This blog has been created as a journey of healing for me after the devastating loss of my daughter, Anna Danielle. She was 23 weeks and 2 days old in my womb when my husband, Eddie, and I lost her. We are still not sure yet what caused the pre-term labor, but are hoping to find some answers when we meet with the doctor who was at the delivery at follow up appointment on August 5th.
Eddie and I were married for 8 months when we discovered that we were going to have a precious baby, who we later found out to be a girl. We immediately named her Anna Danielle. We had no idea that her name would be so absolutely perfect for an angel.
I find healing in writing and sharing my thoughts. In addition to that, I'm hoping this blog will be used as a ministry...to help and network with other mothers and families who have lost a child to preterm labor or miscarriage, and also to witness to others about the love and mercy of God.
Eddie and I have been so very blessed with many, many caring friends, family and strangers who have reached out to support us in prayer and love. We recognize that as a tremendous gift. And we will always be thankful to those who have helped us through this pain and loss.
These blog entries will be used to express ways that I am dealing with the loss of Anna Danielle and to reveal the ways in which God helps my family and I heal.
We now have a saint in Heaven who is praying for us. And we look forward to the day that we will meet our daughter face to face with our Lord, Jesus Christ.
Anna Danielle, pray for us.
Carrie
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Friday, July 18, 2014
Our Story
My husband Eddie and I met almost three years ago, on August 24, 2010. From the first time we met, we both knew instantly that we had finally found our soul mates. At the time, he was 45 years old and I was 34. We had both waited a long time to find each other. But that didn't seem to matter as our love for each other grew day after day. Our friends and family really didn't know what to think at first. On my end, everyone was used to seeing me as the single, carefree, unattached girl who loved living life spontaneously...lots of traveling, devoting my life to leading the Music Ministry at St. Paul's Catholic Church and presenting Women's Retreat Weekends. Eddie's friends and family were cautious about him jumping into this relationship so quickly with me because they had seen him hurt in the past and didn't want him to end up hurt again.
But it didn't take everyone long to see that with each passing day, week and month, Eddie and I were perfect together.
It was country boy meets city girl.
Eddie loves tractors, hunting, being in the woods, sporting clays and living a simple life in the country. I, on the other hand, love singing, going to live theater, traveling the world, golfing and being spontaneous. However, the one thing we had in common from the beginning is a love for the Lord. And as our love for each other grew, our love for God grew even stronger. We both have a love and devotion for the Catholic Faith and that was a major commonality that drew us to each other as well.
Six months after we met, Eddie bought an engagement ring and on Valentines Day in 2011, proposed to me in the living room of my apartment after asking my parents for their blessing the night before. I said, "Yes!" with all of my heart.
After a little more than a year of growing together and preparing for the sacred commitment we would make to each other, we were married at St. Paul's Church on a beautiful Saturday afternoon on June 9, 2012, surrounded by our family and friends. It was the happiest day of my life.
Because we were "older," we didn't want to wait too long to start a family. We waited for six months before we began trying to get pregnant because we wanted to enjoy being "just us" as a married couple for at least a little while. After all, we waited long enough for it! 😊
And then, after six months of trying to conceive, I took a home pregnancy test when I returned home from presenting a Women's Weekend Retreat on Sunday, February 24, 2013.
And there was that glorious little plus sign!
Eddie was downstairs and heard me yelling out his name from the upstairs bathroom. He came bounding up the steps as fast as he could, thinking that I was freaking out about another stink bug that needed to be disposed of. When he got to the bathroom, I was standing there with a big grin, holding up the HPT stick with the bright blue plus sign for him to see! With so much excitement, I said, "We're pregnant!" He took me in his arms and hugged me so tightly and began to cry with happiness. Once we let the reality sink in, we both grabbed our cell phones and called our parents! They were so excited!
And thus began a journey of anticipation, joy, anxiety, fear, hope, sadness...but more than anything: love.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
An Uneasy Pregnancy
From the beginning of our pregnancy, it seemed like one obstacle after another.
The morning after we discovered that we were pregnant, I took one more home pregnancy test to make sure it was positive. Then I called the first OB doctor in our area that so many of my formerly pregnant friends had raved about. I was nervous about finding the right doctor because of my age and because of some of the "female" problems I've had most of my adult life.
Unfortunately, that doctor was away on medical leave for several months. So the receptionist on the phone scheduled us to see another doctor in that same office. The first appointment wasn't for at least a month, which apparently was typical. However, I had no idea how all of this worked. So I said to the woman on the phone, "I'm not gonna be seen sooner?" "No dear. There's no need to," she replied. I was confused. "Well, how do I know if I'm really pregnant?" She asked me if I had taken a home pregnancy test. Twice, I told her. "Well then, honey, you're pregnant!" Okay then.
She asked me for all the basic information about myself and informed me that I would be considered high-risk because of my age of 37. I expected that and was somewhat relieved because I was hoping that would mean I would get a little more attention through this pregnancy.
I really didn't feel pregnant for awhile. No nausea. And really no other symptoms that I could tell...other than missing my "monthly visitor." So, the first few weeks were relatively uneventful.
And then, one evening while I was at work, waiting for someone to come to my office for a rehearsal, I felt kinda weird and went to the restroom. I was bleeding and that sent me into a panic. When my rehearsal buddy showed up, I was a crying mess. I told him that I thought I needed to go to the Emergency Room. He saw what a mess I was and offered to drive me there...so off we went. I was shaking and crying with fear. My husband, my parents and my sister met us there. We do everything as a family. :)
During my few hours in the ER, a technician had done a trans-vaginal ultrasound on me and the ER doctor reported that everything looked fine. They could see the gestational sac but did not see an embryo. The doctor said it could simply be because I'm so early in the pregnancy yet. So I was ordered to have some blood work done over the weekend to see if my hcg levels were going up and then have another ultrasound done by my OB the following Monday.
When Monday came, Eddie and I were anxious to see what the doctor had to say. But, unfortunately, when we arrived for the appointment, we were told that we would not be seen by the doctor. A technician would be doing an ultrasound. We were not happy with that, but tried to trust the staff at their word.
That first experience at the doctor's office was not a positive one for us...especially being that we were new, anxious parents anyway. The very young girl who did the ultrasound seemed inexperienced and nervous as she performed another trans-vaginal US on me. It was painful and nerve-wracking as she left the room several times because she was confused by what she was seeing. This caused our anxiety level to heighten even more and then we were sent home with only a simple "We'll have the doctor call you."
We drove the 20-minute commute home in silence and very fearful.
We got home and anxiously awaited the call from the doctor. Four hours later, the phone rang and we were asked to come back to the office so the doctor could see us.
Another long drive...
When the doctor finally came into the room where it seemed like we were waiting forever, she told us that I have what's called a blighted ovum.
An empty sac.
No baby.
This can't be right. But the doctor was sure of it based on the ultrasound done that morning. "I'm so sorry," she said. And then she went on to talk about a "simple" procedure called a D&C to "clean me out."
"No," I said. "I don't mean to be disrespectful but we were not comfortable with the ultrasound done this morning." We explained to her about the technician's insecure behavior. I demanded that we have another one done by a more experienced technician. The doctor had no problem with that and scheduled us to come back in for another one the next morning...at no charge. And she assured us that a more experienced technician would be there.
That was a long night for us.
The next morning, Eddie had to work so my mom went with me. This ultrasound was a very different experience. The technician found the baby right away. She was the size of a sweet pea. And we heard and saw the baby's heartbeat! It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. I said, "I knew it!" And my mom and I both cried. The technician said, "You are at 6 weeks and 2 days. That gives you a due date of October 27th." We were so relieved! I was no sooner out in the parking lot that I was calling Eddie at work to tell him the good news. He cried with relief and said, "Okay. Time to find a new doctor." I agreed.
After asking several friends and family members for advice on a new local doctor, we decided on one and called her office to make an appointment. The first few months went okay, although I had gone to the ER once more due to bleeding. Again, I was discharged with no concern. And our OB doctor was never concerned either. At every appointment with her, she would listen to the baby's heartbeat, ask me if I was having any issues and then would say, "See you in a month."
Throughout the pregnancy, I had lost a good deal of weight. That was from a lot of nausea in the first trimester and a careful diet due to Gestational Diabetes. I was feeling great by the time the end of the first trimester came around. At week 12, we saw our precious little one on the screen for the first time during an ultrasound at Magee Hospital in Pittsburgh. She was quite active in the womb and we were delighted. By week 14, the nausea was letting up and my energy level increased. Everything was going okay. It seemed like the second trimester was going to be a breeze. Eddie and I even went away for a few days to celebrate our first anniversary.
But on the second day of our anniversary trip, I was not feeling very well. We were at week 20 and I was feeling the baby kick for the first time. It was exciting, but so painful at the same time. By the time we got home that Tuesday, I almost dreaded the baby moving around because it hurt so bad...like the baby was kicking my cervix or something. But since I had no idea what to expect, I kept telling myself that it was probably normal.
I told myself, "try to stay calm" over and over again.
The next evening after our return home, Eddie and I met my parents and my sister and a friend for dinner. I could hardly eat. I was feeling a lot of pain and was nauseous. Something was wrong. I could feel it. I could sense it. But I tried to ignore it. We all went to Walmart after dinner and the more I walked around, the worse I felt. I went to the restroom and discovered that I had passed what I believed was my mucus plug. (Sorry for the yucky details, but as you women know, pregnancy is anything but glamorous...no matter how Hollywood tries to portray it!) So, off to the ER (again!) we went. Because I was so far along in the pregnancy, this time I was taken to the Labor and Delivery unit. And once again, I was discharged with no concern. Only that, even though I had been drinking a lot of water, I was a little dehydrated. So I was sent home with a full bladder after drinking a ton of water.
We went for our routine 20-week appointment to our OB the next day. She was not concerned about what had happened the previous evening and said, "That just happens sometimes. We don't know why." I expressed my concern about the pain I was feeling in my cervical area, but she said nothing. I asked her if we were going to have another ultrasound done in Pittsburgh and she said no. She wanted to save the ultrasounds for later in the pregnancy. We were quite confused by this. Most people I knew that were pregnant had one done at the 20th week. Plus, we were hoping to find out the gender of the baby. Even more, I REALLY wanted to have my cervix looked at. She sent us away thinking we were not having one done. But when we checked out at the front desk, we were given an appointment to have one done in Weirton (our local hospital) the following week. Confusing!!
When we left her office, we were both unsettled again. And I asked Eddie if he thought we should switch doctors again since we're so confused all the time. Every time we left this doctor's office, we never felt like our questions were being answered and we were always unsettled and confused. She was a woman of few words and I felt like every question we asked was answered with a blank "deer caught in headlights" look. Not a great way to experience your first pregnancy, if you ask me. Eddie also felt like that was what we needed to do, but we decided to give her another chance to see what happened after this next ultrasound.
Sadly, we had another awful experience with this ultrasound too. To save time, I won't go into details, but it was a very unorganized, frustrating appointment. We left there feeling uneasy and not confident that the staff knew what they were doing. And to top it off, it was discovered that my cervix had begun to open.
I COULD HAVE TOLD THEM THAT A WEEK AGO!
We wished that our OB doctor would have sent us to Magee Hospital like she did the first time, but we were completely helpless at this point.
By this time, Eddie and I had had enough. However, one good thing we left the hospital with was that we were told that the baby was a girl...at least as far as the technician could tell. Well, we needed something to be happy about at that point, so we went with it. We even had a "Gender Reveal Party" a few days later with our family and some close friends. We named our daughter Anna Danielle.
