself to carry on emotions that threatened to overtake me. The memory of sobbing my eyes out in my car with my Dad because I didn't have the energy to drive myself back to the hospital by myself. It all comes rushing back and blindsides me when I'm not looking.

And so I sit here tonight crying. Remembering, and mourning again. Not wallowing, but letting myself return to those moments. With my newborn tiny son in the NICU. To that Saturday night after passing my baby, making my husband be the one to...To those days around Levi's 1st Birthday, loving and celebrating him, and mourning the baby we lost. Even to that June day when we lost 2 more babies. It all aches in me. And the ache spreads to the hurts in our marriage. The repair that is still being processed. The years of hurt and sorrow, and the years ahead of sheer work.

And then there was this song, "stumbled upon" as I started to write this post.


And God overwhelmed me. In a huge way. In these past 6 months, I have felt lost. From my God and my Savior. I've never questioned His sovereignty, I've even seen His blessings in my husband's life and changes and attitude. In the amazing way my sweet baby girl is so "Easy". In a new friend, a dear kindred spirit of a best friend who I never expected, but who has walked along with me as we go through our own valleys. And carried each other along the way at times. In providing us with the resources for 2 new/used vehicles. In so many things. In our son finally going several weeks without puking. But even while acknowledging God's blessings and sovereignty, I was still going "THIS HURTS GOD!!!" Screaming it, obviously. But He's still God, patiently waiting for me to realize my finite mind will never comprehend. Because if it could, if I could plan it, His Son would never have been sent to Earth. There had to be a better way right? But "oh, the glory of it all".

So I'm humbled, and this Christmas season I'm making progress. I'm ready to celebrate more than just a 3-year old's birthday, to celebrate more than just presents and a fun time with family and friends. I'm ready to let go. To let God heal my heart. To let God handle the whole picture. Because I just don't. And I'm sure I don't really want to.

Christmas isn't just the beginning of the story. It IS the story. Because as this song says
"Oh, the glory of it all
Is He came here
For the rescue of us all
That we may live
For the glory of it all"

There's the purpose in Christmas. The Babe who was Jesus was born, For the glory of it all. It would lead to the cross, and our redemption, but it was about Christmas too. The hope of the redemption to come.

So my heart needs to heal. I need to give forgiveness, and to beg for it. I need to mourn and remember, but to be thankful. Because there are lyrics in that song that get it so right:

"All is lost
Find Him there
Find Him there
After night
Dawn is there
Dawn is there
And after all
Falls apart
He repairs
He repairs"

I've been through so much night, but He was there. It's all fallen apart, many times over, but He repairs. And I'm so glad.

"Oh, everything will change
Things will never be the same
(We will never be the same)"

We will never be the same. Praise God. For the Glory of it all.

I Know Him, and I Call Him Daddy

The God of Isaiah 40. I know Him.

The God of verse 1 who is a God of comfort. I know Him.
The God of verses 4-6 who deserves all the glory. I know Him.
The God of verse 8 who's words last forever, I know Him.
The God of might in verse 10, I know Him.
The God who gently leads me as a mother in verse 11. I know Him well.
The God of incomprehensible greatness and understanding and strength in verses 12-26, I want to know Him more.

The God of verses 27-31? He is the God who has brought me to this point in my life. He is the God I clung to in the NICU watching my son's every heartbeat on a monitor. He is the God who gave me strength when I had none. Who heard my every heart's groaning when I couldn't even find words to pray. He is the God who loves me, died for me, and knows my heart. The God who wants me to wait, and will give me strength in the waiting, when I have none of my own. I know Him, and I call Him Daddy.

Don't base your view of God as a Daddy on your earthly father. Rather, base your view of your earthly father on God, the perfect Father. The self-proclaimed Daddy (Matthew 6:9, The Lord's Prayer shouldn't be translated Father, but Abba, which means Daddy)who knows my every hurt and loves me perfectly.

