Pain is a Megaphone

I had a few set backs this week as far as healing goes. "Two steps forward, one step back." I guess I should have expected it. Tuesday (6/22) was my due date. How could it not be hard? How could I not regress a little?

It was a very difficult day. I cried a lot. Daniel did too. I'm so glad he's not afraid to feel things and to show how it affects him. That is a man. (I'm so proud of him.) I spent most of Tuesday in bed, trying to sleep as late as possible. I wrote Avery a letter. (If you have been through something like this, I recommend writing your baby/child a letter. It can be therapeutic.)

When Daniel got home from work, we watched a Louie Giglio DVD called "Hope: When Life Hurts Most." It was very helpful and offered a lot of comfort. (Thank you, Kelly) It talked about how horrible things come but God didn't do it to us. He knows it will happen but He doesn't do it to us. He loves us and wants good to come out of these awful things... Beauty from ashes. Struggle is just a part of what comes along with living in this evil world. No one is exempt from it; not even Christians. Louie also talked about how our pain is a megaphone. We are all broadcasting something with our lives. What does our broadcast say? When we are visibly in a trial, going through pain, suffering, everyone around us is watching us, seeing how we are fairing the storm. Can they learn something from us? Can we depict a beautiful picture of God's grace through our struggle? Someone who is actually going through something real seems to have so much more credibility message-wise than someone who is sailing effortlessly through life. Example... If you were struggling with drug use, who would you rather seek advice from: someone who used to be addicted and found a way out? Or someone who just knows that drugs are dangerous and can't give you anything from personal experience? Just like how it's easier for me to seek comfort talking to my friend who lost her baby last year, than a person who has not lost a child, even if they spoke the same exact phrase of encouragement. Someone who has been there... It helps. That's not to say that you can't make a difference or do anything for God or for good if you have never "been through" anything. You absolutely can. This is to encourage those who feel broken by the things that have happened to them. We can turn it around and use it for positive things. I don't want Avery's life to just be a sad story. She deserves more than that. Through her, big things can happen.

I thought about this very blog as I watched Louie's sermon. This blog is my megaphone. I can broadcast so much with it. I can use it to help others through the same thing I am going through. I can use it for good if I allow God to work through me. That doesn't mean I am going to handle this situation with perfect grace every moment of everyday. I'm not expected to and it's impossible. But I do desire so much for something... anything positive to come out of something that has cut so deeply. If I can encourage even one person, then I will be glad for that.

Daniel and I spent the rest of Tuesday going to visit Avery and then spending the evening together at home. We brought Avery new flowers for her grave and some new pinwheels (since hers disappeared). We still really love visiting her... even though we know full well that she's not really there. She is in Heaven. If Avery can't be here with us, then there's no other place I'd wish for her to be.

I can't believe it's been a week now since my due date. It's so hard to know that Avery would be here by now. I shouldn't have time to sit here and type this. I should be up feeding her, maybe rocking her back to sleep. Changing her diaper. Snuggling her close... We miss her everyday. That's never going to change... but at least some days are better than others.

