A Hard Day

It's been a long time since I wrote here.  It seems like I tend to do a lot of updating on Facebook and of course writing for the Catholic Sistas website takes a lot of my time too.  Still, I think of writing here almost every day but rarely get to it.  I know I should be better about it since I love coming here and looking back on my days and remembering all the things we have done and have gone through.  It's a good reminder of how far we've come in various aspects of our life.

Today marks 3 years since I gave birth to Joseph, or Little Joe, as I referred to him here when I posted his story.  It's a sad day for me not only because of the loss of our son but because of how we were treated after we lost him by both sides of our family.  It was a huge wake up call to us and we've never been the same. 

On Monday I have an article over at the Catholic Sistas website that talks about today and how much we have changed in the past three years.  I know that because of our faith we have been able to withstand so much more than we ever thought possible. Still, there are days like today that just rip at my heart and make me wonder why.

Of course on top of the pain I feel over losing my babies I have the fears that come along with this pregnancy too.  Just after midnight early this morning I realized that it had been hours since I had last felt the baby move.  I decided to do my kick count as instructed by the doctor and lay with my hands on my belly waiting to feel him move.  He stayed still.  I pushed and poked, changed my position, shined a flashlight on my belly and yet still he stay motionless.  I began to panic.  I got up and got some orange juice and then layed down on my left side hoping he would begin to move for me.  Nothing happened.  I started to pray with a fervor that I haven't felt in a long, long time.  I pleaded with God to please let this little boy be ok.  Just one kick and I would have relief.  None came. 

Mike was gone so I layed alone in the bed, crying and praying.  I tried my hardest to calm my heart that seemed to be racing out of my chest.  I focused as hard as I could to feel any kind of movement whatsoever.  None came.  I checked the clock.  I knew that I was supposed to feel 10 movements within an hours time and if I didn't that I could give it another hour before calling the doctor.  An hour had come and gone and still nothing.  I prayed for a miracle.

As I lay there praying I tried my hardest to just trust God but it was so hard.  We have experienced such horrible loss that I wasn't sure how I could handle a loss of this magnitude.  We know that this pregnancy is dangerous to begin with but I am willing to risk everything to give this little one life.  What if despite all my efforts he died anyway?  It was a thought that I tried hard to push from my mind. 

About 20 minutes into the second hour of trying to get this little one to move I felt a kick.  I pushed on him and he kicked again.  They were gentle kicks but they were kicks.  I let out my breath and started to cry tears of joy instead of tears of fear.  I prayed prayers of thanksgiving.  As I lay there he began to kick more vigorously and I finally could feel that he was ok. 

I couldn't begin to imagine how this day would have been forever changed if on the anniversary of losing Joseph I lost this baby too.  It's unimagineable.  I remember holding Joseph in my hands 3 years ago and wondering how I could ever get past his death.  It's not that I have it's just that I have figured out ways to deal with it better than before, just as I have figured out ways to deal with all our losses.  But to think of what this day could have been is just overwhelming.  My heart cries out for my lost babies but it also cries out for joy that this little one is doing well.

While I lay there worrying about this baby I prayed that his brothers and sisters in heaven would come to him to stir him awake for me.  I have no idea if that is what happened but I like to think they are looking out for not only this baby but for all of us.  It helps me to keep them close to me thinking that they are always here and always loving us.  If I can't hold them in my arms then the best I can do is hold them always in my heart and in my memories.  One day I hope that I can tell this baby about this day and how his brother woke him from his sleep to settle my worried heart. 

The Elephant in the Room

There is an elephant in the room and it's amazing to see how people react to it.  That elephant in the room is me.  As you know I have asked you to pray for a very personal matter.  Last week I went public with that matter... I am pregnant.  I'm not suppose to ever get pregnant again and yet here I sit, expecting a baby.  It wasn't part of "our" plan but obviously a part of a  much bigger plan.  We firmly believe that God's hand is in this and that if it wasn't His will that I wouldn't be pregnant.

Last week, via the Catholic Sistas website I announced my pregnancy.  The title of the article was "No Greater Love Than This".  You can click the link if you'd like to read it.  At the same time I sent an email to many family and friends telling them that I am pregnant and why we have decided that even despite the risks to the baby and myself, we feel that we must go on with this pregnancy.  I also linked it to my Facebook page and to our church Facebook page.  I wanted as many people to be praying for us as possible.   I had many sweet people tell me that they are indeed keeping us in prayer and will continue to do so.   I had many people also not say a word... people that I truly believed would at least tell us they were praying for us.

We are constantly being told that our family is amazing.  We are told that people just can't imagine how we do it and have children who are so well behaved, polite, kind, and giving.  With that thought in mind I wonder why more people who know our family intimately, especially family and very close friends, have not congratulated us or even told us that they are keeping us in thought and prayer.   It hurts my feelings.  I'm not expecting people to understand our beliefs on going ahead with the pregnancy, especially in light of the danger involved, but once that decision is made a simple, "we're praying for you" can go a long way to help us feel not so alone. 