I know this God, but not well enough. But I can call Him Daddy. And He hears me.

The Retelling: Worst Day

I finally got to wear normal clothes again! :) Holding our boy on December 21st. Trying out some Christmas hats. Yes, I'm smiling. I had to, it was a picture and I was holding my son. (That's the feeding tube in Levi's nose by the way, not oxygen. Thankfully he didn't need that.)

Monday, December 21st. I can't say this was the worst day ever in my life anymore. Losing our second baby now has to rival that. But it was one of the worst.

Let's start with some positive/funny things.
I do remember trying to change Levi's diaper in the morning with Andrew. And Levi continuously ppeed and pooped everywhere. I swear we used like 4 diapers before that was over. It was pretty ridiculously funny.

Then I was discharged. I no longer had to stay in the hospital. Which in theory isn't so bad, but it was. Just imagine how excited/scared you were to go home with your baby. Now subtract the baby. So now you're just sad and scared. That's bordering on it.
Not to count in that we had to pack up over 2 weeks worth of belongings that had made it to the hospital. And move into a motel. And go find a hospital grade pump for well, you know. And you're in a strange town. And then you have to go shopping for undergarments to wear while using said pump. And have a prescription for incredibly strong narcotics filled. And try to find a few other necessities that you well need. And it's 4 days before Christmas so the stores are just INSANE. And all you want to do is cry because you're in intense pain physically and emotionally, you're a disaster. Your teeny-tiny baby is all "alone" in the hospital and you're out here fighting not happy Christmas shoppers. Yeah, it sucked.

We did race back to the hospital in the evening because the March of Dimes was having a pasta dinner for all parents who had children in the NICU. Let me tell you, that helped so much! The March of Dimes was an unbelievable resource for me especially while Levi was in the NICU. Not only did they provide practical opportunities every week, like the meal and a cpr course, they also provided a chance to visit with other Mommas and Dads and have someone to share your experience with. As well as emotionally encouraging things like making a bracelet with Levi's name on it and doing some scrapbooking.
So the dinner really encouraged us while feeding our tummies. I also got to talk to other Mommas who had had a c-section and learn that I would in fact walk straight again.

So then we went and spent a little bit of time with Levi and Andrew changed his diaper all by himself. :) I was very proud.

Then we had to leave. You see, the next day Andrew was going back to work and I was staying near the hospital to be near Levi. So I would be mostly all alone. So we went shopping for some breakfast food, lunch stuff and snacks. I remember standing in the milk section of the grocery store and seeing a Momma with her little baby in the cart cooing at her. And I burst out sobbing. Just cried my eyes out into Andrew. Because that should have been me, but it wasn't. My baby wasn't with me, he was in the hospital without us there. That was the worst moment I think. I'm sure the woman thought I was nuts but I didn't care. I just hurt so much.

The good news? I got to sleep in the same bed as Andrew for the first time in almost 3 weeks. That was good. I tried to sleep.

Sidenote: I'm going to tell this now so that I don't have to think about it again: We were currently staying in a cheaper but okay motel because it was what we could afford. The hospital had a guest house but it was actually more expensive than this motel. Some dear women that Pastor Darryl found through our sister church in that town had volunteered to drive me back and forth to the hospital since I wasn't allowed to drive for about a week. Which was great, until we realized how umm shall I say "druggie" the motel was. So on Wednesday our churched chipped in and I moved to the motel/house that was on hospital grounds. It was super nice and they took great care of me. But it was an emotional unfortunate incident that if it hadn't of happened, it would have been less stressful. As it was, I spent one night in that motel alone and I cried my heart out, because I was alone. But it did get better. It's just yucky when I think about it, so I really don't want to talk about it more. But those dear ladies were wonderful and blessed. And our church, they were awesome. Not only did they help with lodging that first week, the next week a family in our church put us up in a rental house they owned that wasn't furnished, but gave us a place to sleep. I couldn't handle that the first week, I still couldn't walk well enough and such. But it was awesome the second week. Some friends in our Sunday School class also fixed our car which had broken down before all this began. So after that first week we got our car back and I could drive myself finally.
All good things. So I didn't want to end too negatively. Except to say those first few nights were incredibly hard. So let's not talk about it again. Thanks.

