Confession

*Caution: Possible triggers*

There's something I have been keeping to myself lately. Keeping it from my blog is omitting a huge piece of my journey toward healing. That's what this blog is all about. I only ever want to depict my true self and be nothing but honest and real. So here it goes... Since June, Daniel and I have been trying to conceive our Rainbow Baby.

For those unfamiliar with BLM (that's 'Baby Loss Mom') terms, a 'Rainbow Baby' is a baby that comes after a loss... The rainbow after the storm.

I have been keeping this to myself because I've been afraid what others might think or say about it. Will people I know pass judgment on us because we're trying to have another baby? Will they think we don't miss or love Avery anymore? That we're over her? Will they think I'm too unstable to handle it? Will they not trust that a lot of prayer and thought and discussion has gone into this decision to try again? On top of living without Avery, and the worry of a repeat and all of the care and stress that will go into a second pregnancy, I don't think I can take any unsupportive judging chatter (that's unfortunately probably inevitable). So we have only told family and close friends so far.

And then I worry about my lovely fellow BLMs... Some are still very tender, with such raw pain, and deservedly so. I don't ever want to cause them any extra pain by throwing a topic in front of them that they are not ready to think about. I know the mere thought of another baby killed me when we first lost Avery. I would get upset at people who suggested it so soon after her passing. I couldn't imagine allowing another child to grow in my womb... To me, at that time, my womb was still hers. So, I've been afraid to put this out there for someone to stumble upon and have it hurt them in any way. I care so much about this community. I hope this post doesn't cause any anguish to anyone that may read it. I just didn't know how to document my journey without including this.

Taking the leap of faith into trying again is a huge step in the healing process. It took a lot to arrive at this point. We are in the middle of my fourth cycle of trying and each month that it hasn't happened, my husband and I have dealt with much disappointment and some sadness. Each month, I have wanted so badly to document these emotions here, but just wasn't sure if "the world" should know. Til now, I guess. It's such a big part of this story. How can I leave it out? Soon, there will be more of us taking this leap of faith and maybe my words can help them. I always long to help others in my shoes. It's become my purpose lately. I guess that's why I fear my news alienating or triggering pain for anyone or making me irrelevant to any of the Moms I have loved ministering to.

I am definitely scared to death, to be honest. Of course it crosses my mind often that this could happen to us again. That is my biggest fear. I pray to God that I never know what it's like to lose another child. But I can't hide from it forever. I can't let the fear win. Having a baby has been my dream in life for as long as I can remember. I will not lay down and die. I refuse to let go of that dream. Some days I'm not sure I can handle the risk. Other days, I feel so strong and sure. I know it will fluctuate constantly. I know there will be joy and fear in my next pregnancy. There will never again be any pregnancy bliss that I only knew with Avery, before I ever dreamed that I could lose her. But this time we'll know the precautions. I trust that God will give us strength.

I know another baby will never fix the wounds Avery's death left on our hearts. But another baby might be able to put band-aids over them... Maybe stop the bleeding. I know a new baby would bring about a whole new heap of things... showing us what we never got to experience with Avery. Or how she's not here to meet her little brother or sister. And lots more I won't find til we get there. But if we can get that baby home, alive and safe in our arms forever, it will bring a sure piece of true joy to our hearts.

After sharing all of that, I hope that it hasn't bothered anyone. If it has, I am so sorry. <3
I would like to ask anyone reading to keep Daniel and I in your prayers. This is such a huge step in our lives and we need all the help we can get. We are making ourselves vulnerable and putting our hearts on the line once again. I know once I am pregnant, times will be hard, some days will be scary. I ask for encouragement, prayers, and support if you're willing to offer it! Thank you so much. With everything I am, I thank you. <3

Back on a brighter path

This rollercoaster is such a crazy thing. It's so weird how sad I can be one day and be better the next. My last post, I was very down. I hadn't cried that hard in a while. Three days later, I feel okay again. Oh I miss  my little girl, but it's not paralyzing or suffocating. Not today anyway.

