Sticking Together.

We made it, for the most part, through week two, people! I find I still struggle with "normal" life - cooking, cleaning, laundry. And. I still have no desire to leave my house. None at all. Not one bit. Although today I HAVE to. I have to grocery shop. We're getting a wee bit low on the essentials.

We found out about Isaac two weeks ago Thursday. That night we all slept in our own beds, but after a horrible night for pretty much every one, the kids asked if we could just have a big sleep over, hence the "Community Bed", which I like to call it. Hannah provided digital documentation. We progressed from the Community Bed, to the kids sleeping on the floor in my room, to the kids sleeping in their own beds again when they felt ready. I'm also happy to report Ian's nightmares have gone, he's sleeping more peacefully. As am I.





I had one big irritation this week. Let me try to tastefully explain. I have biological family and I have adoptive family. I have severed ties completely with my adoptive family. I don't email, I don't call, I don't write letters. My last correspondence with my "parents", was this past Christmas, after a year had gone by with no communication, I emailed my father, told him I didn't want his money, and had no intention of keeping in touch, to which he responded he was "out of my life for good". Which actually was funny because - seriously - they were never "in" my life to begin with. So anyway. This person in my family not only emailed her friends, which I might add, have said some pretty horrible things about me before, she emailed my adoptive family. Are you freaking kidding me? This is MY damn news. And why the hell would I want anyone to know about MY precious child, that I have no relationship with?? And not only that - have a BAD relationship with? This person blew it. Some information you have NO right to pass along. Privacy exists. I promptly emailed her and told her she would receive no more updates from me. All information she gets will be second hand, or at the very least, from my blogging, where she's likely to snoop. So really - - to this person - - thank you for including the people that have hurt me the most and have NO right to this private news. This isn't the latest piece of hot gossip for you to gain pity and attention over. This is my child. My child, that will die. My child that we grieve and mourn. You really added to my emotional stability at this time.

Moving on. I have a lot of emails and comments to respond to. And I will. I plan to respond personally to each and every one. I appreciate each kind word and vow of support. Under normal circumstances, I would reach out immediately, but really - - I'm just not my normal self these days.

Here's to a Saturday of grocery shopping and cleaning, and here's to some pretty fabulous Super Bowl parties this Sunday. Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! '

Till next time, we'll be hanging in there.

Living through his Mama.

Living through Mama, 24 weeks.

My heart aches so. I feel grief in it's fullest form, in every part of my life. I was speaking with my sweet husband about our baby, and I explained to him that I feel frustrated because not only do we miss out on bringing this infant home with us, we miss out on a life time of raising this child as our son. All the years. All of it. It seems so unfair. Isn't the deal that if you are willing to sacrifice your body for 9 months, you get a baby in return? Some where along the way, I signed the wrong dotted line. I must have been a really stupid soul in the spirit world, volunteering for a life time of suffering. Any one willing to have both of your biological parents abandon you? I am! Any one willing to be abused and molested? I am, sign me up for that as well! Any one willing to be then adopted into a home where your parents hate you, in-prison you, smack you around, tell you are worthless?? Sure! Add that to the list! Are you freaking kidding me? And now THIS? Can't Father In Heaven figure out that I've had enough. Like, a long time ago? And yet, here we are, loving this child any way. Thinking of his birth, dreaming of minutes, hours with him. Hours?? This is what I've come to? I've been having relentless nightmares the past couple nights. One after another, after another, after another. All of them are about the baby. Most of them I can't remember in detail, but each time I wake up, I am more and more exhausted then before. I began shopping for the baby Saturday. I made it though a few displays, and I felt my eyes fill blurry with tears, and I began to sob. I hid my face in the coat until I could bite my lip hard enough to stop crying, and on we went. I showed my purchases to my girlfriend, and she gently asked if I felt any better, and I shouted NO, beginning to sob again, This is not how it is supposed to be!! She touched my arm. She understood. In many ways I feel grateful having this time to prepare. I know what lies ahead. I know my arms will be empty when I head home from the hospital. I know my family, in appearance will remain the same, until some later time. I know all these things, and feel that, some how, God gives me just a taste of the grief, a little bit at a time, until he knows I can shoulder more.

One week.

My heart has been heavy all day. But filled with sweet reminders of how lucky we are to have this baby growing inside of me as he just kicked as I'm writing this journal entry. It was a week ago today that we found out Isaac will be born with Anencephaly. I dream of how long he'll live, hoping for a couple hours instead of just minutes. I've thought about the past 7 days, and have been grateful to see the progress the children have made in their grief. They truly are amazing. How Andrew and I love them! I've been thinking about how I need to force myself to shop for the baby's outfits - what I'll dress him in at the hospital, and what we'll bury him in. I can't bring myself to do it yet. As the days pass I feel more confidant in my ability to live with this trial, and am slowly returning to my household duties. I've planned dinner this evening. Big step for me. Andrew has worked the week well, and has been a top performer at work. He's a strong, good man. He loves to touch my belly for "good luck" he says. I'm not used to being touched so much, but this is his boy, too - - I can share! The children have transitioned back into school well, and have the support of very loving teachers, whom we are amazingly gratful for. I've thought of the baby's name often this week: Isaac Brighman Nielson. We decided on the name Isaac months before we knew we were pregnant. It reminds me of the story of Abraham and Isaac, Abraham being willing to lay his child's life at the Lord's feet. We've been asked to do the same, and will do so, bring grateful to our Father for giving us time with this sweet and perfect spirit.