Due Date

It's only a little ways into June 22nd. But already, Daniel and I have cried together. It's so odd how at the turn of midnight, sadness automatically sets in. Avery could be here right now. I could be at the hospital right now. She could be silly and still perfectly content in my belly, not wanting to come out anytime soon... Whatever would be going on, won't be... That's all that matters. We don't need to think about what could be happening right now. Because it's not. Avery already came and she's already gone. I'm not huge and uncomfortable, waiting to pop any second. In fact, I'm down 25 or so pounds since the height of my pregnancy. But it's so easy to torment ourselves with what is supposed to be. Avery is supposed to be here... now, or anyday now. But she is gone.
Even though it's been a little over three months, there's still a gut-wrenching, heart-searing pain that throbs constantly. And I know Daniel and I will always feel that. No matter how many children we get to keep and how many years go by. We will pause and say things like, "Avery would probably be starting to walk now"... "Avery would be starting kindergarten today"... "Avery would be graduating high school today"... "I wonder if Avery would be married by now"... It's not going to go away. Daniel and I realize that. But that doesn't make it any less hard to live with. And the wound gets more tender with hurdles like today...
June 22nd... I so longingly looked forward to this day. It was the answer to a beautiful question that I had always wanted to be asked, "When are you due?" It felt like the day just could not come soon enough... like it would never come. But here it is. Just a day. Just another ordinary day. No excitement and happiness. Just pain and empty-handedness. I wish Avery was still coming. I wish it so badly. Sometimes I still cannot believe that this is our life. Sometimes I can't believe that I am one of those mothers... My baby died. I sit in front of her grave instead of smiling at her in her crib. I buy pinwheels and other lawn ornaments to decorate her stone instead of buying diapers and wipes. This kind of motherhood is so difficult.
I'd give anything to be up all night with a screaming baby... to feel like I never have time to myself... to barely have time to even take a shower... to feel like Daniel and I don't get alone time anymore... to never sleep in ever again... to change awful diapers... to cart a million things with me just to go out somewhere... to constantly smell like spit-up... to not be able to go anywhere I want whenever I want... to give up a flexible social life... to devote all my time and energy to the needs of my baby over mine... All these things and more, I'd be willing to do. Anything to have Avery here with us. To hear her cry. To see her smile. To look into her eyes. To feel the warmth of her body in my arms. To feel her hand clasped around my finger. To see her move. To see her grow up... We didn't just lose our baby... I'm not just "not pregnant" anymore... We lost a whole lifetime of memories and love. We lost everything that she was supposed to do... All the things we were supposed to do with her. I think a lot of people just don't realize the extent of it. But to understand the depth and severity, they would have to experience it as well. That's not something I wish on anyone.
So, even though it's already the 22nd, I still feel like "tomorrow" is the day... When I wake up, I will begin living through my due date... knowing Avery should be coming but isn't... That she should be on her way any moment but she's already gone.

God grant us the strength to stand.

"Happy Birthday"

I got my hair done this morning. While I was sitting under the dryer, sporting a head full of foils, I was leafing through an issue of Better Homes & Gardens. I ran into an ad that said, "Happy Birthday" is a victory song. It was an ad about cancer but it struck me with so much truth, especially being in my situation. "Happy Birthday" is a victory song.
Do we really understand how much of a miracle it is to actually be here? Until Daniel and I started trying to get pregnant with Avery, I didn't fully grasp how intricate a process conceiving truly is. I knew it was an amazing design but there is so much involved, it's astounding. Aside from that part (the sperm finding the egg, if the egg is even ready to be fertilized, actually fertilizing it, it making its way to the uterus, and actually implanting successfully, and the cells dividing and developing properly, etc!), making it through the long 40 weeks of growth and development inside the womb is another feat in itself! Then, even after arriving safely and healthy, a child has to survive things like SIDS (sudden infant death) and childhood illnesses and accidents. As older teenagers and adults, we put ourselves in dangerous situations everyday just by getting in the car, crossing the street, playing sports, etc. etc. etc.
This is not all to say that we should live in fear of death. That is not my point at all. This is also not to scare pregnant women or women with children into thinking they're going to lose their child. It's to create an appreciation for life. To be in awe of the design of God and His protective hand on our lives.
After what I have been through, I find it amazing... astounding... miraculous when I see a living, breathing, perfect baby. My only experience with bearing children has been one of loss and grief, so for me, I don't know anything else. It's hard for me to wrap my head around it. Life is fragile and beautiful. So beautiful. It's so amazing that there are so many people here, safe and alive. Praise God for that... even for people we think we don't like. ;) Everyone was someone's tiny baby at one point. Every person was so lovingly cradled in their mother's womb once. It's interesting to think of it like that but it's true.
A mother lays down her life for her child, and even her body puts her baby first while she carries that baby inside her womb. Life is worth that. A beautiful, precious baby is worth any sacrifice. I know I would have laid down my life for Avery. But instead she laid down her life for her future siblings. If Avery hadn't held on for so long, the Dr. never would have looked into the reason she died. If she had been a miscarriage, there would have been no tests run. They never would have found out that I have MTHFR (a blood clotting disorder that can develop microscopic clots that can be fatal to an unborn baby... Avery had a clot in her cord). If the blood mutation hadn't been found, I could have lost more babies in the future without knowing how to prevent it. Unfortunately, there's still a chance it could happen again, but we can take all of the precautions against it. Thanks to Avery. She's a little hero. She took one for the team. Her siblings will live because she didn't. Maybe that was her purpose in life, her legacy. I'm so proud of her.
So Avery will never blow out candles and she'll never hear us sing "Happy Birthday" to her, but her little life and what we have learned from her has ensured that our other babies will have the chance to come along to hear that song. It is a victory song. Each year we hear our friends and families belt it out to us is another year we should be so grateful to God for.

