October 15

My heart is heavy today.  The whole month of October is a challenge for me, a reminder of last moments and saying goodbye.  For the entire month, I am reminded of Reagan as I anticipate her upcoming birthday.  Today, well, today the whole country seems to remember.  Today is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.  Today, candles are lit and balloons are released in memory of all our babies gone too soon.  It's a beautiful picture as we grieve together, to know we are not alone in this journey.  And ultimately, that's what it is.  A journey.  Not a moment, not an event, but something we continue to still walk through on a daily basis.  Nothing is forgotten, the pain is not erased as time moves forward.  And the struggle of feeling like the rest of the world has moved on while I am stuck here is very real.  I find myself throughout this month having to remind myself of truth over and over: Reagan is loved, she is cared for now, she is not longing for anything, and I will see her again.  And while all of that is true, and it helps to know, it does not change the fact that she is no longer here with me.  And that continues to cut me right to the core.  I miss my first baby girl so so much.  Always.  And most of the time, I feel this need to hide that, to be strong for my boys, to not be swallowed by the emotions of it all.  But today?  Today I get to remember her.  I get to remember Reagan and celebrate her life.  And, more than that, I get to remember her twin, who I never met.  I get to think about him and how he's playing with his sister.  I get to smile as I picture them running hand in hand.  And I get to do all that with thousands of other families who KNOW.  We all get to celebrate our babies together today.

One in Four.  Those statistics are bleak, so let me say it again: 1 in 4.  I know there are so many others who are hurting today, who are longing for their babies.  There are so many who saw those 2 lines and fell in love, only to say goodbye a few days to weeks later.  There are those who saw the heart beating, got their due date, made a plan...only to have that plan change so suddenly.  There are so many we've met along our own journey and through Reagan's Garden who have passed into the "safety zone," halfway there, found out gender, started decorating the nursery, bought all the things, and prepared for baby's arrival...only to deliver into a silent room, to know the face of their child but not the sound of her cry.   And 1 in 4 of us have been one of these.  It's so hard.  And I have no answers, no magic words.  Know that my heart is with you today as we all remember together.

30 weeks

30 weeks.  It sounds so old to me.  Now, when I hear of babies born at 30 weeks, I shrug my shoulders.  I'm not sure what is different about that first digit being a 3 versus a 2, but it seems to make all the difference in the world.  I'm officially 3/4 of the way through a NORMAL pregnancy, less than 2 months from full term.  Craziness.  I'm feeling very excited to be at this point.

Hannah's room is coming along.  We've got the walls painted now, which is huge!  Her crib is all set up with the hand made 3 tier ruffled bed skirt (tutorial here) and butterfly mobile.  It's nice to be physically able to make things for the room this time around.  And to feel like I can put more of myself into her room than I was able to with Warren and Dean.  I'll be posting pictures once we get a mattress because, well, cribs look funny without them...they're kind of important.  So, assuming we can figure out exactly which one we want, the pictures should be coming very soon :)

Approaching the 30 week mark for me also meant a spike in evening contractions.  I'm not at the point of calling the doctor yet since they are better throughout the day, but there is definitely a change in intensity with the evening hours.  I know some of that is related to being more active and getting Hannah's nursery ready vs lying on the couch in a constant state of miserable nausea. (So thankful that nausea is COMPLETELY gone)  But it's enough to cause me an initial fear of preterm labor being an issue.  Of course, I already established just having a 3- at the beginning of my gestation makes me feel so much more comfortable, but how wonderful would it be to have no NICU time and be able to take Hannah home with me right away?  I'm not even sure I know the answer to that question as it's so foreign to me.  But I'm clinging to that and the hope that we'll make it at least 5 more weeks to give us the best chance of coming home together.  That thought brings a smile to my face

All in a name

Our first three children's names were relatively easy, all names we talked about while dating or in the early stages of our marriage.  We knew Reagan would be our first daughter.  And we liked Warren and Dean equally, so it worked out extremely well that they were twins so we didn't have to choose.  But that was as far as we got in our planning process before reality set in, things got difficult, and we never knew if we would have any children, much less more than 3.  So, we never really discussed it again.

