Utter Heartbreak

Back when I wrote about Lois' cancer diagnosis and quick road to recovery, I wrote how hard it is for me to write when hard stuff happens. It's like a wall slams shut for me, and to pry it open seems impossible. So weeks, months, go by and this blog gets ignored because I am afraid and unwilling. Well, I might be seven weeks late on writing this, but I am now catching up, and ready to share my biggest heartbreak I have experienced in life this far. 

As I mentioned in my last post, seven weeks ago our world was shaken. We lost a baby, and it's been devastating. I haven't talked about it much with anyone, besides Jon, because I feel raw and vulnerable and talking about it with people exposes the wound and sometimes they say things (accidentally, never ever on purpose) that makes only cuts deeper rather than covering it with love and compassion. Because of a fear of how people will receive my grieving process, I have shied away from writing anything about it. But then I put a post up on Facebook (I will share that later down) and I realized that I needed to write about it. If I want this blog to be a representation of our life, a small glimpse of what life looks like for us to people looking it, it needs to be honest. I have to write about the hard, impossible, heart-breaking stuff too. Miscarriage is so heavily kept in the dark, such an empty and isolating and heartbreaking thing to go through, and we feel as though we can't talk about it. We need to talk about it. We need to be pouring life and love into one another and saying to mom's who have lost a baby that IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT and WE SUPPORT YOU and WE SEE YOUR PAIN and we acknowledge how UTTERLY DEVASTATING this is. So, my beloved friends and family, me stepping into the light and not hiding starts with writing it out here. Please, love me. Show me compassion. Stand with me. No judgement, no deciding yourself if I am or am not "handling it well" or "moving on". Let's promise to love each other well as I allow you in and to walk this journey with me. I promise to not hold it against you when you are at a loss for words, or say something that is just not helpful, because I know you mean well and that you are trying to love me. Let's be gentle together. 

Summer 2014, just before Quinnlyn's first birthday, we started talking about another baby. I knew Jon really wanted another one - he brought up a second baby when Q was just four months old! He then promised to not bring it up again until I was ready, which I was NOT at that point - and I knew that I needed to decide what I wanted. When I thought about our future, I knew I wanted two kids, I just didn't feel like our family was "incomplete" like so many people talk about. Quinny was such an amazing baby, happy and easy, and we had such a good rhythm, that I felt nervous to change that and start again. We decided to wait a while and to think about it more. After a few months, I realized that before we had Quinnlyn, I never had that feelings of "oh I REALLY want to be a mom and now is the time to have a baby!". It wasn't like that. It was a very thought out and calculated decision. And it terrified me, because I didn't feel the pull that so many moms talk about. But yet, here she is, and I can't even remember my world before her. She changed everything, and she showed me parts of my heart, desires in my heart to be a mommy, that I didn't even know existed. So I knew that I would just need to take the same approach with a second one - a thought out, calculated decision to have another child, knowing that once that sweet baby was here, I would forget my hesitations, and forget what life was even like before they existed. So in November 2014 we started trying. We were naive. We thought it would be easy. My mom and mother in law both talk all the time about how they had their babies so easy, they didn't have to try for months, years. It just happened. And Quinny was the same way. We started really trying for her in September and were pregnant by December that year. We were hopeful that our kids would be right around 2 years apart, and that we would have a baby for sure by Christmas 2015. January came and I made a silly goal where I wanted 2015 to be the year that we bought a house and had a baby. I was so looking forward to how the year was going to turn out. We didn't really tell anyone we were trying because we didn't want to be asked about it all the time, and oh how fun to tell the people you are pregnant as a surprise! But then months started passing. I started panicking, thinking that maybe something was wrong. I became obsessed. I tracked everything and wrote things down and used an app to keep track of it all, and my heart broke every single month when it was a no go. I couldn't understand why it was taking so long. I also have this problem where I always think I'm pregnant, that this MUST have been the month it happened, so I bought about 5000 (not really that many of course) pregnancy tests and spent way too much money going through them, seeing no after no after no. If you have ever been in a position where you have been trying for a baby for a long period for time, I feel for you! Its exhausting, mentally and physically and emotionally. And hearing "Oh it will happen when it happens, just keep trying" is the least helpful sentence ever. My doctor told me we had to wait until the one year mark hit before we could look into what could be wrong, since we already had Q and knew we could have kids. Finally, in early October of 2015, just a few months ago, I took yet another test, after waiting a few more weeks than I usually would, and it said yes! I took it early in the morning, and Jon and Q were both still sleeping and I ran into the room and scared Jon because I was vibrating, jumping up and down, not saying anything, just waving the test around. He thought I was joking - WHY WOULD I JOKE ABOUT THAT?! We were overjoyed. FINALLY!!! We went online and bought this t-shirt from Etsy, wanting Q to wear it as a way to tell our families. 

