Speaking Peace

Better for it.

2012-01-17T11:05:00.000-08:00

Better for it. Are you? Do you feel like you are better for living your life how you have, do you feel better for journeying through trials and growing experiences? Sometimes I struggle with that question. Do I feel like I am better for it, because I have lost a child, or been abandoned by parents or molested or abused? I actually don't really know how to answer that question yet. But this is what I do know - - - if I let it be so, I COULD be. I could turn bad into good, sorrow into joy, darkness into light. I can allow myself to continue to be a better mother for it, a better friend, wife, and neighbor. Growing for me is a slow, more times than not, a PAINFUL process. I am stubborn and closed off. Growing for me has taken YEARS, I suspect it will take many many more. It's my goal, though - - my goal to continue to move forward, even at a slow pace, and be better for my life experiences. Better for knowing and sharing with YOU. Better for learning how to by my best self.

I am better for knowing Avery. I am better for having been given the chance to become a mother again, better for being blessed with the opportunity to raise and nurture a living baby, who is mine on this earth for at least a little while. He is an absolute joy. His smile and love in his eyes, for each member of my family, is heart warming in a way that I cannot explain. It's as if he knows he was sent to us to create a healing in our home that would not be possible with out him. He is our shining star, his place is unique and sacred in our home.

I am better for knowing each of my children. Hannah is selfless. She helps, she is responsible, she is smart and kind. Ian is loving and tender. He is sensitive and soft. Olivia is wild and strong. Determined and loyal. Isaac is pure and perfect. He is a teacher and a guardian. Avery is joyful and sweet. Affectionate and soothing. I would do well to become half the person that my sweet children already are. Nothing is more important to me then them.

We survived "D-Day", diagnosis day. January 15th marked THREE YEARS since we would find out Isaac would die. My heart was sad on Sunday reflecting on all that we have been through, all that we suffered during that time. My mind drifted back to the day that we found out. I have never been so shocked in my entire life. Andrew wasn't able to take work off, I went to my ultrasound appointment alone. When the doctor began with "I am so sorry, I don't know how to tell you this.....", I completely panicked. A million things had to have flown through my head at the same time. I remember thinking that whatever problem this baby had, we could handle it. We would simply find a way to pay for what he or she needed, and our family would adapt. I guess it never even entered my mind that the baby would be so unwell, he or she would die. After I received the news, I mentally checked out. The doctor wanted to me look at the screen to see Isaac's beautiful feet and hands, and I wouldn't turn my head. It took every ounce of strength I head to not begin sobbing uncontrollably on the table. I got off the of the table, straitened my clothes, and stumbled out to the car. Once I was in the car - where no one could see, right? - I began sobbing. I do not remember the last time I ever cried like that. I laid my head on the steering wheel and wailed for what seemed like forever. When I could breath again, I lifted my head, dried my eyes on my shirt, and drove to my in law's home. I tried the best to explain to them what had happened, but they were just as dumb founded as me. I never, in 10 or 11 years, have clutched my father in law to me in a hug, but I walked over to him. He grabbed me, and the sobbing just started all over again. I don't know how me managed over the next few days. I had to break the news to Andrew, the kids, the extended family. We had doctor appointments and more doctor appointments. We had huge decisions to make. I wasn't sleeping. The kids were not sleeping. In fact, we were all sleeping in the living room together. That is a time in my life I wish to never ever visit again. I am forever changed by that experience, and by that loss. I have never grieved so hard and felt so lost. I was so utterly heart broken.

And now here we are. 3 years later. 3 miscarriages and a BABY later. We are not the same, I know I will never be, but I am trying to find ways to be better for it. Just how, that remains the question.

We miss Isaac so much. We speak of him often and I look at his pictures around the house every day. I try not to visit my grief over him much, because I simply cannot survive in that place. Time moves on, somehow we must allow it to take us along.

I am better for writing. I have always loved to write. My goal is to write more this year. It does not matter who reads and who doesn't. My soul feels purged and better for it. And that, my dear friends, makes writing time well spent.

Until next time, all my love,
Misty

Ponder this.

2011-10-19T10:03:00.001-07:00

I stole this picture from facebook. That's ok, right? So read it. And think about it. It says a lot to someone like me who has some pretty hefty abandonment issues. The soft part of me wants to cry a little when I think about it, and the smart ass in me is wondering if it's ok to trip them when they are walking away.

To my mother - You know, if you were truly off your rocker, why the hell did you think you should have kids anyway. And FYI, you don't leave your kids in the middle of the night and not bother saying goodbye, dumb ass. You've screwed your kids up FOR LIFE. Your broke their hearts.

To my father - Giving up your kids for a girlfriend. TOTALLY lame ass. And rude. And heartless. Especially when your kids get molested and pissed on there. Shame on you. Pretty sure your name is under a special kind of word in the dictionary, and it ain't the word father either.

To my adoptive parents - Shame on you. If you HATED being parents, you should not have adopted kids. You don't get kid and treat them like shit. You don't get kids to pad your resume or to make you look like a better human being. You don't get kids and not feed them right. You don't get kids to beat them up. You don't get kids to do all your house work, yard work, cooking, and cleaning. You don't get kids to lock them in their rooms, ignore them, and scream at them that you hate them. If you hated being a parent, you shoulda called in quits. Like. FOREVER ago.

To friends that walk away - Your loss. I'm pretty freaking amazing. A lot to handle sometimes, yes. A lot to edit out sometimes, yes. Leave your head spinning sometimes, pretty sure that's a yes, too. But let me tell you something else. I am loyal. I am devoted. I am wild. I am funny. I love like mad. I would do anything for you. I would rescue you, take you in, feed you, help you back on your feet. I would cry with you, laugh with you, take on your enemies with you. Once I know you're safe to love, I would never abandon you. If you cannot see that when I act out, I am just afraid, you have no business knowing me. I am soft hearted and afraid. All I want is your love, too. Not to mention I give amazing hugs.

So keep walking...... and like that picture says, too, your part in my story is over.

xoxo Misty

I wish I had a Mama.