On my way home from church yesterday it was all I could do not to break down and cry.  Normally after Mass we have lots of people who say hello to us as we are leaving.  Yesterday we had two people acknowledge us.  Is it just that people don't know what to say?  I was just looking for a smile and a "hi" but got eyes turned from me or stares and then nothing said to me.  I get that there are going to be people not happy for us.  I understand that people are worried about my health and about the baby.  I know they worry about me leaving 10 children without a mother.  Surely they know, especially those who received my email stating the fact, that *I* am worried about those things!  It's not that we are just throwing caution to the wind, we're not!  We are doing everything in our power to keep both our baby and myself safe.  We are worried far more than anyone can imagine.  The people who don't know what to say to us because they are concerned about me... I wish I could shout at them, "Imagine what WE are going through!"  But I don't.  I sit quietly and hurt alone. 

It doesn't matter to me if you agree with our decision or not.  It's our decision and we've chosen life.  I would never choose any other direction to go in so it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone.  People who know me know that this is the only decision we could make.  I don't regret for a moment that decision.  I wish I knew what it would take to get people to acknowledge this elephant in the room.  I feel like I did when I lost William.  No one wanted to address that either.  It was right at Christmas, everyone was busy with their own families, and no one knew how to talk to me about another loss, this time so traumatic, and an event that would change my life forever.  I am in a similar situation where what is happening in our life is equally as life-changing and equally as important to us. 

I don't know where to go from here.  This cross is so heavy and hard to bear.  I have a tremendous support system through online friends but what about the support here?  I feel so very alone.  I have no idea why God gives us the crosses that He does.  I'm trying to bear it with hope, trust, and joy but sometimes that's so hard to do.  I don't want people to fawn over me.  I don't want to be bombarded with questions.  I don't want people to think I'm a saint.  All I want is to know that if I need help that it will be there.  I need to know that if I ask for prayers that there are faithful people praying for us.  I need to know that if the worst should happen that my community will rally around my family and help them through the worst pain they will have experienced so far.  I don't feel hopeful that this will happen, not if people can't even acknowledge that I am pregnant and that I have asked for their prayers and help. 

The elephant in the room is huge but unfortunately it's something that people are choosing to ignore.  My hope is that after they've taken time to process all of this that they will indeed address me about this pregnancy, if only to say I have their prayers.  That will be enough for me.  That will help make this cross a little lighter to carry.

Be Careful... I Love You

These are the last things I say to Mike every day he leaves my side.  Likewise, it's the same things he says to me if I am leaving to go somewhere.  We've said it since we were dating in high school. 

We decided way back then that we wanted the last thing we said to each other to be "I love you."  I always worried (and still do) that something might happen to either one of us while we are apart and I want those last words that we remember to be ones of love.  We never leave each other's side without saying I love you, even when we are mad.  We don't hang up the phone without saying those words and we don't go to sleep, even when mad, without making sure the last words to leave our lips are ones of love.

When we first married and Mike was deployed a lot "Be careful" meant so many things.  Later, as he would become a police officer it took on an even bigger meaning.  For me, "be careful" means "please come home to me".   I know that every time Mike leaves for work it might be the last time we see each other.  It makes my heart stop beating a few beats and takes my breath away to think of him not coming home to me.  When I say "be careful" I'm telling him how much I want him to be home beside me when the day ends. 

On Saturday we were reminded just how much these words mean to us.  I was up waiting for hours for Mike to come home and yet he wasn't here.  I worried and prayed.  Later I would find out what had happened.  Mike went to work and was watching a drug house.  As a car left he knew he could pull him over and find drugs in the car.   At the right time he pulled the car over and he and his partner got out of the car.  As they neared the back of the car it fled.  Dashing back into their vehicle they gave chase.  Finally they caught the man.  As they were arresting him and searching his car, another car, driven by a drunk driver, careened straight for him.  At the last moment the driver swerved and Mike and his partner jumped out of the way.  They put the man they were arresting in another vehicle and took off after the drunk driver. 

The drunk driver didn't care.  He took off and tried to evade them.  Unfortunately for him his reflexes were so impaired that he hit a ditch and flipped his car several times.  Mike and his partner would call for an ambulance and send him to the hospital. 

It's nights like these that remind me how very important it is to make sure we say "be careful... I love you!" each and every time we leave each other's side.  We are not guaranteed another day with one another.  My heart was aching at the possibility of losing my husband.  I came close on Saturday night.  I don't know what I would do if I were to lose him.  He is my world. 

I can only hope that if God ever calls one of us home that the other will have the peace to know that the last words we ever spoke were ones of complete love... "Be careful! I love you!"

Catching Up

My kids are so excited to be going trick-or-treating tonight.  To be honest I'm not excited about it but then again I don't want to get out in the wind and walk around getting candy I could just as easily buy!  Still, I know they will have so much fun so we'll be doing it. 

So much has been going on here.  Emma has been trying to get over mono.  She had a crazy reaction to it and we were really fearful she had meningitis.  Thankfully she didn't but still, she's been struggling a lot.  The good days are now outweighing the bad ones so I think we are on the positive side of it all.

We thought Mike's job might be in danger because of budget cuts but for the time being all is well.  We are still praying that it remains good but if the state decides to cut the budget for the Task Force then we may be in a really bad place.  I'm putting it in God's hands because I know that He has always provided for us.  If the worst happens then we know He still will.

Kaylie is working full time as a nanny.  I'm hoping she'll go to school next semester but I also know forcing a kid who's not ready to go to college is just signing their failure slip.  Not everyone is ready to go to college right after they graduate.  I'm trying to encourage her to look at it anyway and hopefully when she's ready she'll make that leap.  It's a scary one for sure but one that eventually I'm praying she makes.

