Humble pie.

A best friend of mine forwarded me an article this weekend, and I found myself sitting, reading, and laughing out loud a little bit. It touched on a VERY touchy subject: People not being there for you after a child dies.

I have to admit, I've felt that sting. I think people at church totally failed our family. There were men in leadership that promised to be at Isaac's birth and funeral, and didn't show. Didn't show. The worst trial of my life, and he didn't show. A couple people made well-meaning attempts, but because we asked for our privacy respected, people thought that meant pretend I don't exist. Don't talk to me, don't talk about Isaac, don't send cards, don't phone, don't bring dinners in, don't email, don't remember my living children, and how they are hurting, too. Don't do anything. Such Christian love.

And then of course there were the friends that dumped me because I no longer make a good friend. I'm not thoughtful enough. I don't attend their family functions and remember their birthdays. No shit. Really? I buried a kid, and had two miscarriages after that. I can't make it to walmart 1/2 the time, let alone your family functions. So sorry. Next time I'll try to make it to your husband's surprise birthday party a couple weeks after I had bloody blobs of a pregnancy lost falling out of my crotch. I should have just put my big girl undies and pads on and went, right???

And lets not forget, not only am I dealing with loss after loss - - I am still dealing with a whole lot of shit outside of that. My life has been filled with suffering, people. Try parenting when you're grieving. The cycle of abuse is so much harder to break when you're in a world of hurt. While I'm trying to function for my kids, I've had to try even harder to be a "good parent". That doesn't come naturally to me, after being abused for years. It doesn't come naturally to anyone while they are grieving. And that's been a lot of pressure on me. Try living up to expectations that make other people feel better. So while I've wanted to crawl in my bed, haunted every time I close my eyes by the images I cannot erase, I've gotten myself UP to be a "whole" mother for my children, that have also sorrowed.

My side of the family? FAILED. Andrew's side of the family FAILED. People don't want to talk about it. They want to pretend it didn't happen. They squirm. They laugh awkwardly if I bring up Isaac. Then I have a brother that put me down over every single aspect of my life. Mocked the attempt I made to help my children grieve. Told me I brought this on my whole family. And of course, I don't have parents, they failed years ago with every punch to my body and moment of love with held. My biological parents failed when they gave me away to a CHILD MOLESTER and disappeared in the middle of the night. And then of course I have grandparents that intentionally missed Isaac's funeral, but after wards came for a visit. But even after the visit, I, if lucky, got an awkward phone call maybe once every 5 months. People just want to run the other way, and they did. They truly did.

People ran the other way when I needed them the most. So where does that leave me now? Alone in a new, protected way. With out a lot of friends, which I'm ok with. With out a lot of desire to put effort into getting to know anyone outside my tight circle. And still battling church attendance. I know I have to go back. For the kids, at least, but I can't stand it. I have a lot of harsh feelings towards most people at church. They've judged me before, they've judged my husband. I failed, I stopped going, my testimony must be lost, right??? WRONG!! I don't feel welcome. I feel awkward. I hate it. But it's something I have to remedy at some point, I have to go back to where church is a "get in, get out, don't talk to anyone" kind of affair. It takes an emotional strength I don't have right now. I truly don't.

So, in any event, if you're not easily offended read here:

http://babyslime.livejournal.com/585626.html?thread=14057114#t14057114

While it's not exactly how I would put it, a lot of it rings painfully true.



Love, Misty

Happy Halloween!

Love, The Nielsons

The ins and outs.

I've written this blog post a thousand times over in my head. It's what I think about every day, it's about what pains me all of the time. It's about being in a very different place than most other baby loss mothers I know. I hesitate to share because I worry that it seems like I begrudge someone else their joy, which isn't true at all. It's so different to be a year and a half out from Isaac's death and still have nothing, when every other anencephalic mother I know has a stable pregnancy right now, in face most of those mothers have had their subsequent "rainbow" babies. I still really HATE that term. Women have shared that waiting for those subsequent pregnancies for 4, 5, 6, months have been hard. Try a year and a half. And not only that, try 2 miscarriages and one chemical pregnancy since burying your baby. It's a world of pain, a very different kind of pain. Every time I see a round belly, or a post about pregnancy, or a pregnancy update it causes me physical pain in my heart. It's hard to co-exist in a world where there are reminders EVERY where of what I lost, and of what I want so badly. The world moves on, at it's own pace, and no one has any idea about this immense heartache I carry every moment of every day. You have your do-gooders that tell me move on, to forget about it, to be thankful for what I have. Those do-gooders have no idea the skills God has given bereaved parents to cherish their living children immensely, while at the same time intensely mourning the child they lost. If you have not experienced it, you have no idea. While I was carrying Isaac and knew he would die, even I had NO idea. I had not buried him yet, and learned to live with out him yet. I had not faced more intense infertility and miscarriages after him either. I had no idea a soul could live, even joyfully in the world, and still hurt this badly. It's a God given strength to be able to carry this load, most days I would beg to give it away.

After carefully praying, I have received the answer that is would be the acceptable time to proceed with the Clomid again. I have not decided how quickly I will move forward with that, but I have started again on my low carb, no refined sugar diet, and have given up Diet soda containing caffeine again. From what I can tell there was no ovulation this month, so I am waiting to see if my period comes around on it's own. If it does not, I may wait a couple weeks, and proceed with Provera to induce a period, and then move forward quickly after that. The idea is exciting to me. Every single day I think about a baby. I think about all of the things I would do to prepare. I imagine hearing a baby cry again, after Isaac was silent in his birth and death. I imagine shopping and buying diapers and baby lotion. I imagine seeing my kids hold a new baby again for the first time after their brother dieing. I imagine getting to do all of those tender things again, that I lost in Isaac's death. I imagine the feeling of creating with our Maker, I have loved being pregnant so much in the past. It would be such a blessing, even if a fearful experience, to get to experience that again.