2011-10-13T20:05:00.000-07:00

Some hurdles are meant to be leaped over, some knock us down, some we can't even get our butts over. Someone asked me once if I would ever "get over" my mother choosing to leave us. During the night. Right before Easter. Never saw her again. The answer, simply, is no. No you don't. There is a huge part of me that will always wish I had a Mama. A Mama that is truly my own, a Mama that adores me like I adore my children. I have needed a mother. One that would be there for me, that lets me sob into her shoulder, one that will never ever leave. Never leave me, because I simply am one of the reasons she breaths. People are so hopelessly flawed. It has been so rare for me to find a friend that is steadfast and true, and is forever. I have a hard time getting that. If you're not "blood" to someone, then their family always comes first, and friendships are allowed to fall my the way side. What cannot I become a part of someone's family? Why does blood have to define that? Where does that leave someone like me? Someone that doesn't have that mother and father or other relatives that make some other lucky duck feel whole. It makes people like me afraid to death to trust in human relationships. After Isaac died, I thought bonds would be fortified, but really, most fell away. The few people I shared Isaac with, outside of family, are no longer in my life. I shared the most precious and sacred part of myself and they walked away. Couldn't deal. Talk about casting pearls before swine. It still stings. Some how I have to let it go.

And then. Then there are a golden couple that have forgiven me at my worst, given me chance after chance, and some how still loved this miserably flawed person that I am. It's a next door neighbor that has become like a sister, an old high school girlfriend that loves me just because she thinks some parts of me are amazing. I am thankful for those women in my life. I need them. Kinda like I've always needed a Mama. I need that kind of love, that someone sees the worth in me that can sometimes be shadowed by my inability to be "normal". Tender mercies from God. I thank Him for that.

Avery. Avery is like a breath of fresh air in our home. People say a baby changes everything. And he does. He does not change what has happened, what we lost, that I had to bury my son, but he has brought about a change in my heart. He has softened the blows life deals out. When I look at him, I marvel at the miracle he is. He is whole and healthy and God delivered him to us. New life is miraculous. Every smile. Every coo. Every drool, burp, pool, squeal, cry - - I bask in it. When I look at him, I feel a sudden burst of joy in my heart that has been missing for so long. Many times I have felt pure happiness, I love the feeling. I have missed it so much.

Anyways - until another time, I know that it is few and far in between, but I'll be back when I can.

xo Misty

Two months old!

2011-09-26T20:57:00.000-07:00

Look who is 2 months old. Since this little sweet pea has entered our lives, there is little time leftover for extras. I'm still working from home full time, as well as raising up my 4 sweet cherubs. Our lives are very full and busy, and we're truly happier then we've been in so long. Finally, FINALLY the tide has turned!

xo Misty

One month.

2011-08-30T14:32:00.001-07:00

Inspiration....

2011-08-14T14:54:00.000-07:00

I'm finding it hard to put my camera down with this new little boy around. Next is a sibling shoot, I think.

Healing balm.

2011-08-12T15:57:00.000-07:00

Having a new baby in our home after 5.5 years has been an incredible change. I have felt every emotion on the planet. I've gone from culture shock, to being sure I couldn't do it, to feeling more confidant in my abilities. Sweet Avery is such a healing balm to our broken hearts, but it has made our grief for Isaac more apparent, as we grieve not having these moments with him. What I have appreciated the most, is having my arms filled again. I have so appreciated having a baby in our home when we've been missing that for so long, it helps our family to feel more complete. What a blessing and tender mercy our sweet Avery is, we love him so much.

Avery's arrived!

2011-07-28T08:58:00.001-07:00

Avery Quinn

Born 8:05 am, 7/27/11

9 lb 6 oz

We're over the moon.

xoxo Misty

Avery is coming...

2011-07-26T14:55:00.000-07:00

He just doesn't know it yet!

My c-section is scheduled for tomorrow morning at 7:30am. Please keep our family in your prayers as we open this new chapter of our lives together.

Updates to follow as able!

Love, Misty

Overwhelmed.

2011-07-12T10:29:00.000-07:00

Baby Avery's birth is coming right up - - we finally agreed on a name! I have a c-section at the end of the month, and I feel a little unprepared with all of the feelings that are swirling around. I feel like for the most part I've been a champ. I've taken the worry in stride, done my best to prepare for this little one with joy in my heart, and worked hard to help my family feel optimistic about a wonderful outcome that is coming our way. But truth be told, behind it all, I am scared to death. It's funny when you experience something as traumatic as the death of an infant. Everything stays with you. Not just the memories, but sounds, smells, people's faces..... Every week when I go to the same hospital for my NSTs, I look at those same doors in Labor and Delivery, knowing that the last time Andrew and I held hands walking through them, our lives changed forever, that our hearts would experiences brokenness we had not known before. The smells of the rooms and waiting area and the noises of people hustling around bring me right back. I can see those events play out in my mind like they are happening all over again. I look at those doors, and I want to bolt through them. I want to bolt through them and make someone take my baby out while I KNOW he's alive. I am so tired from waiting. It's been months, years now, we've waited for a new baby in our home. I just want to be done. I want this part over with. I just can't even explain, there are no words really. No words for what happened and what we felt. I've tried my best to describe, I've tried to share pictures, but I just can't even explain what transpired the days before, the day of, and the days after Isaac died. I just want something different now. I want that joy again.

As Avery's birth gets closer, the days seem longer. I'm 3/4 done with all my spring cleaning and baby prep, and I'm just trying to stay busy so that I don't get swept away in the fear. It is really hard though. Just really, really, hard. I am thankful this baby is on the active side. Each time I feel him bumble around, I feel so thankful. I am amazed that I can feel his body through my own. I am amazed that I can press against his body, and he moves and presses back. He knows I am his Mama. Towards the end, those moments were so very few and far in between with our precious Isaac. I try to enjoy those moments with this baby now, instead of being afraid that I'll lose out on them. It's hard though, because now we all know you can lose. It's part of life now.

And now, my dears, I need a fat ass piece of chocolate. These hormones are evil today. Wish me luck.

xoxo Misty

Fathers Day It Up!

2011-06-19T09:59:00.001-07:00

Getting it together.

2011-06-18T13:34:00.000-07:00

I'm exhausted today. I decided a couple of weeks ago that I would start getting ready for this baby. I've sunk my heels in for most of this pregnancy, being drug along for the ride until I've felt secure enough that this dream would come true. Trouble is - I don't quite believe it yet. I day dream about the baby coming, and try to picture it in my head, but that fear still looms. It's my quiet companion every moment of every day.