The Retelling: The First Few Days...

So now you've heard most of the details that I can remember of Levi's BIRTHday. The next few days get a little fuzzy, I'll be honest. Here's the thing, I had a c-section. I was on amazing pain killers and really didn't realize how much I needed them. I was so concerned about Levi being in the NICU and spending every moment I could with him, I really didn't take care of myself like I should have. I really think it's only by God's grace that I didn't develop any infections or hurt myself while I was pushing myself a little more than I should have. But enough about me. All that to say I didn't realize how much I was running on emotion and adrenaline and how much I needed the pain killers the nurses kept making me take. So Until Monday things are a bit fuzzy. So I'll give this my best shot. I took to writing down the essentials in a notebook. But it's very basic info.

On Saturday the 19th, Levi's first full day of life, both of our families were still here. At 5am I was wide awake and just wanting to see my baby so a nurse wheeled me down to the NICU. Andrew was exhausted so he stayed in bed. Now I understand why but at the time I didn't want to sleep, I just wanted to be near my baby. The nurse was just changing him and giving him a bit of formula/colostrum and Levi got put in clothes for the first time! Up to then he'd just been in his diaper in the "giraffe" incubator. The "giraffe" was an incubator that the lid can be raised up on a high neck. Hence the "giraffe" nickname. I got to hold my boy too! It was a precious sweet time.

I did try to go back to bed after that visit but I just couldn't sleep. I was too adrenalized and the morphine was still in effect. Around 11am Grandma and Grandpa Otto got to hold Levi for the first time before they had to leave. We also tried nursing for the first time. Interesting experience to say too little. I do remember that Andrew taught me how to change Levi's diaper. It was actually one of the few blessings of having him in the NICU was that Andrew learned more about him right away. That's helped us a lot.
Pastor Darryl and Pati also stopped by to visit. What a blessing!
In the evening our friends Jim and Teri came to see Levi as well. Andrew's family was in seeing and holding Levi at the time so I was out in the lounge visiting. (Only 4 visitors at a time, the NICU's small) While visiting my Uncle Romane and Aunt Judy surprised us by visiting. Their daughter lived near the hospital and they stopped by. Shocked me but what fun! By this point my morphine had wore off and someone wheeled me back to my room. I so wanted to stay and see Levi more but I was sooooo exhausted and in pain.

Sunday, Dec 20th is a little clearer in my head. Not much but a little. I again was awake at 5am and went to see Levi. He had his first poopy diaper which was really good! I got to change his diaper which at the time, was HUGE. Just to touch him was so wonderful. I guess that's one way to explain what exactly the NICU was like. It was not like a normal hospital delivery where baby is in your room 24/7. I got a few visits a day with my son. Changing his diaper was a blessing.
We tried some nursing again throughout the day. Levi was just way too small to get it.
Our friends Jay and Nicole stopped by as well. Jay was brave enough to hold our tiny boy.
Andrew's parents had to leave on Sunday as well, so it was just us that evening.
I do remember that they wanted me to try to nurse Levi again but it just made me cry. Because it wasn't working and I was exhausted. I just wanted to hold my boy. So I did, while he was gavauged. (fed through the feeding tube that was basically a permanent part of his face at this point. That's how Levi got almost all his nutrients the first 2 weeks of his life.)

I'll fill you in on Monday Dec 21, 2009 tomorrow. It's just too hard and emotional tonight.
I will tell you this. It was at the time THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE. Only losing our second baby rivals it. So stay tuned. It does get better after that. I promise. Like this year, Way better.