I noticed so many little things that kept happening on Friday while I was having such a hard day. It was almost like God was trying to send me little things to ease my pain. After my post, I decided to drag myself out of my bed to get myself together. My pastor called to remind me about the men's breakfast the next morning if Daniel was interested. But then he asked me how I was doing. It was so genuine and so specific. I knew exactly what he was referring to. I love when people remember to ask how my heart is. How I am doing without my baby. I told him I had been having a hard time the past few days and he was so kind and encouraging. He used the personal experience of losing his mother years back and how it still affects him to this day.

Also on Friday, I got a card from one of my BLM Penpals in the mail. Perfect timing!! I got a call from my brother, wanting me to come over and spend time with him. He's always a breath of fresh air. He's such a crazy guy with such a great personality. It's hard to be too down around him. Get all three of my brothers together and forget it! :)

There's a difference now when I return to darker moods. Before, when these wounds were fresher, the mood was so much more hopeless and horrible. Now, even when I am crying and feeling desperately sorry for myself, I still have this knowledge that God is there beside me, broken because I am broken. He feels about us how we feel about our children. He hates to see us in pain. In the beginning, I wanted to blame Him, but now I know to put all of my trust in Him. He knows what's ahead on my path. I don't. I would never want to walk this road without Him.

Relapsing rant

I've been doing so well... But not these past few days. I'm not sure why I've been so down and sad lately.

Oh wait.

Of course I do. My baby died.

But I really had been doing well. Feeling happy. No tears for weeks. Of course I missed Avery and thought about her constantly during those good weeks. But I felt hopeful and joyful. And I was so grateful to be able to feel those wonderful emotions so soon after losing my most precious gift. My Avery.

Maybe my happiness stemmed from the excitement of the new house. Maybe the plans to get in there and clean and paint distracted me from my pain. Now I realize there isn't much left to do to the house until we can finally move in November. So now that the house excitement has died down, is that why I'm feeling sad again? No distractions to divert the attention from my empty arms?

This happened back in May as well. I was having gallbladder attacks because my pregnancy had triggered gallstones. It was awful but it distracted me from what was going on in my heart. I was preparing for the surgery, all the while living in fear of having another attack. I could barely eat anything; I mostly lived on lettuce. I lost a good 18 or so pounds and felt excited about that. Then came my surgery. And I was special again because I'd been through that. Everyone wanted to know how I was doing and how it went. The attention felt great again because it hadn't lasted long enough when we lost Avery. But then it was over. I wasn't immobile anymore and my incisions were healing. Distraction gone. Pain returned.

So I wonder if that's all my happiness ever is. If I'm just distracted long enough to believe that I'm so much better. I don't know... I don't want to be down. I don't want to be sad. I think people expect me to be okay and to be strong. I feel sometimes like I have to  perform and put on a happy face. I feel like there are people out there that I have to prove something to, because they insist on thinking evil about me, judging me through this without even knowing how I really am. Because they're not even there for me. But please tell me why I have to worry about what other people think? How come we're expected to cater to their feelings when this happened to us? God forbid it ever happened to them. Then they'd expect us to be completely accommodating. All we want is to grieve as we may. However we feel, that's how we feel. We have the right to have recurring sadness. It doesn't mean we're insane. We're not dangerous or deranged because our babies died. We love babies and hold them more sacred than we ever have.

I guess I've just noticed this trend. All of the wonderful baby loss moms I'm friends with struggle with so-called friends being vicious to them over their loss. Expecting them to move on and not be so "negative." I'm sorry... When did the death of a child become so insignificant? Why do people act like it's not worth aching over? I didn't bury a pet when my daughter died. She was my flesh and blood. She looked like my husband. We made her together out of love and she was ours. No one should ever act like I don't have the right to grieve her without deeming me unstable or... dangerous. My baby died. How does that make me a bad person? Do I really deserve the ridicule when all I need is for people to reach out in love? Have I not endured enough from the loss of the only thing I have ever really wanted out of life besides my sweet husband? Having a baby was the dream I have lived to see come true ever since I was a little girl. Avery has been wanted since I was a child... Not since we started trying to conceive. My love for her goes back a long ways... Back to the playing house with my cousin, Heather, days.

I miss those naive days. When you had no idea anything bad could ever happen to you. When you thought getting pregnant happened easily, and that getting pregnant meant you were having a baby in nine months. When you thought only old people passed away. Funerals were only for grandparents. Way back before life really got a hold of me and showed me what pain is.

