Anxiety

I had my first anxiety attack on the night I brought my first baby home from the hospital.

I didn't know what it was at the time, but I most certainly knew something was wrong. We'd waited so long for that moment. I wish I could write that all I felt at that time was pure, unadulterated joy and relief. And oh, I did feel that! I couldn't believe all that had transpired in the days just prior. After losing six babies to miscarriage, we'd seen the face of our seventh baby. She'd been born plump and healthy and beautiful, and we'd actually brought her home. She was ours to keep! It was unbelievable and it was wonderful.

The circumstances surrounding the release from the hospital weren't perfectly smooth. We had a few hiccups as we were getting ready to head home that late September day in 2010. After a three-day stay following my c-section delivery, we were ready to head home but Lily had jaundice. Even after I was released, we were waiting on one more bilirubin test that wouldn't happen until 5 PM. The doctor came in the room a few hours later to tell me her numbers were still high, but they would let us take her home if we took her in to the clinic over the weekend (it was a Friday evening) to have the test repeated. Of course we would do whatever we needed to do, including making sure she got some sunlight and was getting plenty to eat.

All that is to say, we made it home that Friday night with our baby girl, pulling into the driveway as a family of three after the sun had set. My mom and my sister were both there, so I knew we had lots of help. I remember things feeling a bit chaotic as it was so late in the day and I was nervous about keeping Lily's jaundice in check. If someone had asked if I felt absolutely frantic or anxious, I would have answered no.

It wasn't until later that night that I became aware of a problem. My chest felt tight and heavy. I had a hard time taking deep breaths. My heart was pounding. I knew I was exhausted and needed sleep. Those three nights in a busy hospital after major surgery, with nurses coming in to give medicine and check my vitals, plus breastfeeding a newborn baby every 2-3 hours had not left me feeling well-rested. But the more I tried to rest at home in my own bed, the more sleeping became impossible. I called my doctor's office and the on-call doctor called me back, but I didn't feel like she understood what I was saying or experiencing. It was one of the longest nights of my life. I don't mean to sound dramatic here, but I honestly thought I was dying.

Somehow I made it through the weekend. Lily's bilirubin count had gotten up to 16, but by Sunday we had some relief when the number started dropping. She was doing great. I was still struggling, but still I had no idea why. I had no appetite. Every evening that chest pain would return. I was getting only enough sleep to get by. I'd already quit taking my pain medicine for fear that it was contributing to the way I was feeling. My mom, sister, and husband were helping me take care of the baby, thankfully. By Monday morning I decided to go see my doctor. As soon as she looked at me, she told me to go over to the ER to get checked out. She said she'd call ahead and tell them I was coming. The chest pains had her concerned about a blood clot in my lungs. At the ER I had a CT scan and lots of blood work, and they had me see a cardiologist for an echocardiogram. It was a crazy few days, and what I remember most is how badly I hated being away from my sweet baby. But I knew that I had to rule out some of these things and try to feel better.

All of the tests I had came back clear, which was great news. I still had no idea what happened. It took about two weeks for me to feel remotely normal again. As time went on I began to wonder if it had been anxiety. I talked to a couple of friends who had struggled with anxiety/panic attacks before and things started making more sense to me. It's so hard to know, because it feels so scary. It most certainly does NOT feel like it's "all in your head." Once things settled down, I thought that feeling had gone away for good. I thought it was just a very strange thing that happened but was eventually overcome and eclipsed by the joy we felt in bringing our baby home. Life went on.

Fast forward a couple of years.

We found out we were expecting for the eighth time when Lily was only 18 months old. The fact that it happened again so quickly (relatively speaking -- it had taken us three years, and a grand total of nearly nine years all things considered, to get pregnant with Lily) was a surprise and a blessing. As is true with each and every pregnancy we've had, the early weeks and months were nerve-racking. On top of the endless worry and waiting and ultrasounds, there was also the melanoma that my dermatologist had discovered at the very beginning of the pregnancy. At 13 weeks I had surgery to remove the cancer from my arm. Strangely, I made it through all of that chaos, while also keeping up with a busy toddler, with no anxiety attacks. Truly, I still wasn't quite sure it was what I'd had back when Lily was born.

But as the time drew near for our second daughter to arrive, I began to feel some of the same things again. It wasn't as intense as I remembered, but it was starting to happen again intermittently. I talked to my OB/GYN at length about it, and told her I was worried that it was going to escalate after Anna was born like it had with Lily. I was trying to stay positive and hope that, with it being my second time, I could keep the anxious feelings at bay and just get through it.

I had my second c-section in late November of 2012. Again, we had a big, beautiful baby girl whom we were elated to meet. While the baby was fine, the delivery hadn't been completely problem-free. After countless (painful) attempts, the anesthesiologist never could get the spinal block to work. He finally left, frustrated, and with me in a puddle of tears, and called in a colleague to come give me an epidural. The experience was horrible, but I kept my eye on the prize. Soon the surgery was underway and in no time I heard those precious first cries. We enjoyed our first moments with baby Anna in the OR before she was taken to the nursery. Afterward, while I was in recovery and time went on and on, we finally begged the nurse to find out why they hadn't brought the baby back to us. She was doing okay, they said, but she had fluid in her lungs -- common for babies who aren't squeezed through the birth canal. Well, we knew she would be fine, but that's not to say we weren't worried. And of course we wanted to see her as soon as possible. But that didn't happen for seven more hours. Her breathing was still too rapid and her lungs were still full. They wanted to check her one last time and if she didn't "pass" she would spend the night in the NICU. Suddenly and rather abruptly, the nurse was wheeling her into my room and handing me my baby, telling me she had turned around quickly and was doing great. It was a huge answer to prayer and a big relief to finally hold her after such a long, long day.

The anesthesiologist (who by that time was not my favorite person) came to see me the next day to warn me that in some cases after a failed spinal block, the spinal fluid will leak and cause a severe headache. He said to let a nurse know if that happened to me and turned and walked out. It wasn't until the day after that when I began to feel like I had a sore neck. It felt like a pulled muscle, but as time went on the pain crept up into the back of my head. I spoke to some doctors about my options and decided that, rather than have another spinal procedure (the last thing in the world I wanted to do at that point) to fix the headache, I would just endure it. It wasn't great, but it at least felt manageable right then and there in the hospital. I went home and tolerated that horrible headache for a solid week. Fortunately, Anna was doing great. She had no jaundice and breastfeeding was going so well.

During those first few nights home, the anxiety attacks returned. I think they were tempered in a way by what I was experiencing with the spinal headache. I was in so much pain from that, that it kept me distracted from dwelling on the anxiety. I lost my appetite again and quit the pain meds early again, just like before. But every evening for the first week or so I was visited by that heaviness in my chest, inability to sleep, shortness of breath, and rapid heartbeat.

I know this is turning into a long story, but I wanted to revisit where it all started. It's hard -- as a person, as a woman, as a Christian, and as a mom -- to admit sometimes that we don't have it all together. I can only speculate why the births of both of my miracle babies brought so many different emotions. I expected the joy and the awe, but I never saw the panic and anxiety coming. I think part of it was the realization that we were finally seeing this dream come to fruition, and my fear that somehow we were going to mess it up or lose it. Maybe that doesn't make much sense but after being pregnant six times and losing all of those precious ones, I think there was a deep sense of fear lurking underneath all of that joy. I didn't want to come so close and watch it all slip away again.

I decided to write about all of this now because, over the past weekend, I was struck by two anxiety attacks. No, I'm not pregnant. I obviously didn't just bring home a new baby. I don't know exactly what caused it, but at least I know now what to call it. I know that, for me, I've come to recognize that there is a "perfect storm" of exhaustion, usually sickness, stress, and insomnia that will bring on the attack. After the double whammy last weekend, I talked to my family doctor about the whole thing. It felt good to finally have a doctor listen and understand what I was experiencing. She prescribed some medication that I can take when I feel the attacks coming on. Strangely enough, I think just knowing it's there in the medicine cabinet gives me some reassurance and makes me feel a bit calmer, which the doctor said actually happens more often than you'd think.

This whole thing is not something I've shared with many people. I guess I wanted to write about it here just to tell somebody, anybody: Hey, I don't have it all together!