A trip to the doctor, and then the midwife confirmed that YES we were pregnant and had a due date of around June 6th. There was some grey area with dates, so the midwife booked a dating ultrasound, just so we could be sure of the date. This was the same week that we had our house inspection! It all felt so very exciting. My dream of having both a baby and a house by the end of the year looked differently than I had hoped, since there was no baby here in my arms this Christmas, but this was still so good. A baby growing, a new cozy house all of our own to call home and a crazy toddler running around, talking about the "new baby coming". We decided to tell Tim and Lois early because Lois was heading into her surgery, and we wanted her to have good news to hold onto. We swore them to secrecy and told them, and then we also did the same with my mom. I was weird this time with this pregnancy - I was holding on very tightly, so emotional about this life because of how badly I wanted this baby, and how desperately we tried for it. I didn't want to share with anyone. It was a very different experience than with Q, when I wanted to tell EVERYONE I saw. So we didn't really tell anyone. But Brandon's visit was coming, and we wanted to tell him face to face, and my belly was already starting to show at 11 weeks, so we decided to tell Jon's siblings, and then a few days later, told Brandon and Shelby and Neil. Everyone was very thrilled, and there was talk of boy or girl?! Makenna was hoping for boy, telling me that there was already so many girls (too true my little love!), whereas Brandon was hoping for another girl, because is there anything sweeter than a baby girl? Regardless, there was just so much excitement, as there should be surrounding any new life. Then came the visit the Grand Forks. Oh boy, seeing Q with Norah just affirmed in me that having another baby was for sure the right decision for our family. That little toddler was built to be a big sister. So much love, so much nurturing, so protective and so bossy. Shayna and I talked about her and Norah coming out in early June to be with the new baby, and we talked about my fears of having a almost three year old and a brand new baby heading into summer, where Jon is gone and I do parenting alone. So many plans. So much talking about this tiny little life. 

We left Grand Forks on a Saturday because my ultrasound was booked for Sunday -we figured we were just over 12 weeks at this point. Jon had to do music at church that morning, so he left early and was going to meet me at the hospital. I dropped Q off with Dana and headed in, so excited to see the baby for the first time, and to hear the heartbeat. At my first midwife appointment a few weeks earlier, we couldn't hear the heartbeat yet, so I was most excited about that. Jon left church as soon as his first set was over, and his big grin met me at the front door as we walked in together. As is normal protocol, they took me in first to do all the measurements of the baby, and said Jon would be allowed in after all that was done. It was apparent pretty quickly that something was not right. The screen was faced away from me (again, that is normal protocol... they do all their measuring and looking at stuff at the beginning quickly and then let the parents see the screen) but her face is a face I will never in my life forget. She was frowning, and doing a lot of clicking with her mouse. Eventually she said that she is not seeing "measurements she would hope to be seeing" at this point. She asked me about my dates again, and then asked if we could do a vaginal ultrasound. I KNEW in my gut that something was wrong and asked to go get Jon. She hesitated, because they aren't supposed to let spouses into the room at the start, but she must have seen the fear on my face, and she agreed. He came in and we held hands and the ultrasound lasted about ten minutes - usually they are 45. She left the room and came back, handing me kleenex and said "I know these things are hard".... at that point I wasn't crying, just in shock, and her words shattered my heart. Ultrasound techs aren't supposed to say anything in ultrasounds, and I guess that is why. I immediately had a billion questions and was frustrated that she wouldn't answer them. Jon said he would go and get Q from Dana's and I could go straight home. I drove in a daze. I have no idea how I got home. My mom says that I called her on the way, and I vaguely remember that but not really. I remember sitting in the car in my driveway and seeing Q knock on the window when they got home, and having no idea how to respond or what to do next. Jon and her went inside and I just sat there, frozen and totally numb. I made it inside at some point, and that day held a lot of tears.

Lots of things happened in the next few days... lots of more tests and questions and people bringing food and flowers. But it's all hazy to me. I walked around like I was under water. I could see and hear what was happening around me, but it was muffled and confusing and I couldn't focus. All I felt was pain, constant and overwhelming and leaving me totally empty. It was just such a shock. We had no idea that anything was wrong. My body was responding as if the baby was healthy and growing and we had so many plans. It felt confusing and wrong. On Tuesday the miscarriage started naturally. I was grateful for that because I really didn't want to go to the hospital. But by not going to the hospital, I was home in my bedroom and bathroom, by myself, delivering a baby that was no longer alive (sorry if thats too much for you. I won't go into details). Jon was amazing and he was around and took time off work and was just his usual incredibly supportive and loving self. But we have a two year old who needed her parents to take care of her, so he needed to be with her. Never ever in my life has my heart ached so badly for my mom. I moan often about not having family around and how hard that is... I didn't even know hard until we went through this. All I wanted is for a sibling or my parents to come and take Q and let Jon and I grieve and be together. The distance has ever felt so extreme before. Jon told me after the fact that he was surprised in how I handled Tuesday - pretty non-emotional and matter of fact. But we saw it coming, we had a heads up, I wasn't surprised by the pain or the bleeding. I was just truly numb. 