By name.

I sat up for a while last night, after venting my anger to the world, and I decided that I have got to find a way a start bonding with my child, in despite of all of the whirlwind feelings that inhabit my heart right now. I started a letter to my baby, and will write to him often. And I started calling my unborn child by name, which has been a little difficult for me. It's hard speaking his name knowing he will live only a short time. I also decided that I have the right and ability to prepare for my baby. Of course I won't be preparing in the same way that I would for a child that God has given the ability to live on this earth, but I can prepare to honor him, cherish him, and love him. I am going to buy some wooden blocks - 3 of them - - and order some lettering as his initials that I can keep on a shelf in the living room. I thought of picture frames I want to buy, outfits I need to think about. And my best idea yet? I was given a beautiful white crocheted blanket today. I will use this blanket at the hospital for my sweet love, and then I am going to convert the blanket into a pillow cover, that I can keep on my bed, with me, especially during the lonely nights ahead.

I wasn't quite with it today. This was the first day the kids were in school, and Andrew went off to work. I dropped Andrew off and called my girlfriend and she planned 2 hours to come be with me. Because she was here, I was able to get the house picked up, I'd say, 70%. She cleaned 60%, I did 10. The last little bit I feel like I can finish tonight. Lisa told me to sort laundry, so I did. I sorted out 2 loads of wash for the kids - - they have clothes for the week. I did a load of whites - we have socks, underpants, all the essentials. I did one load for Andrew and I, we have clothes for the week, as well. I have about 5 loads left to wash, but nothing is pressing because we're set for the week. My goal is to wash and fold one load each day, getting caught up. Baby steps, you know??

And last, my gift of the day, was knowing how blessed we are to have teachers for our children that love and cherish them. I emailed Ian and Hannah's teachers today, asking how they were doing, and this one of their responses:

"Today she shared with us her Build a Bear. She seemed good and said she got the bear because it would help her not to be so sad about her baby brother. I'm glad she felt she was able to share this information with the class. I know this disappointment may manifest itself in different ways so I will be aware of any changes I see and let you know how she is doing. She was in good spirits but obviously not her usual bubbly, happy self. I felt she was being quite brave and confident today as she was able to follow directions and get her work done as usual.

How are YOU doing? My prayers are with your family. Don't worry about the homework. I will mark that she got it done. She is a good, honest student and I am not worried about her homework at this time. Taking care of your family's needs is your top priority right now and I am here to help. May you feel the love of the Savior through this time of trial. I love Hannah and will do whatever you feel is best for her.

Thoughtfully,
Mrs. Lovely "

We could not ask for more for our children. They are in good hands during the day at school, and I have time to figure out how life will go on.

Angry.

I feel angry tonight. I feel angry my children have grief in their eyes, and that I cannot take it from them. I feel angry that I am not having a healthy baby, and that my baby will die. I feel angry that tomorrow the kids go back to school, Andrew back to work, and I’m going to be alone. I feel angry that I have 10 loads of laundry to do, and that there is not one room in the house that is clean. I am angry that I feel alone. I feel angry that in all reality this is something that I have to face by myself, along with my husband and children. I feel mad that I have to find out how to live through the next 17 weeks. I am angry that I don’t get to prepare for this child in the way I had dreamed. I feel angry that I now look at other mothers with their infants or round bellies and know I won’t get to raise my child. I feel angry with God, and I feel angry with myself that I cannot fix this.

Bring The Rain.

Please check out this blog. I was re-directed there today by my girlfriend Danielle . Isn't she lovely? Both of these women, actually.

This post is amazing in every way, but you'll have to read (watch and listen) to enjoy the full beauty of it today.

My heart is heavy, yet very full at the same time. But honestly, grieving is a way I would prefer to not have to "grow" through. It's not the Refiner's fire I wish to walk through, yet I will. We'll lay this child down at His feet with open arms and hearts and beg to be healed.

So. Check this out: http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com/2008/04/slideshow.html

You won't be disappointed that you did.

Grieving.

It’s an interesting thing when crisis strikes, you have the opportunity to find out what you’re made up of. I haven’t felt made of much the last few days.

Meet Isaac Brigham Nielson. This is my baby boy, still living in womb, perfect to us in every way, but not so much to the doctors. We found out he has a neural tube defect called Anencephaly, which means he will be born with little or no brain and scull. His prognosis is death, shortly after birth.

I cannot even express what it meant to my world to hear this news. I felt dazed. Shocked. I cried, and couldn’t stop. I sobbed. I drove to pick up my husband from work and couldn’t remember street names and numbers, where I had driven hundreds of times. And the children. WHAT would I tell my children?