Our doctor had put me on bed rest until further notice. When I talked to her on the phone three days later, she still had no plan of action: only that she was going to call a high risk doctor in Wheeling to examine me sometime in the next week. Why hadn't she called that doctor already?!
By the time we would see the high risk doctor, I had been feeling like something was wrong for more than two weeks now. I just felt like I wasn't being heard. And although the pain had subsided, now I had been passing A LOT of mucus every day for at least a week. That just couldn't be normal.
It was time for us to move on to doctor number three. We were so angry by this time. But doctor number three turned out to be much better. We should have gone there in the first place.
Doctor number three fit me into her busy schedule immediately and saw me the next morning after I called her. She needed some time to look over my history and wanted me to come back in two days. In the meantime, she scheduled us to go see a high risk doctor the following Wednesday.
Little did we know that we would never make it that far.
The morning after we discovered that we were pregnant, I took one more home pregnancy test to make sure it was positive. Then I called the first OB doctor in our area that so many of my formerly pregnant friends had raved about. I was nervous about finding the right doctor because of my age and because of some of the "female" problems I've had most of my adult life.
Unfortunately, that doctor was away on medical leave for several months. So the receptionist on the phone scheduled us to see another doctor in that same office. The first appointment wasn't for at least a month, which apparently was typical. However, I had no idea how all of this worked. So I said to the woman on the phone, "I'm not gonna be seen sooner?" "No dear. There's no need to," she replied. I was confused. "Well, how do I know if I'm really pregnant?" She asked me if I had taken a home pregnancy test. Twice, I told her. "Well then, honey, you're pregnant!" Okay then.
She asked me for all the basic information about myself and informed me that I would be considered high-risk because of my age of 37. I expected that and was somewhat relieved because I was hoping that would mean I would get a little more attention through this pregnancy.
I really didn't feel pregnant for awhile. No nausea. And really no other symptoms that I could tell...other than missing my "monthly visitor." So, the first few weeks were relatively uneventful.
And then, one evening while I was at work, waiting for someone to come to my office for a rehearsal, I felt kinda weird and went to the restroom. I was bleeding and that sent me into a panic. When my rehearsal buddy showed up, I was a crying mess. I told him that I thought I needed to go to the Emergency Room. He saw what a mess I was and offered to drive me there...so off we went. I was shaking and crying with fear. My husband, my parents and my sister met us there. We do everything as a family. :)
During my few hours in the ER, a technician had done a trans-vaginal ultrasound on me and the ER doctor reported that everything looked fine. They could see the gestational sac but did not see an embryo. The doctor said it could simply be because I'm so early in the pregnancy yet. So I was ordered to have some blood work done over the weekend to see if my hcg levels were going up and then have another ultrasound done by my OB the following Monday.
When Monday came, Eddie and I were anxious to see what the doctor had to say. But, unfortunately, when we arrived for the appointment, we were told that we would not be seen by the doctor. A technician would be doing an ultrasound. We were not happy with that, but tried to trust the staff at their word.
That first experience at the doctor's office was not a positive one for us...especially being that we were new, anxious parents anyway. The very young girl who did the ultrasound seemed inexperienced and nervous as she performed another trans-vaginal US on me. It was painful and nerve-wracking as she left the room several times because she was confused by what she was seeing. This caused our anxiety level to heighten even more and then we were sent home with only a simple "We'll have the doctor call you."
We drove the 20-minute commute home in silence and very fearful.
We got home and anxiously awaited the call from the doctor. Four hours later, the phone rang and we were asked to come back to the office so the doctor could see us.
Another long drive...
When the doctor finally came into the room where it seemed like we were waiting forever, she told us that I have what's called a blighted ovum.
An empty sac.
No baby.
This can't be right. But the doctor was sure of it based on the ultrasound done that morning. "I'm so sorry," she said. And then she went on to talk about a "simple" procedure called a D&C to "clean me out."
"No," I said. "I don't mean to be disrespectful but we were not comfortable with the ultrasound done this morning." We explained to her about the technician's insecure behavior. I demanded that we have another one done by a more experienced technician. The doctor had no problem with that and scheduled us to come back in for another one the next morning...at no charge. And she assured us that a more experienced technician would be there.
That was a long night for us.
The next morning, Eddie had to work so my mom went with me. This ultrasound was a very different experience. The technician found the baby right away. She was the size of a sweet pea. And we heard and saw the baby's heartbeat! It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. I said, "I knew it!" And my mom and I both cried. The technician said, "You are at 6 weeks and 2 days. That gives you a due date of October 27th." We were so relieved! I was no sooner out in the parking lot that I was calling Eddie at work to tell him the good news. He cried with relief and said, "Okay. Time to find a new doctor." I agreed.
After asking several friends and family members for advice on a new local doctor, we decided on one and called her office to make an appointment. The first few months went okay, although I had gone to the ER once more due to bleeding. Again, I was discharged with no concern. And our OB doctor was never concerned either. At every appointment with her, she would listen to the baby's heartbeat, ask me if I was having any issues and then would say, "See you in a month."
Throughout the pregnancy, I had lost a good deal of weight. That was from a lot of nausea in the first trimester and a careful diet due to Gestational Diabetes. I was feeling great by the time the end of the first trimester came around. At week 12, we saw our precious little one on the screen for the first time during an ultrasound at Magee Hospital in Pittsburgh. She was quite active in the womb and we were delighted. By week 14, the nausea was letting up and my energy level increased. Everything was going okay. It seemed like the second trimester was going to be a breeze. Eddie and I even went away for a few days to celebrate our first anniversary.
But on the second day of our anniversary trip, I was not feeling very well. We were at week 20 and I was feeling the baby kick for the first time. It was exciting, but so painful at the same time. By the time we got home that Tuesday, I almost dreaded the baby moving around because it hurt so bad...like the baby was kicking my cervix or something. But since I had no idea what to expect, I kept telling myself that it was probably normal.
I told myself, "try to stay calm" over and over again.
The next evening after our return home, Eddie and I met my parents and my sister and a friend for dinner. I could hardly eat. I was feeling a lot of pain and was nauseous. Something was wrong. I could feel it. I could sense it. But I tried to ignore it. We all went to Walmart after dinner and the more I walked around, the worse I felt. I went to the restroom and discovered that I had passed what I believed was my mucus plug. (Sorry for the yucky details, but as you women know, pregnancy is anything but glamorous...no matter how Hollywood tries to portray it!) So, off to the ER (again!) we went. Because I was so far along in the pregnancy, this time I was taken to the Labor and Delivery unit. And once again, I was discharged with no concern. Only that, even though I had been drinking a lot of water, I was a little dehydrated. So I was sent home with a full bladder after drinking a ton of water.
We went for our routine 20-week appointment to our OB the next day. She was not concerned about what had happened the previous evening and said, "That just happens sometimes. We don't know why." I expressed my concern about the pain I was feeling in my cervical area, but she said nothing. I asked her if we were going to have another ultrasound done in Pittsburgh and she said no. She wanted to save the ultrasounds for later in the pregnancy. We were quite confused by this. Most people I knew that were pregnant had one done at the 20th week. Plus, we were hoping to find out the gender of the baby. Even more, I REALLY wanted to have my cervix looked at. She sent us away thinking we were not having one done. But when we checked out at the front desk, we were given an appointment to have one done in Weirton (our local hospital) the following week. Confusing!!
When we left her office, we were both unsettled again. And I asked Eddie if he thought we should switch doctors again since we're so confused all the time. Every time we left this doctor's office, we never felt like our questions were being answered and we were always unsettled and confused. She was a woman of few words and I felt like every question we asked was answered with a blank "deer caught in headlights" look. Not a great way to experience your first pregnancy, if you ask me. Eddie also felt like that was what we needed to do, but we decided to give her another chance to see what happened after this next ultrasound.
Sadly, we had another awful experience with this ultrasound too. To save time, I won't go into details, but it was a very unorganized, frustrating appointment. We left there feeling uneasy and not confident that the staff knew what they were doing. And to top it off, it was discovered that my cervix had begun to open.
I COULD HAVE TOLD THEM THAT A WEEK AGO!
We wished that our OB doctor would have sent us to Magee Hospital like she did the first time, but we were completely helpless at this point.
Our doctor had put me on bed rest until further notice. When I talked to her on the phone three days later, she still had no plan of action: only that she was going to call a high risk doctor in Wheeling to examine me sometime in the next week. Why hadn't she called that doctor already?!
By the time we would see the high risk doctor, I had been feeling like something was wrong for more than two weeks now. I just felt like I wasn't being heard. And although the pain had subsided, now I had been passing A LOT of mucus every day for at least a week. That just couldn't be normal.
It was time for us to move on to doctor number three. We were so angry by this time. But doctor number three turned out to be much better. We should have gone there in the first place.
Doctor number three fit me into her busy schedule immediately and saw me the next morning after I called her. She needed some time to look over my history and wanted me to come back in two days. In the meantime, she scheduled us to go see a high risk doctor the following Wednesday.
Little did we know that we would never make it that far.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
The Beginning of the End
Before I continue on with our story, first let me say:
1. I apologize if anyone reading this blog is uncomfortable with some of the blunt details regarding some of the physical aspects of this pregnancy. The reason I'm choosing to be graphic (as tastefully as I can) is because someone who is a first-time pregnant Mommy may be reading this and may be having similar issues. I wish I would have known what questions to ask or when to be concerned about an issue I was having when my doctor was being nonchalant about them. Unfortunately, my husband and I were helpless in our situation. Maybe this blog can help someone with similar problems know what to look for.
And 2. I am not casting blame on any doctor or facility, which is why I choose not to use their names. I am just describing our journey as it was to help readers gain a good perspective of what we went through. You just never know who it's going to help...
Okay, on with our story.
So, doctor #3 saw me again two days later after getting a chance to catch up on my history. This time, Eddie and my mom went with me. I told the doctor about the tremendous amount of mucus I was losing. She was concerned about that but said the high risk doctor we would see the following week would know more about that after doing a more thorough exam and level two ultrasound on me. She then began talking to us about the possibility of having a cerclage done on me to stitch up my cervix to keep it from opening.
Finally, someone was listening to us. We felt more at ease knowing that SOMETHING was going to be done...at last.
She then called in her partner, the other OBGYN in practice with her. And together, the five of us went into another room where both doctors were going to take a look at everything through an ultrasound.
Once she placed the wand on my belly, we saw our little girl jumping around, just like last time. It was so good to see her again. She looked so safe in there and didn't seem to have a worry in the world. That always made me feel better. All I wanted was for her to be okay.
Both doctors looked at every angle they could get to and agreed that everything looked good. When they looked at my cervix, they could not find any sign of it being opened. They said that if there was an opening, we would see a funnel-like image on the screen. We saw no such thing. They even gave me a huge glass of water to drink to fill my bladder up more to get a better view.
I drank the water. They came in about 10 minutes later.
Still no funnel.
But our baby girl looked beautiful. We even wanted to confirm that she was a girl, so the doctor moved the wand in a position that we could see her little bum. We could even see her little legs dangling!
We left the office feeling somewhat relieved, although we were still concerned about the mucus issue I was having. It was so nice to know that the doctors were listening to our concerns and were being proactive. Now we just had to wait and see what the high risk doctor would tell us in 5 days.
Doctor #3 still wanted me on bed rest...at least until we saw the high risk doctor. She didn't want me working at all and wanted me to stay at home as much as possible. She even gave me some materials to read at home about pregnancy, which included specific instructions for what level of bed rest I was directed to be on. I had never received any materials from our previous doctor. Thankfully I had books of my own to read at home. Oh, and did I mention that our last doctor never even explained to me what bed rest was? When I had asked her what that meant, she only replied that I need to keep my feet up. I asked her how long? She said that I could have them down for two hours a day.