So. I made a list anyway. There are several items on my list. General baby prep, spring cleaning, things to buy, cleaning the car, installing the car seat - - all of those kinds of things. In my head, spring cleaning and I have a complicated relationship. I don't have a messy house by any means, many people can vouch for that, but it's the nitty gritty cleaning I have rebelled against. I was too sick to spring clean before Isaac came, and he was dieing anyway. Afterwards I was too heart broken to take on the task, grieving all that was lost, and after suffering miscarriage after miscarriage, and now here we are. I made a deal with myself, if I got to the point I would soon deliver a baby - - I'm now nearly 34 weeks - - I promised myself I would spring clean and prepare just like I would with any other baby. I'm forcing myself to keep that promise, but it's really hard. I find myself choking up just writing about it. I'm cleaning out the dust, items we don't need, scrubbing stains off the walls, and the little messes here and there, and it feels like I am doing that same thing with my emotions. Some how I have to get to the point that I will allow myself to move forward with the new baby, with the renewed belief that things can be ok. I sat down in the bathroom and started pulling things off of the shelf, and I started to feel the tears well up in my eyes. I had a box of nursing pads - two years old, that I still had to wear after my dead baby. There they sat, covered in a layer of dust, but I hadn't ever been able to throw those out yet. I find myself having flash backs to those moments soon after Isaac died, sitting in my bathroom, caring for my wounds.... my milk still came in, I still had a 10 inch cut from yet another c section, I still was bleeding like I had a new baby to tend. But I didn't. I had to bury my baby. I combined the left over nursing pads with the new shiny box I just bought and tucked them back on the shelf. A new box. A new start. I have had the same spritz bottle from the hospital from Isaac for 2 years now. That's another silly thing I've held on to. I took care of my wounds with that same bottle after Issac died, and I took care of my wounds with each of the three miscarriages after him. That bottle I decided to keep. Like just in case the hospital does not give me a new one. This bottle is trusty, it's worked through some hard times, so why now?? Some emotional habits die hard, I guess. And then onto the diapers...... I carefully packed the diaper bag today, and set diapers and wipes out in convenient places where I would be tending to the baby after we come home. I held that little diaper in my hands, and ran my fingers across them. Isaac was so tiny. I changed his diaper only one time. His sweet little body was so perfect - - even his little rear. I remembered Andrew and I laughing over each of our children's bottoms. There is something about baby's butts that are so perfect and cute.... I wish I had been able to change hundreds of diapers for him. I cringed as I put the diapers out where I needed them.... I just couldn't bear the thought of not being able to use the diapers again. This time has to be different, right??

Anyways, back to work, I guess. I've been having a lot of days where I'm barfy all day long, with no energy. I've got to make the best of the days I feel good, and take it easy on the days I don't. I think working from home full time, plus being a stay at home mother at the same time has really worn me out. Not to mention to hormones and emotions.....

So. Did you ever feel the same way, preparing for a new baby after losing one?

xoxo Misty

Summertime done right.

2011-06-09T16:26:00.000-07:00

30 weeks

2011-05-23T07:28:00.000-07:00

What the....

2011-05-17T15:49:00.001-07:00

I am nearly 30 weeks pregnant, and every day I try to imagine what it will be like to have a new baby at home, and I just can't wrap my mind around it. Every single day I've just been trying to get through. Get through the day, the worry, the fear, the wonder of it all. How does it go so right, after going so wrong? I try to calm the children's fears about death, I try to join in their excitement, I try to enjoy where I'm at, and what my body is accomplishing every day. I'm finding solace at home now. Church has become hard again. I'm happy to keep to myself and not think about the abundance of pregnant women that live around me. I look at them while they are looking forward to their babies with a certainty that theirs will live. How do you relate to a woman like that, when you know that is not the truth. Some say "have faith". Faith to me is believing in the plan God has placed into motion. Faith to me is believing what ever is meant to come to pass, will. And what ever that is, somehow we'll be ok. Faith to me is not counting on getting what I want, that has not been the case so many times over in my life. I have faith that I can get through. And no matter what, this child I am growing is glorious and amazing and I cannot wait to meet him, hold him, clutch him to me, and thank my lucky stars that God chose me to be his mother. I try to imagine it, but somehow I know it will be something more than I could ever hope for or think of. (HUGE *sigh*)

Now on to different related drama. I had a weird experience come my way. A family member sent out a contact list that included my biological mother's phone number. I'm getting too old to end up in the fetal position when I receive news of her, but it's my brain's way of protecting me. I talk about her once in a great while, but really - - this is one of my life long hurts that I have not found a way to heal yet. She left me. She left my siblings. My father left us. He gave us away for a woman. They CHOSE, and that choice did not include me. My heart is so tender in that way. I keep those emotions shut up in a tiny little box. I like to think I have control over when I open and close it, but this family member blew the lid off. For now, I've stuffed that issue back in, currently growing the baby is all I can work on....

And to top it off, one of my siblings took this information, among other private conversations (I HUGELY suspect), to an Aunt I have been estranged from since before Isaac's birth and death. My Aunt, I felt like, was at least warming to the idea of communicating with me, has now BLOCKED my phone numbers again. The more I think about it, the more I feel secure in my decision to keep my biological family at arm's length. There is no trust, no relationship that is solid, outside of the relationship I have built with my grandparents. I feel spent, and I feel done. Plain old DONE. I have enough shit on my plate to deal with all the baggage that continues to accompany nearly all family relationships I have. Some things our Maker is just going to have to work out, because 30 years hasn't been long enough for me to conquer that challenge yet. Oh well, I guess, life keeps moving on......

Anyways, friends - - all my love, for now.

Until next time,

xoxo Misty

Happy Birthday Precious Boy.

2011-04-07T22:02:00.000-07:00

My Sweet Boy,

This must be what heaven looks like. This must be what you live now, what your reality must be. You are a perfect soul, living in a perfect heavenly realm.

Happiest heavenly birthday sweet baby. How blessed we are to have been able to claim you for our family. We are so thankful God gave us you, even if only for a short time.

We know you live on, we feel your spirit in and around our family often. We know heaven exists. We know you are serving the Lord in a most valiant way. We wish you your happiest birthday yet, and know that we'll be celebrating you especially tomorrow.

Love,

Your Adoring Family

BOYS all around!

2011-04-04T07:06:00.000-07:00

Hey Ya'll!

It's been quite a ride as of late. My pregnancy is sailing along, but the fear attached to this pregnancy is unreal. The bereavement team assigned to our family, months ago, told me my subsequent pregnancy after Isaac would be hell. It's not that there is no excitement and dreaming attached, but that there is an abnormal amount of fear attached as well. We all fear going through losing a newborn ONCE, the fear of doing it AGAIN is consuming. And not only that - - my husband worries, my kids worry. Everyone worries. We want this baby so badly, could be live through losing another? I envy women, and actually my own self - - pre being a mother to a dead child. Pregnancy was for the most part easy and worry free. Nothing bad could happen to me, right??