Garrett has been pretty good physically for a while now.  He's struggled some with his chest and heart but on the whole we can't complain!  He's a senior this year and recently told us that his goal is to become a firefighter.  I'm proud of him for making this choice to be a public servant.  I know it will be something he's good at!  I'm excited for him and am hoping that he can achieve his goal pretty quickly.

Jake is doing much better.  I think being mobile has helped a lot.  While he still wants to be held the majority of the time at least now we can put him down some and he'll crawl around and try to get into things.  It's amazing to think he's already 7 1/2 months old now!  Time gets away for sure.  Yesterday he said Mama very clearly and to me.  It made my day! It's his first word.  He's definitely is a mama's boy and while I love that I'm also tired all the time because of it.  Still, I wouldn't have it any other way.  He's starting to slip in the growth charts and becoming more like most of our babies.  He's finally liking to eat but he reacts to so many foods.  I worry that he's going to be like Ben and have a lot of allergies.  I'm sure Ben will like that though since he won't be the only one who can't eat many things!

The rest of the kids are doing well.  We've been battling a lot of sickness lately and I'm worried that it is a look into what the winter will hold for us.  Normally October tells us how the winter will be... in this case we're going to have a rough winter!  Hopefully we'll be ok but I'm not holding my breath for it. 

We are still in need of prayers for what is going on here.  I wish I could write about it but I just can't yet.  I know your prayers are helping though and I feel a sense of peace because of them.  Thank you for praying for our family. 

An Unspoken Prayer Request

I'm not sure how many people still read here but I have an unspoken prayer request.  I'm sure I'll be back when I feel I can talk about it and tell you what I've been asking you to pray for but for now, can you trust me and pray for this desperate need of mine?  Thank you so much!  I hope to be back soon to share with you what it is I am praying so fervently about.  Until that time know that I am so thankful for your prayers. 

Mother Teresa said, “Prayer is not asking. Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God, at his disposition, and listening to His voice in the depths of our hearts.”  I am putting myself into God's hands and putting all my trust in Him. I am listening to Him with my heart and my soul.  Jesus, I trust in You!  

Thank you for your support, your love and your prayers. 

Time Keeps a Ticking

It's quiet around here right now.  Almost too quiet.  I'm enjoying it though and am hoping it continues for a least a little while.  Mike is out of town and the kids are all asleep.  I'm in my room and the only thing I can hear are the crickets chirping outside and the ceiling fan whirling overhead.  It's nice. 

Life has been busy around here.  It seems as if I don't get any time to just be quiet anymore.  I know I need to take that time but it just seems to elude me.  At home there is always something going on... it might be the baby needing to be changed or needing to be fed, a little one wanting to be held or to go outside and play, baths and school, arguments and wrestling matches, singing competitions and shows the kids put on for me, cooking and cleaning, writing for the Catholic Sistas.  Of course if life was just at home we might be able to eek out some down time but life extends to other areas too... youth group, church, volunteering at the pregnancy resource center, helping friends, grocery shopping, doctor appointments, dance class, running errands, taking kids to where they need to be.

I'm glad we are so busy but there are times where I wish time would slow down for me.  I want to read a book, crochet a blanket, watch a movie, take a bath, take a nap, snuggle with Mike for a little while.  I know that there are definitely things I could do in my life to make things a little easier but it's hard to impliment those plans sometimes.  It takes fortitude and determination to make changes and really, I'm tired. 

Lately I've felt overwhelmed with life.  I know part of it was having everything under the sun break on us at one time.  It was so stressful.  Still another struggle is with our friends losing their baby and what it has stirred in me.  Of course another problem is just that I take on so much.  I never say yes unless I truly want to help with something but sometimes there just isn't enough time to do it all.  I don't know how to balance that all out.  Maybe I don't change things because then I would lose some of those things that are important to me that would have to be put aside.  I don't know. 

I'm not sure why I'm writing a post about this here.  I guess I just wanted to get it out.  I'm not sure anyone reads here anymore anyway but like a dear friend said to me many, many years ago, "It just helps to write it all out.  Just do it.  You won't regret it."  She is right.  It helps to get it out of me, even if no one ever sees it but me.

If you are here and have read this, thanks for stopping by and thank you for reading. There are so many times through the day that I say to myself, "Oh! I should blog about that!" but the time gets away from me and by the time I actually can sit down I've forgotten what I wanted to write about anyway.  I have many titles here in my line up of posts that I at least wrote a title for or perhaps even started but never finished. I sit and look at those and wonder what in the world I wanted to write about.  It's frustrating. 

Time keeps on ticking by and life keeps on marching forward.  There are days I wish I could slow them down, maybe even stop them, but then I think about it and decide that even if I could I probably still wouldn't get everything done.   I guess I'll just keep trying to do my best.  Afterall, it's really all I can do. 

Dominic, 5 years Later

It's hard for me to believe that it's been 5 years since we lost Dominic.  I can still remember laying on the bed with Mike, crying that our little baby was gone.  It seems like yesterday that I walked into the hospital as two and came home as one, alone.  I wish I had known then what I know now about my rights, but I didn't.  If I did I would have come home with my baby and buried him but instead I would wonder for a very long time what they had done with him after they took him from me.   I had to stop wondering after a time because the thought was just almost too much to bear.