Life gets complicated, times get hard, infertility is horrible, we fail, we suffer loss, we survive, our faith is tested, we overcome, sometimes our dreams come true, miracles happen, parenthood is tough, sometimes we feel out of control, and life remains challenging, and we don't have it all together. And it's okay. It's okay to admit it and ask for help. That has been difficult for me to realize. I've already been surprised by the number of friends and family members, out of the very few I've talked to about this, who have struggled with some similar issues. It always helps to know we aren't alone in our struggles. As always, thanks for letting me share and thank you for continuing to read.

Aaron Joseph

This is the sixth and final post in the series I've been writing about the babies we miscarried. The time felt right to give them all names and to revisit the experience one by one, as a way of remembering and as a memorial. I appreciate the opportunity to use this blog as a step in the healing process, and I'm grateful to those who have faithfully read along, commented, encouraged, and prayed. These precious ones will always be part of our lives. I'm honored to call them by name.
Emily Grace, Callie Elizabeth, Luke Daniel, Adam Louis, Agnes Faith, and Aaron Joseph
***

Just four months after we lost our fifth baby, I discovered I was pregnant for the sixth time on December 11, 2006. It was really soon but we felt like we surely must be close. We'd had dozens of tests run, discovered a uterine septum and had surgery to correct it, and were planning to try the progesterone supplements and blood thinners again. Since our specialist was an hour's drive away, we were working with my local OB/GYN for lab work and treatment in the early stages of the pregnancy.

Pregnancy number six would be another roller coaster ride. We spent a long time with things up in the air, not knowing whether it was going to work out or not. It was hard and it was emotionally exhausting. And it was all happening right around the holidays, which seemed to make it harder.

Early signs showed that the pregnancy was going well. The first HCG results were higher than my previous pregnancy, and the progesterone was high. I started the nightly Lovenox injections in my stomach right away. A week later, on December 18, the HCG was rising as it should be. We scheduled an ultrasound at a local imaging center on December 21 but were only able to see a gestational sac. It was a start, but we had to leave that day knowing we would spend the Christmas holiday with the big question hanging over our heads. Oh, how we'd been hoping to spend Christmas with the knowledge that our baby was okay and growing.

We decided to go ahead with our travel plans. Spending that time surrounded by our family seemed like a much better idea than staying home alone and worrying. We packed up a basket full of injections, put the progesterone suppositories on ice, and headed for Louisiana and the comfort of home and family. As soon as we got back home and the office was open, I called to schedule more blood work on January 2, 2007. HCG came back: 95,000! After a week and a half of waiting, it was wonderful news! We planned for an ultrasound and the doctor told us that we should be able to get a look at our baby with numbers that high. We knew better than to let ourselves start celebrating but we felt sure that we would at least have an answer, one way or the other.

The ultrasound on January 4 didn't go as we hoped. There was a yolk sac this time but still no growing baby. We knew it wasn't good but we continued to hope and pray for our miracle. Later that evening I had a little bit of bleeding. My heart dropped into my stomach as I thought it was the end. To my surprise, though, the bleeding tapered off and then quit. I had another lab appointment on January 9 to be sure the numbers were still rising. They were. It was ultrasound time again. It had now been a month of injections, desperate prayers, and worry. And hope. Always hope.

We returned to the imaging center on January 15. At ten weeks along we knew we should be seeing our baby. As soon as the image of the yolk sac was visible on the screen, we could see that there was still no growth. No flickering heartbeat. Just an empty sac. This pregnancy had been a blighted ovum, which is when a fertilized egg implants but doesn't develop into an embryo. Conception occurs and your body prepares for pregnancy, but the yolk sac remains empty and the baby does not grow.

 I had a D&C on January 22, 2007. It was three days before my 30th birthday. There was no party, no big celebration. My sweet husband had arranged for many of my friends and family to send special cards and letters, which he gave to me in a big bag on my birthday. My mom came and made my favorite cake: chocolate with chocolate icing. We spent a quiet day at home as I recovered.

In a way, after six times, I'd gotten used to dealing with the tough news and even the surgery and recovery. But you never ever get used to the pain and devastation of loss. Each and every time brought such overwhelming sadness and disappointment. And guilt. You name it. There were so many emotions and unanswered questions. We had to accept that we would probably never have those answers this side of heaven. Our specialist told us with regret that even she didn't know what else she could do to help us. We knew we'd reached the end of the road with her. The call came from the OB/GYN who told us she didn't think we'd ever have a baby. I felt like I'd hit rock bottom.

There's a familiar expression that I think applies here: "Don't put a period where God has put a comma." That's how I felt. I wanted a second opinion. And honestly, if another doctor looked at me and said no, and if we felt God leading us to stop, then we knew we'd need to find the strength to put it all to rest. But I just couldn't let go until I knew for sure. One thing was certain that even I in my weakest times never doubted, though. We were going to be parents. We just didn't know yet if our family would grow through a successful pregnancy or through the gift of adoption.

The weeks and months (and eventually, years) that followed were hard. We found a new doctor in the big city and had our first visit with him on July 16, 2007. For the first time we truly felt that we'd found a doctor who had the knowledge and experience to help us. The best part was that even after all he knew about our history, he didn't think we were a hopeless case. After six pregnancies and six miscarriages in six years, we had hope again. And it would keep us going as we faced something we didn't expect -- three years of infertility. But that's a story for another day.


I love the name we've chosen for our sixth baby. Aaron is a boy name that we've both loved for years. Joseph is my father-in-law's middle name, and was also my maternal grandfather's middle name. While getting ready to write this post I looked up the meanings of these two names we'd already picked, and what I read confirmed that they were right. It's one of those things that forms a lump in my throat and brings tears to my eyes.

Aaron means "mountain of strength."
Joseph means "God shall add."

This pregnancy holds a lot of meaning for me. Looking back at it now I can see that it was in some ways both the end and the beginning. Of course I didn't know it at the time, but praise the Lord, it was our last miscarriage. It was the end of a very long and painful chapter in our lives. But it was the start of a new decade of my life -- my thirties -- and while one chapter (well, it felt like an entire book) was closed, another was opened. I can look back on it years later and remember the sorrow I felt while at the same time appreciating that the old was gone and we were right on the edge of a new, fresh start. There were two beautiful miracles right around the corner. God shall add. And He had been my mountain of strength.

Aaron Joseph,
We had so much hope for you, precious boy, but we know that you are safe with Jesus right along with your brothers and sisters. Thank you for keeping hope alive within us and for showing us that the Lord would be our mountain of strength. We love you and miss you so, so much.
Love, Mommy

Agnes Faith

This is the fifth post in a series about our babies in heaven, all miscarried in the first trimester. The first four can be found here: Emily Grace, Callie Elizabeth, Luke Daniel, Adam Louis. Thank you for remembering them with me.
***

Every single loss is hard. Each one broke our hearts. It took a while for us to pick up the pieces after we lost our fourth baby. We thought surely, after finding out about the uterine septum and having it removed, we had figured things out and would be bringing home our baby. Instead we had another unfulfilled due date, in February 2006.

After the miscarriage we'd kept ourselves from the doctor visits. We didn't return until February, seven months later, for a consultation. Our doctor gave us a few suggestions that we could look into. It was good to have options, but it definitely felt a lot like grasping at straws. Try seeing a urologist for further sperm testing. Talk to a high-risk pregnancy doctor. Consult with a geneticist. Have lots and lots more blood work. (It's a good thing I'm not afraid of needles.)

My husband saw the urologist and was tested for sperm fragmentation. That turned out fine. No worries there. The high-risk pregnancy doc did some tests and thought we could try using blood thinners with the next pregnancy. My doctor was on board with this and we were willing to try it. The geneticist, after looking over all of our history, determined that she didn't think a healthy, full-term pregnancy was completely out of the question for us. Although we knew these were all just ideas and medical opinions, that was particularly nice to hear since our former OB/GYN would later call me on the phone and tell me that she thought I had a genetic problem that would prevent me from ever having a biological child. Wow. Talk about having the breath knocked out of you. Looking back I realize what an inappropriate opinion that was to give a patient, over the phone, when you aren't even qualified as an infertility specialist. Some days it truly felt like everything was working against us.

We knew the odds didn't look good. But we weren't ready to give up yet. There were many, many days when I thought about it. I felt incredibly weak. I was tired and discouraged, and depressed. It became increasingly harder for me to go anywhere and to face all of the questions about why we didn't have any children and what we were doing about it. Everyone had an opinion, a suggestion, and just the right answer for what we should be doing. They said we weren't thinking positively enough, we were worrying too much, we needed to take a break and relax. They said that this was all happening for a reason and that God wouldn't give me more than I could handle. And I began to hate hearing all of it. All of those words made us feel like we were doing something wrong; like it was my fault that our children couldn't survive in my womb. Or that God was trying to teach me a really hard lesson that I was apparently too dumb or had too little faith to grasp.