While silently facing infertility, our pastor did a sermon series on 1 Samuel.  I so wish I had downloaded it so I could go back and listen.  Anyway, 1 Samuel opens with the story of Hannah.  Hannah, suffering for many many years with infertility, watching her husband's other wife conceive and deliver child after child, tormenting her and rubbing it in her face.  I felt tormented, I felt like people were rubbing their fertility in my face as I got yet another baby shower invitation or saw another pregnancy/birth announcement come my way.  But the truth of the matter is, no one was doing that.  No one was actually making me feel like less of a woman.  No one, that is, except for myself.  But not the case with Hannah.  She faced this sense of failure in a very real way each and every day, being provoked constantly until she was weeping and unable to eat.  She wept to the Lord, cried out to Him.  And she pledged to give Him her son if she could only conceive.  I know a little of how that feels, though I didn't give my daughter by choice.  And I certainly wouldn't have if I had the option.  Regardless, it was the first time I listened to a sermon specifically on infertility, the first time I really felt like my struggles, the heartache involved in not being able to conceive, was addressed by anyone.  The first time I realized how much God cares for me and this struggle that no one else would talk about.  I remembered Hannah and how she continually took her petition to the Lord, how she trusted Him with her son Samuel, the faith required in that act.

Fast forward several years, 3 pregnancies and 4 kids later, and the scar and pain of infertility is still there.  There's still a part of me that struggles to wrap my head around the why.  And I know I haven't handled it with the grace and faith Hannah did.  But I find her and her story worthy of naming my second daughter after, and I can only pray my daughter will have the same faith, with trust in the Lord wholeheartedly as well.  And so we've decided on the name of this little one I am carrying..

Hannah Grace Savant

Warren and Dean have learned her name and seem to understand as much as possible that she is their little sister, just as Reagan is their big sister.  Both girls are included when they sing Jesus Loves Me, or when they talk about who loves them or who they love.  It melts my heart to see them stepping into their new role as big brothers.  I'm excited to meet little Hannah, hopefully not until November, but we'll take her any time she comes.  I'm ready to see if she looks like me, if she looks like her brothers or her daddy, or if she looks like her big sister.

3rd trimester

It's official.  I've surpassed all previous pregnancy milestones and duration.  I'm in the 3rd trimester.  Honestly, I thought it would feel more different than it does.  It's feels remarkably similar to the end of the 2nd trimester.  Maybe that is simply because once we got to the half way point, all indication was we would reach this point.  It's not a big surprise, though my heart still had it's doubts.  But medically, things were stable enough that it was fully expected that I would not deliver until the 3rd trimester.

It's exciting to have something normal.  (well, normal-ish given the frequency of my contractions)  To be doing things like scheduling my cesarean for mid November, to be applying lotion to my ever stretching itchy skin, to see new numbers on the scale never seen before.  And yet, it makes me realize how much I missed out on.  Funny how that works, how my mind can take such a blessing and make it about something else.  To take what God has given me and continue to compare it to what everyone else has.  Something is wrong with that.  It's not all the time, or even most of the time, but I hate that I couldn't reach this point with Reagan, Warren and Dean.  That my body seemed to fail time and time again as I couldn't provide them the best environment they needed to grow.  Though I know in my head that God watched over them, that He protected them, that His plan is good, it doesn't make it easy to know in my heart that I didn't fail my children.  All 3 of them.

But, things are moving forward.  We're cleaning out and painting another nursery, we've assembled another crib, and we're working really hard to teach toddler boys the meaning of the word "gentle."  I'll take some advice/expertise on that if anyone has some :).  Overall we are excited and ready to become a family of 6 as we wait for November to come!

26 weeks

I am now 26 weeks pregnant.  AND upright.  Wow.  Now, that is big.  I remember taking our maternity pictures at this point with the boys, standing briefly between contractions around the hospital, trying to keep a glowing smile on my face while wanting to cry out in pain.  I remember getting back to my room and being so exhausted from my wheelchair ride and time spent standing, getting an extra shot of terb that night and wondering if we had just made a huge mistake.  I love each and every picture we have, and I'm so grateful that our photographer was able to capture those moments and help create a background that looked nothing like the outside of a hospital I wasn't allowed to leave, creating some semblance of normalcy.  We were reassured several times that those few minutes would not have impacted the timing of our labor, so I have to trust in that.  Regardless, this time around, at 26 weeks, I'm sitting upright on my couch at home.  I'm taking my boys to the pool and swimming with them.  I'm getting things all ready in the nursery, making a mobile and bedskirt, helping put together a crib, deciding on the wall color.  I get more than my allotted 30 minutes of sitting time.  It's really quite wonderful to have something so "normal," something so many women take for granted.  God has been so gracious to us with this pregnancy, with this sweet little girl growing inside of me.  And, minus the whole morning sickness for the first 20 weeks part, I'm starting to see how people might actually enjoy being pregnant, being in awe and wonder at what is happening instead of living in constant fear.  I am trying to get over to that side, trying and struggling and failing, but God is working.