I have been spending a lot of time communicating with Heavenly Father. I surely cannot make these thoughts go away on my own, I need Him to help reassure me. I'm trying to think positive and focus on the GOOD. I'm enjoy feeling the baby bumble around, and although frightening, I am shopping at my heart's desire for this little one. It's the little things - - - I was able to buy baby shampoo and bubble bath for this baby. I was distraught when I knew Isaac would not need them. I'm able to price diapers and formula and look at outfits knowing I should not be burying this child. Shopping for Isaac's funeral was heart wrenching. I cannot describe the heartache. We've bought a pack n play and new stroller and car seat - - all those things we has for Isaac we got rid of. I'm trying to enjoy as much as I possibly can this time around, we never know what is around the corner. I promised myself this one time I would do what I wanted, shop how I wanted, prepare how I wanted - - if only I got one more chance. And I have that chance now. I need to make the most of it.

Our anatomy scan went well. I was very distressed going into it. It was at the same office, same room, with the same tech when I found out Isaac would die. This baby is perfectly healthy, and he's a BOY. Another baby boy for our family. Ian is so thrilled to be having another brother. It hurt him so badly to have a brother die. I would say he is the most excited! Ian reacted the most outwardly when Isaac died. He had nightmares before his birth, being fearful the baby would die before he could meet him. The crib in his room came down, because it caused him panic attacks. He acted out in school. He was so heart broken. He is my very most tender hearted child, and it was overwhelming to deliver good news to him. He and I both cried over that. What a blessing this sweet babe will be to our family, we are so thankful.

Anyways - 23 weeks along and counting.

Till next time,

Misty

Head 'em up, move 'em out.

2011-02-25T15:36:00.000-08:00

After months of going back and forth between my more public blog and more private blog, I've decided I'm ready to end up back here, to share a little more openly again.

I've gone back and forth many times, trying to decide when I was ready to share, because I know (FULLY) that there are some people that read here, that I really don't like. Those are people who I have ended relationships with, for various reasons, and I have never liked the idea of them still reading about my life. But, you know how the internet is - - people getting up in your business, that I wouldn't even share a tissue with, but such is life. I'll find a way to get over it. You know who you are, anyway.

You may have guessed by now what I was going to share, so to avoid chickening out, I'll just type it: I'm PREGNANT! I'll be 18 weeks along on Monday, and I have been elated, and frightened, and worried, every single day since I found out in November. Just today, I was thinking about my 20 week appointment on March 14th, and I started to think about what I would do if they didn't find a heartbeat. I mean. I got one last time, but that excitement has since worn out, so what happens if something bad happens now??? It's a fine dance of being so excited at the idea of a newborn babe, with the slap of terror that I might not get my dream come true. The death of a newborn and miscarriages after.... they kind of ruin the idea of pregnancy bliss, ya know? Kind of puts a huge mote in between the ignorantly blissful and the horrifyingly bereaved. Make sense?

So, here's the thing. If you know me, and I have not spoken to you about being pregnant, I won't, not until it's on my terms. I'll deny deny deny until I'm brave enough to chit chat about it. So just pretend this still is a secret, and that way we can avoid awkward conversations, lets say, if I run into you at church........ fair warning, right??

And, just like my kids do - - pray my baby has all it's parts, and is born living. The kind of healthy that lets you bring the baby home, not the kind of dead that makes you bury them into the ground. So far, so good, though - - I'm trying to focus on that.

xoxo Misty

Mindless.

2011-01-31T15:28:00.001-08:00

I took the children to church yesterday, and it went well, for the most part. I find myself often seated close by where a couple comes in late with a new baby boy, who is probably 8 weeks old. He's beautiful. And so immensely sweet. He reminds me of my own boys at that age. I wish I could scoop him up and cry over all that I lost with my Isaac, but instead I find myself squirming in my seat, and wishing I could run out of church. Because really, I know in my mind that is unacceptable behavior, but my heart just still cannot help it.

And then there was the second speaker yesterday. A young man in his mid thirties, he has 4 children, with one on the way. His wife has never miscarried or ever had a pregnancy or infant loss of any sort. I appreciated the spirit in which his message was delivered, but I would have liked to have argued my point. He started his talk off about prayer and faith. He talked about not being prideful, and he spoke about service. He ended his talk with a story about a woman with children, who was fleeing her native land. Through her journey, each and everyone of her children died. Each grave was dug with a spoon, which was all the woman had in her possession. Her last child that died, was a baby. The woman had lost her spoon, and had to dig her last baby's grave with her fingers, in the frozen ground. The story ended with the woman finding strength in Christ when she knew she had lost all that she had. God bore her up. I get the story, and the point. But the thing that bothered me was when the speaker said that no matter how large our trials are, there is always someone who has it worse. That someone suffers more, that it can get worse. But what comfort does that give to a grieving parent, who feels like it CANNOT get worse? That they truly have been pushed to the breaking point? That they feel like they gave the ultimate sacrifice, in accepting God's will for the deceased child? I have suffered many things. I suffered not having enough to eat as a child, we stole food to eat. We didn't have beds, or enough clothing. My mother turned tricks in Alaska when my father left us. We were not safe. We were molested. When my father had another chance to raise us, he bailed on us, giving us to his best friend, who turned out to be a child molester. My mother had another chance, too, she ran away in the middle of the night. We were adopted by parents who failed. By a man whose life was run by an abusive and dominant woman. She beat us up. They gave us no freedom. We had no toys, no tv, no phone, we could not have friends or play outside. We were told we were trash on a regular basis, and that she hated us. I have struggled my entire adult life to rise above the start I had in life. I have very few family relationships. I'm screwed up. I have been so fortunate to be married, but my husband also has a chronic disease. WE KNOW SUFFERING. For us, it really can't get much worse. We'd have to lose a grown child, or Andrew and I would have to lose each other. So while other people HAVE worse trials, and we have so MUCH to be thankful for, I've had a shitload of trials to get through during my life time, too. Preaching to someone that it can get worse. NO SHIT. I fear that the most, when I have already suffered more than most people understand.

And the thing that made me the saddest? When we were leaving my son turned to me and said: "Mama, who tells stories like that in front of a family that has a dead brother?? It made me really sad." And I told him, while trying NOT to cry, that the man really didn't understand. That if he knew it would hurt us, he would not have told the story. And that's really the truth of the matter. People don't know what it's like. They don't know what it's like to have a body go limp in your arms, and feel the chilling sting of a dead body. They don't understand the trauma and the places your mind goes to. They didn't know while telling that story that my children and I were thrown back to that moment when we lived that, too.

I wish people weren't so mindless, or perhaps even had just a little bit bigger of a heart.

One Sunday down, so many more to go.

Crass.