And so I started keeping it all inside and sharing as little information as possible with those people I knew didn't really care and were just curious. I stopped going to baby showers because it was just too hard. Even going to church was becoming almost unbearable. While I never turned my back on God, I definitely began to question His plan and wonder why this was happening to us, and why it happens to anyone at all.

Even in this state of mind, though, there was a determination inside of me. The desire to be a mother had grown, moving me forward and helping me to take another step, even if it felt small. I had a husband beside me who never gave up hope and always believed that we would have children. And through all of it, God really was teaching me new things about my weakness and His strength. He was teaching me about waiting and trusting and resting and hoping, and above all, about realizing that I serve a God who is infinitely bigger than my circumstances, my fears, and even infertility and miscarriage.

And so, after a new round of tests that revealed no obvious problem but with a few new options to try, we found out about our fifth pregnancy on July 27, 2006. With this pregnancy I began using daily Lovenox (blood thinner) injections in my stomach. Even with no fear of needles, it was a hard thing for me to get used to at first but became a bit easier as time went on. A blood test confirmed the pregnancy and we were back to waiting and hoping for good news. A few days later things were looking pretty good. The HCG levels were rising and progesterone looked good.

We were feeling confident. So much so that we made the (just over 2 hour) drive to Louisiana to celebrate my mom's birthday on August 6th. On Monday the 7th I went for more lab work. I felt hopeful as I waited to hear more good news, but it was not to be. The call would come later the next day, but before the phone ever rang I already knew. I woke up the morning of August 8, 2006 with cramps and bleeding, knowing I was losing the baby. I had been only about 6 weeks along.

It surprises me today to read what I wrote in my journal in the days after our fifth miscarriage. Somewhere inside I still believed it would happen and knew at that point that we would give it at least one more try. It might sound crazy but we suddenly had the feeling that we were getting closer. At that point it felt like we'd been climbing the mountain for so long that we must be near the top, even though we still couldn't see it. We had to be closer.

We've named this sweet baby Agnes Faith.

I know that Agnes isn't exactly a trendy name these days. While I consider it a classic, it's not one of those that is enjoying a big comeback. It was, however, my great-grandmother's name, and she was truly a treasure. She was the most precious, sweet, kind, gentle, French-speaking old Cajun lady that you could ever imagine, and we all adored her. My mom was particularly close to her grandmother, and Mom was always so pleased to have Granny's name, Agnes, as her middle name.

August 8th, the day I miscarried, was Granny's birthday. She passed away in 1999, but I have so many fond memories of her. There were exactly 101 years separating my Granny and my little Agnes. I'm incredibly honored to name my daughter after her and after my sweet mom as well.

My mom is amazing and has been such a huge supporter and great influence in my life, teaching me about faith and modeling the kind of mother I always hoped to be. When I think of the name Agnes, I have two wonderful and strong women who immediately come to mind. I like to think my sweet little Agnes would have followed in their footsteps.

Her middle name is pretty self-explanatory. Faith. It's something I can't imagine my life without and it's the number one thing that helped me through this struggle. Without my faith in God I don't want to imagine where I'd be today.

Agnes Faith,
Oh sweet girl, your name is very special to us and we love imagining what kind of woman you might have grown up to be. We miss you, sweet one, and love you so much! I can't wait to wrap my arms around you.
Love, Mommy

Adam Louis

This is the fourth of six posts I'm writing about our babies in heaven. Thank you for continuing to remember them with me as we go through the process of naming each of them. They are all loved and missed! You can find the previous three posts here: Emily Grace, Callie Elizabeth, and Luke Daniel.
***

The year 2004 had brought our third miscarriage in three years. It felt like we'd been through so much, but we had no idea what was still to come. Our fourth pregnancy would be one of the most difficult and darkest times we would face. (And I'm sure this post will be a long one as there are a lot more details about this pregnancy. Thanks in advance for sticking with me.)

While we had begun some initial testing, it was at this point that we realized it was time to really investigate what might be going wrong. The first step was exploratory surgery, which we scheduled with our specialist on November 12. During the hysteroscopy, the doctor could not see both of my fallopian tubes at the same time with the scope, suggesting that my uterus had a different shape or an obstruction.

The next step was an MRI and and IVP test, which we scheduled for December 2. The tests came back showing the better of the two scenarios that the doctor suspected -- I had a septum (like a wall) dividing my uterus. She told us it's a congenital deformity and that it was likely to be the cause of my miscarriages, considering it can create concave areas in the uterus, making it difficult for a baby to grow. The really good news was that it could be corrected with outpatient surgery.

I wasn't excited about hearing that news, but it definitely gave us something to hold on to. This could be the answer! Maybe we finally had a REASON, medically speaking. We started 2005 with a renewed hope and on January 21, just a few days before my 28th birthday, I had surgery to remove the uterine septum. The doctor also looked for endometriosis, which she didn't find. We felt like we were in good shape to start trying again after some time to heal. I didn't have a regular cycle until March, and then I decided to have my wisdom teeth pulled in April. After all of that was done we were ready.

The positive pregnancy test came on June 9, 2005. It was the start of a roller coaster of emotions, with the biggest ups and downs we had experienced yet. I had still been using the progesterone and following the routine that I explained in my last post, so on day 30 I took a home test. It was negative. It was my fourth time around, though, and I had a feeling otherwise. Four days later I took another one. Positive. I went that same day for blood work. HCG 1266 and progesterone 41. Great news, they said. Things looked promising.

We went in for the first ultrasound on June 20 but saw only a gestational sac. This did not devastate us. We still felt very positive and thought we needed to give it some more time. When we saw the doctor that day, though, we were surprised (unpleasantly so) to discover two things: first, our regular doctor was gone. She wasn't working there anymore and we did not like this new doctor. Second, the new doctor (whose bedside manner was lacking all sensitivity) abruptly told us that the sac looked too large and the numbers were too high. She didn't think the pregnancy would last.

Folks, I don't need a doctor to coddle me or try to make me think things are okay when they're not. But her delivery was awful. I had more blood drawn and we left feeling frustrated, confused, and lost. We had a real connection with the other doctor and she was gone. We went there that day thinking our baby was okay and left thinking we'd lost another one. The news came that night: my HCG and progesterone were still looking very good. We scheduled another ultrasound. In the meantime, we decided to try calling our other doctor, the one who had left. We felt funny about calling her at home but we were so unsettled and didn't know where else to turn. She answered, and she was totally great about it. Even better, she told us she had moved to an office in Houston and that we could follow her there if it was what we wanted. It was.

We kept the ultrasound appointment that we'd already made (June 27), and we went in praying that we would see a yolk sac this time. We did! We were relieved... until Dr Doom came in to tell us again that it wasn't going to work. I know that a big part of the anger and frustration we felt at that time was out of sheer denial, or refusal to accept more bad news. We weren't doubting the doctor's ability to do her job, but we couldn't understand why she did not seem willing to let us have an ounce of hope. Things WERE progressing, and until they weren't, we were going to have some HOPE. After some persuading, she agreed to do another ultrasound in two weeks.

July 11 finally arrived. We had prayed our hearts out. We'd even decided to tell our church family this time so they could be praying with us. And after all that hoping and all that praying, there it was: a heartbeat. Our baby looked amazing. There was the little head, the body, and the arm and leg buds! The baby was measuring 8 weeks, 2 days, and even the doubting doctor seemed surprised. She said that aside from a bit of a fast heart rate, the baby looked fine. Today as I write this eight years later, I'm looking at the cherished ultrasound pictures, paperclipped in my journal, of that sweet little baby. He was our dream come true. Our hearts were so full of love for that miracle.

After that visit, we made the decision to make our next appointment with the doctor with whom we felt more comfortable. Even if the news was going to be bad, we preferred to hear it from her. We informed the doctor and had our records transferred to the new office. A week later, on July 18, we made the hour-long drive to the see our old doctor. We were excited to have the ultrasound and get another look at our growing baby. And the baby HAD grown, measuring 9 weeks. And there were the chambers of the heart... but the heart wasn't beating. We saw it as plainly as she did. Our doctor was surprised. We were shocked. It had been only a week -- just 7 days -- since we'd seen the heartbeat, and our baby had died.