So I went home and googled what bed rest meant.
New mom, remember?
I was very thankful when doctor #3 gave me a list of do's and don't's. The next day I barely moved from our living room recliner. But I was beginning to feel some cramping. I used my iPhone to google what contractions felt like. I came across an explanation of false labor pains, or Braxton Hicks contractions.
I decided that that's what must have been happening to me. I was only approaching our 23rd week. I couldn't be having real contractions, could I?
As the day went on, I became quite anxious about these "contractions" I was having. I called my mother-in-law and asked if she would come stay with me until Eddie got home from work. She was there within minutes. I told her that I was nervous about these pains I was having. When Eddie and I went to bed that night, we decided we would call the doctor in the morning.
However, I couldn't wait that long. Around midnight, I was still having the pains and I told Eddie that I was scared and wanted to call the doctor. So we did and she instructed me to go to the hospital...labor and delivery.
This was now emergency trip #4 to the hospital for this pregnancy.
When we got to labor and delivery, the contractions had eased up significantly. I was still having them, but they were less frequent and barely enough to be detected on the monitor they had me hooked up to. The nurse asked me what the pain level was on a scale of 1 to 10...10 being a truck running over my foot. I told her a 5.
But, again, the monitor showed nothing. "You've got me baffled, girl," the nurse said.
Go figure.
I was discharged a couple hours later with the nurses confused as to why I was even there.
But not as confused as I was.
I slept peacefully the rest of that night, with no pain at all. But the next day was a different story. By that afternoon, the pains were coming on a regular basis. By that evening, I was timing them and they were coming every 10 minutes. My parents and sister came over to bring some groceries and visit with Eddie and I for awhile. We were all worried.
After they left, Eddie and I went upstairs to get ready for bed. It was 10:00 pm and no sooner did I lay down in bed, WHAM! The pain came in one long, constant, agonizing wave. I was crying and curled up in extreme pain. I could barely get the words out:
"Eddie, please...call 911!"
I somehow managed to get out of my pj's and back into my tshirt and shorts when the ambulance showed up. That was the longest ride I've ever been on in my life. I screamed in agony all 15 miles of the drive to the hospital.
Emergency trip #5.
When they wheeled me into Labor and Delivery, I saw the familiar face of the nurse from the night before.
"It's a 10! It's a 10!" I screamed.
She knew exactly what I was referring to. The nurse sympathetically said, "Okay honey, hang on. We'll give you something for that pain very soon."
The next thing I knew, someone was checking my cervix.
"3 centimeters" was all I heard.
"What?! No! It's too soon!" I cried out. "Can't you give me something to stop it?! I read that you can give me something to stop labor!"
The nurse looked at me sadly and shook her head. "Hold on honey, your doctor is here."
The pain had stopped, but my panic was overwhelming. Then my doctor was standing at the foot of the bed. "There's nothing we can do, Carrie. I'm sorry."
All I could do was look at my mom, who had gotten there as quickly as she could after Eddie had called her. She said, "I think we need to go to Pittsburgh."
I looked at Eddie and he nodded with tears in his eyes.
I looked at my doctor. She said, "They won't be able to do anything there either." I closed my eyes and said, "I want to go to Pittsburgh."
The next ambulance ride was a very different one.
No pain.
No crying.
Just silence.
All I could think of as I stared at the bright ceiling of the inside of the ambulance was that it was very possible that the next time I go home, it could be without my baby.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Anna Danielle's Arrival
Monday, July 1, 2013
Approximately 2:00 am
From the time we arrived at the emergency room in Pittsburgh to the time they admitted me and wheeled me to the delivery room is mostly a blur for me.
The whole event was...and still is...so surreal to Eddie and I. I just told Eddie tonight as I am writing this that sometimes I have to look up at our fireplace mantle where we have all of the gifts, pictures and Memory Box in remembrance of Anna to remind me that it all really happened. That it wasn't just some horrific nightmare.
As I laid in the emergency room bed, I think I was in some state of shock from what was happening. I did not expect any of this and it seemed like the more the doctors and nurses told me, the more my mind shut down.
I didn't want to hear any of the things they were saying to us.
"You're dilated to 5 cm now."
"You will be delivering your baby soon."
"We'll keep you as comfortable as possible."
"There's nothing that can be done to stop your labor at this point."
"We can't resuscitate the baby unless she's at least 24 weeks. Her lungs just won't be developed enough to survive."
"I'm so sorry."
We were at 23 weeks and 1 day.
All I could do was stare at the doctor as she tried to explain to me what was happening...what was going to happen. I just couldn't accept all of this. It just couldn't be for real.
I do remember that I kept looking at Eddie, who stood there completely helpless, longing for him to tell me that everything was going to be okay. All that kept playing over and over in my mind was, "It's too soon. It's too soon. It's too soon."
Are You listening, Lord? It's too soon.
Please don't let us lose our baby.
Once they transferred me to the delivery room, it was pretty much a waiting game for 24 hours. They kept checking me and I stayed at 5 cm for the longest time. They kept waiting for my water to break, but it never did.
I had barely any pain all day Monday. And nothing was happening. I kept thinking that maybe they were all wrong and that I was going to get to go home...with the baby still in my womb. I would've laid still at home for 4 straight months if I had to in order to keep her with me.
And then the thought occurred to me: If I could just keep her in for a week or longer, then there would be a chance that she could survive. Help me keep her in, Lord.
So we waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
I was surrounded by a huge support system. Eddie wouldn't leave my side unless he knew that someone was with me so he could go lay down on the couch in the visitors waiting room to get a little sleep. My mom, dad, sister and two of my best friends (one was Anna's Godmother) were with us the whole time. I was never alone. The nursing staff was so impressed with the way my family and friends stayed by my side. What a blessing they were...
They sat with me, sang with me, prayed with me, fed me ice chips...and waited.
Anna's Godfather even stopped by after work that evening and brought Anna and I two beautiful peach roses. The priest from our Parish came to be with us for awhile in the afternoon. He prayed with us and even got to hear the baby's heartbeat.
The nurses kept checking the baby's heartbeat every couple hours. It was always strong. In the 150's.
The whole time, Anna kept dancing around inside of me...just as she had been throughout the entire pregnancy. She was such a mover. But this time, with each movement, I felt like she was trying to tell me that she was fine. Then my hope would rekindle that maybe we would get our miracle and take her back home with us, safe inside. We knew a lot of people were praying from our community. My facebook page was blowing up from all the encouraging messages of hope and prayer. Our Pastor told us that everyone at morning Mass was lifting us up in prayer.
Please, Lord, help me keep her in.
At some point in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, I moved to 7 cm and stayed that way until the day shift nurses arrived. But around 6:30 am, the contractions were coming hard and quickly. One minute apart.
7:30 am. 9 centimeters.
It was time.
We were not going to get our miracle.
Where are You, Lord? It's too soon.
Suddenly there was a whirlwind of activity around me. The room that had been quiet for over 24 hours was now filled with people. Doctors and nurses everywhere. Even a team from the NICU--just in case there was a chance that the baby could survive. Instruments and tools were being prepared for delivery. The room took a new shape as tables were being pulled out of what we thought were drawers. Bright lights were now shining down on me.
My mom was on my left side and Eddie was on my right, comforting me and encouraging me. The doctors were telling me it was time to push.
Where are You, Lord? It's too soon.
I pushed anyway. And at 7:57 am, on Tuesday, July 2, 2013, Anna Danielle Shultz came into this world without a sound. No crying, no screaming, as I had imagined in my mind when I would often daydream at home about how it would be to deliver my baby girl in October.
They cleaned her off as quickly as they could while the team of doctors were checking her. My mom was right there with them, and she put a little pink hat on her head. They then wrapped her in a blanket and my mom carried her over and handed her to Eddie while the doctors were finishing up with me. He then brought her over to me and laid her on my chest. I held her, shaking like a leaf.
She was absolutely beautiful.
Perfect in every way.
My mom and Eddie baptized her while I held her in my arms.
As Eddie traced the sign of the cross on her with holy water, together, we proclaimed: "Anna Danielle, I baptize you in the Name of the Father...and of the Son...and of the Holy Spirit."
Amen.
She was claimed for Christ.
She had taken only three breaths, but her heart was still beating. And every once in awhile I saw her move. She looked so peaceful. I was relieved knowing that she was not suffering. And it occurred to me that she would never suffer. Not for one moment. She would always be with our Lord in Heaven, singing with the angels instead of her mommy. No disappointments, no temper tantrums, no boo-boo's, no heartbreaks. Although I would give anything to be able to comfort her throughout all of those things.
My daughter will never suffer. She has only known love and will only know Love for eternity.
They let us hold her for as long as we wanted. When my dad, sister and my two best friends came in, we all took turns holding her. The nurse on duty took some beautiful pictures of her with us. When they measured her, she was 1 pound, 3.3 ounces and 11 1/2 inches long. She had beautiful, long fingers...which I imagined would have been perfect for playing the piano. Her fingernails and toenails were developed beautifully. The first thing Eddie noticed was that she had my nose. A turned up little nose, like Mommy has always had.
And she did. She looked so much like me. I was in complete awe of her.
What a miracle.
As I gazed at her with love and admiration, I felt the Lord's presence so intensely. He was right there. With us all along. And I knew that He had Anna safe in His arms, even as we held her frail little body.
And He always will.
Approximately 2:00 am
From the time we arrived at the emergency room in Pittsburgh to the time they admitted me and wheeled me to the delivery room is mostly a blur for me.
The whole event was...and still is...so surreal to Eddie and I. I just told Eddie tonight as I am writing this that sometimes I have to look up at our fireplace mantle where we have all of the gifts, pictures and Memory Box in remembrance of Anna to remind me that it all really happened. That it wasn't just some horrific nightmare.
As I laid in the emergency room bed, I think I was in some state of shock from what was happening. I did not expect any of this and it seemed like the more the doctors and nurses told me, the more my mind shut down.
I didn't want to hear any of the things they were saying to us.
"You're dilated to 5 cm now."
"You will be delivering your baby soon."
"We'll keep you as comfortable as possible."
"There's nothing that can be done to stop your labor at this point."
"We can't resuscitate the baby unless she's at least 24 weeks. Her lungs just won't be developed enough to survive."
"I'm so sorry."
We were at 23 weeks and 1 day.
All I could do was stare at the doctor as she tried to explain to me what was happening...what was going to happen. I just couldn't accept all of this. It just couldn't be for real.
I do remember that I kept looking at Eddie, who stood there completely helpless, longing for him to tell me that everything was going to be okay. All that kept playing over and over in my mind was, "It's too soon. It's too soon. It's too soon."
Are You listening, Lord? It's too soon.
Please don't let us lose our baby.
Once they transferred me to the delivery room, it was pretty much a waiting game for 24 hours. They kept checking me and I stayed at 5 cm for the longest time. They kept waiting for my water to break, but it never did.
I had barely any pain all day Monday. And nothing was happening. I kept thinking that maybe they were all wrong and that I was going to get to go home...with the baby still in my womb. I would've laid still at home for 4 straight months if I had to in order to keep her with me.
And then the thought occurred to me: If I could just keep her in for a week or longer, then there would be a chance that she could survive. Help me keep her in, Lord.
So we waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
I was surrounded by a huge support system. Eddie wouldn't leave my side unless he knew that someone was with me so he could go lay down on the couch in the visitors waiting room to get a little sleep. My mom, dad, sister and two of my best friends (one was Anna's Godmother) were with us the whole time. I was never alone. The nursing staff was so impressed with the way my family and friends stayed by my side. What a blessing they were...