It had been really hard for me having Olivia in preschool. I thought it would get easier, but each time she leaves my heart breaks a little extra. I miss her, even if she is truly enjoying herself. It's been so good for her, I have been so pleased to see her be such a nice playmate. She certainly is the ring master at home, but has learned to be a friend to children her own age. I'm really proud of her, just sad over my broken heart.

The holidays are approaching, and I am do things my way this year. Last year was so heartbreaking, but I have some excitement over Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. I warned my mother in law that I was not attending the huge holiday hooplah, and that I was do my holidays MY way this year. I tried to suck it up and did too much last year, and in the end, it just hurt me more. This year I'm doing things how I want, in hopes of being able to appreciate and enjoy the joy that accompanies this time of year.

Anyways... I'm going to work for a few hours before I have to go pick up my little Olivia. Thanks for reading and listening....


Love, Misty

Trauma!

Friends,

It has been a hell of a month. Ian had surgery at the same hospital Isaac died. Try telling an eight year old he has nothing to be afraid of when he already knows bad things happen.

Hannah attended a puberty class at school and was mortified. Where did the time go???

Olivia's first day of preschool was today, and I was so heartbroken to drop her off. There are no babies at home with me anymore. That is ROUGH.

Isaac died 18 months ago today. Where on earth did the time go?

Metformin does not seem to be working on it's own, having break through bleeding. I'm armed with Provera to start a period and Clomid to make me an egg, but I'm still waiting for the Lord to give me the go ahead. Waiting is hard.

I managed to shoot our own family portraits this year. Have a look.

Until next time, going crazy....

xo Misty


PS: The white bear you see in our photographs is our Isaac bear. That bear is made out of a blanket I had Isaac swaddled in. The black and white is my favorite, with Ian holding Isaac bear out to his side. Makes me cry every time.....

Did I get it right?

I'm a person that's hard on myself. I am painfully aware of my serious faults, and I am painfully aware of how much work it takes to remedy those things. I have had the privilege to follow along while some other women have faced the same challenges I have, and I have been amazed by their strength and faith. I have found myself wondering often if I've done good enough, if I've done it right. I decided to sit down tonight and read through some of my blog posts, and I have found myself comforted by my own words. I may have not traveled this road perfectly, but I have traveled in my own way, my own style, with my own voice, recording my own feelings. I wish I had the ability to have been stronger, but I feel like I did my best. And when I didn't do my best, I feel like the Lord understood why. I feel like, that while I have not been as soft spoken and valiant in the way that I've documented my life, I realize that some people may be drawn to that. And if not, they've passed me by, and that's ok. I've done my life, my way, and with the help of my God, I'll have the strength and courage to continue to grow a little more.

I still have my empty womb. I have done my very best to enjoy where I am at, because I know change is in store for my family. God has whispered that to my soul. I have had a hard time learning that change comes in the Lord's timing, and not mine. I have tried to listen harder, and to obey more quickly. I can't say that I've learned those lessons well or even speedily, but I'm doing my best.

As I laid next to Olivia during nap time this afternoon, my thoughts turned to my Heavenly Father, and I prayed, as best as I could to know WHAT to do. What do I do now, what is His timing?? As the tears slipped down my cheeks, and I felt my heart sorrowing as it has for the past couple years, I prayed for healing. The same healing I have been begging to find for months. And while I am not handed peace in the fullest form, I have learned that I am handed as much as I need to get me through. Enough to keep me afloat, but not enough to take the pain I feel away. For now, it's enough to get me by. For now, I am eagerly waiting for what the Lord has in store, whatever that may be.

I think of my Isaac, and the love and courage that he has filled my life with. I see him in the faces of my children, and I feel him in his memories that fill our home. I know he is busily serving his Maker, but I wish so much he had been mine to keep. Some days I reflect on my life, and I just cannot believe that I have managed to survive this. I may not have flourished, but I have survived.

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me. ~ Philippians 4:13


Love, Misty

Shhhhh. I moved.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I moved.

I just spent all morning moving everything over to my new blog. The location is secret, yet still public, and my hope is that you'll follow me there. Email me for the location of my new blog, it won't be listed under my profile.

Tag, you're it.

If you're interested, email me here: abnmln@gmail.com



Love, Misty

Analyze this.

I’m beginning a new chapter in my life. A new chapter that doesn’t include much outside my family. I’ve spent a lot of time analyzing myself, and why I’m not like another person, and I finally have decided it really doesn’t matter. I don’t HAVE to be like anyone else. I’ve never kept a lot of friends. I’m not terribly close with my biological family. I don’t get out much. The very few friends I’ve kept are enough for me. I’m not social in church settings. I don’t have the desire to “know” a lot of people casually. I love being at home. I love spending the majority of my time with my kids and husband. I love decorating and making my home a sanctuary. I love my animals. I love being alone, without the distractions of a lot of different people. I am who I am because of what I’ve lived. I don’t have to expect that other people would value or appreciate that about me. Or even expect that someone would even try to understand why I am the way I am, let alone embrace that. I’m at a point in my life where I just need to be ok with where I’m at. I’ve done my best. The rest is between me, my family, and the Lord.