After we talked to the doctor for a little while, she checked again just to be sure of what we saw. I appreciate that she did that for us, but we knew it was over. It felt like she was giving us a moment to say goodbye as we took one last long look at the screen. She asked me if we wanted her to print a picture and I said yes. I have that picture here with me now, too, that last precious image of our baby. He looks perfect to me, even though I know his heart wasn't beating and his soul was in heaven. It breaks my heart to see it, but I'm grateful to have it.

Every loss is hard. This one was particularly hard for us. We felt more heartbroken than ever. There had been so much hope and so many prayers -- so many of them answered in those 9 weeks. We were learning to trust a God who loves us and cares about us, and who sees the bigger picture and knows all of the answers to our questions.

I'm thankful that we got to spend as much time carrying this child as we did. We got to see him on an ultrasound screen more times than we had with any other pregnancy. We watched him grow and saw that flickering heartbeat, reassuring us that he was here and he was real. He had lived longer than any of our other babies had to date. And I'm thankful that we got to stick with a doctor who was sensitive and considerate of our needs during that time. On the day of the D&C, she invited us to her office to do a final ultrasound so we could be certain. Again, I know she did that just for us. There was no lingering look this time, and she did that for our benefit, too. Even though I know he'd already gone to heaven by then, we said goodbye to our fourth baby on July 22, 2005.

We've named our second son Adam Louis.
Adam is a name I've come to love in recent years. I considered it for Anna if she'd been a boy. The last name Adams is a family name on my mom's side. Louis is my husband's middle name, and had been his paternal grandfather's middle name as well. Of course I love having a son named after both of them, and I also really like that Louis is a French name. It reflects our heritage and is part of our home state, Louisiana's, name, too. Louis means "famous warrior," and we certainly felt that our little guy was a fighter. Our Adam Louis's name was chosen with lots of love and from a long line of family names from both sides of our family.

Adam Louis,
Your daddy and I are so grateful for the time we got to spend with you. We never got to hold you, but we knew you and loved you so much while we prayed and hoped for you for nine weeks. Thank you for giving us that hope and for teaching us to keep holding on, no matter what. You were worth it! We love you and can't wait to see you again one day.
Love, Mommy

Luke Daniel

This is the third post in a series about the six babies we miscarried. Naming these precious ones has been an honor as well as a healing process for us. The previous two posts can be found here: Emily Grace; Callie Elizabeth.
***

In March of 2003 we found ourselves at a crossroads. In less than a year's time we'd had two pregnancies and two miscarriages, both at 11 weeks gestation. Both times we found out that our babies were no longer living when ultrasounds revealed that they appeared to have stopped growing around 7 weeks and their little hearts had stopped beating. We were heartbroken, and now we were scared.

My OB/GYN at the time recommended that we go to a local Center of Reproductive Medicine to have some initial testing done. We talked and prayed about it and decided we had nothing to lose. It was definitely worth a try. Our first appointment there was in August of 2003, and we began with lots and lots blood work and a semen analysis. Our blood work came back pretty normal and hubby's tests were stellar. Because my results showed the MTHFR mutation, I began taking extra folic acid along with my prenatal vitamin and a daily aspirin. We also tested my progesterone and came up with a new plan. Each month I would start taking extra progesterone on cycle day 17 and go in to have blood drawn 4 days later to check the level. I would return for another blood draw on cycle day 31 to check for pregnancy. This continued for several months. It was frustrating to see the days and months pass with no change, but we continued on because at least we felt like we were doing SOMETHING.

After a while when it appeared that my progesterone levels were staying nice and high, I continued using the supplements but didn't go for blood work each and every month. Every few months we'd go in and talk with the doctor to check on things and talk about the plan. We knew there were more aggressive things out there but we felt sure that another pregnancy would come, and we felt good about taking these steps and monitoring things to try to give the baby a better chance. We were stressed. We were nervous. It hadn't taken us this long to get pregnant before but we tried to remain as patient and calm as possible.

More than a year passed before we saw our third positive pregnancy test. It was September 24, 2004, and we were so very hopeful and anxious to find out if things would be different this time. They were different, but not in the way that we'd hoped. My first HCG check on September 27 came back at 349. On October 1 it was 666. We knew these numbers weren't looking good. We checked again on October 5 and it had dropped to 49, and I lost our third baby on October 7, 2004. We'd hardly had much time at all to even let it sink in, just a few short weeks, and just like that it was over at 6 weeks gestation.

We were so sad. So disappointed. In an effort to hide ourselves from the world and try to find some peace in the situation, we quickly planned a getaway to New England, just the two of us. We spent the next week surrounded by beautiful fall foliage, cozy bed and breakfasts, and gorgeous lighthouses on the east coast. It was a wonderful, comforting trip, a place we'd always wanted to go and at just the right time of year. We needed it so badly and we both look back on that time as a very special memory.

I love looking back at the pictures we took on that vacation, but I can still see the sadness on our faces. Of course we realized that there was really no escape from what was happening in our lives -- to us, and to our babies. Immediately after we returned home, I had one final blood draw to confirm the HCG was negative.

We decided to name our baby, our first son, a name that was at the top of our list for favorite boy names: Luke. Luke is a name we always liked. It's a good, strong Biblical name, which is true about every single boy name we've chosen, and true about his middle name, Daniel.

The name Daniel has special meaning for us, since it was my husband's grandfather's name. The name had meant something special to his mother as well. It was after studying the book of Daniel in the Bible that Pop's mother had given her life to Jesus. She said then that if she had another son his name would be Daniel, and she kept that promise. Her Daniel, our "Pop," was one of the most amazing men I've had the privilege to know. He was a missionary, a preacher, a pastor, a carpenter, a WWII veteran, and truly the kindest, gentlest father and grandfather I have ever met. (I wrote a post about him here, after he passed away in 2009.) We certainly looked up to this man of faith, as we do his Biblical namesake. I know he's with Jesus now, just like our sweet little boy.

Luke Daniel,
What a special boy you are to us! We hope you know how loved you are. Part of your name came from a man who was very special to us, too, who lived his life to honor his Savior. We can't wait to see both of you in heaven one day. You were with us for such a short time but are no less loved. We miss you so much.
Love, Mommy

Callie Elizabeth

This is the second post in a series about the six babies we lost to miscarriage. We made the decision earlier this year to give each of them names as a special way of remembering them. You can follow this link to read about our first baby, Emily Grace. I hate that it's been so long between posts, but this week's Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness/Remembrance Day brought all of these memories back up for me again. Thanks for reading.
***

After my first miscarriage in July of 2002 I was in shock. It rocked my world and I wasn't sure how to continue. I was so hurt and I wanted to grieve, yet I wanted to quickly move forward at the same time. Never before had I actually wanted to be a statistic -- I was desperate to be one of those people everyone kept telling me about when they said that miscarriage was very common and that it would all work out fine. Everyone had a story about someone they knew whose first pregnancy ended in miscarriage before they went on to have a healthy pregnancy right after. All I could do was hope that might also be me.

My sister, who had been due with her second child a month before my first, gave birth to a beautiful baby boy on December 3, 2002. I was thrilled to be in the delivery room when he entered the world. Being an aunt is such an incredible joy to me, and I was nothing but happy on that day. It was only later, after a family member pointed out that it must have been hard for me after losing my baby, that I let myself grieve my loss again. It had been an experience I was eager to share with my sister, but I felt hopeful that soon my time would come. Instead of making it more painful, loving on my brand new nephew was like a balm for my aching heart.

My unfulfilled due date passed in late January of 2003, closely followed by the suspicion that I might be pregnant again. There was indeed a positive pregnancy test on February 10, 2003. We were nervous but excited, certainly hoping we would be meeting our sweet baby around our due date of October 10, 2003. While the first loss had made me skittish and overly cautious, I had no reason to think we would have the same problem twice.

There aren't many details recorded in my journal about this pregnancy or the next one. After our first baby died in my womb, I put some of the things we bought for him or her, along with the pregnancy journal, up in the closet of what would have been the nursery in our new house. I didn't want to forget her short yet meaningful life, but the memory of her was so fresh and so raw. I couldn't let myself feel it completely just yet, so I saved it all up and busied myself with other things while hoping I would soon be holding a sweet bundle of my own.