They sat with me, sang with me, prayed with me, fed me ice chips...and waited.
Anna's Godfather even stopped by after work that evening and brought Anna and I two beautiful peach roses. The priest from our Parish came to be with us for awhile in the afternoon. He prayed with us and even got to hear the baby's heartbeat.
The nurses kept checking the baby's heartbeat every couple hours. It was always strong. In the 150's.
The whole time, Anna kept dancing around inside of me...just as she had been throughout the entire pregnancy. She was such a mover. But this time, with each movement, I felt like she was trying to tell me that she was fine. Then my hope would rekindle that maybe we would get our miracle and take her back home with us, safe inside. We knew a lot of people were praying from our community. My facebook page was blowing up from all the encouraging messages of hope and prayer. Our Pastor told us that everyone at morning Mass was lifting us up in prayer.
Please, Lord, help me keep her in.
At some point in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, I moved to 7 cm and stayed that way until the day shift nurses arrived. But around 6:30 am, the contractions were coming hard and quickly. One minute apart.
7:30 am. 9 centimeters.
It was time.
We were not going to get our miracle.
Where are You, Lord? It's too soon.
Suddenly there was a whirlwind of activity around me. The room that had been quiet for over 24 hours was now filled with people. Doctors and nurses everywhere. Even a team from the NICU--just in case there was a chance that the baby could survive. Instruments and tools were being prepared for delivery. The room took a new shape as tables were being pulled out of what we thought were drawers. Bright lights were now shining down on me.
My mom was on my left side and Eddie was on my right, comforting me and encouraging me. The doctors were telling me it was time to push.
Where are You, Lord? It's too soon.
I pushed anyway. And at 7:57 am, on Tuesday, July 2, 2013, Anna Danielle Shultz came into this world without a sound. No crying, no screaming, as I had imagined in my mind when I would often daydream at home about how it would be to deliver my baby girl in October.
They cleaned her off as quickly as they could while the team of doctors were checking her. My mom was right there with them, and she put a little pink hat on her head. They then wrapped her in a blanket and my mom carried her over and handed her to Eddie while the doctors were finishing up with me. He then brought her over to me and laid her on my chest. I held her, shaking like a leaf.
She was absolutely beautiful.
Perfect in every way.
My mom and Eddie baptized her while I held her in my arms.
As Eddie traced the sign of the cross on her with holy water, together, we proclaimed: "Anna Danielle, I baptize you in the Name of the Father...and of the Son...and of the Holy Spirit."
Amen.
She was claimed for Christ.
She had taken only three breaths, but her heart was still beating. And every once in awhile I saw her move. She looked so peaceful. I was relieved knowing that she was not suffering. And it occurred to me that she would never suffer. Not for one moment. She would always be with our Lord in Heaven, singing with the angels instead of her mommy. No disappointments, no temper tantrums, no boo-boo's, no heartbreaks. Although I would give anything to be able to comfort her throughout all of those things.
My daughter will never suffer. She has only known love and will only know Love for eternity.
They let us hold her for as long as we wanted. When my dad, sister and my two best friends came in, we all took turns holding her. The nurse on duty took some beautiful pictures of her with us. When they measured her, she was 1 pound, 3.3 ounces and 11 1/2 inches long. She had beautiful, long fingers...which I imagined would have been perfect for playing the piano. Her fingernails and toenails were developed beautifully. The first thing Eddie noticed was that she had my nose. A turned up little nose, like Mommy has always had.
And she did. She looked so much like me. I was in complete awe of her.
What a miracle.
As I gazed at her with love and admiration, I felt the Lord's presence so intensely. He was right there. With us all along. And I knew that He had Anna safe in His arms, even as we held her frail little body.
And He always will.
Monday, July 14, 2014
His Strength Is Perfect
"His strength is perfect
when our strength is gone.
He'll carry us
when we can't carry on.
Raised in His power,
the weak become strong.
His strength is perfect.
His strength is perfect."
when our strength is gone.
He'll carry us
when we can't carry on.
Raised in His power,
the weak become strong.
His strength is perfect.
His strength is perfect."
-Steven Curtis Chapman
The hospital staff that took care of us was amazing. After we held Anna for awhile, the nurse took her and dressed her in a beautiful, tiny crocheted dress and matching hat. We were told that there were ladies who voluntarily made these dresses for occasions such as these.
I can picture a little lady, sitting in her home, humming and praying as she worked her fingers around the needle and yarn that would one day be the dress that my daughter would wear as our tears fell upon her while we said our goodbyes. I found it to be no coincidence that the dress matched the beautiful peach roses that Anna's Godfather had brought for us.
For a devastating event, the nursing staff made everything as effortless as possible for us. They arranged for the funeral home of our choice to come and pick up Anna's little body. They even gave us a gorgeous, pure white, satin dress for her to be buried in. One of our nurses made a little bracelet with Anna's name on it and placed it in a blue, satin keepsake box that would also hold the crocheted dress Anna was wearing, the pictures that the nurse took, a sympathy card from the entire medical staff, the documents that had Anna's footprints and thumbprints inked on them, her birth certificate and other memoirs of our little girl's arrival for us to take home with us.
As I write this, it's been almost four weeks since that day and I still haven't been able to open that box and go through all of those things.
I imagine someday I will.
As I said, the staff at the hospital was amazing. Eddie and I and our family were so glad we chose to go there.
And that was only the beginning of the kindness and compassion we would experience from people as we went through the most difficult days of our lives.
Once I was discharged from the hospital, we went home to freshen up and then went to my parents' home to meet with the funeral director to make the arrangements for Anna's funeral. We really wanted a Mass celebrated in honor of Anna's life. Eddie and I love the Eucharist and couldn't imagine any other way for our daughter's life to be memorialized. And I wanted so much for our family, friends and Church Community to know how real Anna is. She isn't just some "lost baby" who had no meaning. She is a beautiful soul that is fulfilling a purpose that God had for her...one bigger than I ever would have imagined. A purpose that Eddie and I would quickly see had a profound effect on so many other lives, besides our own.
We were overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from so many in our community. The funeral home offered all of their services for free, as did our parish for the Funeral Liturgy. Many people brought food, cards and gifts for our family...even the teenagers that helped out at Vacation Bible School the previous week brought food and all signed a card saying how sorry they were and that they were all praying for us. And, on the day of her funeral, someone had even made arrangements for Anna's grave marker to be taken care of...free of charge.
Simply amazing.
To be honest, when the day of the funeral came, I was terrified. I was counting on the Lord's strength to get me through because I had none. If it were up to me, I'd be a crumpled mess on the floor. The thought of what we were about to do...bury the body of that precious little girl who was supposed to still be growing strong inside of me...made me want to run. Run away from all of this. It could only be God's grace that helped me get out of bed that morning and get dressed and ready for my daughter's funeral.
We arrived at the church 45 minutes early. Eddie and I wanted some time alone with the Lord to prepare ourselves. We knelt and prayed together, thanking the Lord for the precious time we had with our daughter and asking Him to give us strength to make it through all of this and what we would be facing after this had all come to an end.
I looked around the sanctuary that I have been in thousands of times. This was the place where I was baptized, raised and would later become the music minister. I'm not sure how to explain that somehow everything looked so different to me now.
I looked at the baptismal font, remembering the many times I've pictured Anna being baptized in.
She would never be baptized there.
I looked at the center aisle on which I walked a little over a year ago to promise myself to a lifetime, sacramental marriage to the love of my life.
Anna would never walk up that aisle.
Our daughter would have been raised in this church just as I had been. But instead, her body will be brought up to the Lord's table as we dream of a life that she will never have. Instead, she will be living a perfect life in eternity.
As Eddie and I moved to stand near the entrance of the church, suddenly the room was filling with people. A long line formed as people hugged us, cried with us and shared in our sorrow. We were overwhelmed by the many who took the time to come and share their condolences and celebrate Anna's life with us.
As the Liturgy began, there were nearly 200 people in the pews. We couldn't believe it. As we walked up the aisle behind the funeral directors carrying the tiny casket that was covered with a baby baptismal garment, we could feel the love of all those around us. And there was not a dry eye in the place.
The funeral Liturgy was absolutely beautiful. And I sang along with every hymn and song with the strongest voice I could muster up. I sang praise to my Lord and for my daughter to hear.
Our choir family and Anna's Godfather led the beautiful music.
"Our lives are but a single breath.
We flower and we fade.
Yet all our days are in Your hands,
so we return in love what love has made..." was what we sang as the table was being prepared for Eucharist.
After the Mass, our immediate family and a few close friends proceeded to the cemetery to lay Anna's body to rest. Eddie had requested that she be buried on top of his Grandmother's grave. Eddie and I would be buried near there someday as well.
I will never forget watching Eddie place his daughter's casket in the ground (he also requested to do this himself.) We all stood by and watched as he wept and his mom gently placed her hand on his shoulder. An image forever engraved in my mind.
'Into Your hands, Lord, we commend her spirit. May her soul, and all the souls of the faithful departed, rest in peace. Amen.'
Anna Danielle sings with the angels and prays for all of us. We know that we will one day see her again, but leaving that cemetery was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"His strength is perfect, when our strength is gone."
The hospital staff that took care of us was amazing. After we held Anna for awhile, the nurse took her and dressed her in a beautiful, tiny crocheted dress and matching hat. We were told that there were ladies who voluntarily made these dresses for occasions such as these.
I can picture a little lady, sitting in her home, humming and praying as she worked her fingers around the needle and yarn that would one day be the dress that my daughter would wear as our tears fell upon her while we said our goodbyes. I found it to be no coincidence that the dress matched the beautiful peach roses that Anna's Godfather had brought for us.
For a devastating event, the nursing staff made everything as effortless as possible for us. They arranged for the funeral home of our choice to come and pick up Anna's little body. They even gave us a gorgeous, pure white, satin dress for her to be buried in. One of our nurses made a little bracelet with Anna's name on it and placed it in a blue, satin keepsake box that would also hold the crocheted dress Anna was wearing, the pictures that the nurse took, a sympathy card from the entire medical staff, the documents that had Anna's footprints and thumbprints inked on them, her birth certificate and other memoirs of our little girl's arrival for us to take home with us.
As I write this, it's been almost four weeks since that day and I still haven't been able to open that box and go through all of those things.
I imagine someday I will.
As I said, the staff at the hospital was amazing. Eddie and I and our family were so glad we chose to go there.
And that was only the beginning of the kindness and compassion we would experience from people as we went through the most difficult days of our lives.
Once I was discharged from the hospital, we went home to freshen up and then went to my parents' home to meet with the funeral director to make the arrangements for Anna's funeral. We really wanted a Mass celebrated in honor of Anna's life. Eddie and I love the Eucharist and couldn't imagine any other way for our daughter's life to be memorialized. And I wanted so much for our family, friends and Church Community to know how real Anna is. She isn't just some "lost baby" who had no meaning. She is a beautiful soul that is fulfilling a purpose that God had for her...one bigger than I ever would have imagined. A purpose that Eddie and I would quickly see had a profound effect on so many other lives, besides our own.
We were overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from so many in our community. The funeral home offered all of their services for free, as did our parish for the Funeral Liturgy. Many people brought food, cards and gifts for our family...even the teenagers that helped out at Vacation Bible School the previous week brought food and all signed a card saying how sorry they were and that they were all praying for us. And, on the day of her funeral, someone had even made arrangements for Anna's grave marker to be taken care of...free of charge.
Simply amazing.