Your Grace has found me just as I am, empty-handed but ALIVE in Your hands...

Father's Day Shopping

I went out shopping for Father's Day today with my sister-in-law, Amber. My spirits were surprisingly high for the occasion, but more and more I felt sad as we browsed. We went to Hallmark first to pick out some cards for our dads and I was definitely getting one for Daniel. Of course, both Mother's Day and Father's Day are so soon after our daughter passes away... and Father's Day is just two days before Avery's estimated arrival date. Of course. I read through so many 'husband' cards for Daniel. So many of them did not fit at all. So many spoke of crazy days juggling our lives with the kids, toys all over the house, watching Daniel play and laugh with our child... *Open wound, cue salt* I did finally end up with a card that talked nothing about children or about Daniel being a father, which I wasn't satisfied with but at least it talked about how wonderful he is and how much I love him. I'll have to rely on my own words.

I mentioned in my first post how statistically there are about 2 million parents grieving children per year. I think that's a lot. Why can't Hallmark make a card to commemorate parents who have lost their child? Why does society constantly remind us how out of place we are? How left out and lonely we're supposed to feel... Watching seemingly everyone I know be pregnant and/or have children obviously wasn't enough of a reminder that I'm left out and don't belong in the same happy rejoicing group of parents.
I find it so sad, if it's okay to throw my own pity party for a minute, that my first Mother's Day is what it was. I waited my whole life to finally be a part of that day. And when I finally was, it was a sad day. It wasn't a "happy" Mother's Day. I got to spend it focusing on the absence of my daughter... Being a childless mother. Praying that everyone remembered that I'm still a mother even though my child isn't here. Some never acknowledged my right that day, but thankfully, most did.
And now, in just a couple more days, it's Daniel's turn to experience his first Father's Day. I want to make it so special for him. As special as it can be knowing that Avery was supposed to be here any day now. I can't say what I'm doing for him since he reads this, but I know he will love it. I adore the fact that Daniel is so sentimental and appreciative of things. There is no one else I'd rather go through any of this with. I'd rather mourn and struggle along with Daniel than be living an easy, care-free life with anyone else.
I hope everyone else recognizes Daniel like he deserves. During the labor and delivery process with Avery, it seemed like Daniel was overlooked a lot, as if he wasn't also going through it just because he wasn't the one giving birth. He already loved Avery as if she'd spent those six months in his arms and not in my womb. He already loved her as if he'd known her his whole life. Some parents start bonding the moment their child is born. But we started bonding with Avery before she was even conceived. We had started writing to her in a journal when we started trying for her. And sometimes, I still jot her down a little note.
Being parents is very real to Daniel and me. We're the parents that no one wants to be. But we are still parents. And we still love loving our little girl. Even though it's difficult, we're so proud to be her parents.

Path Toward Healing

Tonight my brother-in-law, Andy, his girlfriend, Margaret, and my sister-in-law, Amber came over for a few hours. We ended up looking at old pictures on my external photo drive. If you know me, you know I take LOTS of pictures. Not as much as I used to, but I like to think I'm known for it. So, it was fun to go back in time and see pictures of Daniel and I in the beginning, even when we weren't even dating yet. But of course I couldn't help but think about how innocent we were back then as far as life experiences go. Back then, we didn't know one day we'd be married. And we certainly didn't know we would bury our first child. To look at our smiling faces and pure happiness almost made me sad. We had no idea what we were in for.
But on the other hand, it's amazing to realize how much closer we are to each other, how much deeper our roots are intertwined with one another. And more so than that, we have had such an opportunity to draw closer to God and to be used by Him. (The photo you see is from 2007. Feels like lifetimes ago.)