2011-01-10T09:10:00.000-08:00

Well, Friends, I was able to drag my butt back to church yesterday. And it went ok. There were a lot of friendly faces, and then there were a lot of faces I would have loved to have NOT seen. There were your normal crass jokes and comments about pregnancy - - people who take it for granted think it's funny to make poor tasting jokes. And then the gossip. The who is pregnant and who is not. The gossip about who is making it clear they are not happy to be pregnant, which, to me, is a total insult to my sensitivities, not to mention mocking the God given blessing and opportunity to grow a baby and your family. (good run on sentence right there) Parenting is hard - pretty much. Young children are hard - pretty much. Life is hard - pretty much. I find it so offensive to listen to people bitch about motherhood and pregnancy. I find all it demonstrates is selfishness and taking your life and family for granted. I bet if one of those women had a dead baby or a deformed baby, they might think twice about it. And I really feel badly for the MANY women who have lost pregnancies, or babies, or can't even conceive in the first place. They sit there, church meeting after church meeting, and have to listen to that crap. It drives me nearly mad. I find that church caters to the blissful side of believing in a God and Savior. The focus is on miracles and answered prayer. There is not a lot of support for those who are struggling, for those that need baring up. There's a whole lot of social jibber jabber going on, and not a lot of paying attention to the true message of the gospel. You know, the part where we're supposed to learn to live more like Jesus. Whatever. People just don't get it. They know not what they do.

The children really enjoyed their primary classes (Sunday school). Olivia did really well, although was frustrated she did not know many of the songs the kids were singing. Hannah had a lot of school friends in her class - - she sure is growing into such a young lady. And Ian liked his class, although he seems a little more shy about it. The kids came home with good attitudes, and I feel accomplished that I did this HARD thing! And we'll go back next Sunday, and hopefully again and again. I think I can do this. I know I can, thick skin forming along the way.

My week is the normal busy busy. Work, clean, cook, parent - - rinse, repeat. Over and over again. I may have lost a baby, but all the dreams I had as a child for my life have come true. To be a mother. To be married to a good man. To have my own home. To have freedom and peace in my life. Praise God for those blessings, I am truly grateful.

For now we keep on living. Living with most of my family with me, and part of my family missing. My children are loved, and Isaac is loved and remembered. I am, at the very least, thankful to know where he is.

Until next time.

Misty

Resolute.

2011-01-02T16:21:00.000-08:00

I'm not a New Years resolution kind of girl. Mainly because I break them all before January 1st is even over. This year I've been reflecting on some changes I'd like to make, though, without the added pressure of calling them resolutions.

My goal this year is to be more present in my life. The last two years of repetitive losses has been extremely hard on me, I really cannot explain it. I've been alive, but not living as well as I would like to. While I have gotten into the swing of day to day life having a dead baby, and failing at pregnancy, I want to be a better mother, I KNOW I need to be a better mother. A better wife. A better friend. I want to invest more into living without worrying if I'll lose out again. I want to be a better me. More fully available to those I love. It's time to re-enter the land of the TRULY living.

I've decided to accept the things about me that make me ME, without worrying if someone else understands. I am OK being apart of the NIELSON family - - the "anti-social family". I love my family. I love our extremely private life. I love life without feeling obligated to make someone else approve. I don't care if I don't fit in. I don't feel pressure to be part of the mold other people want to squish me into. I know who I am, I'm OK with it. I'm good with the few friends I have, I don't feel like I need to get into the rat race and try to be liked by everyone. It's not my style, and it's a waste of time. People that over extend themselves in human relationships are excusing themselves from really truly getting to know someone well, well enough to be a really good friend with them. I'll take my one or two friends over a handful of acquaintances any day. Lesson learned. I ended some friendships last year that needed to be ended. It was a long time coming. I learned to trust more fully in my gut feelings. These relationships we not good fits for me, but got beaten to death over and over again. Too exhausting. Too much drama and emotional baggage. I am glad to be done.

I want to help my family grow in the gospel this year. Which means a more concentrated effort in providing a peaceful environment in my home. It means more patience, more love, more time for teaching. It means watching my mouth and attitude. It means daily prayer and scripture reading. It means (dreaded) church attendance. Those are all things that are essential to the well being of our family. This is our year. Our year to get back into the game. It's time, even if it's something that is hard for me.

So, tell me. Where are you at? What is important to you this year?

Here's to 2011. Here's to having the faith to BELIEVE blessings are coming our way.

If you're aware of my secret blog, follow me over there. We have more to talk about.

Love, Misty

Humble pie.

2010-10-31T08:02:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-10-29T08:37:00.001-07:00

Love, The Nielsons

The ins and outs.

2010-10-20T08:23:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-10-08T14:11:00.001-07:00

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?

2010-09-20T22:22:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-08-04T11:31:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-08-03T17:41:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-07-21T19:20:00.001-07:00

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.

2010-07-19T10:59:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-06-28T11:49:00.000-07:00

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....

2010-06-19T14:24:00.000-07:00

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....

2010-06-18T08:40:00.000-07:00

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?

2010-06-08T23:35:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-06-01T13:43:00.001-07:00

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.

2010-05-31T23:34:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-05-30T18:27:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-05-12T13:34:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-05-06T06:52:00.001-07:00

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:

2010-04-27T22:28:00.001-07:00

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.

2010-04-27T21:52:00.001-07:00

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.......

2010-04-09T14:36:00.001-07:00

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.

2010-04-08T14:17:00.000-07:00

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?

2010-04-06T12:09:00.000-07:00

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

Ramblings from the semi insane.....

2010-03-19T16:45:00.000-07:00

My thoughts are never far from my dead child, any of my children, actually. My thoughts still often wander back to last April when Andrew and I received the news that I would be induced ahead of my due date due to further complications in my pregnancy. I think about going to the hospital and listening to newborn babes cry as I held my dead baby. I loved him, too, just like all my other babies. He grew within my body, and I birthed him, just like I had my others. Yet I knew he wasn't the same. He was not meant for earth, and I was not meant to raise him. I knew this would be the largest hurdle our family would attempt to climb over. It has truly changed us. Changed me. Forever.

Isaac's birthday draws close. Grieving him, remembering him, has at times caused strain between Andrew and I. It's almost ended up being something we simply agree to disagree about. We've handled this loss very differently, and it's something I am very sensitive about. I'm drawn to Isaac's grave, Andrew is drawn to inward reflection. I am drawn to an outward display of remembrance, and Andrew is drawn to silence. It is tremendously important to me, that Isaac is remembered. Especially as the one year anniversary of his birth and death draw close. I have decided to have no expectations. I cannot expect that another would understand my loss, that has not lost similar, and I cannot expect that another remembers the same way that I do. I chose to remember and honor my son because I know he still exists. I know our love for Isaac reaches to when he resides. Isaac lives just as God does. Isaac has a home there, with Him, doing the Lord's will. Isaac is still mine. He is my boy, mine to love, and to remember. We plan to do special things for that special child on his special day. That special day that changed my life forever.