My memory is fuzzy, but I know that the second pregnancy progressed almost exactly as the first one had. I'm beginning to recall how nervous I felt about going back to the doctor, even to confirm the pregnancy. I knew I was pregnant, but I'd fooled myself into thinking that I could keep potentially bad news away by simply avoiding it. Besides, I was just sure it wouldn't happen to me again. No news was good news to me, I thought, and I continued to hope and pray that sweet baby into existence. That sounds completely ridiculous to me now (not the hoping and praying, but the avoiding of information) but it was my funny way of dealing with it at that time in my life, I guess. I finally did go for the exam and the blood work, and a week later found out that all the numbers looked good. (Hooray!)

My joy lasted only about a week before the awful news came. We went for an ultrasound on March 25 and were again crushed to find out that the baby was no longer living and growing. Again, at 11 weeks gestation, we found out in that little room (with a little experience under our belts -- we knew what that silent, empty screen was saying this time) that I would miscarry for the second time. All my hopes again came crashing down. How could this have happened in such a similar way? Was there something wrong with me? This time, on top of my grief was a growing sense of fear.

After the physical pain of my first miscarriage, I decided to schedule a D&C. I'm still very glad for that decision, as I know I wasn't ready to face that trauma again so soon. The blood work showed that my HCG was falling. Even though I know she was already gone, I remember my sweet baby on the day she left my body, on Friday, March 28, 2003. Again, I don't know for sure that our second baby was a girl, but I know that we had envisioned ourselves with a couple of daughters in the early years when we would innocently allow ourselves to dream and plan for the future -- a future where we never imagined losing our first two children to miscarriage.

In those young married years, we had two favorite girl names always tucked away that were special to us: Emily Rae and Anna Elizabeth. I think it's special that our two daughters here on earth still carry one of those names each (Lily Rae and Anna Evangeline). We chose the name Emily Grace for our first baby in heaven.

Our second baby we've named Callie Elizabeth.

Callie is not a name I've always known. It's totally new to me. I don't personally know anyone by that name but it's funny how, much like how you suddenly begin hearing a word that is new to your vocabulary, I'm hearing it everywhere lately. I chose it as a tribute to two special women in our lives -- my sister and my husband's sister, and two of the best aunts our children could have ever asked for. It is a combination of my sister's name (Connie) and my sister-in-law's name (Allison - nicknamed Allie). Callie. I think it's adorable. And her middle name, Elizabeth, is the only one left that we haven't used from our original favorite girl names, and it's a name we've always loved.

The name Callie means "Beautiful" and the name Elizabeth means "God is my oath."

Callie Elizabeth,
Our beautiful girl, we miss you and we love you so much. Your daddy and I had so many hopes and dreams for you. We wish more than anything that we could have held you here, but we know we will have that chance one day in heaven. Oh, how special it will be when we finally see your face along with Jesus, who loves you even more than we ever could dream!
Love, Mommy

Emily Grace

This is the first in a series of posts I'm writing about the six babies we lost to miscarriage. We never named those babies until now, so I wanted to write something about each of them as a memorial. It should be mentioned that we do not officially know the gender of each baby, but we have decided to name three girls and three boys. We feel comfortable with that decision.
***

We found out about our first pregnancy on May 6, 2002. When I look back on that time, what I remember is pure excitement. We were downright giddy. I'd been doing all of the charting and tracking and temperature taking for a few months and there we were. It was definitely a planned pregnancy. My period was late and I had my suspicions, so I took a home pregnancy test on a Friday but it didn't convince me. That second line -- was it there? Or not? We went out of town that weekend and I remember feeling that excitement the whole time. We attended the first birthday party of the son of some of our dearest friends. Lots of good friends of ours from our first young married couple Sunday School class were there, many of them with their own young children. I looked around the room in amazement, wondering what it would be like to have our own child, too. We kept quiet about our suspicions all weekend, even with family, and tested again the following Monday at home. It was definitely positive. My hubby was home sick with a cold and we were just in awe. We were young, had just moved to a new town (and state) a year earlier, he had a great new job (his dream job, really), and we had been looking to buy our first home. Things couldn't have felt more right.

My first appointment with my new OB/GYN was May 14. A blood test confirmed the pregnancy and over the next few weeks we began telling our immediate family members in special ways. I told my sister first. We told my sister-in-law at her birthday party and my mom on Mother's Day. We told my in-laws at a family gathering for my brother-in-law's graduation. We were on Cloud 9, and our families were so happy too. My sister and I were due just a month apart. She was expecting her second child that December and my baby was due January 21, 2003. We've always been so close and we were beyond excited about being pregnant together.

May 22 arrived, along with the much-anticipated first ultrasound. It was my first ultrasound experience and I was full of anticipation. My bubble burst, however, when it didn't go very well. We were worried, but were reassured that it was probably just too early to see the baby just yet. Maybe I ovulated later than I'd thought. I'd been having irregular cycles, so it made sense to me and it all seemed to add up. Blood was drawn and my HCG level had gone up appropriately. The doctor didn't seem worried. A second ultrasound was scheduled for a week later, and on May 29, 2002, we saw our baby's heartbeat for the first time. What joy we felt at seeing that tiny flicker! The baby measured 4mm and the doctor said she thought I was 6 weeks along. We went home with those coveted black and white first photos of our little bean, and they went right up on the refrigerator so we could see them every day. We were so very relieved that our worrying had all been in vain. It had given us a little bit of a scare -- and definitely put our celebrating on pause for a moment. In my journal I wrote these words:
"If I learned anything this week, it's how much I am really anticipating this baby and how attached I already feel to it. I also felt in a powerful way how God can be my strength when I am weak."

How true those words would turn out to be.

We lived in bliss for the following few weeks. I had an uneventful OB appointment on June 11. Things were progressing well, or so we thought. We'd found a house and were set to close on June 28. Two days before that, however, I began noticing some brown spotting. The doctor suggested I might have an infection. I never expected the worst. I knew several people who'd had spotting and bleeding early on in pregnancy and everything turned out okay. We signed papers for the house and I took it easy, but I noticed the discharge becoming heavier over the next few days. I started feeling crampy, and I started feeling scared. My doctor did an exam on July 1 and said everything looked normal. She tried doing an ultrasound but told us she wanted us to go to the hospital to get a clearer picture there. By now we'd been waiting all morning and our worries had reached their peak. At 11 weeks, we should have been able to see a great picture of our growing baby on the screen, but we learned at the hospital that our baby was way too small and was measuring more like 7 weeks. We returned to our doctor in tears as she told us to expect a miscarriage.

Expect a miscarriage. But the fact was, I had NO IDEA what to expect. I'd been expecting to hold a brand new baby in January and now I was devastated. All of our plans came to a screeching halt, along with our hopes and dreams for this little baby we already loved. We didn't want to believe it was true even though we knew it in our hearts. I was afraid of having a D&C and I felt a strong desire to let things happen naturally. I think it was my way of being absolutely sure the baby couldn't make it. I was trying to cling to anything I could, any hope that we wouldn't lose the baby, but by July 3 I'd begun cramping and bleeding. We passed the time by working on the house. I didn't do much working, but family members came to help out and to keep me company. We tried to stay occupied, distracted. We kept the grief just below the surface while we waited.

By Friday evening I could tell things were changing. I went back to our apartment to try to rest, but the pain was tremendous. It came in waves for hours, all during the night, as I labored with our child. Around 4 AM I reached my breaking point. I couldn't handle the pain any longer and I began passing large clumps of blood and tissue. We called the doctor and decided to head to the ER when the pain became absolutely unbearable. I don't know what I expected them to do for me, but I was too scared to stay home at that point. After I was admitted and they brought me back, a doctor came to examine me. I remember it very vividly, that immediately after I was reclined on the bed there was one last wave of pain and it was instantly over. I knew at that moment that our baby was gone. It was around 5 AM on the morning of July 6, eleven years ago.

The doctor told me the miscarriage was "complete" and did a final ultrasound. I was brought to a room to rest and recover from what felt like my worst nightmare. I was traumatized, but doing okay physically. We went home later that night feeling like we were still stuck in a bad dream. My emotions were all over the place a few days later as I wrote in my journal. I was torn between the overwhelming desire to have a baby and the absolute fear of going through such an awful experience again. I felt angry, sad, disappointed, and scared. Above all, I was truly heartbroken. I wrote in the journal:
"I know that the pain of this loss will be with us forever. It's so hard for me to think I will ever be ready to risk trying again, yet I know we want a child now more than ever. How do I get through another first trimester? Before that, how do we find the courage to try to get pregnant again? Emotionally and physically, I don't see how we would handle another miscarriage."