Day of Hope

Today is August 19th, the Day of Hope we've all been preparing for. I really wanted to donate some memory boxes to the hospital Avery was born at, but right now money is super tight. That doesn't mean I can't do something down the road though! All of us can still make a difference, on August 19th or any other day. I hope we never lose that drive we have, to do great things in our babies' names. I hope we can continue to raise awareness and abolish the taboo that society still holds over infant and pregnancy loss. We have just as much a right as any parent to talk about and share our children with the world.

I think about all of the wonderful women I have met in these past few months and how each of us has such a similar story. We are all battling the same feelings and pains. We're all so different, yet so alike. "Friends become strangers, and strangers become friends." It's so true. I have never felt more supported than I do by this community. No one wants to be a part of it, but we do cherish what we share together. There really is such a bond.

On this day, I hope my fellow BLMs really do vision it as a Day of Hope. There is hope. I have begun to find it. It didn't happen overnight, and sometimes I lose sight of it. But we do have to hope for a better, happier tomorrow. I always think, our sweet babies want that for us. It's okay to cry for them, but they would love to see smiles on our faces and joy in our hearts. :)

To all the sweet babies in Heaven that I know Avery calls her friends: Stella, Stevie, Leila, Julia, Evan, Jonathan, Kamryn, Liam, Logan, Brody, Wyatt, Patrick, Alyssa, Kenny, Ailis, Noah, Eli, Hannah, Isaac, Laken, Harper, Acacia, Brodie, Isabella, Blaine, Ciaran, Wyatt, Drew, Kennedy, Natalie, Lyra, Jacob, Aiden, Aidan, Charlotte, Caroline, Audrey, Lillian, Bailey, Mikayla, Sawyer, Jack, Valentina, Caleb, Mason, Gabriel, Tristan, Angelika, Jackson, Jayden, Emily, Blake, David... just to name too many. <3

And to all their Mommies and Daddies who love them so.

The joy of the Lord is my strength

There's been a change this week.

I can feel it. I can feel something deep inside of me. I can see it. I can see it in my face... in my eyes. I can hear it. I can hear it in my laugh... in my voice.

It feels, looks, and sounds a lot like something familiar. Something I knew once upon a time.

Happiness.

Yes. I don't know why the sudden, more frequent shift has taken place, but I know that it has. I welcome it with open arms. I know God is healing me, running His sovereign loving hands over my wounded heart. Today, for the first time since we lost Avery, I feel genuinely happy.
I never thought I would ever feel that way again... or at least not so soon anyway. But there is no denying what God has done in me. I have prayed for it and hoped for it. I have wanted to live happier for my daughter's memory. I want to think of her and smile, instead of cry. I feel like I am finally beginning to achieve that. I know I owe it to God, but also to the people who have really been there for me, and that also includes this beautiful community of "Baby Loss Moms." Surrounding myself with so many lovely women who know exactly what this is like has done so much for my heart. (I love you all.)

By no means possible am I "over" my daughter and what has happened to us as a family. I will always miss her, despise her absence, ache for her presence... But that doesn't mean that I have to dwell in an empty shell of a person, as a sheer suggestion of who I used to be. Happiness does not mean I love or miss Avery less. It is okay for healing to take place.

It's been just about five months since I last held Avery. In the beginning, I embraced my pain and didn't desire progress or improvement. I just wanted to drag myself into a dark hole and fall asleep forever or pray to pass away. I think that's part of the grieving process. At first, we don't want to get better. Getting better feels like moving on or not caring, but really it isn't. We do reach a point though... a turning point... Where we are willing to try. Willing to get better. I reached that "willing" place at the end of May, almost two and a half months after losing Avery. Now, I think I have crossed out of "willing" into "being." I'm being more myself, being happier, being more alive.

No one is the same. No one has the same time frame. There's no limit on grieving time or healing time. I believe I will grieve Avery as long as I live. But that's just the thing. I am still living. I have to live the life Avery never got to. I want to live for her. I want to smile all the smiles she'll never smile. I want to laugh all the laughs she'll never laugh. Well, not this side of Heaven anyway.