I often wonder if people stop and think about what it is like to walk in my shoes. And not only stop and think, but to do so without judgment, without shaking their heads, with out thinking they would behave so differently than I have. I wanted to share this letter I received from a very dear friend of mine, Monica. I have spent the last several days thinking about the words she took the time to write, and have felt such a love and thankfulness towards her. She took the time to understand, to care, to really, REALLY, get it:

I'm thinking of you today. Our lesson was on Abraham on Isaac today in Sunday School. Kind of a teary one to sit through because all I could think about was you and your Isaac. The lady who taught the class began the lesson by asking if we've been asked to sacrifice anything, and then after a few people gave their responses, she asked if anyone had been asked to sacrifice a child (which I personally thought was a bit insensitive, but anyway ...). All I could think was "Misty has." I almost wanted to share about you and your experience to help the teacher and maybe others realize it's an awfully tender topic to approach somewhat casually (because some people literally DO sacrifice a child or loved one), but it never felt right. Just too sacred, too personal, and well, not my story to share. I couldn't imagine how you would have felt sitting there, or how you're feeling right now as you come up on the anniversary of Isaac's birth and beautiful life, but also his passing.

I have been reading a beautiful book lately about an elderly woman looking back on her life, which included the loss of her first husband, who was pronounced MIA in World War I. As she recalls that time of her life, she says, "It is hard for me to think or speak of the time that came then. I remember it as dark. I can't remember the sun shining, though I'm sure it must have shone part of the time. I would think sometimes with a black sickness of fear and hopelessness and guilt. ..." and later on says that "The pleasures that came then had a way of reminding you that they had been pleasures once upon a time, when it seemed that you had a right to them. Happiness had a way of coming to you and making you sad. ... How can you be happy, how can you live, when all the things that make you happy grieve you nearly to death?" I wondered when I read that if those feelings were similar or true for you. I can imagine that the little joys of day-to-day living, especially as a mother, would also have a way of hurting and reminding you of all you had hoped to experience with Isaac. She then talks about how kindness was what kept her and her loved ones alive, that love is what carried them, and how she was also blessed by gratitude. She says that "sometimes I was grateful because I knew I ought to be, sometimes because I wanted to be, and sometimes a sweet thankfulness came on its own, like a singing from somewhere out in the dark. I was grateful because I knew, even in my fear and grief, that my life had been filled with gifts." I just think the way she expresses her emotions of such a difficult time are so lovely. I loved this part, too: "No big happiness came to me yet, but little happinesses did come, and they came from ordinary pleasures in ordinary things: sunlight, breezes, animals and birds, daily work, rest when I was tired, food, butterflies, flowers." I hope you are finding little happinesses, too. By the way, the name of the woman the story about is Hannah. :)

Anyway, a lot of rambling -- maybe things you relate to, maybe not. But I have been thinking about you. Thinking about you as I read books, thinking about you as I attend church, thinking about you as I watch April come closer and remember all that you were experiencing last year and imagining from miles away how you're doing this year with new heartaches and new challenges, but also new blessings and hopefully new opportunities and hopes this year. I hope Spring brings the promise of fresh starts and bright days ahead. I'm wishing that for you. I want you to have hope and joy and peace. Not that it ever fully takes away your loss, because I'm sure it can't.

I love you,
Monica

Isn't she marvelous? I love her. Always.

We're waiting right now, rather impatiently, to find out if we are pregnant again. I have not decided how much or how little I will share. The main concern I have is my privacy. As much as I want to share, I have the same desire to share at my own pace, when I feel like it's safe to do so. I know there are others from church whom read here, and have shared my private news before, when my desire was not. I don't want family members to know that particularly will look down their noses at me. And I don't want to be approached about "my news" if I'm brave enough to attend church on Sundays. It's a private thing. A scary thing. A stressful thing. Pregnancy as I have known it to be in the past, is gone forever. I'm thinking, until I have something solid to offer, most people just aren't going to know, and I am going to have to find another outlet for me to use as a coping tool. It really is THAT important to me. Most days I want to burst into tears over the joy it would bring our family, and also the sheer terror it brings to my heart. Another loss? I could not bare it.

I appreciate your reading, although I know most times I don't reply. Most of my energy each day is used towards being well for my children and husband. The gospel doesn't fix every thing. I know I will see my boy again someday, but that has not erased or masked the grief I feel in this life. It does not change that I wish things were different, that I wish he was here beside me. I still struggle. Every day. And most days, there just isn't a lot left over to give. I appreciate, more than words express, your support, and your willingness to comment and walk this road with me.

Love Forever,

Misty

Finding pieces.

2010-02-19T12:44:00.000-08:00

I’m not an Oprah watcher. But for some reason within the last 7 days I had it on while I was getting some work done for my boss. I figured the mindless chatter would distract me enough so that the time would pass quickly. The more I listened, on these 3 different occasions, the more my mind drifted back to when I was a child. The three shows you wonder? Two on child molesters, one on reuniting with lost family.

My family is broken. I know no one likes to think of their family that way, but it is true. I don’t have the greatest relationship, or NO relationship with my brother anymore. My Aunt and I have parted ways, and I have long since said good riddance to my abusive adopted parents. I’ve been fortunate enough to hang on to my biological grandparents, and have started more sincerely nurturing a relationship with my sister within the last 6 months. One thing that really stuck out to me was this sentence: “You cannot find peace until you have found all of the pieces”. That brings tears to my eyes, because part of me feels that this is true. Another part, not true. I was saddened to find out that my biological father died a few months after my youngest child did last year. I found myself angry because I began to think about how that man knew he was dying and never reached out. He never made amends, he never said sorry. He never said sorry for deciding to give my brother, sister, and I away to his best friend. He chose a woman over us. And not only that, I was molested and haunted by this man. I feared him, he stole a piece of me that I can never back. We slept on the floor over a heating vent so that we would not be soaked in urine while sharing a bed with one of his other children. We hid in our rooms so we did not have to watch all the sex that was displayed around their home freely. I made a plan to run away with my brother. That never happened…… Another sentence from those shows I found to be true: When a child is molested you steal (from them) the person they could have become. That is true. I will never be the Misty I could have been. I am different. I am scarred. I am broken in that sacred way. Another sentence from those shows, was something to the effect of: a child that has been taught that they cannot trust their parents, learns they can trust almost no one. How does a child learn love and safety when they are not loved and safe with the human beings that gave them LIFE. I don’t keep many friends. I fear people hurting me, family or not. If trust is broken with in a friendship, I rarely return. If I don’t feel safe in a friendship or valued, I flee. Many times in my life I have found myself alone. And that was ok with me, because I knew I was safe. I think of my children often. They are at the age that I suffered some terrible things. My mother disappeared into the night, around the time of Easter, and I never saw her again. There were times we had no food. There were times my mother turned tricks to make money. There were times my sister had to steal in order to put food into our bodies. We knew how to hide from men, we feared much of the human race. I never learned to trust. Tired of that? So. Am. I. Tired of me being defensive and misunderstanding your intentions? So am I. Tired my need to feel loved and valued? So am I.