I’ve been thinking a lot about boundaries. And the need for privacy balanced with the need for support in my life. I’m interested in making new relationships grow with people that are a good match for me - - that list of prospects is really small. I find myself thinking about why I’m involved with one person or another - - when those people are people I REALLY don’t want to share my feeling s with. I’m trying to create boundaries concerning what happens in my life here on out. If I’m able to get pregnant again, I don’t plan on sharing that with a lot of people. I don’t know how much I care share here, because my blog address was shared with people I don’t know well at church. And people talk. I don’t want people spreading my business around church when I’m not ready or willing to share, and trust me, it’s happened before. Just GOING to church is hard enough, I hate wondering who knows more about me than I wished….. Going private is too much work. Censoring what I write about is even more work than that. Apparently maybe I need to just find more to blog about – outside of dead babies and lost pregnancies.

I’ll be anxious to see if we’ve had some success here in a couple weeks. I have a good feeling about it. I’ve prayed, and then prayed again that I can carry a healthy baby to term. I think about what that would mean to me, and mean for my family. It’s overwhelming. We’re just so ready for something new, and something more. I feel like I’ve paid my dues. And those dues have come at a very high price. ……..
I’ll be checking back in before too long……

Love, Misty

Not so calm, cool, and collected.

I kind of go to this crazy place when I'm coming up on a month of trying to get pregnant. I felt good about foregoing Clomid for another month, but when I was notified this evening that my doctor had called it in anyway - - I decided I HAD to get it. The excitement of this being a month I could get pregnant again was immediately followed by the feeling of stress. What happens if the Metformin wasn't enough?? What happens if the Metformin doesn't help me produce mature eggs?? That would be a wasted effort. What happens if I don't ovulate, and have to go back to the wretched hospital to get blood drawn, before the doctor would induce another period?? What if, what if, what if?? I was getting annoyed with the kids (it'd been one of THOSE high stress, boss is on my tail, kids fighting for hours, kind of days), and starting to feel stressed. My headaches are back every day now. I'm sticking with what I know works. And what works is Clomid. Period. And I don't feel badly about getting it, and I'll start taking it tonight. The thought of having to wait one-more-month seems like needless torture. Why stress myself by trying something out I am not sure works?? So. We're at this exact point again. The same point where I got pregnant with Isaac and found out he would die. The same point when I got pregnant after his death,and miscarried in January. The same point when I lost yet another pregnancy in May. I've got to be getting to the point where I can get pregnant, stay pregnant, and bring home another squirming bundle for our family to love. That dream has come true before. It can again. My body can do this. I know it. I just KNOW it.

xo M.



PS: I've gotten some pretty stupid-ass comments on my blog. The last one has me still scratching my head.

WHY do women think you cannot be obsessed with getting pregnant again IN ADDITION to being madly in love with your kids?? WHY do some women think that because I desire for another child, I don't appreciate the children I already have??

For those that know me well, would laugh at those accusations. Let me tell you what having a dead kid does to you. It makes you protect your kids more than you probably should. It makes you baby them more, spoil them a little rotten, let them get away with a few extra things. It makes you more tolerant. It makes you love them more, and appreciate the moments more.

Your regular Mom might complain about being tired, over-worked, and that her patience is out. I still feel the same way, but after every SINGLE thought that I have about my kids - whether it's loving or from an exhausted mind - every thought is followed by: "Father in heaven - - I LOVE these kids, I am SO happy to have them". So if you're mistaken - - - and think I don't have enough attention to spare my children that I already have AND focus on getting pregnant at the time - - you're DEAD wrong. I got this. Now go tell someone else how to live their lives, I've got mine covered.

I've thought about writing several blog posts over the last couple weeks. I had them all written out in my head. And just didn't have the energy to put them on the computer.

I started my period on Saturday. Another full cycle. I ovulated on my own. This is excellent progress. It looks like I may not need Clomid. The Metformin, which I take to aide my fertility, appears to be enough. I hope anyway. Women on Clomid typically take that medication on day 5 through 9 of their cycle. Which would mean starting THIS Wednesday, and I found myself frantically thinking - - should I, shouldn't I, what if the Metformin isn't enough?? I figured I better hit my knees in search of help to make a decision, and I have decided to let it be for this month. We'll allow for conception, but with out taking the additional medication. I've given up Diet Coke and sugar. I'm on my (4 freaking) pills of folic acid a day to prevent another neural tube defect, and I'm eating up my prenatal vitamin every night before bed. I feel prepared. But also resigned to the fact that I'm merely along for the ride. In the end, God decides. God took Isaac home with him, and God wrapped up my last two pregnancies right after they'd just begun. Pregnancy doesn't necessarily mean a baby, now does it?? All I have is a little hope, and the stubbornness to keep after one of my greatest dreams.

Summer has been incredibly busy. Work has taken a lot of my time. Being a mother has taken even more time than that. I love it. I love being a mother and watching (even if it hurts) my children growing. I spend parts of the day reflecting on my pressing goal to eat them up every day. I know, perhaps, their may not be more babies for me. I know that I have been immensely fortunate to have been entrusted with three living children, and I know there is so much of their childhood's left to enjoy. The thought "make today count" runs through my mind constantly. Right now is all that I can count on. Right now is all that I know I have.

I have been so fortunate to have my best friend, also be my neighbor for the last 6.5 years. I have been fortunate to know the true meaning of friendship in her. I have been thankful to her that she's been able to weather the emotions and madness I've at times brought to the table, linked with my childhood. I have been thankful she's been able to accept my "I messed up, I'm sorry" over the years. I'm glad I've been able to accept hers to me in return. I remember someone counseling me before, when I was struggling to understand adult relationships as a twenty year old, that any person is lucky to find one or two TRUE friends in their life time. That has been very true for me. I've been fair enough friends with many people over the years, but life happens. We've gone our separate ways over long distance, or disagreements, or life changes. Over kids, over scheduling conflicts, or disinterest.