After thinking for the last couple days, I’ve decided to write. And write in such a way that is healing to me. I’ll have this record not only for myself, but for my family, so we can look back some day and realize then we are strong enough now to get through this battle now.

After receiving the news Thursday, I didn’t sleep that night. I stayed up all night researching on the internet about my boy’s condition. I read, I looked at photographs, I laid my head down on my desk and sobbed. Friday night? I decided to stay off of the internet. The kids and I made a huge bed in the living room, and we slept together. I think I was able to sleep last night for 4 or 5 hours, forcing myself to push thoughts out of my head, trying not to weep. Weep over silly things. Things that haven’t even happened yet. Like. Who of my family could be there for me when I have the baby? What happens if I cry too much when Isaac is born? How will I be able to dress my child for burial. I weep because I can’t stand to see my children is such pain, grieving. I weep because it isn’t fair. I weep because I don’t know how I am going to come home from the hospital with empty arms. I weep because my husband is in pain, and I sob because I feel so devastated and heartbroken.

God is good. I am not being punished. For some reason, Andrew, the children and I have been given this trial and blessing in our lives, and I can only cling to the knowledge that we, as a family, some how are strong enough to survive this. Not only survive, but be better for it.

I’m beginning to hate the night. It’s now Saturday evening, around 8:00 pm. Right around 6:00, it started again. The horrible sorrow. My heart aches so badly, it makes my chest hurt. Tonight I keep thinking of all the things I feel cheated out of. I keep thinking “The last time I ran the vacuum, I thought my baby was alive” or “The last time I cooked a decent meal for my family I thought I was a mother of three, preparing lovingly for her fourth child”. My husband took the crib down this afternoon, and I couldn’t watch. Each time I gaze into Ian’s room, there is a huge hole where my baby should be sleeping in May. I walked into the bathroom, and I remember last giving the children a bath and thinking I needed to buy my Johnson’s and Johnson’s shampoo for the baby. I thought today about how I wouldn’t be happily exhausted feeding a baby into the wee hours of the morning. Instead I get to come home - bleed like I’ve had my healthy newborn, feel my milk come in, and get to lay there at night, alone, and wishing for my child to be with me. I weep with sadness as I think of these things.

And now, now it’s time for movie night. The kids want to sleep together in the living room again, and right now, anything seems better then being alone in the night with my tears, grief, and thoughts I cannot quiet.

Our sweet baby boy.

Dear Family and Friends,

It is with a very heavy heart that we inform you that we found out today, that our sweet little baby boy won't be living on this earth with us, but for only a few short moments.

We had a scheduled ultrasound today, and it was evident that this child suffers from a condition called: Anencephaly. Which means the child has little brain. I will carry this baby full term, at which point the baby will be born alive, by way of c-section. We will have the baby blessed, and cherish what ever moments we have with the baby. We'll know as the time approaches what we will decide to do for burial arrangements.

The baby moves a lot, and has a perfect face, fingers, body, and toes, and has a beautiful heart beat. His face is beautiful, but has very little scull or head to the behind.

We'd appreciate your prayers at this time.

Love,

Misty and Andrew

Honestly?

I think honesty is the best policy. For sure. But, it kind of sucks when it turns around to bite you in the ass. Or heart. What ever you fancy.

For example. Christmas Eve. This comment: "Okay, we're out of your life." Direct quote, copy and pasted from an email I got from my father! Creating boundaries after living in an abusive home? Didn't work. Won't ever work. But I do admit it stung a little bit. I think part of that little girl in me has always hoped some day... maybe some day.... I'd receive that love I've always wanted from parents. FAT chance. But. On a lighter note, my hands are washed of them. Forever.

Moving on.....

Now, what happens if you're placed in a situation with some one you really love?? She's older then you. Much older. Kinda like your suto Mama. And then. You have to be honest. She's kind of losing it. You have disagreement. She says she's saying "goodbye to you for good". Nice. Smooth. But it makes me feel sad. Am I seriously destined to have, what, 2 or 3 people from my biological family in my life? No more then that? Ever?

And then.

Being honest with yourself. Happy New Year everybody. I have a lot of goals, but the most important one: my goal isn't to attend church, or reading my scriptures, it's not losing weight, although all of those are swell choices. I want to develop the more softer side in myself and develop greater patience and love for my children. I want to develop the ability to pick my battles as a mother, and learn to let the little stuff go. Like this morning. Did I have to yell because Ian lost his homework folder and threw a fit. Did I have to yell at Hannah for losing her winter clothing and being sassy? I want to nurture the better mother in myself. That's what I want for 2009. Because really? 2008 kinda sucked for me. I back slid a LOT. I can forgive myself for a bad year, if I can put a really good one under my belt this year.

And writing? Blogging??

Seems like I have to do it. Whether any one reads or not.

So here we are 2009. Being brutally honest. Watching my children grow, and getting ready to welcome our 4th child into the family in May. Kinda takes my breath away some days.

Walk with me. Down my less traveled road.