To be honest, when the day of the funeral came, I was terrified. I was counting on the Lord's strength to get me through because I had none. If it were up to me, I'd be a crumpled mess on the floor. The thought of what we were about to do...bury the body of that precious little girl who was supposed to still be growing strong inside of me...made me want to run. Run away from all of this. It could only be God's grace that helped me get out of bed that morning and get dressed and ready for my daughter's funeral.
We arrived at the church 45 minutes early. Eddie and I wanted some time alone with the Lord to prepare ourselves. We knelt and prayed together, thanking the Lord for the precious time we had with our daughter and asking Him to give us strength to make it through all of this and what we would be facing after this had all come to an end.
I looked around the sanctuary that I have been in thousands of times. This was the place where I was baptized, raised and would later become the music minister. I'm not sure how to explain that somehow everything looked so different to me now.
I looked at the baptismal font, remembering the many times I've pictured Anna being baptized in.
She would never be baptized there.
I looked at the center aisle on which I walked a little over a year ago to promise myself to a lifetime, sacramental marriage to the love of my life.
Anna would never walk up that aisle.
Our daughter would have been raised in this church just as I had been. But instead, her body will be brought up to the Lord's table as we dream of a life that she will never have. Instead, she will be living a perfect life in eternity.
As Eddie and I moved to stand near the entrance of the church, suddenly the room was filling with people. A long line formed as people hugged us, cried with us and shared in our sorrow. We were overwhelmed by the many who took the time to come and share their condolences and celebrate Anna's life with us.
As the Liturgy began, there were nearly 200 people in the pews. We couldn't believe it. As we walked up the aisle behind the funeral directors carrying the tiny casket that was covered with a baby baptismal garment, we could feel the love of all those around us. And there was not a dry eye in the place.
The funeral Liturgy was absolutely beautiful. And I sang along with every hymn and song with the strongest voice I could muster up. I sang praise to my Lord and for my daughter to hear.
Our choir family and Anna's Godfather led the beautiful music.
"Our lives are but a single breath.
We flower and we fade.
Yet all our days are in Your hands,
so we return in love what love has made..." was what we sang as the table was being prepared for Eucharist.
After the Mass, our immediate family and a few close friends proceeded to the cemetery to lay Anna's body to rest. Eddie had requested that she be buried on top of his Grandmother's grave. Eddie and I would be buried near there someday as well.
I will never forget watching Eddie place his daughter's casket in the ground (he also requested to do this himself.) We all stood by and watched as he wept and his mom gently placed her hand on his shoulder. An image forever engraved in my mind.
'Into Your hands, Lord, we commend her spirit. May her soul, and all the souls of the faithful departed, rest in peace. Amen.'
Anna Danielle sings with the angels and prays for all of us. We know that we will one day see her again, but leaving that cemetery was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"His strength is perfect, when our strength is gone."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The dress that Anna Danielle was buried in:
The blue keepsake box from the hospital staff is on the left and next to it is the bunny doll that Eddie bought for Anna at the hospital. On the right, under our family picture, is the baptismal garment that was placed over her casket:
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Asking The Why's
In the days following Anna's funeral, Eddie and I were in dire need of some restful down time. And in God's divine timing, Eddie's vacation was scheduled for the following week. We were so thankful for that gift because we just weren't ready to be away from each other yet. Eddie only gets one week of vacation during the summer months, and I can't imagine that week being more perfectly timed than it was then. Our gracious God knew we would need that time together after losing Anna.
I wonder if any of you reading this are asking the question: If God knew that we would have needed that vacation in that exact time, then why wouldn't God have just prevented Anna from leaving us instead?
I bring up this question because I myself have asked similar ones to this in the past. Maybe this is something that you struggle with as I have. Why does God allow these things to happen when He could very well prevent them?
No one will ever know the exact answer to this question, until we are face to face with our Lord. But as I have been growing in the Lord for the past several years, one thing I have learned is that there will always be suffering in this life. We live in an imperfect world where sin and sorrow dwell. This life will never satisfy us completely because we are destined to live eternally in the perfect Place that is our real Home...Heaven.
There's a song that I love, written and sung by Laura Story. The name of the song is "Blessings." There's a line that says:
"When darkness seems to win,
we know the pain reminds this heart
that this is not, this is not our home."
We live in a dark world where our mortal bodies are imperfect. And, as scripture tells us:
The enemy seeks to steal, kill and destroy. (John 10:10)
Satan wants nothing more than for me to live in resentment and bitterness over the loss of our daughter. But listen to the Lord's answer in the second half of that scripture verse:
I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.
Our time here on earth is only temporary. And now I have an even greater reason to look forward to my eternal Home. I will get to see my daughter...whole, healthy and happy. If any of you have lost children, you will be reunited with them too! And, with our children, we'll be together at the feet of Jesus. There's no better place to be!
Did God know that we were going to have Anna here with us for only a very brief time? Yes, I believe He did. And I also believe that He has been preparing me for this for a long time.
I recently realized that there was another manifestation of God's divine timing in my life that prepared me for this loss in my life.
Five years ago, in 2008, I went on a Christian music cruise to the Bahamas with my mom and a few friends. One of the Christian music groups that was on that cruise with us was Selah. Their lead singer, Todd Smith, brought his wife and three children with him on that cruise. We were even on one of the excursions with him, his wife, Angie, and their beautiful little girls.
While we were on the cruise, Angie was pregnant and we were hearing some talk that the baby Angie was carrying was very ill and would not be compatible with life once she was born. The doctors wanted her to abort, but she refused. She and Todd decided to trust the Lord with their daughter's future. We all prayed over Angie, Todd and their child that week.
I was so captured by this story that when I returned home, I faithfully followed Angie on the blog that she was writing about her experience. I couldn't wait to read how the baby was after she was born. So many people, including myself, were praying for a miracle.
I prayed for them everyday...these people that I didn't even know. And I couldn't figure out why this was so important to me. But it was.
On April 7, 2008, (one day before my birthday) their precious daughter, Audrey Caroline, was born prematurely around 25 weeks, weighing 3 pounds. She lived for about two hours while they and their family got to hold her and love on her.
And then they had to let her go.
Just like Eddie and I had to.
Our stories are amazingly similar. And little did I know at that time in 2008 that I would be going through this similar experience as Angie.
Angie had written a book about a year after their daughter's birth called "I Will Carry You." In the book, she shares how she managed to get through it all with her faith in the Lord. She shares how the grief changed her and parallels her story to the one in the Bible of Lazarus' death.
I got this book a couple weeks ago and just finished it yesterday. It has helped me tremendously. Had I not known that Angie had gone through this, I would not have known about this book. And even more, I feel a personal connection to Angie and her daughter, Audrey, because of the time I spent with her and praying for her in 2008. That has brought me more comfort than anyone can imagine.
Divine timing.
God knows what we are going to need, when we need it. It may be easy to question why God allows certain things to happen. Here is what Angie says in her book:
"I won't say I don't understand the questioning because quite frankly it makes all the human sense in the world. What kind of God watches a mother hold her dying baby?
Would you allow me to enter into your heart a bit here?
I believe that everything that happens in our lives, however awful, is an opportunity to bring glory to Jesus. Have I wished that it could have been in a different way? Of course I do. And you probably do too.
If I choose to, I could hold that against Him. I can let it embitter me for the rest of my days, as I walk around finding holes in everything He has done. All of us will have times of crisis. All we can do is accept what happens next with the grace that says circumstances will define neither God's love for us nor our love for God.
Instead of spending your days focusing on your hurt or lost, allow the Lord to bless you with the grace to believe that what lies ahead will glorify Him. It is the closest thing to true worship that we have in this life. And so often we miss it. I miss it.
It's time to give of our whole selves, having complete faith that whether or not there is life in the tomb, there is breath in our lungs to tell of the great Savior who loves us more than we can know."
I can honestly say, that since Anna's death, making the choice to glorify God has not been an easy one. But it's a choice that I make daily, sometimes even hourly, over and over again. In my weakness and grief, I have to re-choose to do it and re-choose again. Do I feel angry? Yes, I do. Do I question? Of course I do. Do I wish things were different? Absolutely.
But as Angie said in her book:
"As a Christian, I know that I am called to glorify the Lord no matter the circumstance. But that doesn't mean it's going to make sense."
Sometimes we have to trust God more than we can explain or understand Him.
When we put our hope and faith in the things of this world, we will be greatly disappointed. Always.
But when we put our complete faith and trust in God, we will have life...abundant life. God never disappoints.
Even when we FEEL disappointed.
Angie goes on to say:
"We aren't going to feel whole in this life, and we will long for something we don't have. Something that will fill the nagging void that intermittently stings and knocks us to our knees. And all the while, Satan taunts us, telling us our faith is small. To hurt so deeply is a sign that we live in a fallen world, not that we serve a small God."
As the days and weeks continue to move forward in life, the longing for my daughter doesn't decrease in the least bit. But, the pain certainly becomes more bearable with each day. I know that a piece of me will always be with her and I will learn how to live without that piece of me. And until I see her again, I will continue to be Anna's voice and allow her life to make a difference in mine and in the lives around me.
"What if my greatest disappointments
or the aching of this life
is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy?
What if trials of this life...
the rain, the storms,
the hardest nights
are Your mercies in disguise?"
--from the song "Blessings" by Laura Story
I wonder if any of you reading this are asking the question: If God knew that we would have needed that vacation in that exact time, then why wouldn't God have just prevented Anna from leaving us instead?
I bring up this question because I myself have asked similar ones to this in the past. Maybe this is something that you struggle with as I have. Why does God allow these things to happen when He could very well prevent them?
No one will ever know the exact answer to this question, until we are face to face with our Lord. But as I have been growing in the Lord for the past several years, one thing I have learned is that there will always be suffering in this life. We live in an imperfect world where sin and sorrow dwell. This life will never satisfy us completely because we are destined to live eternally in the perfect Place that is our real Home...Heaven.
There's a song that I love, written and sung by Laura Story. The name of the song is "Blessings." There's a line that says:
"When darkness seems to win,
we know the pain reminds this heart
that this is not, this is not our home."
We live in a dark world where our mortal bodies are imperfect. And, as scripture tells us:
The enemy seeks to steal, kill and destroy. (John 10:10)
Satan wants nothing more than for me to live in resentment and bitterness over the loss of our daughter. But listen to the Lord's answer in the second half of that scripture verse:
I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.
Our time here on earth is only temporary. And now I have an even greater reason to look forward to my eternal Home. I will get to see my daughter...whole, healthy and happy. If any of you have lost children, you will be reunited with them too! And, with our children, we'll be together at the feet of Jesus. There's no better place to be!
Did God know that we were going to have Anna here with us for only a very brief time? Yes, I believe He did. And I also believe that He has been preparing me for this for a long time.
I recently realized that there was another manifestation of God's divine timing in my life that prepared me for this loss in my life.
Five years ago, in 2008, I went on a Christian music cruise to the Bahamas with my mom and a few friends. One of the Christian music groups that was on that cruise with us was Selah. Their lead singer, Todd Smith, brought his wife and three children with him on that cruise. We were even on one of the excursions with him, his wife, Angie, and their beautiful little girls.
While we were on the cruise, Angie was pregnant and we were hearing some talk that the baby Angie was carrying was very ill and would not be compatible with life once she was born. The doctors wanted her to abort, but she refused. She and Todd decided to trust the Lord with their daughter's future. We all prayed over Angie, Todd and their child that week.
I was so captured by this story that when I returned home, I faithfully followed Angie on the blog that she was writing about her experience. I couldn't wait to read how the baby was after she was born. So many people, including myself, were praying for a miracle.
I prayed for them everyday...these people that I didn't even know. And I couldn't figure out why this was so important to me. But it was.