When I read those words now, after everything I know would come after, I can see that it was my fear doing the talking. And looking back I know without a doubt that I would be willing to endure a whole lot more for my children. That first loss felt HUGE. And it was. I didn't know that it was just the beginning. I had no way, yet, of realizing how God would see us through and give us grace for that moment and every other trial and every other miscarriage that followed.

Sometimes I think about the young woman I was then. I remember the joy and the excitement of those early days and I wonder, if I could go back and talk to her, what would I tell her? The answer is -- nothing. I would let her feel that same happiness all over again. Ignorance is bliss, and I would never spoil that for her by trying to prepare her for the hardships and disappointments to come. I'd let her live right there in the security of that moment, enjoying the feeling that her dreams were about to come true.

I don't know whether the baby we lost was a boy or a girl, but I know that we had imagined ourselves with a couple of little girls... someday. Our favorite girl name was always Emily. I can say with certainty that, if that baby had been born here on earth and had been a girl, she'd be our Emily. We thought about using the name years later but it never felt right again. While we still loved it, we truly felt like our Emily had already come. We've given her the middle name Grace, because it was the beginning of one of the biggest lessons of grace we would ever receive. Through that time and everything that was to come, our gracious Lord held us in the palm of his hands. He already knew our story -- beginning, middle, and end -- and we had to trust that he was walking right along with us.

Emily Grace, 
Mommy and Daddy love you so much. You are our first child and the one who began to show us how much love we had in our hearts and how much we wanted to be parents. You were the beginning of a dream and a longing inside of us. We know that you are safe with Jesus, and we can't wait to wrap our arms around you one sweet day. We love you and miss you, sweet baby. 
Love, Mommy

Happy Fall Y'all

Hello dear bloggy friends! It has been, I think, the longest I've been away since starting this blog. Realizing that an update was long overdue, I thought I'd write a quick one today.

The number one reason I've been too swamped to blog is that early last month we moved into a new house. We spent most of June, July, and August wrapped up in the whole process. We put our house on the market and had 4 offers within the first week! That was great, but it made us feel like the race was really on to find a new house that we loved. We finally found the right one and moved in on Labor Day weekend. The day of the big move was the first day of my third trimester, so needless to say it has been challenging. We have finally settled in for the most part, and best of all, Lily has adjusted very well to the new house. We are really happy with the extra space, especially when our families come to visit and we can accommodate guests again.

All that being said, I never really knew or was fully prepared for how much I would miss our old house. 10 years of memories, 8 pregnancies, lots of loss and tears, immense joy in finally bringing a baby home... all wrapped up in that little house. Of course it was also hard to leave our lovely, big backyard with our special tree that we planted in memory of our babies, but we know that we carry their memories within us wherever we go. We were able to share the meaning of the tree with the new owners and they assured us that they would take great care of it, and even left an open invitation for us to come visit anytime. It was very nice of them but we're really doing okay. There is something to be said for starting over again and making new memories, too. The babies we lost are safe in heaven and will always be in our hearts. And there's nothing that says we can't plant a new tree in our new backyard to serve as a visual reminder!

Our little family is doing well. Lily turned 2 years old on September 21, just a few weeks after we moved in. We had her birthday party here, surrounded by family and friends. She had a great time and loved her Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme! We just had her 2-year checkup and she was 28 lbs (75th percentile) and 36" tall (95th percentile). She's such a big girl all of a sudden and I can't believe she's almost a big sister.

Lily Rae is 2!

This weekend I'll be 34 weeks pregnant with baby sister, Anna. Besides the stress of the move, it has been a good and uneventful pregnancy so far. I do have borderline gestational diabetes this time around, which only means that I've been on a low carb diet for the past couple of weeks through the end of the pregnancy and am watching my weight. Not the easiest thing in the world to do, but most certainly not the hardest either. I'll be having another C-section after 39 weeks, so she will arrive (unless she surprises us) sometime the last week of November. We are scheduled for Wednesday, November 28 at the hospital, but only because Monday and Tuesday are completely booked. So, if by chance there is an opening, we may get in on Nov. 26 or 27.

No matter when she comes, we are excited to meet this new little one! She is so much more than what we imagined -- the icing on the cake and a truly wonderful gift. We chose the name Anna because we have loved it for many years, and because we love the story of Anna in the Bible (found in the second chapter of Luke). The name means "gracious, merciful," which the Lord has certainly been to us. Her middle name will be Evangeline, which means "messenger of good news." The middle name is also a nod to our beloved home state of Louisiana and Henry W. Longfellow's poem of the same name about the Acadian Exile. We absolutely love her name and cannot wait to see the face of our little Anna Evangeline in about five and a half weeks.

I hope this finds each and every one of you doing well. Even when I'm away from the blog world, you remain in my thoughts often and I always wish you the very best. I'll leave you with a few recent family pics that we had taken just a couple of weeks ago. Thanks to those of you who still read and follow this little old blog! I've appreciated your thoughts and prayers for my family over the years more than I can ever express.

Ten Years

Today is the tenth anniversary of my first miscarriage. Ten years. An entire decade.

I'm finding it difficult to summarize it all in a blog post. We have lots of anniversaries like these -- six different miscarriage dates and six different unfulfilled due dates to go along with them. But this day in particular always carries so much emotion for me. It was the beginning of everything, the beginning of things I couldn't even imagine were yet to come. It was the end of a lot of things, too. The end of a certain sense of security and innocence that I had back then, at the age of 25. I thought my life was settling down after a difficult childhood with divorced parents and an alcoholic father and having just enough to scrape by. Against all odds I'd finished college and found a wonderful man to marry. We'd moved to a different state to follow a great job opportunity for him, and we'd just bought our first house. Now, I thought, we'll have a baby. Start a family.

Recurrent pregnancy loss was nowhere on my radar. I'm sure it never is for anybody. I'd known a few people who'd had a miscarriage before (my mom, included). But I didn't know anyone personally who had been through it over and over and over again. Not yet, anyway. Or it could have been that I knew them but just never knew their struggle. And I think that's entirely possible because, for some reason, people don't really talk about miscarriage. I went through a time like that myself. It felt like such a personal and private struggle and I became almost reclusive. I stopped wanting to socialize with people because I didn't want to let anyone in for fear they would trivialize what I was going through. I thought they could never understand, so I quit trying. All I kept hearing were things like, "Oh, you're young. It will happen if you just stay positive." "Something must have been wrong with the baby." "At least you know you can get pregnant."

All of those things hurt so much more than they helped. How did anybody know that I would eventually have a healthy baby? Was there any guarantee, really? Was it my fault for not thinking positively enough? What comfort could there be in thinking something was so wrong with my baby? And finally, what good was it doing for me to keep getting pregnant if my babies kept dying? How was that any consolation?

There were so many questions and never seemed to be any answers. Doctors couldn't give me any, and even my prayers seemed to be falling on deaf ears sometimes. I trusted that God had a plan but I had no idea what it was or how long it would take. Years passed and my babies continued to stop growing during the first trimester. We were desperate for help. The next 7 years went by in a blur of doctors, tests, surgeries, waiting, wondering, and most of all, more loss. I thought about giving up; thought it had become more than I could handle. Hope would return, though, and I would think What if the next time is the one? And what if it's the last chance we'll ever get?

Fast forward to 2010. After a new doctor, new tests (although not many new answers), and three years of infertility, the chance finally came. I still don't know exactly what was "right" about that time and what had been so "wrong" about every other time before. All I know is that somehow, miraculously, we held our daughter in our arms for the first time that September. She grew inside my body and arrived healthy and whole. And here I am in 2012, halfway through another pregnancy that is going well, hoping to hold another beautiful, healthy girl in November.

We've come so far and yet the hurt is still there. I still don't know how to answer the question, "Is this your first pregnancy?" A nurse at my doctor's office asked that just last week. She wasn't making small talk; I was there for blood work, another screening test. She was noting something on my chart. I stumbled over my words as I tried to answer, "No, it's not. It's my second. Well, it's actually my eighth pregnancy. But I only have one baby..." She stopped writing and looked up at me. "Oh, bless your heart," she said. I appreciated her kindness, but I hadn't been looking for sympathy. I was just trying to describe it all succinctly.