That is a huge part of why I feel such a desire to work on this blog. I want so badly for something good to come out of something so horrific. I want to be there for someone who is struggling through this same journey, just as my friend Kelly has been here for me. There is so much comfort in knowing that someone knows exactly how you feel. Or when they say or write something you could have said or written yourself because it mirrors your thoughts completely. Aside from God, fellow grieving mothers have been the best therapy.

Oh, but at first I did not allow God to comfort me at all. I felt so torn. I grew up as a Christian, and my faith has definitely been the foundation of my life, but after Avery died, I felt like God took His hand away and failed us. I would hear Jeremiah 29:11 and scoff ('For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future'). I did not feel prosperous. I felt very harmed. I had no hope. I hated my future because I knew it did not have Avery in it. I didn't see how God could allow that to happen to us. I felt mad at Him most days, and so desperate for Him to help me on other days. It actually took me almost 2 months after Avery died before I said a real prayer, a true, broken plea to God. I had finally broken and surrendered my pain to Him. I finally let the wall down and forfeited my need to blame someone or feel betrayed. I finally felt God's love that was there all along. He had been waiting for me to crawl into his lap so He could hold me and comfort me. God didn't do this to us. God didn't make Avery die. When He knitted her together in my womb, He knew what would happen to her. He knows all things. But I believe God did and still does use Avery's death for good purposes. And I think God tried to protect us from certain things. I think it was in His plan that we had such a hard time finding out what gender Avery was before she was born. Had we found out for sure that she was a girl, her room would have been painted and decorated. Things were hard enough, I think that it would have made it even harder if we'd had a finished nursery to come home to.
Now I have this new found faith and love for God. I want to listen to Hillsong United all the time. :) I want to be closer to Him. I want to be a mom that Avery can be proud of. It was only a few weeks ago that I felt so dead and depressed, and I would stay in bed until Daniel would be on his way home from work. I know Avery doesn't want that for me. She wouldn't want to be a part of the reason her mommy is so sad. It was a conscious decision to want to get better. To begin the path toward healing. Am I whole again? No. I never will be. Am I over it? NEVER. There is no getting over it. Just because I seem like 'me' again, I never want anyone to think that Avery means any less to me or that the pain of her death has lessened. I miss her every second of everyday. I still cry. I still get angry that she's not coming next week. I still hate this life without her. But now I am allowing God to carry my pain and I am living my life to honor Avery.

First Post

Hi.

I have been itching to write. When I was a teenager I used to write fictional stories and loved it. I miss sitting in front of my computer for hours and just letting a story unfold, not knowing what was going to happen until I wrote it. It was exciting and fun. Lately, I have felt that urge again, wanting to create something that was exciting to write and exciting to read. But nothing has come to me. Coincidentally, however, several different people have randomly told me that I should be writing. Some of them know that I do have a love for it, but most do not. So maybe I am meant to write something. And there is only one topic that is huge on my heart. My baby girl. My Avery Nicole.
Also these past couple weeks, I have felt the desire to pass on the things I have learned and the feelings I have felt since my daughter died in March. I have noticed the lack of resources out there for mothers in my situation. Stillbirth is still taboo in most circles. I read yesterday that 980,000 child deaths occur each year due to miscarriage and stillbirth. 2 million parents are grieving the loss of children each year. Miscarriage is the number 1 cause of death in children at 43% and stillbirth is number 4 at 11%. So why doesn't society better cater to us? I still get Parents Magazine in the mail, even though my baby is no longer coming next week (my due date was June 22nd). Never have I seen any helpful articles on losing your child. It makes me feel as if I'm an outcast, or that I am not considered a 'Parent' since nothing in their magazine applies to me anymore. There needs to be more out there for mothers to come to. Something real. Something true. No fairy tale, rose colored, idealized depiction of what's "normal."
I, along with my husband, have been on a rough journey these past few months since Avery passed away in my womb. I wish I had started this blog at the beginning, to watch the transformation, but I will just have to rely on flashbacks from the earlier days. ;) This will be my thoughts, my rants on bad days, my praise reports on good days, and everything in between. But mostly, this will be my life without my sweet girl.