We are now 6 days away from when the boys were born, 6 days away from the moment our OB said very calmly that I had done everything I could, and he was going to take them "tonight."  So much terror in that moment as my mind flooded with all the things I should have done or things we should have tried or ways I had, once again, failed my children.  As I approach what will be the last of these milestones, the last moment to remind me of what went wrong in previous pregnancies, the last trigger for flashbacks and nightmares, I am thankful for these little reassuring kicks and understanding doctors and the prayers of our friends/family who are lifting us all up.  And I'm so ready for the moment when all I have ahead of me is something new!  

24 weeks and contractions

We have now hit 24 weeks.  This was a HUGE milestone with the boys.  The nurses celebrated with us, the doctors celebrated with us.  It felt like a little party was going on all day.  Viability.  Of course this little bubble was burst when our neonatologist came in and gave us the scary statistics on quality of life and disabilities if survival even happened.  Nevertheless, we had officially made it to our first goal.  With this child, even though there hasn't been months of complications, even though we were never once told she wouldn't make it, there's a little piece of me that just celebrates getting to the 24 week mark.  And it's a milestone that didn't have all the usual anxiety surrounding it.

So, I excitedly anticipated this 24 week point in pregnancy without the baggage that surrounds most of my other milestone points in pregnancy.  That made me all the more thrown when I started having more contractions.  I knew to expect them at 21 weeks with the stress of that moment and what it meant for my previous pregnancies.  But at 24?  No stress contractions should have occurred.  Yet I found myself downloading a contraction counter again and, sure enough, every 8 minutes.  Hmm...  I called the doctor.  When I finally got a return call, it was with instructions to rest and drink some water.  Awesome.  Very feasible with two two-year-olds at home.  Sure kids, get some dinner, put on your bibs, and play quietly while Mommy rests.  I was told to call in 2 hours with an update.  Two hours later I was still rocking Warren who, for some reason this week, has decided to start hysterical screaming after being in his crib for 5 minutes.  I didn't even bother to call.  What would I report...I haven't done anything you asked me to and I don't have a clue how frequently my contractions are coming?  That seems useless.  When I called before, it was during the end of naptime after I had been doing exactly what you prescribed and when I was able to monitor things.  Sigh...

As the night when on, contractions got closer together but not more intense, so I considered that to be a good sign and decided to forgo the trip to labor and delivery.  With Warren and Dean, I started getting contractions like this weeks before my first trip to the hospital.  Irritable uterus, they said.  I think that started around 17 weeks with them, so 24 this time around seems about right.  Regardless, a whole night resting, drinking lots of water, and peeing seemed to do the trick and I'm back down to my usual amount of contractions this morning.  Plus Andrew took the boys to the park after being gone for a few days so I can stay and rest.  Such a quiet morning.  I forgot how peaceful it is to drink my morning coffee while sitting down without little boy temper tantrums.  Add to it, Baby Girl seems to be enjoying the moment of calm and is kicking away.  I have to say, there is nothing better than little baby kicks as a gentle reminder that God is sustaining her (and me) in a way that I know is far bigger than me or my doctors.

Less than 3 weeks and I'll officially be the most pregnant I've ever been :)

22 weeks

There is something really special about hitting the 22 week mark.  A moment I never experienced with Reagan, a first for a little girl in our family.  And she's still healthy, another first for this moment.  I'm not lying in a hospital bed, I'm not hooked up to monitors, I'm not heavily medicated for strong, unrelenting contractions.  At this point with Reagan, we were saying goodbye and coming home empty handed.  At this point with Warren and Dean, we were praying I'd hang on for another 2 weeks so they'd have a chance of survival.  And the 3rd pregnancy?  Nothing.  Everything looks great.  At our check up on Tuesday, the specialist was confident that even if my contractions got worse, there was no way I'd deliver before 28 weeks.  Know what that means??  The 3rd trimester!  I've never experienced the third trimester.  I've delivered 3 babies in only 4 total trimesters.  Hmmm...  We are prayerfully optimistic that baby girl will make her appearance at some point much closer to term.

So...bring on the stretch marks, heartburn, and back aches that come with growing uncomfortably huge!