I think about my adoptive parents and the stage they set for my childhood. No love. No freedom. No care. No joy. I work every day of my life to NOT be them. Am I a perfect mother? Far from it, I’m afraid to admit. But one thing I have conquered is this: LOVE. Love for my children. They are happy, and nurtured, and safe. They are loved, and they KNOW it. They are VALUED, and they know it. They are SAFE, and they KNOW it. Many, many things I have gotten wrong - - but this, this I have not. My children know of their great and priceless self worth.

Loving my children as fiercely as I do has set the stage for me to love my child that I gave birth to, and held him as he died. He, TOO, knew he was loved. He, too, knew he was safe in my arms, that I chose HIM, that I chose to love him, all of him. I chose to love my child that I would not raise. I chose to love him as much as my other children. Isaac was our family lesson in love. I think about becoming pregnant again, and I think about making choices for my family, and not being willing to carry a child again like Isaac, and that I am afraid. I trust in the Lord to make blessings available to our family, even the ones that we cannot understand, and I pray for the faith to follow through any coming trials with hope. We are writing our family love story one day at a time, and we’ll include what God has in store for us, even if it is not what we had hoped or dreamed for.

I am still dreaming in Utah. I am still healing my broken heart over my dead child, and I am still healing over my latest miscarriage. We are praying carefully to have the knowledge to know how to proceed with pregnancy here on out, and for all things considering our children and life together. We don’t seek anyone else’s understanding or approval except for a loving Father in Heaven. Happy days are ahead. For you. For us. I can feel it. Walk with me until then, and even after.

Shout to the Lord.

2010-01-25T23:12:00.000-08:00

My Jesus, my Savior
Lord there is none like You
All of my days
I want to praise
the wonders of Your
mighty love

My comfort, my shelter
tower of refuge and strength
Let every breath
all that I am
Never cease to worship You

Shout to the Lord
all the earth let us sing
power and majesty praise to the King
Mountains bow down
and the seas will roar
at the sound of Your Name

I sing for joy
at the work of Your hand
Forever I'll love You
forever I'll stand

Nothing compares to the promise I have in You....

Isn't this what it's about, my sweet friends? "Shout to the Lord, all the earth let us sing: power and majesty praise to The King."? I have been sitting here for about an hour. Listening to these words, soaking them in. I won't deny that God and I have had a strained relationship as of late, that Jesus and I are working out a few kinks.... I can admit that. And as I admit that, I can also say, I'm not weak, I'm human. I have feelings. My heart has been broken in new ways the last year. I'm doing my personal best to work that out.

I listened to these words many years ago, a girl, living in a home where there was no love. Where there was abuse - emotional, verbal, physical. Where there was harshness and no joy. Where there was pain. I struggled years to understand that, I STILL struggle to understand. I'm still working THAT out.

Although I may not always understand my Father in Heaven, and although I may not understand my Savior, I LOVE them. I worship Them, I take refuge in Their ability to see me though this chapter of my life. I have faith that brighter days are ahead, and that my most sincere and worthy desires will come to pass, that there will be more joy in our family, that I will bare more children.

Brighter days are ahead friends, even if for now, the days seem dark, and the nights are long.

"My comfort, my shelter - tower of refuge and strength, let every breath, all that I am, never cease to worship You.".

I dreamed a dream....

2010-01-18T22:16:00.001-08:00

It’s been an “interesting” few weeks. It’s a long road, to say the least, navigating the road of infant loss. It’s an even longer road to navigate when you have a miscarriage after infant loss. People say they can’t imagine. They’re right. You can’t really. You really, really cannot imagine what it does to a person. And yet, I manage, to strap this new loss under my belt, and continue on to manage my daily responsibilities.

Miscarriage. A “normal” loss most women experience if they have had several pregnancies, where fertility and genetics aren’t to blame, something just didn’t go right. That’s my doctor’s way of saying not to worry - - my fertility is intact, my genetics aren’t screwed up, it’s bound to happen, this is my 5^th pregnancy. I have to wonder though, what is God’s plan for me? For my family? I understand that my growing family will expand as He wills, and in His timing. I trust in that. Andrew and I have prayed in secret, and prayed together. I have pleaded for the quiet whisperings of the Spirit to lead me in the right direction. Do we try again right away after we have my OB’s ok, or do we wait? I’m listening. I’m willing to follow His guidance and path for myself. I feel thankful that I have been given those answers. I don’t know what the outcome will be in the future, but I have been given hope. And given confidence in following God’s plan for our family, whether family or friends understand or agree. It’s truly between me and my Lord.

I have spent the last few weeks reflecting on my friendships and what roles they play in my life. I have thought about what my needs are as a woman whom is seeking certain values in friendship. I have thought about who I can truly lean on, trust in. I have thought about who my secrets are safe with, and who they are not. I’ve let some friendships fade away, while grabbing more tightly onto others. I feel thankful to have a small circle of women around me that have the ability to love me, my faults, my short comings, my bad days, while loving me for the good qualities I possess as well. I’m ok with where I’m at, and I’m ok with the short list of friends I keep.

I think about Spring and Summer coming along in a few months. I think about getting pregnant again, and the dreams attached to that. I have a dream for my garden this year, and a dream for new rose bushes, and hot summer days at the pool. I dream about shooting hoops with the kids and playing tag and hide-n-seek. Summer is a carefree time for my family. I look forward to those days that are around the corner. We need them. We need another summer with few rules, and no schedules, and lots of laughter and love.

My days are busy, as many of you can appreciate. Being a stay-at-home-mom while contracting work out in internet marketing/website promotion, managing a household, and the cooking and cleaning and the laundry and bills and focusing on nurturing my marriage….. We’re doing ok. We’re getting done what needs to get done with a lot of love and laughter along the way. We’ve been setting goals for our family weekly – this week we are focusing on reading 5 verses from the scriptures daily. I’ve struggled with church attendance for many months now. For many reasons. God and I have a strained relationship right now. We talk, we don’t talk. I do my best to obey, but fall short in many ways. I’m trying to work this one out.