Sometimes I think I don't know how I got here... but oh, I do know. Simplified in my mind the years look like this:
2002-2007: Loss (x6)
2007-2009: Waiting...
2010-2012: Joy (x2)

But we all know that it's not summarized so easily. Because, broken down, I remember all too clearly the tears, the pain, the sleepless nights, the entire painful journey that led us to here and now. And the joy, too. Thank God for the joy that finally came and will come again!

I look back on the decade with lots of different emotions swirling around. I know this day will always make me remember, because it was the beginning of so much. It was the beginning of a lot of heartache, but it was also the beginning of the miracle that was to come. When I look at it all together, in hindsight, I can see much more clearly just how far we've come, and, amazingly, I can be thankful.

Brother or Sister?

I can't believe how the weeks (and months) have been flying by lately. July already? Wow!

The most exciting piece of news to share is that we had an ultrasound last week and found out that another sweet baby GIRL is on her way! Lily Rae is having a baby sister and we are truly ecstatic and can't wait to meet her. My sister and I have always been extremely close. I think it will be so sweet to watch these two girls grow up and share so many things together. My sis and I are 21 months apart; Lily and her baby sister will be 26 months apart -- if she arrives on schedule.

I'm 18 weeks today and things are going well (despite some back pain that started plaguing me recently). Our next OB appointment is next week, July 9, and we have another ultrasound scheduled for July 23. It's hard to believe that we've almost reached the halfway point of this pregnancy. We continue to be thankful every single day for how far we've come. Last week I also started feeling the baby moving for the first time, much earlier than with Lily. Feeling those flutters and kicks helps to calm my fears and reassures me that she's doing fine.

It has been a whole month since the melanoma surgery on my arm. A couple of weeks ago we heard great news -- that the pathology report came back all clear. All of the cancer is gone and I'll need no further treatment, thank the Lord! I had the stitches removed last week (finally!) and it's looking pretty good. I'll go back in 6 months for a checkup and, since the baby will be here, they'll go ahead and do the chest x-ray that we've been putting off because of the pregnancy. Since melanoma sometimes shows up in the lungs, they like to check that out to be certain even though they don't believe I'm at a high risk. In the meantime, it feels great to have this behind me and especially to know that the pathology report showed good news.

My big girl is growing like crazy and is surprising us daily with new words in her vocabulary. It has been really fun watching her grow and learn in these past couple of months. Her second birthday will be here in just a few short months. I feel pretty certain that the theme will be Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, since it's her favorite thing in the entire world! :)

Just a quick update for now from our family to yours. Hope you are all doing well and enjoying summertime!

A Trip, A Milestone, A Surgery, and An Anniversary

It has been nearly a month since my last update, and a very busy one at that. Here's the rundown and lots of updates with the help of some Instagram photos:

May 17 - We traveled to Houston very early in the morning for the first trimester screening ultrasound. We opted out of this test with our last pregnancy, so it was new for us this time. The baby still looked great, had a good heartbeat, and was moving around. It always lifts my spirits to see that! We got the results the following week that everything looked normal.

May 18-26 - We hit the road for a long drive to N Louisiana to attend my mother-in-law's retirement party. It was great to see lots of family and friends there and to celebrate a great achievement for her after 26 years of being an elementary school teacher and librarian.
After the party was over we loaded back up in the car to head southeast until we arrived at our vacation destination of Gulf Shores, Alabama. We met my sister and her family there and stayed all together in a beach house we'd reserved for the week. It was Lily's first vacation and first trip to the beach. She had a great time!

I think the pool was her favorite, but she did enjoy the beach after she got used to it a little. We learned that vacationing with a toddler is not exactly simple, and her sleep schedule got ALL messed up (we're still trying to get it back) but it was worth it to spend a week away with family and make lots of fun memories. Lily also picked up two new states on our road trip, bringing her total number of states visited to 5 (TX, LA, OK, MS, and AL). Not too bad for a 20 month old!

May 27 - Right after we returned home from the beach, we hit a big milestone with our current pregnancy: the second trimester. As you know if you read this blog regularly, this is only our second time to make it this far out of eight pregnancies. It was definitely a reason to celebrate and rejoice!

May 31/June 1 - We spent almost all day on May 31 at MD Anderson cancer hospital doing all of the pre-op stuff for my melanoma surgery. My mom had come the day before and stayed at home with Lily, which was a huge help for us. My surgery was early on the morning of June 1 and everything went well. I'm feeling extremely relieved to have that part behind me since the diagnosis in April. Everyone was great at MDA and took really good care of the baby and me. Someone came to check the baby's heartbeat before and after surgery (it took about 10 minutes to find the heartbeat with the Doppler after the surgery, which was the most terrifying moment of the whole day!) and I was back home and resting shortly after noon that day. My new scar is pretty big, but I'm thankful for it and the fact that we caught this thing so early. I hope it will remind others to keep an eye on anything unusual on their skin and to keep themselves well protected in the sun.

It has been a week since the surgery and the arm is doing well. It's still a bit sore but is healing up nicely. I'll go back to have the stitches removed in about 2 more weeks. The pathology report should be back within the next week or so, and we're hoping that all margins will be clear and that this whole thing will be over!

June 6 - We celebrated 14 years of marriage on the 6th of June. My mom had stayed until the day after the surgery and then my sister-in-law came to help out with Lily for the next 4 days. This was a tremendous help as I continued to recover, and it also meant that we had a babysitter for our anniversary on Wednesday! It's a rare treat for us to go out on a date these days. We enjoyed a nice dinner and trip to the bookstore while Lily played with her aunt. When we got home around 9 PM, she was all tucked into her bed and fast asleep. We were really proud of our big girl!

(The hubs and I on our date. Not the greatest pic of us, but oh well. :))

Quite a lot has happened and changed for us over the past 14 years. There have been lots of ups and downs and life has thrown us some curve balls, but I'm beyond thankful to have my amazing, supportive husband to walk beside me through it all. Truly, I have no idea what I would do without him!

That's what we've been up to for the past several weeks. Tomorrow I'll be 15 weeks and my first OB appointment (since graduating from the RE) will be Monday. Things seem to be settling down a bit and we're looking forward to a (hopefully) peaceful and uneventful summer!

Graduation

It's the time of year for graduations and for celebrations. Friends, we've graduated! Yesterday was our last ultrasound with Dr G and the end of our time with the fertility specialist for this pregnancy. We've been "promoted" to the regular OB, which is a big milestone for us to reach. I'll be scheduling my first visit with my same OB from last time, Dr R, in the next couple of weeks. It feels wonderful to have made it to this point. I'll be 11 weeks on Sunday and the second trimester is just around the corner. Praise God!

Out of seven previous pregnancies, only one of our babies ever survived for this long in the womb. She lives and breathes, walks and talks, and is currently sleeping in the bedroom down the hall. I'm still amazed by that. It makes me feel very hopeful and excited about pregnancy number eight as the days and weeks pass. With the skin cancer and the pregnancy happening all at once, there have been more doctor's appointments and trips to the big city in the past two months than we usually have in a year. Rather than complaining, though, I'm thankful in a way for all of the activity. That, in addition to taking care of a sweet toddler every day, has kept my mind occupied and my worries mostly under control simply because there has been so much to do. The first trimester has practically flown by, which has never happened to me before.

Our little one looked fantastic at yesterday's appointment. Ultrasounds will probably always make me nervous, but each time we have one with good news it's like a balm for our hearts that were hurt by so many bad ones. The first thing we noticed when the baby came into view was how much he or she had grown. That little body (still less than two inches long) almost filled up the screen, and we were thrilled to see a busy and active baby with legs kicking and arms waving! It was adorable, and all we could do was smile at each other during the exam. Baby is still growing right on track and looked normal for 10w4d. Heart rate was 170 bpm.

We have a bit of a crazy schedule over the next few weeks, so I expect that the rest of May will be gone in a flash. This weekend is full with family in town and birthday plans for my sister-in-law. Next Thursday we'll have one more ultrasound for the first trimester screening test. On Friday we'll head north to attend my mother-in-law's retirement party before heading back south to vacation with my sister's family at the beach for a week. After we get back, I'll have my pre-op appointment on May 31 and the melanoma surgery (finally!) on June 1.

I'll be welcoming a bit of a slower pace by then I'm sure, and I'm very much looking forward to settling into the second trimester with most of my worries put to rest. Thank you for all of your continued support, sweet comments, and precious prayers!