Tomorrow I will be going to a funeral for our friends' little baby boy.  He was a little over 2 months old when he died on Saturday.  He was a twin and they were both born too premature.  The little girl grew stronger and held on but he did not.  His body was just not developed enough to survive.  He now waits in heaven for his family.   I'm not sure how we are going to do tomorrow at the funeral.  I'm going to try my hardest to be strong but after all we've been through I'm not sure I can do that. 

I wish I could help them see that while the pain is all-consuming now it does get better.  Yes, there will be days, even years later, that sneak up on you and overpower you but they aren't like the early days when the pain is so fresh, so new. 

There is never a day that I don't think of my children waiting for me, but when I think of them I don't necessarily break down in tears.  Don't get me wrong, there are many days I do break down in tears at the injustice of it all, but not every time.  It's hard to describe what happens as time moves on.  There are pieces of my heart that are gone forever and waiting alone for my babies, but there are parts of me that can rejoice in all that I have been blessed with and those pieces of my heart know that in time my babies will be back in my arms.  It's strange to be pulled to strongly in both directions.

Lately my heart has been so heavy.  I have been missing my babies so very much.  I'm not sure if it was just Dominic's anniversary coming up that trigger it but even before we knew our friends' son was in danger of losing his fight my heart just hurt.  I've been lonely and been wanting so much to understand.  Mike is in a different place than me and it's very hard for him to understand why there are times that I am still so sad, especially when he sees me all the other times doing ok.  I don't have the words to help him understand.  I just don't.  I don't know how to write what accurately expresses my heart. 

Tomorrow as we go to our friends' son's funeral I know that it will take everything in me not to fall into that darkness.  I'm trying my hardest to remember all that we've been blessed with and that we have to look forward to with our children.  Still, it's hard.  I am so very sad for our friends and all that they will have to face and I'm sad for us and all that we've missed out on.  I know God's plans are best but sometimes I wonder what things would be like if we hadn't gone through so much devastation.  Maybe I should be glad I don't know... maybe it would be an even worse kind of devastation. 

Please pray for peace... both for myself and for our friends.  I know they are strong in their faith too but I also know that this kind of loss can tear a person away from all that they have loved and believed.  I pray that they will hold close to God, hold close to each other and that they will one day hold their little boy again in heaven. 

What Makes You Beautiful

I have no misperceptions about how I look.  I know that by far I am not the prettiest woman in the world.  To be honest I'll say that I have never found myself to be pretty at all.  Maybe this has to do with growing up with sisters who told me I wasn't pretty or with kids who teased me for having glasses but whatever the reason I have never felt pretty.  I suppose there are certain days in my life I have felt pretty... my wedding day was one of those days and my sister's wedding day was another, but truth be told, that was 21 years ago and that's a long time to go without feeling pretty.  I rarely take pictures of myself for this very reason. I end up feeling terrible about how I look when I see a picture of myself.

After having so many children, especially back to back, and just the way my metabolism acts, I have a hard time losing weight and so right now, at this point in my life, I'm overweight.  I feel fat.  I look in the mirror and I see fat.  For the most part I hate what I look like.  I hate the way clothes look on me.  I know that one day I should be able to lose some of this weight but I'll always have problems with skin sagging, stretch marks, and things just not being toned even though I'm trying.  It's a little depressing when I think about it. 

Right now there is a very popular pop song that I just love.  It's by One Direction called, "What Makes You Beautiful".   I guess why I like it so much is that even now at 40 years old I still need to hear that I am beautiful, even when I don't feel like I am.  It's not about just wanting to be pretty but about wanting Mike especially to look at me and still think I'm beautiful despite the extra weight, the stretch marks, the tiny wrinkles around my eyes.   It's wanting to know that even though time has done a lot of damage to me that he can see around all of that.    I want to be beautiful. I don't feel like I am. 

I've recently taken to wearing mainly skirts in my every day life.  I'm doing it for a couple of reasons, one being a health reason (I have an umbilical hernia and wearing skirts is much more comfortable than wearing jeans or shorts).  The other reason has to do with wanting to feel pretty.  I feel more feminine when I wear a skirt.  I feel like I'm more modest as well.  I suppose when I feel that way I tend to act more in a modest way as well.  For the last few months, really since Jake has been born, I have worn skirts.  I have come to really love the way I feel about myself in them.  It's not that I feel beautiful or think anyone else thinks I am, but I feel prettier and better about myself in a small way.

It's funny to think that at 40 years old I still want and need to feel beautiful.  I would never have thought that after all this time I would still be struggling with this issue.  Mike has different needs than me and it's hard for him to understand that I still need to hear him tell me that I look pretty or that he likes a particular outfit on me.  Those are things that aren't as important to him.  I wish he could understand how just a little "Wow, you are so beautiful to me" would go such a long way for me.  I think that everyone wants to feel beautiful both inside and out.  At least I do.   I hope that in another 20 years or 40 years from now I'm not still struggling with self-esteem issues. 

Do you feel beautiful?  If so, what is it that makes you feel that way?  If not, what would make you feel beautiful?

Affirmation

Lately we've had a terrible run of bad luck.   We had both our cars in the shop with major repairs, our air went out and resulted in two calls for the air conditioning guy, our microwave caught fire and our washing machine was broken for 3 weeks.  When you have 12 people living in the house all of these things on their own are horrible, but all together at one time, it's devastating.  To say I've been stressed and down is an understatement. 