On April 7, 2008, (one day before my birthday) their precious daughter, Audrey Caroline, was born prematurely around 25 weeks, weighing 3 pounds. She lived for about two hours while they and their family got to hold her and love on her.
And then they had to let her go.
Just like Eddie and I had to.
Our stories are amazingly similar. And little did I know at that time in 2008 that I would be going through this similar experience as Angie.
Angie had written a book about a year after their daughter's birth called "I Will Carry You." In the book, she shares how she managed to get through it all with her faith in the Lord. She shares how the grief changed her and parallels her story to the one in the Bible of Lazarus' death.
I got this book a couple weeks ago and just finished it yesterday. It has helped me tremendously. Had I not known that Angie had gone through this, I would not have known about this book. And even more, I feel a personal connection to Angie and her daughter, Audrey, because of the time I spent with her and praying for her in 2008. That has brought me more comfort than anyone can imagine.
Divine timing.
God knows what we are going to need, when we need it. It may be easy to question why God allows certain things to happen. Here is what Angie says in her book:
"I won't say I don't understand the questioning because quite frankly it makes all the human sense in the world. What kind of God watches a mother hold her dying baby?
Would you allow me to enter into your heart a bit here?
I believe that everything that happens in our lives, however awful, is an opportunity to bring glory to Jesus. Have I wished that it could have been in a different way? Of course I do. And you probably do too.
If I choose to, I could hold that against Him. I can let it embitter me for the rest of my days, as I walk around finding holes in everything He has done. All of us will have times of crisis. All we can do is accept what happens next with the grace that says circumstances will define neither God's love for us nor our love for God.
Instead of spending your days focusing on your hurt or lost, allow the Lord to bless you with the grace to believe that what lies ahead will glorify Him. It is the closest thing to true worship that we have in this life. And so often we miss it. I miss it.
It's time to give of our whole selves, having complete faith that whether or not there is life in the tomb, there is breath in our lungs to tell of the great Savior who loves us more than we can know."
I can honestly say, that since Anna's death, making the choice to glorify God has not been an easy one. But it's a choice that I make daily, sometimes even hourly, over and over again. In my weakness and grief, I have to re-choose to do it and re-choose again. Do I feel angry? Yes, I do. Do I question? Of course I do. Do I wish things were different? Absolutely.
But as Angie said in her book:
"As a Christian, I know that I am called to glorify the Lord no matter the circumstance. But that doesn't mean it's going to make sense."
Sometimes we have to trust God more than we can explain or understand Him.
When we put our hope and faith in the things of this world, we will be greatly disappointed. Always.
But when we put our complete faith and trust in God, we will have life...abundant life. God never disappoints.
Even when we FEEL disappointed.
Angie goes on to say:
"We aren't going to feel whole in this life, and we will long for something we don't have. Something that will fill the nagging void that intermittently stings and knocks us to our knees. And all the while, Satan taunts us, telling us our faith is small. To hurt so deeply is a sign that we live in a fallen world, not that we serve a small God."
As the days and weeks continue to move forward in life, the longing for my daughter doesn't decrease in the least bit. But, the pain certainly becomes more bearable with each day. I know that a piece of me will always be with her and I will learn how to live without that piece of me. And until I see her again, I will continue to be Anna's voice and allow her life to make a difference in mine and in the lives around me.
"What if my greatest disappointments
or the aching of this life
is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy?
What if trials of this life...
the rain, the storms,
the hardest nights
are Your mercies in disguise?"
--from the song "Blessings" by Laura Story
Saturday, July 12, 2014
We Are Not Our Own
Last week was a very tough week for me.
On Monday, Eddie and I returned to the hospital in Pittsburgh for our 4 to 5 week follow up appointment. We met with the doctor that was part of the team who cared for me and delivered Anna. We had been anxiously waiting for this day since we left the hospital over a month ago because we have been hoping that we would get some answers as to what happened. What made my body go into labor so soon? What made us lose Anna so quickly?
It was exactly what I was hoping and praying we would not hear.
"We really don't know what caused this infection."
And God knew it.
A friend of mine, a sister-in-the-Lord, had posted this scripture on my facebook wall that very afternoon:
"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint." -- Isaiah 40:31
I had not seen this until I went to bed last night.
I also had no idea that God had something in store for me in just a few short hours.
After we returned home, Eddie and I had decided to go visit with his parents for awhile. When we arrived, his mom and dad were watching a movie called "Facing the Giants." I had seen this movie before, but long ago enough that I forgot the details or how it ended. Eddie and I sat and watched this movie with them, and by the end of it, we were all crying. It is a powerful movie filled with hope and truth of God's Word. As I sat there watching the TV screen, holding Eddie's hand, I felt like the characters in the movie were speaking directly to me. The main character was a high school football coach and at the very end of the movie, he asked his team players one by one, "What is impossible with God?" His players answered, "Nothing, coach." With each answer that the team member gave, I could feel my faith being restored more and more.
What is impossible with God?
Nothing, coach.
Tell me what is impossible with God!
Nothing, coach.
What is impossible with God?
Nothing, coach.
Nothing.
Nothing is impossible with God.
Something happened in me last night. When we left their house, I felt like God had filled me with new life again. I was even breathing better. The heaviness in my chest had lifted. Not only had I been feeling that is was impossible to heal from the loss of Anna, I have been struggling with the fear that we may never get to have any children in the future either. It all seemed impossible.
But I knew that God was asking me, "Carrie, what is impossible with Me?"
Nothing, Lord.
When I awoke this morning, I had a conversation with my Lord as I got ready for work. I told Him that I realized that I had never really handed Anna over to Him. Not completely. In these past 41 days I have been holding onto my daughter, refusing to allow God to have her completely. He may have had her spirit, but I wasn't ready to let him have the part of her that I was so desperately clinging onto...
Her life.
All this time, I have convinced myself that she is mine.
But she's not mine. She's not Eddie's.
She's God's.
We all belong to God. And Anna belongs to Him too. Even if she were still here with us, she would still belong to God. We are not our own.
"For not one of us lives for himself, and not one dies for himself; for if we live, we live for the Lord, or if we die, we die for the Lord; therefore whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died and lived again, that He might be Lord both of the dead and of the living."
-- Romans 14:7 - 9
I asked the Lord to forgive me for not allowing Him to have Anna completely. And for not allowing Him to have me completely either. I had been allowing the voice of grief to overwhelm me because I felt that it was all I had to keep me connected with my daughter. I wasn't ready to let her go yet. I had also been allowing the voice of fear to control me, which was keeping me from truly trusting the Lord with my life.
I realized that it's time that I finally give up control. Control that I've never even had to begin with, but convinced myself that I did.
In the middle of my bathroom this morning, I fell to my knees in tears and finally handed my daughter over to God.
And I finally handed myself over to Him completely.
"The voice of truth tells me a different story.
The voice of truth says do not be afraid.
The voice of truth says this is for My glory!
Out of all the voices calling out to me,
I will choose to listen and believe
the voice of truth."
~Casting Crowns
On Monday, Eddie and I returned to the hospital in Pittsburgh for our 4 to 5 week follow up appointment. We met with the doctor that was part of the team who cared for me and delivered Anna. We had been anxiously waiting for this day since we left the hospital over a month ago because we have been hoping that we would get some answers as to what happened. What made my body go into labor so soon? What made us lose Anna so quickly?
This was the first time we had been back to the place where
we last saw our daughter. As we walked through
the hallways, a wave of sadness came over me and I suddenly felt like I was
walking through water. My feet became
heavy and although my mind was telling me to walk forward, my body had a hard time
cooperating. It was like no time had
passed and we had just walked out of that place the day before, with empty arms and an empty womb. I felt like the emotional healing that had
happened in me over the past few weeks was suddenly deflating out of me like
air escaping a balloon. The sights and
smells of the place brought me back to the days we were going through that
traumatic time. I gripped Eddie’s hand a
little tighter as we walked toward the office where we would finally hear an
explanation of why we lost our daughter.
We didn’t have to wait long before the doctor came in and
greeted Eddie and I with a warm smile and firm handshake. When he took his seat behind the desk, he
wasted no time and began telling us the results of the pathology report. They had taken cultures and done tests on the placenta.
It was an infection that caused the premature labor, but they weren’t able to come to conclusion of the exact type of infection that was the culprit.It was exactly what I was hoping and praying we would not hear.
He went through a whole list of what germs didn't cause the
infection, but they just weren’t able to pinpoint what exact bacteria went awry
in my body. They were able to determine that it was a bacteria that
already exists in the body and not one contracted from an outside source. The doctor
said that the bacteria “misbehaved” and quickly elevated to a level three, stage three infection which
is the worst type. They were able to tell
that it happened in only a matter of days.
My body did what it was supposed to do:
reject the infection and go into rapid labor to get rid of it before it
harmed me or the baby. They not only found the infection in the placenta, but also in the umbilical cord, which
meant that it was getting to the baby.
So Anna and I could have gotten “very, very ill” according to the
doctor.
My first thought was that God had protected Anna and I. And so I thanked Him.
My second thought was that Anna didn’t suffer. And so I thanked Him for that too.
My third thought?
I was angry.
I know God can handle my anger. And, it’s a good thing…because that’s what I
was…ANGRY. My heart hurt more than I can
even begin to describe with words. In my desperation, I even had a thought of wishing that I would have gotten sick, so that maybe Anna and I both
would have been taken. And I would still
be with my daughter.
I struggled with those thoughts all week. I cried, I screamed, I pouted and I felt myself start to withdraw from life. Just wanting the pain to go away. I missed my daughter so much. And it hurt. It wasn't fair.
On Friday, a good friend of mine delivered her baby at the same hospital we had been in. Only her baby was healthy and strong. And she and her family were going to get to take their baby home with them. I was so, so happy for them. But the pain in my heart increased even more. I got word that her baby was born at the exact time of day that Anna was born. 7:57 am.
The exact minute, Lord?! You couldn't have chosen 7:56 or 7:58??? What are You doing to me, Lord?
It felt like salt being poured into an open wound.
By the weekend, I was spent...emotionally and physically. And I recognized that not only was I dealing with the emotional battle, but my body hadn't fully healed physically either. And that caused bitterness in my heart also. Going through all of the post-partum stuff, but no baby.
It just wasn't fair.
Yesterday (Sunday), we had our church parish picnic and I was bombarded with folks asking me questions. How are you feeling? Are you doing okay? What did the doctor say this week? Lots of hugs, tears and so many caring people. I didn't mind it, really. I appreciated that so many care. Eddie and I are blessed with a wonderful parish family. But, by the end of the day, I was exhausted. I didn't realize how hard that was going to be on me.
When we were on our way home in the evening, I was done. I'd had enough. I didn't even know how I was going to face another day. I had nothing left.
A friend of mine, a sister-in-the-Lord, had posted this scripture on my facebook wall that very afternoon:
"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint." -- Isaiah 40:31
I had not seen this until I went to bed last night.
I also had no idea that God had something in store for me in just a few short hours.
After we returned home, Eddie and I had decided to go visit with his parents for awhile. When we arrived, his mom and dad were watching a movie called "Facing the Giants." I had seen this movie before, but long ago enough that I forgot the details or how it ended. Eddie and I sat and watched this movie with them, and by the end of it, we were all crying. It is a powerful movie filled with hope and truth of God's Word. As I sat there watching the TV screen, holding Eddie's hand, I felt like the characters in the movie were speaking directly to me. The main character was a high school football coach and at the very end of the movie, he asked his team players one by one, "What is impossible with God?" His players answered, "Nothing, coach." With each answer that the team member gave, I could feel my faith being restored more and more.
What is impossible with God?
Nothing, coach.
Tell me what is impossible with God!
Nothing, coach.