I come with a lot of baggage. I have a lot of shit on my plate. I can't say, after having a dead child, that I am less crazy, because I am MORE crazy. Some times I push people away. Some times I fear being rejected again. I don't trust easily. But what I do DO well is LOVE. I am strait forward and honest about my feelings, and I have an ability to be loyal and honest with where I'm at. People walk away though. I know it's been a common occurrence, when people have lost and are grieving hard, friends walk away. People can't deal with your shit. People can't deal with the depth of loss and the sorrow that follows. It makes me feel like a failure. When people walk away that I love, I feel like I'm that little kid again, when my parents didn't even love me enough to stick around. I feel worthless. And I feel like I must be REALLY bad at human relationships. I am who I am because of the life I have lived. I am who I am because of the abuse and losses I have been dealt. I find most people just don't want to invest in someone that's maybe not got all her emotional shit together. And THAT would be why I really LOVE to be alone. THAT would be why I love to stay home, with my kids, and my husband, and keep everyone else at bay. I don't have to have the pressure on me to be that perfect someone that another won't walk away from. I. Have. Worth. And I am worth it. I am worth someone eles's friendship and patience.

My best friend Lisa is opening her home to foster children. This woman. Let me tell you. She is a HELL of a woman. She's had some hard knocks in life. She's been husband-less and childless for her entire life. She's longed for that for years, tolerated that I had what she wanted, and we have loved each other in despite of our faults. I have been privileged to watch her walk this new journey, and pleased to see her joyous over opening her home to another. We've talked a lot about the training she is receiving. It's been in depth and heartbreaking. There are so many children that are abused and suffering. It's been really hard for me to re-visit those feelings that I had (and still do) over my childhood. I remember how it felt to grieve over parents who left me. I remember the distress of being molested and abused. I still easily access the distress and heartache over being raised in a loveless, abusive home. It's rough. You wonder how kids ever make it to adulthood partially ok. The amount of pain a child can feel is indescribable. I know. Because I felt it. And I live my life today, trying to overcome, the wrongs done to me that I had no control over. Children are innocent. The damage done to children changes who they are, it changes their souls. It's heartbreaking. And that doesn't even begin to describe it.......

I better get off of the computer. The children are wondering if I'm starting a novel - generally my posts aren't this long.

On with life, shall we??

To exercise faith.

I have always hated Mondays. Monday means back to work after an easy going weekend. Back to work after playing summer days away and not worrying about schedules and house work.

I've found myself in some sort of funk since my period came a week or so ago. Initially I felt excitement, because my body seems to be ironing out it's kinks quickly, but that excitement was followed quickly by sadness. Sadness over many things, actually. Pregnancy used to mean a carefree time that meant a baby in the end. I know better now. Pregnancy can mean the death of a newborn, and pregnancy can mean miscarriages. More than one. I found it easier to accept my first miscarriage after my baby's death, because having a miscarriage is a normal complication. After the second miscarriage, I have found myself thinking about pregnancy again, even if I want it badly, is very distressing. Who's to say I won't have a 3rd miscarriage??

I've consulted with my doctor. He's a good, knowledgeable man. He's been in the profession for over 25 years. He's delivered 3 of my 4 children. He's also seen this struggle come to many women. Unexplainable miscarriages following a string of live births. There's no rhyme or reason. It just happens. While miscarriage may "just happen", I've prayed for inspiration to know if I should be doing things differently. There are hormone levels that need to increase after a pregnancy has begun, if they don't, the pregnancy ends, as the women eventually starts to bleed. I'll be adding some hormone supplements in immediately following another pregnancy. I'm hoping these supplements will help my body with what it should be doing on it's own.

I guess I find myself more realistically thinking about where I'm at, and realizing another baby may not come easily to my family, or may not come at all. I've spent a lot of time praying to know how to move forward. I've been praying to easily recognize my limits, and to know what to share and what to keep quiet.

I find myself coming back to a specific verse found in Matthew, chapter 7, verse 6.

"Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you."

Motherhood is a sacred thing to me. Not because I am religious, but because it's something I have sought after since I was a young child. I have always know the worth of birthing and raising children. I have always wanted and adored children, and felt great worth is creating a family that is my own. I cannot describe that desire so that someone understands. I cannot explain to someone how traumatic it is to live life again, after your baby has died. I cannot explain answer to prayer, and I cannot explain or defend my position on wanting another child, even though it may be a fight to find that dream again. I'm beginning to realize that I don't have to answer or explain to anyone else. I don't have to share or defend what is holy to me, so that another may trample my most sacred dreams. This is a journey unique to me. One in which I feel confident to make the right choices, even if someone else does not understand.

I don't have the answers yet. I don't know what lies ahead. What I do know is this. After huge trials, blessings always come. Those blessings may now always be what we imagined, but they're coming. They're coming for me, for Andrew, and for my children. After huge loss, there is always huge gain.

Elder Richard G. Scott said: “To exercise faith is to trust that the Lord knows what He is doing with you and that He can accomplish it for your eternal good even though you cannot understand how He can possibly do it. We are like infants in our understanding of eternal matters and their impact on us here in mortality. Yet at times we act as if we knew it all. When you pass through trials for His purposes, as you trust Him, exercise faith in Him, He will help you. That support will generally come step by step, a portion at a time. While you are passing through each phase, the pain and difficulty that come from being enlarged will continue. If all matters were immediately resolved at your first petition, you could not grow. Your Father in Heaven and His Beloved Son love you perfectly. They would not require you to experience a moment more of difficulty than is absolutely needed for your personal benefit or for that of those you love.”

More another time...