Still there are things that make me hopeful and make me smile.  One of those things (or should I say 10 of them) is my children.  They tend to say the right things at the right time to make me laugh or smile just about the time I want to cry.

The second time the air conditioner man came out was one of those times.  He had already been out, charged me a lot to fix the air and left thinking it was working right.  Then the next day it was not working again.  Because I was getting the car fixed as well I had to wait until late in the afternoon to have him back out to fix it.  I couldn't fathom how much more it was going to cost, especially after spending so much to fix our van.  Still, it had be fixed right.

I was downstairs talking to the air guy as he worked on the unit and Bella came downstairs with a pillow in her shirt.  She was laughing and said, "Look!  I'm pregnant!"  We all laughed at her, especially when the pillow came out.  Ben looked at me standing there and said, "Mama, you're pregnant too!"

  I just looked at him at first and didn't say anything.  The air guy was looking at me, wondering if that was true.  Really, when there are ten kids running around the house in every nook and cranny it wouldn't have surprised him to find that was true.  Still, it isn't a true statement (that I'm aware of) and I said to Ben, "No Ben, I'm not pregnant."

Ben, not being dissuaded said, "Yes you are!  You have a baby in your tummy!"

Me, feeling even worse and very fat now because on top of telling me I was pregnant he was rubbing my stomach at the same time.  "No Ben, I'm not.  I'm just fat."

Ben looked up at me with surprise.  His face softened and he looked me directly in my eyes and said softly, "Oh no Mama.  You're not fat, you're beautiful."  And then he put his arms around me and snuggled his face into my softness and hugged me as tight as he could.

The air guy looked at me and said, "That makes it all worth it, doesn't it?"

I smiled and told him that it did.  Even though I was embarassed at Ben insisting that I was pregnant, I felt loved and beautiful too.  Somehow the stress of the week melted away.  Sometimes it only takes a little one telling me I'm beautiful to reaffirm that life isn't so bad after all.

Two years ago today we said goodbye to our little Sarah.  Her loss came after a devastating loss with Joseph.  We hadn't been prepared to lose Joseph and to find that he was gone was almost too much to comprehend.  When I was pregnant with Sarah so quickly after losing Joseph I couldn't help but worry that we'd lose her too. 

I remember it like it was yesterday the doctor watching her tiny heart struggle to beat.  We knew fairly early on that she was going to have to really fight in order to grow, to thrive, to live.  The first day that we discovered her heart struggling I called a friend of mine and cried.  How could God allow us to suffer yet again, so soon after losing Joseph?  How could my little one be struggling so hard to stay with us yet the doctors had almost no hope for her?  It just didn't seem fair.  My friend told me not to worry, that her heart would get stronger, that she would live. 

I prayed so hard that God would heal our little one.  That the next time I saw her heart that it would be beating strongly and without hesistation.  I busied myself with vacation bible school, with the kids, and with life in general.  I tried not to think too much about what was happening inside my body.  I tried not to worry about my baby.  I tried to give it to God.  I failed day after day.  It was a long two weeks... perhaps the longest of my life.

The day would arrive when I would go for my ultrasound.  I was so worried.  I pleaded with God to please make that heart beat strong.  To please let me see movement.  To be with me regardless of what was going to happen.  As I lay on the table it was evident immediately that our little one had no heartbeat anymore at all.  There wasn't any movement and everything was so still.  My heart was torn yet again. 

When Sarah was born she was so tiny. It's amazing to know firsthand how much of a miracle a developing baby truly is.  To hold something so small, so perfect, and so breathtaking was just a humbling experience.   I also feel blessed that I was able to have her at home.  While her birth was painful, both physically and emotionally, it was by far more peaceful than Joseph's was and definitely a much more peaceful experience than William's birth and death.  Sarah was born at home into a house full of children who's joy and life filled the air.  Many of them did not realize what was happening, only that I was sick and needed to be alone in my room.  The oldest kids tried their hardest to give me space and to keep little ones from needing me too much.  Ultimately it was peaceful way to say goodbye to our baby whom we loved so much already and wanted so desperately.

It's hard to look back and see that two years have already gone by.  While I am able to hold Jake in my arms now I still yearn for all the babies I have lost along the way.  He helps heal my heart but my heart still knows that there are pieces missing.  I know that one day I'll be holding my sweet babies again but until I do the fleeting memories I have of them will have to calm my aching heart. 

The above picture is a statue I bought one day while I was out.  I had said a small prayer asking Sarah to show me what I needed to buy to remember her by.  As I shopped I found this statue and knew immediately it was meant for me.  I brought her home and we put her in the garden, Sarah's Garden.  It gives me such a sense of peace to look out the window and see Sarah standing there watching over the yard and the garden.  I know that it's not really her but it reminds me of her and how very beautiful and perfect she was. 

I know God's plans are the best and I try to remind myself of that on days like today... days where I am longing for the little ones that I only got to hold for such a short time. 

The Broken Drawer

The other day I went to put away clothes for the two little girls. I was saddened by what I found.  We keep their dresser in Kaylie's, our oldest, room.  We do this because they are at the age where they go in their drawers and change their clothes just about every hour.  They also will root through their drawers and throw clean clothes on the floor and they will mix in with dirty clothes (that are on the floor from them rooting through their dirty clothes basket).  So, to combat this we put their dresser in Kaylie's room and it has slowed them down tremendously.  Up until the other day that is.