What is impossible with God?
Nothing, coach.
Nothing.
Nothing is impossible with God.
Something happened in me last night. When we left their house, I felt like God had filled me with new life again. I was even breathing better. The heaviness in my chest had lifted. Not only had I been feeling that is was impossible to heal from the loss of Anna, I have been struggling with the fear that we may never get to have any children in the future either. It all seemed impossible.
But I knew that God was asking me, "Carrie, what is impossible with Me?"
Nothing, Lord.
When I awoke this morning, I had a conversation with my Lord as I got ready for work. I told Him that I realized that I had never really handed Anna over to Him. Not completely. In these past 41 days I have been holding onto my daughter, refusing to allow God to have her completely. He may have had her spirit, but I wasn't ready to let him have the part of her that I was so desperately clinging onto...
Her life.
All this time, I have convinced myself that she is mine.
But she's not mine. She's not Eddie's.
She's God's.
We all belong to God. And Anna belongs to Him too. Even if she were still here with us, she would still belong to God. We are not our own.
"For not one of us lives for himself, and not one dies for himself; for if we live, we live for the Lord, or if we die, we die for the Lord; therefore whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died and lived again, that He might be Lord both of the dead and of the living."
-- Romans 14:7 - 9
I asked the Lord to forgive me for not allowing Him to have Anna completely. And for not allowing Him to have me completely either. I had been allowing the voice of grief to overwhelm me because I felt that it was all I had to keep me connected with my daughter. I wasn't ready to let her go yet. I had also been allowing the voice of fear to control me, which was keeping me from truly trusting the Lord with my life.
I realized that it's time that I finally give up control. Control that I've never even had to begin with, but convinced myself that I did.
In the middle of my bathroom this morning, I fell to my knees in tears and finally handed my daughter over to God.
And I finally handed myself over to Him completely.
"The voice of truth tells me a different story.
The voice of truth says do not be afraid.
The voice of truth says this is for My glory!
Out of all the voices calling out to me,
I will choose to listen and believe
the voice of truth."
~Casting Crowns
Friday, July 11, 2014
Lifetime Treasures
On Tuesday, Eddie and I finally had a day off together. We worked around the house all day, completing projects and doing laundry, but we made special time to do something that we've been waiting for the right moment to do.
We went through Anna's keepsake box for the first time since we left the hospital without her.
I have raved about the staff at that hospital before, but after going through her box...I am even more amazed at how kind and compassionate they were.
Inside that precious little box were so many valuable things that we will treasure for the rest of our lives.
We found the tiny pink hat that my mom had placed on her head after she was cleaned off and handed to Eddie. I remember that pink hat well...it was the first thing I saw as they brought her toward me. The first thing I said was, "Hey! She is a girl!"
Right underneath the pink hat was the beautifully crocheted outfit and matching hat that they dressed her in before we got to spend hours with her, admiring her and loving on her. And under that outfit were cards signed by the nursing staff that cared for us, a journal for me to write in, bracelets that had Anna's name on them and "God's Angel." Also, her tiny footprints and Eddie's and my thumbprints were on the Newborn Identification Card that displayed her date of birth, weight, height and time of her birth. Finally, a card in memory of our precious daughter that had a beautiful poem written inside:
We went through Anna's keepsake box for the first time since we left the hospital without her.
I have raved about the staff at that hospital before, but after going through her box...I am even more amazed at how kind and compassionate they were.
Inside that precious little box were so many valuable things that we will treasure for the rest of our lives.
We found the tiny pink hat that my mom had placed on her head after she was cleaned off and handed to Eddie. I remember that pink hat well...it was the first thing I saw as they brought her toward me. The first thing I said was, "Hey! She is a girl!"
Right underneath the pink hat was the beautifully crocheted outfit and matching hat that they dressed her in before we got to spend hours with her, admiring her and loving on her. And under that outfit were cards signed by the nursing staff that cared for us, a journal for me to write in, bracelets that had Anna's name on them and "God's Angel." Also, her tiny footprints and Eddie's and my thumbprints were on the Newborn Identification Card that displayed her date of birth, weight, height and time of her birth. Finally, a card in memory of our precious daughter that had a beautiful poem written inside:
I think what means the most to me about all of this is the fact that they value the gift of life in their facility. It seems that we hear so much about abortions and the way people in our society throw life away so easily. It's nice to know that we were surrounded by people who valued our daughter's life as much as we did.
I held up her little clothes to my face and closed my eyes, remembering the way she felt in them. I allowed myself to go back to that hospital room where I could see her face, touch her skin and wrap her tiny fingers around my index finger as I sang to her.
After we replaced all of the articles back in the keepsake box, Eddie and I held each other as we both cried familiar tears of sadness and pain. We decided that it was time to place all of her things....the keepsake box and its contents, the hundreds of cards we've received from people, some of the gifts that were given to us to remember her by, the prayer cards and program from her funeral and the pictures of her from the hospital...in a special place that we can always go to when we want to see them again or share with others in the future, particularly her future siblings.
We had gone to Hobby Lobby several weeks ago and purchased a large "treasure chest" to store all of these things in when we were ready.
It was time. We carefully placed all of the treasured items in the box and together we put it on a shelf in our living room where we can always see it and know it's there. I knew the day before that the Lord had spoken to my heart after I finally handed Anna completely over to Him. Although we will still grieve for a long time, it's time to move on. I couldn't hold onto the pain anymore, clinging to it until I couldn't breathe. The dead flowers from her gravesite were still on our fireplace mantle. It was time to throw death away and rejoice in the life that was inside me and in our arms for a brief time. The flowers were tossed in the trash, but we kept the ribbon on them that said, "Our Little Angel" and placed it in the treasure chest too.
She is our little angel. Although, I sometimes cringe when someone reminds me of that. I still want to feel her kicking and moving around inside me. But instead, I know she is where she is supposed to be...in Heaven watching over us and praying for all of us, her family.
Although we are moving on with life, my heart will always grieve for her. And I know Eddie's will too. Our family will grieve as well. But she will always be our first born. Our daughter. Our eldest daughter.
With time, God has and will continue to heal our hearts, but we will never forget her. She will always be a part of us and with us. A part of our family. Eddie and I have been including her in our prayer time from the day we lost her. And our family has done likewise. At every meal, after we say the blessing over the food and pray for the souls in purgatory, we always end our prayer with "Anna Danielle, pray for us." She is our Saint in Heaven now and our family will always remember her that way. We will also teach our future children that as well.
One of the special things that the funeral home did for us before her funeral was allow each of us in the family to write Anna a letter that was placed in the casket with her. In my letter to her, I wrote what a privilege it was to carry her inside of me and that I will always be thankful that she will be a direct connection between my Lord and I. Even through the loss, I feel like God gave me that tremendous gift...an even closer connection with Him than I had before. He actually has a part of my flesh and blood with Him now. What an overwhelming thought.
I have a connection to music in a way that it expressed the way I feel on all levels. Music is a powerful way that the Lord speaks to me and through me. I heard a song on K-Love the other day as I was driving. I have heard it many times over the years, but this time it was exact cry of my heart.
"Homesick"
You're in a better place, I've heard a thousand times
And at least a thousand times I've rejoiced for you
But the reason why I'm broken, the reason why I cry
Is how long must I wait to be with you
I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now
Help me Lord cause I don't understand your ways
The reason why I wonder if I'll ever know
But, even if you showed me, the hurt would be the same
Cause I'm still here so far away from home
I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now
In Christ, there are no goodbyes
And in Christ, there is no end
So I'll hold onto Jesus with all that I have
To see you again
To see you again
And I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
Won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
Won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now
And at least a thousand times I've rejoiced for you
But the reason why I'm broken, the reason why I cry
Is how long must I wait to be with you
I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now
Help me Lord cause I don't understand your ways
The reason why I wonder if I'll ever know
But, even if you showed me, the hurt would be the same
Cause I'm still here so far away from home
I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now
In Christ, there are no goodbyes
And in Christ, there is no end
So I'll hold onto Jesus with all that I have
To see you again
To see you again
And I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
Won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
Won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now
-- by Mercy Me
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Sunlight in the Shadows
I can feel my strength coming back. Little by little. The "bad" days seem to be spacing apart more and more. And those "trigger" moments, like being around other pregnant women, new parents, babies and children, aren't as painful as they once were.
Not that I don't have my moments. I do.
Oh...do I!
Three days ago I was cleaning our bedroom and went to put something in the top drawer of my dresser. There, lying right on top, was a journal that I had been keeping throughout my pregnancy with Anna.
My stomach became tight and I felt my heart start to quicken, like I just discovered something that I shouldn't have. And even though every inch of my heart was telling me not to pick up that little book...I reached for it.
Don't read it.
It will be too painful.
But before I knew it, I was sitting on our bed, pulling on the ribbon book-mark, opening it as I had been for five months, reading through the pages, one by one.
It's a cute little book that a dear friend, who is also Anna's Godmother, had given to me shortly after I told her that we were pregnant. She, like so many others, was so excited for me to become a new mommy and thought it would be special for me to record the journey. It was one of my favorite gifts given to me.
The journal pages asked specific questions about how I was feeling: what cravings or morning sickness I'd had, was the baby kicking like a ballerina or a football star, was my hunch a boy or a girl, etc. And each page was for documenting a week at a time, and then divided up into months, and finally trimesters.
The neatest part for me was that I wrote everything addressed to our child, who we later found out to be Anna...as if she would read it one day to know how her Mommy was feeling while she was in the life of my womb. I could picture her reading it as a teenager someday. It would be one of those special mother-daughter moments that I envisioned with her. Maybe when she was getting ready to leave for college, or maybe when she was having a bad day and feeling unloved and wondering what her worth was in this life. We would read it together, and I would reminisce about how excited, scared and nervous I was for her arrival. And she would hear how her life truly began...from the very beginning....and how much she was loved before I even knew her.
My last entry was at the end of the fifth month. The excitement was clearly evident in my writing. I wrote about how it felt to see our little girl on screen, hearing her heartbeat fill the room at every doctor's appointment, and finally discovering that she was a girl. All through the pregnancy, I had this hunch that our baby was a boy. I had had three dreams of having a baby boy. And when we were told that she was a girl, I was floored! I didn't prefer one over the other, but I had just always felt that she was a boy. When I found out I was going to have a daughter, my heart melted. A daughter. Oh, how my heart skipped at the thought.
And then the writing stopped.
The next page, entitled Sixth Month, was unanswered.
Empty.
I couldn't stand to see the empty page, so I reached for a pen on my nightstand. And I began to write...
My Dear Baby Girl,
We lost you...
And on I went to write about what happened during the few short days leading up to July 2, 2013--when she was born to eternal life. I continued to write about how heart-broken her Mommy and Daddy were. And how I missed her so, so much.
No sooner did I finish writing that final entry did I slam the book shut and throw the pen across the room.
I looked up to the ceiling and screamed.
Why God?! Why did You take my daughter?! I wanna know why! Why didn't You stop that infection? You could have! I know You could have! She's supposed to be in MY arms, not Yours!
I sobbed, I wailed, I screamed. My whole body was shaking with anger and despair, but mostly...disappointment.
Disappointment.
In all of my life, I have never...and I mean, never...been disappointed in God. I have questioned Him, yes. I have doubted Him. And I have certainly been disappointed with life or other people at times. But not God. Ever. I've never been disappointed in God.
Until now.
I know that I know that He is in complete control. And that all is as it should be. And everything that happens in my life is never meant for my harm, but can be used for good. I truly believe all of that with my whole heart.
But, for the first time that I can ever remember, I am disappointed in my God. My Lord. My Rock. My EVERYTHING.