Love, Misty

Encouraged....

Today is the beginning of something NEW - - - my period came. And it came 2 weeks directly after the dates I marked on my calendar that I suspected I ovulated after my miscarriage. {sigh of relief}

And now we wait another month, and then maybe.... maybe dare to dream again???


xo M.

Waiting....

After miscarriage, both times, since a dead baby, the hardest part for me is waiting for my first period to come. After my D&C in January it took 7 weeks. I'm nearly at 5 weeks now, the second go round. That period (no pun intended) of waiting is very distressing. I feel stuck, and a little angry with my body. I feel like I'm not moving forward. I cope with loss more easily when I can see a time of hope in the future. The standard "waiting" period for pregnancy after a miscarriage is two normal menstrual cycles. I've counseled with my OB, and there are two medications we are going to add in during early pregnancy to help sustain early pregnancy growth. I'm getting pregnant. But I can't STAY pregnant. I find myself scratching my head after birthing 4 children, that I would now have miscarriages. And even though the doctor says "It's normal, it happens, I see it a lot", I'm not so cool with it. Not really at all actually. We've prayed, we're praying, and will continue to pray to know what is right for our family. We will pray to know how to proceed as the next weeks pass, and we pray, mightily, for SUCCESS.

I don't do pregnant friends. I just don't. I have started two of my pregnancies with people I know from church, and both times I'm the one standing there with an empty uterus, while those women's pregnancies have progressed. I distance myself from friends who are trying to get pregnant at the same time, because it STRESSES me out. People think I'm a rude, or a little uncaring, but have you ever done it??? Have you ever had a dead baby, and miscarriages after, and had to have that reminder in your face. And lets be honest, it's awkward. I'm the wrong women to complain to. I'm the wrong woman to talk about being tired to, because your baby is up at all hours of the night. I'm the wrong person to complain to when you don't feel good from morning sickness, or it you're retaining too much water. It's just freaking plain awkward. And trust me, in Mormon-land you CANNOT escape it. Babies are everywhere. Pregnant bellies are everywhere. Crying newborns are everywhere. Church is full of them. My extended FAMILY is full of them. If I have the ability to protect myself a little bit, I do it. Other wise it hurts too much. It's not personal, it's self preservation.

I'm off now in search for FIREWORKS today. The 4th is coming, and I love little more than this holiday spent with my B-F-F across the street, lighting off fireworks for hours at a time. The kids get bored, but not Lisa and I. We've got this down to a science now. So, fireworks, and I should probably start with getting dressed, too....

Until next time.

xo M.

What's your best?

Today marks 14 long, yet incredibly fast-passing months since my beloved Isaac died. I find myself in some what of a box right now after now miscarrying a second after a dead child. I cannot say that I feel more broken, mainly I feel more discouraged. But discouraged with the same resolve to keep in mind that I have been prompted, miscarriages or not, that there are still babies for my family. I don't understand this here and now. I'm tired and worn out by this immense heartache I lug around with me, day in day out. I still feel envious over other women carrying new babies. Envy over women who have had dead babies, and are now realizing the new joy and healing that comes with a new little one to hold, nurture and love. I so want that. With all my heart. That desire does not diminish the love and adoration and gratitude for the children I do have, I simply still have the desire to again, become a mother. I just cannot accept that my last birthing experience will result in a newborn dieing in my arms. There is something new for me. Something new, some day soon, I can only pray. The miracle of it all. Pregnancy is miraculous. Newborns are gifts. I want to shake women who take it for granted. They do not understand that all can be lost. Love your babies. Nurture your children. Be thankful. Please, I beg of you. I, myself, can do better.

What's your best?? Surely what yours is, and what mine happens to be is different. I've spent many a day feeling ashamed for where I am at. I perhaps, have not been as faithful a Christian as others. I have not done as well as others who pray faithfully through their trials and heartaches. I have not been in the church benches ever Sunday, as an outward symbol that I still believe. But. Friends. I have done my best.

I did not, in my most wild dreams, consider that my heartache over a lost, abuse filled childhood, could be trumped. I felt as though I had fought that good fight. I did not question God while I was being molested as a young child. I did not question God as I was smacked around as a teenager, or watched my sister get beaten in the head by the flying fists of my adoptive mother. I heard His voice. My mental health and soul was protected. But this. This. The dead baby, the miscarriages, the desperation, the anger, loneliness, this trumps it all. The heartache, although more easily masked, is still there. The same as it was when my son died peacefully in my arms. I feel it, every day, it is my constant companion. I have struggled to hear God's voice still. I cannot hear His voice as easily as I did when I was a child. I want Him to, I beg Him to, help take this away. I beg, even now as I write this post, to ease this burden. I beg Him to bless us with something new.

Friends, I have done my best. I've lost a couple friends and supporters along the way. I've lost a friend, who I have known for the past 6.5 years, that I have known all along does NOT get me. Her own fear of failure of inadequacies where dropped onto my plate. I let HER down. Her own fear of failure created a problem in our friendship that has caused it's end. Another friend, I expressed doubt in seeing her through a pregnancy, that was closely entwined with both of my miscarriages, we both lost our babies a month apart, we pregnant together, she's going to give birth, I felt my pregnancies pass through my body - - there was no compassion there. I find that compassion and understanding runs out. They run out long before the journey has been walked. I tend to hang on tight, too tightly, to ended friendships. I feel like I should make it right, even at the expense of myself. I've vowed to end that habit. I have to let it go, for my own good. Because, truly, I have done my best. Whether it's been acceptable to the watcher close by, I have done the best that I could do, given these circumstances. My best isn't graceful, or patient, or reasonable, but it's been all that I could give.