For those of you who are bracing yourselves for another tough Mother's Day weekend, please know that you're in my thoughts and prayers. I'll never, ever forget what that felt like and I'll always remember to pray for those who are hurting from infertility and loss, especially on that day. Much love to all of you!

Amazed

Today was my appointment with the maternal fetal medicine doctor. This was the visit that the melanoma surgeon wanted me to do before we schedule the surgery, just to have the baby checked out and all of my questions answered before we move forward.

It was a great experience from beginning to end. I felt an immediate rapport with this doctor when I spoke with her on the phone last week, and she was just as kind and friendly in person. We had to drive about an hour to get there and we arrived about a half hour early but didn't have to wait long before we were called back to start the ultrasound. I'm still amazed hours later as I sit down to try and put the experience into words. I had a couple of 3D ultrasounds during my pregnancy with Lily and they are always pretty amazing, but I've never had the experience so early on in a pregnancy before. I think that's what was so awesome to us today, to see so much of the miracle of new life in such detail at a little over 9 weeks. It served as a wonderful display of a God who performs miracles and whose timing is always perfect! I've been in awe of Him all afternoon.

My eyes filled with tears as we saw that tiny, perfect baby on the screen. We saw his or her heart beating, and brand new little arm and leg buds. For the first time in this pregnancy we saw the baby moving around, too, which was the next big milestone we were hoping to see at next week's ultrasound. It was a very special moment, and at one point I exclaimed, "Wow!" and Lily echoed the word back in her sweet little voice. :)

After we got a good look at the baby and all of the appropriate measurements were taken (baby is growing "right on target," which is music to our ears), we sat down with the doctor for a while to talk about everything and ask any questions we had. I found out a few days ago that they will not have to test the lymph nodes around the melanoma site, which is great news. The doctor today cleared me to go ahead with the surgery whenever we can get it scheduled. I still have about three weeks to go until the second trimester, so it shouldn't be too much longer before we can get it all taken care of.

I have to honestly say that today is the first day during this pregnancy that I've begun to feel RELIEVED. We still have some relatively small hurdles coming up, but I'm starting to let myself believe that this is going to happen and that it will be okay -- that this baby will survive growing in my body and actually come home to live with us. I'm trusting, believing, and hoping. I saw this quote on a devotional site this week and loved it: "Trust (in God) chooses faith over fear, confidence over cowardice, and power over panic." That's exactly what I want to do!

**I never want anything I post here to cause any additional pain to anyone who is hurting from infertility or miscarriage, which is why I've always refrained from posting ultrasound images, pictures of pregnancy tests, or belly pics on my blog. I want to make a picture from today's appointment available for you to see if you want to, though, so I'll attach it through the following link. It's the image that left me feeling completely overwhelmed -- in a good way -- today: Ultrasound Picture

Still Good

It's a busy Friday here as we're getting ready to head out of town to celebrate my sister's birthday. I wanted to write a super quick post about the ultrasound yesterday so everything will be up to date.

We're so happy that it was good news again at yesterday's appointment. You know, with this being my eighth pregnancy and even after the last one was a success, I'm still a nervous wreck each and every time. I don't think anything can make a person forget the sad memories of hearing bad news in rooms exactly like that one. My heart is always in my throat as we wait to see that fuzzy image come into focus and especially as we wait to see that little fluttering heart.

Our little bean is growing normally and everything was looking right on track for 8w4d. Heart rate was 179. We were able to take deep breaths and are now focusing on the next appointment in two weeks, on May 10. Having lost a baby before at close to this stage in the game, 9 weeks, I'm very anxious for these next two weeks to pass by without incident and hopefully still see that growing little miracle the next time we go see the doctor.

Today I'm resting in the fact that it's good news! Praise God!

As a side note: We haven't been working very hard to get Lily to realize that there's a new baby coming just yet. During our prayer time every night before we put her to bed, though, we pray that God will protect the baby brother or sister in Mommy's tummy. At 19 months we weren't sure how much she might understand. Today I thought I'd see how much she might remember. I asked her, "Where's Mommy's baby?" To my sweet surprise, she patted my tummy. It brought tears to my eyes and filled my heart with so much joy! My precious girl knows more than I realized.

Consultation and Jumbled Thoughts

My mind is racing today and I'm finding it difficult to rest right now even though Lily is napping. I thought it would be best to just write it all out here and hopefully feel some relief.

Yesterday was my first trip to MD Anderson as a patient. I've been to the big, famous cancer hospital twice before with two different friends who were receiving treatment for breast cancer, but this was my first time to go for me. I can say from experience that, every time you go there, it's a memorable and a sobering experience.

I want to start by saying this: I know that I'm going to be okay. I don't wish to sound remotely melodramatic about this melanoma diagnosis. I know that, while it is a very serious and potentially fatal disease, I'm fortunate that mine was found early and can be treated successfully with surgery. I have friends and family members who have fought different types of cancer -- some who have survived and some who have not. Knowing that my chances of even undergoing any type of chemotherapy or radiation in this case are between slim and none, I would never compare this experience of mine to any of those life-threatening ones.

It is a scary thing, however, to face cancer of any kind growing in or on your body. And scarier still, for me, is the fact that I'm already in the riskier stages of pregnancy. I was reassured yesterday by no fewer than three doctors that they will take the utmost care of me and my baby, and I believe that they will do just that. I know that, even without the skin cancer diagnosis, I would be feeling just as nervous about simply being 7.5 weeks pregnant right now.

I didn't get as many questions answered yesterday as I'd hoped, because for some reason my pathology slides had not arrived. This was disappointing because the doctor wasn't able to review them and decide on exactly what my treatment will be and when. I do know that I'll be having surgery, and my doctor was pretty sure that he wants to wait until I'm in my second trimester to do it. He said that, especially considering my history with first trimester miscarriage, he wants to go the safest route. That means it will probably be at least 6 more weeks. I hate to have to wait, but obviously I trust his opinion (he is the best melanoma surgeon in the country, after all!) and I'm willing to do whatever is best for the health of the baby. So, at the least, I'll have the skin around the area of the mole removed to make sure they get all of the cancer. At the most, I'll have that surgery plus a procedure to test the lymph nodes around the site. We don't know if that part will be necessary until he can review the slides, so I'm waiting to hear back from them on that and to get the date scheduled. And I met with more than one doctor who reassured me that there will be someone from maternal fetal medicine who will monitor the baby before and after the surgery and make sure everything is okay.

I know that I'm in good hands and will receive excellent care. But I'm being perfectly honest with you when I tell you that I'm stressed. Really stressed. It's unnerving, to say the least, to spend the day talking to doctors about cancer and surgery and pregnancy all at once. It felt like an out-of-body experience when I signed a consent form to participate in a research study about cancer and pregnancy. It was one of those I-can't-believe-I'm-doing-this kinds of feelings. All the while, though, I couldn't help but think of people (a few I know and so many that I don't) who have sat in rooms like those and heard much, much scarier things. Several years ago I had a dear friend who learned toward the end of her pregnancy with her third child that she was facing leukemia. I still think about her all the time, and how brave she was and what her struggle must have felt like as she fought for her life with three young children at home. That sweet friend is in heaven now but she is often in my thoughts.

I'm grateful that that isn't the road I'm on right now. And although it's so hard to imagine, I know that my God would see me through a trial such as that one just as He did my friend, who took the time to call and encourage me about recurrent miscarriage even as she fought leukemia. Actually, I feel very very weak when I think about people as strong as she was.

Even though it feels scary, I know that this is going to be okay. I'm not saying that I know for sure that everything will go exactly the way I want it to and be perfect. I don't know that. But I know that, whatever happens, the Lord will take care of me. Perhaps you don't believe the same way that I do, but I have complete faith and trust in my God. I've been through miscarriage before and I know that if it happens again He will see me through. I've been through surgery before, too, and I know I won't be alone when it happens again.

Although I feel uncertain and shaky right now, I'm keeping my eyes on Him because it's all I know to do. The words to this Bebo Norman song have been playing in my head and comforting me today. Thought I'd leave you with the chorus:

I will lift my eyes to the Maker
Of the mountains I can't climb
I will lift my eyes to the Calmer
Of the oceans raging wild
I will lift my eyes to the Healer
Of the hurt I hold inside
I will lift my eyes, lift my eyes to You