I have never wanted anything so bad as much as I want my daughter back. And I've wanted a lot of things in my life. A lot. But never have I felt such longing, clear into the depths of my bones, for something or someone as I do for my daughter.
I want to know what she would look like. What color are her eyes? What does her voice sound like? What gifts would she have had? Would she have a passion for music like I do? Would she have a love for hunting and nature like her daddy? What great things would she have done in this world?
My heart longs to know the answers to all of these questions...but even more so the question: Why, God?
I just had a conversation with a good friend the other day over lunch. We talked about how grief has worked in our lives. Although she has never lost a child, she has certainly had her share of loss in her life and she tearfully spoke of how amazing God's grace is when we go through that initial part of the loss. The encounter of death itself, the first few days and weeks after it all happened. Especially the funeral. When I think back now to the day of Anna's funeral...I am just dumbfounded that I was able to make it through her funeral service and burial. Not to mention the day in the hospital when I held her lifeless body in my arms, kissing her face and fingers and toes. I even remember being surprised at how "easy" it seemed to be to go through it. It was painful, sure, but I seemed to go through it with such ease and was even able to smile and laugh at times.
God's grace. She and I both know full well that it is God's grace that gets us through moments like that in life.
But then, there are times when that grace lifts.
We no longer move through moments on that easy, "auto-pilot" feeling. His grace is sufficient for whatever season we are going through, but I believe that there are times when that grace is lifted.
Like my feeling of disappointment in God. I know that God is still just as present in times like that, but it's different now than it was during those first moments during and after Anna's death. And I truly believe that it needs to be that way. How else would we know how much we need God? When I slammed the journal shut and sobbed in sadness and anger, God was there. But it wasn't "easy" anymore. It was like I needed to feel those raw, human emotions so that I would remember that in my human weakness, I need God. Yes, I am disappointed in how this whole thing played out. I want my daughter. He could have healed us both and she'd still be here with me. But, He didn't. And I am disappointed in Him for that. But it's because I can't see the whole picture. He can. And I know that He is a good God, a loving God, a giving God. And one day, it will all be revealed.
When I'm cleaning at home, I always have worship music playing in the background. And while I sat there on the bed, sobbing, I could still hear the sounds of worship filling the room.
"Blessed be the Name of the Lord. Blessed be Your Name! You give and take away. You give and take away. My heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be Your Name."
No matter how hard I tried to sing praise to Him with that music in that moment, I couldn't do it. I even said to Him, "I just can't praise You right now. I just can't!"
But I was praising Him.
Even as I sat on my bed, journal in hand, and heartbroken, God was there. He is in our brokenness. He is in our pain. He is in our wants and desires. He is in everything that we feel, do or go through. But, we have a choice. Do we embrace Him as He embraces us in those moments? Or do we turn our backs on Him because we're disappointed in how He has done something?
Has He ever turned His back on me when He was disappointed in me?
Thank God, no.
If He turned His back on us like we do when we're disappointed in others, we'd be in big trouble! But He doesn't. He won't. He promises that to us over and over. He never promised that we would have a pain-free life. He promises us that He will be right there with us in the pain.
And although I couldn't praise Him with my singing voice, I was praising Him with my tears of grief and hurt. I wasn't turning my back on Him. I was seeking Him. For comfort, for answers, for love. My God was holding me tight when I was crying my heart out as I wrote that final entry in the journal. He was holding me when I sat there sobbing, trying desperately to praise Him in song and I couldn't. He was right there. And I knew He was right there.
The next morning when I woke up, I was amazed. I felt that familiar grace upon me. I felt like a new person that very next day. There are no words to describe it or how to make it make sense. I just felt it. And I have felt it ever since. The scripture passage from Psalm 30 has been resounding in my mind over these past days: "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning."
What made one day so different from the next? My daughter wasn't back. The circumstance hadn't changed at all. She is still gone from me. But what's different is God's grace.
I will probably have many more moments like I did that day in my bedroom with the journal. But then His grace will fall again. He gives us glimpses. And we can see the beauty in the pain, in the grief, in the sorrows of life. Like sunlight piercing through the shadows of trees as we walk down the path of life.
If it weren't for the shadows, the streams of sunlight would not be so beautiful.
Not that I don't have my moments. I do.
Oh...do I!
Three days ago I was cleaning our bedroom and went to put something in the top drawer of my dresser. There, lying right on top, was a journal that I had been keeping throughout my pregnancy with Anna.
My stomach became tight and I felt my heart start to quicken, like I just discovered something that I shouldn't have. And even though every inch of my heart was telling me not to pick up that little book...I reached for it.
Don't read it.
It will be too painful.
But before I knew it, I was sitting on our bed, pulling on the ribbon book-mark, opening it as I had been for five months, reading through the pages, one by one.
It's a cute little book that a dear friend, who is also Anna's Godmother, had given to me shortly after I told her that we were pregnant. She, like so many others, was so excited for me to become a new mommy and thought it would be special for me to record the journey. It was one of my favorite gifts given to me.
The journal pages asked specific questions about how I was feeling: what cravings or morning sickness I'd had, was the baby kicking like a ballerina or a football star, was my hunch a boy or a girl, etc. And each page was for documenting a week at a time, and then divided up into months, and finally trimesters.
The neatest part for me was that I wrote everything addressed to our child, who we later found out to be Anna...as if she would read it one day to know how her Mommy was feeling while she was in the life of my womb. I could picture her reading it as a teenager someday. It would be one of those special mother-daughter moments that I envisioned with her. Maybe when she was getting ready to leave for college, or maybe when she was having a bad day and feeling unloved and wondering what her worth was in this life. We would read it together, and I would reminisce about how excited, scared and nervous I was for her arrival. And she would hear how her life truly began...from the very beginning....and how much she was loved before I even knew her.
My last entry was at the end of the fifth month. The excitement was clearly evident in my writing. I wrote about how it felt to see our little girl on screen, hearing her heartbeat fill the room at every doctor's appointment, and finally discovering that she was a girl. All through the pregnancy, I had this hunch that our baby was a boy. I had had three dreams of having a baby boy. And when we were told that she was a girl, I was floored! I didn't prefer one over the other, but I had just always felt that she was a boy. When I found out I was going to have a daughter, my heart melted. A daughter. Oh, how my heart skipped at the thought.
And then the writing stopped.
The next page, entitled Sixth Month, was unanswered.
Empty.
I couldn't stand to see the empty page, so I reached for a pen on my nightstand. And I began to write...
My Dear Baby Girl,
We lost you...
And on I went to write about what happened during the few short days leading up to July 2, 2013--when she was born to eternal life. I continued to write about how heart-broken her Mommy and Daddy were. And how I missed her so, so much.
No sooner did I finish writing that final entry did I slam the book shut and throw the pen across the room.
I looked up to the ceiling and screamed.
Why God?! Why did You take my daughter?! I wanna know why! Why didn't You stop that infection? You could have! I know You could have! She's supposed to be in MY arms, not Yours!
I sobbed, I wailed, I screamed. My whole body was shaking with anger and despair, but mostly...disappointment.
Disappointment.
In all of my life, I have never...and I mean, never...been disappointed in God. I have questioned Him, yes. I have doubted Him. And I have certainly been disappointed with life or other people at times. But not God. Ever. I've never been disappointed in God.
Until now.
I know that I know that He is in complete control. And that all is as it should be. And everything that happens in my life is never meant for my harm, but can be used for good. I truly believe all of that with my whole heart.
But, for the first time that I can ever remember, I am disappointed in my God. My Lord. My Rock. My EVERYTHING.
I have never wanted anything so bad as much as I want my daughter back. And I've wanted a lot of things in my life. A lot. But never have I felt such longing, clear into the depths of my bones, for something or someone as I do for my daughter.
I want to know what she would look like. What color are her eyes? What does her voice sound like? What gifts would she have had? Would she have a passion for music like I do? Would she have a love for hunting and nature like her daddy? What great things would she have done in this world?
My heart longs to know the answers to all of these questions...but even more so the question: Why, God?
I just had a conversation with a good friend the other day over lunch. We talked about how grief has worked in our lives. Although she has never lost a child, she has certainly had her share of loss in her life and she tearfully spoke of how amazing God's grace is when we go through that initial part of the loss. The encounter of death itself, the first few days and weeks after it all happened. Especially the funeral. When I think back now to the day of Anna's funeral...I am just dumbfounded that I was able to make it through her funeral service and burial. Not to mention the day in the hospital when I held her lifeless body in my arms, kissing her face and fingers and toes. I even remember being surprised at how "easy" it seemed to be to go through it. It was painful, sure, but I seemed to go through it with such ease and was even able to smile and laugh at times.
God's grace. She and I both know full well that it is God's grace that gets us through moments like that in life.
But then, there are times when that grace lifts.
We no longer move through moments on that easy, "auto-pilot" feeling. His grace is sufficient for whatever season we are going through, but I believe that there are times when that grace is lifted.
Like my feeling of disappointment in God. I know that God is still just as present in times like that, but it's different now than it was during those first moments during and after Anna's death. And I truly believe that it needs to be that way. How else would we know how much we need God? When I slammed the journal shut and sobbed in sadness and anger, God was there. But it wasn't "easy" anymore. It was like I needed to feel those raw, human emotions so that I would remember that in my human weakness, I need God. Yes, I am disappointed in how this whole thing played out. I want my daughter. He could have healed us both and she'd still be here with me. But, He didn't. And I am disappointed in Him for that. But it's because I can't see the whole picture. He can. And I know that He is a good God, a loving God, a giving God. And one day, it will all be revealed.
When I'm cleaning at home, I always have worship music playing in the background. And while I sat there on the bed, sobbing, I could still hear the sounds of worship filling the room.
"Blessed be the Name of the Lord. Blessed be Your Name! You give and take away. You give and take away. My heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be Your Name."
No matter how hard I tried to sing praise to Him with that music in that moment, I couldn't do it. I even said to Him, "I just can't praise You right now. I just can't!"
But I was praising Him.
Even as I sat on my bed, journal in hand, and heartbroken, God was there. He is in our brokenness. He is in our pain. He is in our wants and desires. He is in everything that we feel, do or go through. But, we have a choice. Do we embrace Him as He embraces us in those moments? Or do we turn our backs on Him because we're disappointed in how He has done something?
Has He ever turned His back on me when He was disappointed in me?
Thank God, no.
If He turned His back on us like we do when we're disappointed in others, we'd be in big trouble! But He doesn't. He won't. He promises that to us over and over. He never promised that we would have a pain-free life. He promises us that He will be right there with us in the pain.
And although I couldn't praise Him with my singing voice, I was praising Him with my tears of grief and hurt. I wasn't turning my back on Him. I was seeking Him. For comfort, for answers, for love. My God was holding me tight when I was crying my heart out as I wrote that final entry in the journal. He was holding me when I sat there sobbing, trying desperately to praise Him in song and I couldn't. He was right there. And I knew He was right there.
The next morning when I woke up, I was amazed. I felt that familiar grace upon me. I felt like a new person that very next day. There are no words to describe it or how to make it make sense. I just felt it. And I have felt it ever since. The scripture passage from Psalm 30 has been resounding in my mind over these past days: "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning."
What made one day so different from the next? My daughter wasn't back. The circumstance hadn't changed at all. She is still gone from me. But what's different is God's grace.
I will probably have many more moments like I did that day in my bedroom with the journal. But then His grace will fall again. He gives us glimpses. And we can see the beauty in the pain, in the grief, in the sorrows of life. Like sunlight piercing through the shadows of trees as we walk down the path of life.
If it weren't for the shadows, the streams of sunlight would not be so beautiful.
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