God is good. Christ lives. The scriptures will bring peace and healing into your life. When you think you cannot pray, just start talking. Talking to Him. He'll listen. God knows us, His Son stands for us. Keep journeying, on whatever road you're walking, better days are ahead. This is my promise to you, as we both search for it, that we will find it. God bless you as we walk this walk together.

Written words...

I received a letter from a dear friend today. I appreciate her honesty and I appreciate her genuine concern. It almost made me feel like I have my very own Mama looking out for me.

Anyways, she brought up some good points. And she brought up some points I think other people may be concerned about.

This is what I wrote back:

"The internet is a very funny thing. Because people that know me in "real/ day to day" life know that what I put on facebook or my blog is only about 5% of how I feel.

I have a heartache that I carry, that no one can take away. I have frustrations and worries and dashed dreams. While I feel those heartaches nearly all of the time, there is not anyone that truly knows how I am feeling, because I keep those parts of myself very hidden. I have been able to, over the years, and especially now, been able to keep adult feelings separate from my children. What I feel as a woman and mother has nothing to do with my sweet children. I have felt great pride in being able to appear to my children that I am their same old mother. I play. I read stories. I giggle with them. We swim. We talk. We cuddle. I cook. I clean. I bathe them, love them, care for them. To them, I am the same old Mama they have always had.

I wish there was a way to convey to the outside world that I have been able to maintain a level of joy and happiness in my life, in despite of the immense heartache I feel. So many of us have so many hidden hurts and heartaches we carry with us, with out other people being to truly help us or lesson our burdens. I feel like I have done very well that way. I have been able to maintain a healthy relationship and life style for my husband and children. I have never thrown in the towel, stayed in bed all day, let the house go, ignored my children. I have always been very present in their lives, just as I did, before I had a child died and suffered miscarriages.

Honestly, much of my "coping" mechanisms are intertwined with jokes. I don't have an on-going prescription for Xanax. I have not tasted alcohol in 13 years. I don't drink. I don't do drugs. I don't smoke. Now, that being said. There WAS a time in my life that I did. It was a great (and harmful) tool I used to escape many heart aches I've carried as a child. There are some days that feeling numb appears to be better than what I feel now. Some days I would love to escape. But I don't. I know better than that.

I don't know what the future holds for me. I don't know if I will have have more children. That is a dream I will likely chase, under the careful supervision of my doctors, until I have reason to believe I should let it go. I've been told to wait a certain number of months before we try to conceive again, and we'll abide by my doctors wishes. Going forward we may chose to keep pregnancies or miscarriages private because there is a lot of concern attached. People don't understand what it's like to be in my shoes. People don't understand it's up to Andrew and I to decide what we can handle and what we cannot. It's a very private thing. It's between Andrew, myself, and the Lord. We'll move forward at a pace that is safe. That is healthy, and that is reasonable to my excellent doctor.

I have done my very best to do well by children - - dead babies, miscarriages, or not. While I may vent to the internet world, what I truly keep hidden from so many, I feel very good about who and what I am right now. I have put my family and children first, no matter how much heartache I lug around with me.

And yes, I deleted many people from my facebook account. I need a safe outlet that I can vent with out people questioning my mental health. I need a safe place to vent where someone won't become offended, or doubt in my abilities to continue to rise above the hurt I feel. Life goes on. Some days are good for me, many are sad, even more are both. I can feel many, many things at any given time, and still be what the world would consider to be "ok".

We'll get through. Better days are ahead. Many great things only come through much perseverance. The Lord is mindful of us, and I am trying to be mindful to the way He is directing me to move forward.

I love you, and thank you for caring enough to write.


Love, Misty"

Liking me.

The last year has been my largest trial to walk through. I've been changed for the better, and some for the worst. Maybe even a lot for the worst. I was talking with some good friends tonight, and I found myself exclaiming "I like myself". I've been through a lot in my life. I've suffered many things. I've had to live a lot of things down. And because of this, I was born into this world with a very particular personality. I have some traits that I don't like about myself. I'm not very tactful. I'm a fighter. Sometimes I say too much. I'm not as gentle as I would like to be. I'm blunt to the point of fault. I came into this world with a really hard side. I had to. It's the only way I could have survived the abuse I endured for many years.

While I was carrying Isaac, and while I knew he would die, I was blessed by God to be able to put my best self forward. I felt calm. I felt a lot of tenderness towards my baby, and my older children. I felt a sense of purpose. I knew I was fulfilling a special calling for this heavenly child.

I've passed through some rough roads, on this journey we call grief. The harder parts of myself - - - the defiant, the stubborn, the angry parts of my personality are more in the forefront again. I'm tired. I feel beaten down. My patience have dwindled. I say things I should not. I say things that don't make sense to someone else, but in those words, I'm attempting to protect myself. I made it through the dead baby. Actually, I'm STILL making it through. And on top of that, I have miscarried twice. The losses keep piling up. I'm buckling.

As I exclaimed those words tonight "I like myself!!". I meant them. I'm not my best self right now, but I'm me. I've done the best that I can, and I am comfortable in my own skin. I know my faults, and I know my weaknesses. I'm painfully aware of the areas I need to improve upon. But. In the end. I'm ok with me. The good, the bad, the ugly. There are those that love me, and will be patient with me, and there are those that love me, but can't be. And that's ok, too. What they cannot give me, I can give myself: I am going to (more fully love) myself. I'm going to be more kind to myself. I'm going to be more patient with myself. Because, this too, some how, will pass.


*I've re-set my blog settings. Commenting is allowed.

Immeasurable amounts of time.