There are very few pieces of furniture, or really anything at all in our house that we have bought new.  Almost everything we own is a hand-me-down piece.  Our living room furniture is not, we bought that a few years ago against my better judgment (it's leather, which is nice but the type that Mike wanted to buy was not good for a family with young kids and pets... within a month it had it's first hole and now, well, it's not in good shape).  One of the only other "new" things we have in our house is the dresser that the little girls share.

To be honest it took me a little while to remember why we bought it.  Then I remembered that before we have the bedroom furniture that we have now (bought from a friend who was going through a divorce) we had another set that we bought our second year of marriage.  It only had one dresser and so many years after buying that original set of furniture we bought a dresser for me to have that matched (good enough) our set.  When we bought our current bedroom furniture four years ago we got rid of that but the dresser, although probably at least 10 years old, was in perfect shape so we put it in the little girls' room, although at that time it was just Caroline's room since Madison wasn't here yet!

Because we are a lower income family, and only have one income, it's rare that we buy anything, let alone anything new.  Really, I'm good with that though.  It doesn't bother me in the least to have a friend ask if we can use something or if we want to buy something.  I regularly look at the thrift shops for good deals and we have found many good bargains this way.  It's one of the sacrifices that we know we have to make in order to maintain our large family.  God always provides for our needs so we don't worry too much about that kind of thing.

However, the other day I went in to put away little girl clothes I noticed that one of the drawers was broken.  It made me sad.  I realize that it is just a "thing" and it's not that important but to me it represented something more than just a drawer.  We don't own lots of nice things and things have a tendency to get broken in our household of children.  Because we live in our home 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and with the sheer number of people who live in this home that much, we put a lot of wear and tear on "things".  So to see this drawer, something that has been able to be maintained for such a long time and still look perfect, damaged, well, it made me sad. 

The drawer is fixable and I will fix it today but knowing that I had to is disappointing.  I guess that even though I am happy with the way my life is, knowing that we sacrifice so much to live the way we believe God is calling us to, and that are riches are more than just the things we own, I still wish that we had a bigger house and nicer things.  I hope it doesn't make me sound unthankful for what we do have.... I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am that God has blessed us so abundantly!  But, like most people, I wish I could give my kids more.  I know that I have given them what is important and that they want for nothing, but sometimes, just sometimes, I don't want all the drawers to be broken. 

Summer

We're trying to come up with summer plans.  So far they include going to Kansas City to see Mike's parents, we have Vacation Bible School for church, we think we are going camping (the last time we camped I was 8 months pregnant with Anna so I'm hoping this will be a better experience!), and maybe seeing a few things around the Atlanta area. 

Last week we went on a picnic and went to feed the ducks at a local lake.  It was nice.  I'm hoping to more of that kind of thing as well.   I'd just really like to get the kids out of the house and doing more things to explore our area.  I'm thinking of maybe getting them into geocaching but I've never done it and don't know anyone around here who does.  But I think it would be fun!  I guess we'll see.

What are your plans for the summer?  Do you have any great ideas for me to entertain all these kids in the next couple of months?  I guess one of the perks to not being pregnant is having more energy and drive to do things!  That will be a good thing I think :)

Overwhelming Sorrow

Today has been a hard day.  I miss my babies. I feel incomplete.  I wonder why life is so hard.  I wish I had answers.  There are times I wish I could see into the future to see what's ahead but then I'm glad I can't because what if there is more heartache there?  Would I go willingly or would I choose to stay behind? 

A Brush With Death and The Joy of New Life

I think I'm ready to share Jacob's birth story.  I figure even if I'm not I better write it down before the details become fuzzy and I decide not to record the events.  I can't imagine ever forgetting how things happened but you never know given how time likes to rob us of things we hold dear. 

During my pregnancy I was adamant that I wanted to have a vaginal birth even though I had a previous c-section under my belt and most doctors don't like to do one after you've gone through a c-section.  I had delivered both Caroline and Madison via vbac (vaginal birth after cesearan) so I knew I could do it.  All of my children have laid breech and that has always been another issue for me.  Still, we've done external versions and turned them to be head down so that I could birth them vaginally.  It worked for everyone except Ben so I had high hopes that we could do this as well with our newest baby. 

Throughout my pregnancy the baby would be breech until the very end where he turned head down... well, at least according to the ultrasounds I was having every week.  I would have an ultrasound, they would say he was head down but then later at my regular OB appointment they would question if he was.  Still, we trusted the ultrasound and hoped he would stay put.  Because of my gestational diabetes and the fact I had once had a previous c-section, the doctors would not let me go past my 40 week due date.  They said they would induce if I had not had the baby before March 17th, my due date.  As we entered the 39th week of pregnancy we would schedule to induce to have our baby on March 16th.  I was disappointed that I wouldn't be going into labor on my own and also disappointed not to have a baby on St. Patrick's day but also relieved that I wouldn't have to worry about getting to the hospital on time and delivering a baby either at home or in the car on the way to the hospital.  After our delivery with William I was terrified of something going very wrong during delivery.  I just wanted our baby to be safe.