Cuddles with my girl on Tuesday evening when she came up to my room to see me. I lived on my heating pack, the only thing that made me feel better. She knew something was very wrong, and she was being so quiet and so sweet. I held her so tight and smelled her sweet hair and held her little hands and she just let me. That is a moment I also won't ever forget. She filled my heart when all my heart could feel was heartbreak.

I don't really remember this, but Dana took Q on Tuesday for dinner. Here she is, shirtless and eating spaghetti with people that love her, happy as can be! I am so thankful that God knows what we need, and what I needed was family to love us and care for our practical needs, and He provided. Community is a beautiful thing.

Not many people knew that we were pregnant outside of our family and I was so happy about that. No questions, no unexpected conversations. This way, we could let the people we wanted to into our pain and tell them what was going on, instead of being caught off guard by comments or questions. Sarah Grey texted me on Monday and so I texted back and told her what was going on. A few days later she sent me this. She kept us in her prayers using a daily physical reminder. I was grateful for the prayers! Support came in from other friends as well. People were lovely and very sweet.

I'm insane, so I decided to still go to the Imadene Christmas party on Wednesday. I was still in a LOT of pain, and moving was difficult, but JL talked to me and said she would love if I would still come (but understood if I wasn't up for it!), so I went. I needed to get out of the house anyways, and try to escape the underwater feeling, if that was possible. Mostly, I knew it would be so fun for Q and I wanted her to go. So off to Lake Cowichan we went. This beautiful friend stuck to my side for most of the evening and made me laugh lots, and I love her for that!!! The worst part of the evening was at dinner when Andy went around the table and made everyone say what they are thankful for... I have MANY things to be thankful for, but on that day, all I could feel was my pain. It was vibrating off of me, every nerve ending just tingled and hurt and was raw, and I had to think of something to be thankful for. Yikes. I felt panicky and looked for a way to escape the table, but there was no easy exit. My turn came, last, and I felt Jon squeeze my hand, and saw Sharon looking at me, and said that I was thankful for community on days that seem impossibly dark. And I am glad that I said that, because it is so true, and still what I am most thankful for when I think about on the past seven weeks. My friends carried me and loved me and supported Jon and took care of Quinny. Thank you, community that pulls together when times get tough.

Thursday night I had a DDMM dinner that was previously planned, and they said we could cancel, but I thought it would still be good to go. I was trying to keep moving, keep life "normal". I think I was also escaping. I don't really remember much from our dinner, I was fully underwater that day, I couldn't even drive. But I do remember looking at the three of them laughing and talking, and being gentle with me, and loving them for that. Jon took Q to Ladysmith light-up. This is a pretty accurate portrayal of how much she liked it haha!! She STILL, two months later, talks about how she cried at the fireworks haha! We were both surprised by her reaction because loud noises don't usually bother her, and she likes crowds and lights. Guess it was just too much for her! haha!

Our baby stopped developing and their heart stopped beating, and they died. There is no reason for it, no cause, no explanation. It just happens. But it shouldn't, and it will never be something I will accept or understand. So many hard things that I have faced in my life I have been able to see the "whys". Why it happened, what I am supposed to take from it, how sin and brokenness are at the root. We live in a broken world and we are broken people, so pain is a part of being alive. But this, a baby who dies before they even have a chance, there's no reason for that, no explanation. There is no lesson for me in this, no "character building" to take place. (hopefully my character will grow because of this, but I will never accept that my baby died just so that I could "grow" as a person). I do no believe that this "happened for a reason" or that it was "God's plan for my life"... or for that baby's life for that matter. It just happened and I cannot understand it. But I can and do choose to keep my focus on Jesus and continually take my pain to Him. I do not think it was His will, but I do think that He can be glorified through this situation. But it is HARD. Sometimes I just want to be angry. I see posts from friends who are now pregnant, people who have similar due dates and I want to scream. I listen to people complain about their babies, and I want to remind them that they HAVE a baby to love, and that cannot be taken for granted. I don't want to hand over my pain, I want to sit in it and let it fester and cry and be sad. But then I look up and see my gorgeous curly haired toddler looking at me with her big brown eyes (brown eyes! Where did THOSE come from?!) and I know that God loves me. I know that He is taking care of my family, and that I can survive this pain. But it is an upward battle, and sometimes I am just so weary and I feel so empty. We will probably at some point have another baby and be pregnant for a third time, and I will be overjoyed. But I will never forget this life, and this little life is never one that can be replaced. You were so special to me, little one. I loved you fiercely and I was beyond excited to watch your life unfold. I look forward to meeting you one day and hugging you close. 

Here is what I posted to Facebook, feeling like I needed to reach out to others who have had similar experiences