I'm sitting here sporting a nice sun burn, and thinking about all the things I've been planning to blog about after taking a few weeks off, and I got nothing. Nada. Zip. Some things seem too personal, and other things, not personal enough. I have struggled with blogging for the last year. I feel like my blog has become a way for some friends to keep tabs on how I'm doing without actually doing the work to find out themselves. You know. Because it's like. Hard. To call. Or email. Because everyone knows I need space. And. I'm bitchy and moody, so who wants to check in with THAT, right?? After all, sometimes I'm not giving off the warm and fuzzy vibe. And like. I should be over my dead baby and miscarriages by now. Right??

Blogging is for me, I guess. Most of my friendships have really dwindled off. Mostly because of my own doing, and also because I'm just not that Misty people want to invest in right now. I remember beginning the walk down this road after I found out Isaac would die. I remember thinking to myself, this will be something that makes or breaks many of my relationships. And sadly enough, it's something that's broken most. The sting of my son's death stays in a passer by's memory for a few weeks, maybe even a few months, and then little by little, people move on. And I am still stuck in this place. And really, what I have found out, is many people have promised to be there for me. And they can't. Life gets in the way. School. Work. Kids. Husbands. Family. This is something I have ended up doing on my own.

And now. After two miscarriages. I find myself caring about little outside of my own children, their needs, and my husband. I buried a dead kid. I tried for something new. That dies, too. I try to be brave, move on again, I lose that pregnancy piece by piece over 7 or 8 days a couple weeks ago. And now. Now what? I don't know if there will be more children for us. I don't know what why my goals are, or my dreams. I don't know what I'm made of. I don't really know what I have left to give or can stand to lose again. Family members have fallen away. Most of my friends have. It's just me. Me and this mess, and immeasurable amounts of time to figure it out.

Miscarriages are my thing.

I started bleeding yesterday.

Today my beta test came out horrible. 108. I should be 2000.

I'll get caught up on my giveaways as soon as I can.



Misty

Getting a grip.

This is what I know. For me. Pregnant is better than not pregnant. But I have to tell you, the worry is almost consuming me. I want to be happy, and I want to believe and have faith that God will deliver to us a screaming, pink, healthy newborn, but the fear of the opposite is so strong. Miscarrying is in nearly my every thought. I am obsessing over pregnancy symptoms or lack there of. I worry if I’m strong enough to swing another loss. This should not be a miserable time for me, but it is. It really, really is. I am living proof newborns dies, pregnancies end, infertility happens. That is not every woman’s truth, but it’s mine.

There is nothing more the Adversary wants than for me to feel beaten down and hopeless. He wants me to believe this pregnancy is over before it’s had a chance to start. He wants me to feel like this is a lost cause. But. In fact. God can create this child for us. His plan is greater than my own. God knows our needs and broken hearts. I need to focus on what He has given me: THREE beautiful, living children. A good man. Steady and solid income. A safe and comfortable home. Health. Love. All of those things outweigh the bad. All of those things outweigh the possibility of loss. And with this possibility of great loss, we have the possibility of great hope. I need to try to focus on what is sitting in front of me instead of worrying myself sick over a pregnancy I cannot control. I cannot control the outcome. I can control how I love and live within my own life.

So for today, Satan can piss off. I have got to find away to get a hold of myself. This isn’t working for me, what I’m doing right now.

The below giveaway ends TOMORROW, midnight. Enter if you want a chance to win.

Ya'll better have a look:

Above is my Mothers Day gift this year. It's on it's way to my home, Andrew's going to wrap it, I'm going to un-wrap it, and wear it everywhere. I love it that much.

During one of our marathon conversations Celia and I poured over this jewelry. I decided I had to have it, and I was thrilled to find something so darling that would include all my children. Funny tidbit: I added the dragonfly and the butterfly to symbolize the children I hoped to birth (and raise) the future. I had no idea I was pregnant. I chose Isaac's birthstone to accompany their charms as any child that comes to our family after him is because of him. This is my way of holding a little bit of heaven close to my heart. My children are my treasures. I know and love each and every one of them, before and after they've joined our family.


Now, onto the BEST part. Kristi from Bugaboo Jewelry is giving away this darling locket. This is what I need from you, for a chance to win. Please leave me a comment about who you would remember this locket with. And by all means, check her OUT!! She is a sweetheart beyond words, and is super dedicated to creating a custom, personalized piece, for each and every customer. Not only that, her prices are outstanding. She offers a great selection for the best prices, and believe me, I've shopped around!!! This giveaway ends on May 4th, midnight, so get commenting, and good luck!!!

Water, Giveaways, My Faith Baby, Privacy, and Puppy Dogs.

Spring's in the air. Once the weather hits 70 degrees, the water toys are broken out, and here we go!! I can barely stand the cuteness.





Below is Lily. Lily plays, Lily kisses, Lily cuddles, Lily barks, Lily pees in the house...... I bought her because I needed a baby, and when I loaded her into the cars as my kids shrieked in happiness, I told Andrew that now that I bought a puppy, I'd get pregnant. It worked. I'm pregnant!!! I found out Sunday.









I utterly suck at giveaways. But I have to make them work because I have an awesome opportunity that is well worth the effort. Stayed tuned in the next post.

Before we get to that, I'm not aware that anyone posted about one of my best friends AMY at Modest Barbie . Ya'll could have one won a free outfit!! You can still get a discount, just mention my blog.

Also, the last time I was pregnant I had a giveaway for a pregnancy loss and remembrance bracelet. I miscarried. I disappeared. I now have a WINNER, though: Shelly, from "Seriously, Shelly"! Girl, please get in touch with me! You won!!! Better late then never.... right???!!!