Friday, March 16th came and we checked into the hospital.  We took Kaylie and Emma with us to witness the birth and to help out.  The day started so good.  We had a wonderful nurse named Heather.  We kept her laughing and she whispered to me that she wished all her patients could be like us.   She would ask me many times what the baby's name was going to be and I would tell her that we weren't telling until he was born.  She would smile and try again.  She was a wonderful nurse.  When we checked in we found that I was 4 cm dilated and already contracting on my own.  It looked like we were meant to have a baby on that very day anyhow.  The doctor and midwife came in to check me and we discussed our plan of action.  We would start pitocin to increase contractions, when I felt it necessary, if at all, I would ask for the epidural, and we would watch how things progressed.  After we hit a certain point we would break my water and deliver the baby.  We were happy and it was exactly what I had been hoping for.

As the day passed on we upped the pitocin and contractions got stronger.  I didn't need the epidural quite yet so we decided to break my water to help things progress.  The baby's head was sitting high and we hoped that by breaking my water his head would drop down and put pressure on my cervix to speed things along (this is what we did with all the other children too).  Because I carried so much extra fluid we decided to try to nick the bag so that there was a slow trickle of fluid instead of a huge gush.  It worked until the first contraction.  With that contraction I once again flooded the bed and the floor beneath.  The midwife and the nurse were shocked at the amount of fluid but we just laughed and told them that we warned them!  Breaking my water brought on stronger contractions and I decided that I needed the epidural.

The anesthesiologist came and as he worked on putting my epidural in he and Mike talked about the Marine Corps.  It seemed the doctor's son was going into the Corps and Mike was telling him all about it.  Unfortunately, as nice as the doctor was he couldn't seem to get the medicine in my back the correct way.  He would have to redo it three times and each time it never quite took.   It did work for a little bit but within about 30 minutes I could fully move my legs and body.  Still, it did help lessen some of the pain of the contractions so I just let it go.  I was tired of being poked.

Shortly thereafter I felt like I needed to push and had the midwife check my cervix.  I was fully dilated and ready to push.  Both she and the OB came in to deliver.  As I was pushing I felt like something might be wrong.  I told the nurse that I was in a lot of pain, a different kind of pain.  I told her that I felt it along my abdomen.  She made mention to the OB that I had a "window of pain" and he got a very panicked look on his face.  He said to not call it that as for doctors that meant I had a uterine rupture.  She assured him that she only meant I had an area of pain where the epidural was not working.  I told her that the epidural wasn't working anywhere... that I felt everything and could move everything.  Still, I kept trying to push and deliver the baby.

As labor continued on I was becoming increasingly distressed by the fact that I knew I was not moving the baby down like I should be.  After birthing 8 other babies vaginally I knew what to do and knew I was not doing it.  I asked them about this.  As they checked me the midwife said, "Well, this baby is breech!  I can see his butt and his testicles!"  The OB looked as well and said, "I told you he was breech.  I knew it.  You said you felt his head but I didn't think he was head down."  To which the midwife replied, "You just wanted to deliver one last breech baby before you retire in July!"  As they joked and looked I began to feel even more upset.  If they even thought he was breech why didn't they do an ultrasound to check and to tell me what my options were?  I told the nurse that I didn't think I could birth him.  She told me to keep pushing and that if after a few more pushes I couldn't do it then we'd try something different.

I was in so much pain. I have delivered babies all natural before and this was different.  It was worse, far worse.  I knew something was terribly wrong.  This baby was not going to come out of me.  I was so tired and I knew that my pushing was ineffective.  I told Mike that something was wrong.  I told him I couldn't do it.  He said something to the doctor.  They stopped talking and asked me what I wanted to do.  I began to cry that they needed to take the baby by c-section and they needed to do it soon as something was very, very wrong.  It would take another 15 minutes of preparing before they took me to get the c-section done.  As they were wheeling me back the anesthesiologist talked to me about getting a spinal.  I told him that there wasn't enough time and that they just needed to put me under and take the baby.  I was so scared and beginning to really cry.  I knew there was something wrong and they weren't acting fast enough.  I pleaded over and over again with him to please just put me under and take the baby.  I was almost frantic about it.  After asking me again about the spinal and me insisting they put me out they finally agreed. 

As I lay on the operating table I cried.  I was in so much pain and I was so scared.  I knew there was something wrong but just didn't know what.  The pain I was feeling was a pain I never knew before.  Heather, my nurse, was right there by my side talking to me.  I told her I was scared.  She said things would be ok.  I held her hand and looked up at her.  Through my tears I whispered, "His name is Jacob."  She smiled at me and told me it was a beautiful name.  I didn't tell her that I told her because I wanted to say his name out loud at least once while he was alive.  I was certain he was not going to make it to my arms.   Right after that they put a mask on me and I was asleep.

When I awoke Mike was beside me holding my hand.  I whispered, "Is the baby ok? Is Jacob ok?"  He smiled and told me he was perfect.  I cried a little and was so relieved.  Before I knew it though my OB was standing over me saying, "You must never get pregnant again.  Do you understand?"  I looked at him confused and just whispered, "Yes."  I would later find out that the pain I was feeling so intensely was my uterus rupturing.  As the doctor began the c-section he discovered that not only did my uterus rupture but it came apart into pieces. He said putting it together again was like putting together a jigsaw puzzle.  On top of this my bladder also ruptured.  He and two other doctors would spend 3 1/2 hours putting both my bladder and my uterus back together. 

Mike told me that he was able to be in the operating room during the delivery and the other surgeries. The anesthesologist told him that since he was a Marine he thought he could handle being in the room with us.  He said at one point he was really scared as my nurse Heather and another nurse hugged and started to cry while the doctor was doing surgery on me. They were sure I was not going to make it through.  I would lose a tremendous amount of blood and I almost required a transfusion.  The OB said that because I had been on the table for so long they just wanted to get me closed back up and out of anesthesia.  Because I had lost so much blood, was under for so long, and had already almost died they decided not to do a hysterectomy at that point.  The doctor would tell me later that he was worried that I would not make it through another surgery.  

Recovery has been hard.  I would go home from the hospital with a catheter for 2 weeks and I have fought my iron levels tooth and nail trying to get them to go up. I truly thought I was dying during those first two weeks.  The pain was terrible and it seemed like everything was shutting down on me.  My legs swelled and I had a hard time walking, my left kidney also began to swell and caused me so much pain, and I couldn't eat and could hardly swallow because of the tube that had been put down my throat.  My throat was scratched and swollen.   At one point the doctor was considering putting me back in the hospital for a blood transfusion because my iron was so low.  The pain from my incision has not been so bad but I have a lot of pain inside.  I know that it's my bladder and uterus trying to heal. 

At my 6 week post partum appointment the midwife would tell me how amazed she was at how my body is healing.  She said that my cervix and vagina, both which had tears and damage, were completely healed.  The OB that delivered me requested that I see him when I came in for my appointment even though I had scheduled with the midwife.  He came to the room I was in and hugged me tightly and in his thick accent said, "Oh, I'm so happy to see you!  I was so scared the day you delivered. That was one of the scariest deliveries I have ever done.  It looked like a bomb went off inside of your body!  I just can't believe you made it through and are doing so good today!"  I smiled and thanked him for saving my life and for saving Jacob's life.  He grinned again and patted my shoulder and said, "I just can't believe it!"

So today, I sit here, so very thankful that I have little Jake in my arms but so very sad that I've been advised not to have more children.  My heart breaks at the thought.  I know that it would be dangerous to do so and of course my living children have to come first. Still, it doesn't take away the feeling that I want more children and feel like there are more out there for our family.  Perhaps they will come a different way though.  I don't know.  I just know that in my joy there has been so much sorrow too.  I often wonder why we have had to go through so much.  I have always said though that God will open my womb and God will close it.  Living according to His will is hard.  It has been hard to be open to life no matter the cost.  Before the cost has been adding children when we are financially struggling, losing babies both early on and later in pregnancy, and enduring the ridicule by others about our family size and faith.  Now the cost is losing my fertility. 

I realize that I can still have children but I know that it is better not to.  For me it's worse to know that I physically can get pregnant but I shouldn't because it could kill me.  I wish they had been able to take out my uterus at the birth so I wouldn't have to think about it and wouldn't have to worry each month about the possiblity.  Still, I am trusting in God to keep me safe and I will be doing all that's in my power and within my faith and beliefs to keep myself safe as well.  I don't ever intend to get pregnant again and that hurts my heart so much. 

I thought having Jake would heal my heart of all the pain we've been through.  He has healed some of that pain but in other areas his birth has created more.  Still, I look at him and know that he is worth it.  I have always said that I would give my life for any one of my children, both born or unborn.  I almost had to give my life for Jake.   I would do it again any day.  I love him so much and am so glad he is here.  I look at him and know that God's plan are always the best and I am glad that I have faith.  If I didn't I don't know how I would have gotten through all that we have had to go through. 

I'm still dealing with all of this and still struggle daily with it.  Still, I am holding fast to my love for my children and my love for God.  Any sacrifice I have to make for either is one I make with all my heart and soul.  I know that I have been so blessed to have 10 beautiful children to hold in my arms.  I grieve those we've lost and now I grieve the loss of the children we could have had.  It makes me sad that I don't hold all my children in my arms but I know they wait for me and one day I will hold them again.  As for grieving my fertility, I know one day things will not seem so bad and I'm looking forward to that day, but for now, I will cry over this loss and trust in God's will for our family.  I am thankful to be alive and so thankful that Jacob made it here so perfectly. 

Sweetness

Jake is doing pretty good... he'd be doing better if we could get him on a schedule or get him to like other people besides me. He will sit sometimes with the kids (especially Savannah) but most of the time he wants me. It's been exhausting. He is sweet though and I feel so blessed that he made it to our arms. The kids are in love with him but the newness is wearing off and the fighting over who gets to hold him or try to feed him is done. They all will help but it's no longer a race to see who gets to first. On a regular basis, though, I hear from them a dozen times a day about how cute or how sweet he is. It makes my heart melt.

I am healing. This week was a long one. We were getting ready for Mike's parents to come and meet Jake for the first time. I think I overdid it and was very sore and had new pains crop up over the weekend. I need to know my limits but it's hard when you are used to just going and doing what needs to be done. I know it's going to take a while but I'm ready now to be better. It's another frustration that I have at the current moment!

I wish I had a crystal ball to know what to expect in the future. I want to know that I am going to heal completely and how long it's going to take. Unfortunately I don't have the crystal ball so I have to be patient. I've been told I have the patience of Job. I guess that I'm going to have to muster all that I have during this time. I'm tired of being patient but I have no other choice. I also realize that many people carry many crosses and that right now this is my cross to bear. I hope I can bear it with grace and dignity. It's so hard.

I am ready to feel like myself again... both physically and emotionally. I look at Jake and know that it was all worth it though. Still, I'm ready to feel good again. I'm praying that this happens soon.