Alright, Ladies, I'm a little afraid to tell you this. But. I can't go to a private status. I know. I'm insane. I own it. My friends tell me it all the time. But. It's too much work. I have to tell you though, I had so many lovely emails and requests to be included. I was seriously touched by the love floating around, out there, just for me!! Thank you, dear friends.

Now. Another thing. If I know you in real life, and even if I don't. If you blab my business I will deny, deny, deny. Especially AT CHURCH. So please don't. Really. And If I get asked questions, especially is I am PREGNANT, I'll kindly let some one know I decline to talk about my private business. I'd really not like to be put in that situation, so please just don't. Please keep my secrets safe, pretty please. And that goes for family, too. That's a huge no no. Please just let me have my dorky blog and let me include family and friends, in person, at the proper time. My lips are sealed, that is, unless you read it here.

So. Pregnant. Again. I am over the moon. And over the moon scared. Really, really, R E A L L Y scared. My focus is on trying to enjoy, and on trying to push the negative energy aside. This really could be a beautiful thing for our family. I'm choosing to embrace it: a faith promoting pregnancy, a faith promoting miracle in a new child.

You might wanna pay attention to this.......

Meet one of my very best friends: Amy Schmutz. Also meet one of her most beautiful children, Jacob:

Sweet Jacob was born 5 years ago on March 30th. He was born with Anencephaly, like my Isaac was, and died minutes later. She is a woman I can relate to, laugh with, cry with, scream with. I am blessed to have her in my life.

She is one hell of a creative cookie. She's started her own business. She sews trendy MODEST Barbie clothes. You can buy what she has, or she makes custom ordered outfits.

Because she is a DOLL, you can visit her website http://modestbarbie.blogspot.com/ and receive a 15% discount if you mention you read about her on my blog.

Also - - - for a chance to win a FREE outfit, and a 20% discount, post about her business on YOUR blog. Leave me a comment so I can verify said post, and I will put your name in a drawing. You have until the 16th to enter, at which I'll let you know who won.

Wishes for heaven.

Dear Family and Friends,

The past 12 months have been filled with a sorrow I never knew before our sweet Isaac was born. We have thought about him, and loved him, and honored him, and kept him apart of our family the best way we know how.

I realize that throughout our family and friendships there are several different religions, and that some have thought I brought this suffering upon myself and the children, and that I chose this pain for our family. I have to disagree, and exclaim: God chose this for us, for whatever reason, He chose this perfect child for our family. It’s not what I wanted, but it was what we were given!!

I want to share my testimony with you that Christ lives. That because of Him, we will have eternal life. God lives, He is aware of us, even when I have been sure He has turned away from me. There is life after death, I have felt it, I have embraced it. Our sweet boy exists along the sides of friends and family that have gone before. Our heavenly family members are aware of us, they watch over us, and they love us.

I have learned that time is precious. That now is the time to become our best selves. I have learned to love my husband and children differently, and although many times I fail, I can still keep trying to become the daughter of God I know I have the potential to be.

Handling a bereaved family is awkward and sometimes uncomfortable. Today, our request is that you remember our sweet boy with us. How we love him. How we have sorrowed and cried for him, and how are hearts still ache to have him here with us. He is ours, we know he counts, and I ask that you think of him today during his heavenly 1st birthday.

We love you,

Misty, Andrew, Olivia, Ian, Hannah, and always…. our Isaac.

Rainbow what?

I hate the term "Rainbow" to describe a subsequent pregnancy after loss. And I hate it for a number of reasons. And I hate all the shout-outs from dead baby Mamas who announce their news, but then say "so sorry" you have not been blessed yet like they have been. I hate the division it makes in bereavement groups, and I hate the awkwardness that passes between the haves and have-nots. Bereaved women move up and onward when they have the promise of a new life growing in their bellies. They blog less, share less, appear to grieve less, and it's left me feeling pretty abandoned. Because really, being pregnant after a dead baby is way better than not being pregnant. Not only do I grieve the loss of my dead son, but I grieve the possibility of never being able to have a baby again, that this might be it for me, that time has passed and I cannot get it back. Every month when I start to bleed I see failure, a blessing missed, a dream shattered, a new reminder of all that I have lost. It's not the same. My journey has been different than those that have been pregnant for months out of this first bereaved year. It hurts worse for me. That's how I see it anyway.

And you know it gets worse?? You tell me what you call a pregnancy that dies AFTER you already lost. Tell me the term for a "Rainbow" that DIES. Death cloud? Dream shatterer?? Stings a little bit, doesn't it?? Stings a lot, actually.

I've been lacking the support I desire, and I've been lacking the support because I didn't dare want to share because of how offended other women might be. It's hindered this outlet I used to have and love. I think as I move to a more private setting in my blog I can gather women around me that will rally together with me though this new journey - - - which is trying to conceive after a dead child and after a miscarriage. That doesn't necessarily mean women in my same boat, it means women I've bonded with along the way, in my day to day life, and through the internet. And I don't really care anymore if it hurt someone eles's feelings. This space is about me, and what I feel, and the support I desire. Don't like it? Don't agree? Keep moving on.

Rainbows?? That's bullshit to me. "Faith Baby"?? That's a term I can relate to more. Every single time I have allowed the chance for pregnancy in my life, it has required faith. Faith in God to give or to take away. Faith in God that his timing is better than mine. Faith that He knows best for me, even when I think I know better than Him. Faith babies, all of mine, no pregnancy excluded.

I'm chasing my faith baby. Every month, until I catch him or her. Hopefully with a little more honesty along the way.



*If you want to follow along when my blog is set to private, please email me your email address and blog address at abnmln@gmail.com