My bleeding from the D&C has slowed down, I’d classify it more as “spotting”. I’m ready to be done with that part. Ready to be done with the reminder I see many times a day. I’m ready to move forward to watch for a fresh start and to watch and see what my body does. I have a 2 week check up coming shortly, and then I wait for 2 hearty periods, and then we move forward. Move forward with faith. And with a dream.

Dream with me, won’t you?

Lost the baby.

2010-01-08T08:02:00.000-08:00

I miscarried this week. I had a D&C done yesterday to clear out the remaining tissue my body wasn't wanting to give up. Details at a later date, feeling a little rough and empty right now. I was relieved to find out there was no abnormal tissue, and that this was my first "complication" that doesn't come attached with insane odds. My OB sees a miscarriage 1 out of every 6 pregnancies, where he's only seen Anencephaly TWICE in 25 years, Isaac was the second. This was just one of those things - - many, many women have miscarriages, and nature came through when something did not connect right. We'll rest, and try again down the road. Doctor said all my labs and vitals are excellent. What a hard knock though.... I mean... really........

Love, Misty

Cheese it up!

2009-12-29T19:36:00.000-08:00

These are the pictures I sent out of the children for Christmas. We used this little bear to represent Isaac, and I edited his initials in. This bear is made out of a blanket I had him wrapped in....

I'm Sticking Around.

2009-12-26T19:16:00.001-08:00

Matthew 5:16 (King James Version)
Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few weeks. Thinking about my family. Thinking about the harsh words that have flown around, and about the judgments that have been passed. I truly have NOTHING to be ashamed of, and I will NOT hide like I have done something wrong. I won’t hide my blog or my journal entries or my thoughts and feelings just because somebody else thinks differently than I know to be true. I claim my imperfections as my OWN. I own the areas I have to grown within, and I also own the areas of my life that I have soared though. For those that are with me, bless you. For those of you that judge me, don’t understand me, mock me, and try to hurt me, I DON’T CARE. There is no room for you in my life. Not now, not before, not ever.

Christmas? Bummer. I tried, I TRIED so hard this year to keep everything normal and bubbly and happy. I think I did a pretty good job. I did a good job at hiding my sadness, and I did a good job not raining on anyone’s parade. My kids had a BLAST. They felt joy, and I felt proud of myself that I was able to give them that. They felt loved and adored and appreciated and spoiled. I felt empty, angry, and sad. I still do. I know the “reason for the season”, and I know I have much to be thankful for, but I still miss my boy. Christmas this year wasn’t the same without him. I cringe when I think about last Christmas. I was 20 weeks along, sailing through the holidays, convinced as ever that I was carrying a healthy robust baby. On January 15th that air was let out of my sails in a big way. Never again to be the same Misty. Never again.

I think about this baby I am carrying. We prayed for this baby. We prayed to conceive him or her. We prayed for the answer to know when it was appropriate to allow for the chance to become pregnant again. We carefully spoke to the children about having another sibling in the family, and what that meant, and how they felt. I took my vitamins and folic acid for months before, and continue every day to take them now. I wish MORE than anything that I could feel safe and secure in this dream for our family. I wish I could feel more joy. I wish I could walk around pregnant the way I used to before I had a dead baby. I wish I believed like I used to that nothing would go wrong. I wish I could allow myself to bond to this baby, to fully trust in the Lord. I am scared shitless. Scared out of my head and heart. Scared shitless.

I KNOW things can go wrong. What happens if they go wrong again?? Would God ask this of me and my family again? Could I carry another baby to term that would die again?? How on earth could I do it twice? I pray, with every thought, that this will not be so. God promised me, in his own way, that this child that I am carrying now will be healthy. That this child will live. How on earth can I muster up the faith to whole heartedly believe in that?? I am trying. Trying and trying, and believing and believing, and praying and praying.

So now we wait. We wait and pray and look for the beauty in all things. We praise God for this blessing and beg His Son to carry us through. I can’t do it alone. It takes every ounce of my energy to just be. To just be the wife and mother that I already am. I take care of my family. I take care of myself. I hold down my job, and take care of my home - - but right now there isn’t much left over - - not much left over for extended family, for church, for life outside of my bubble.

Pray and believe with me that this baby will be well. That we will experience this joy again, and that I can live day to day feeling blessed to have been given the gift of another pregnancy in my life. Next year could be so different. SO different. Journey with me there, won’t you??

Oh Baby.

2009-12-10T11:22:00.000-08:00

Talk about dazed and confused. I was convinced I wasn't going to be pregnant this month. Well, God delivered. And here we go, bouncing off onto the journey of Nielson baby number FIVE. I'm ready. The kids are ready. My husband? He's happy, too. Let's hang on together, this is gonna be a bumpy ride.

My sweetest Isaac is behind my every thought. How we miss him, and love him.

We're plowing through the holidays - getting prepared and embracing joy as joy finds us.

As promised, lets have today be the *late* start of our holiday give-aways!

Go HERE to view a hand crafted bracelet honoring infant and pregnancy loss, as well as SIDS awareness. Sue, the owner of My Forever Child, graciously donated this item to help me thank YOU for walking this journey with me. If you're looking for a piece of remembrance jewelry, look no further. She's your woman, and she'll do what it takes to guarantee your satisfaction.

Want to win? Leave me a comment. I want to know who you are and what has led you to my blog. It's about time I got to know you better.

Love, Misty

Sweet dreams, Baby.

2009-11-21T07:37:00.000-08:00

It's 8:38am, Saturday morning. It's quiet. Every one is sleeping. I can hear the different rhythm of each child's breathing. It's a peaceful sound. Listening and typing away behind the soft glow of my computer - it's peaceful.

I have my tree up. We'll decorate it while we make our Thanksgiving feast, which is actually our tradition, but it's been up a while. With gifts wrapped in lovely paper, bows, matching tags. Christmas is soothing to me. The lights of the tree soothes my nerves. Gifts under my tree represent love and joy, and the magic of childhood.

Christmas was not always like that for me. Living with my parents we were lucky to help decorate the tree, if that happened at all. We were not allowed in the living room, ever, to look at the tree. My parents were very unimpressed with the holiday. We were given very generic gifts - gloves, boots, socks - - all came in sets of threes, all the same color, same style. It didn't matter if you were a boy or girl. I don't remember a single toy my parents (or Santa) ever brought me. Not one. There was no joy behind gift giving and no joy behind shopping for that perfect gift. We were lucky to even have our look-a-like gifts - - my parents didn't think anything of doing away with holidays - - no trick or treating, no Easter baskets...... none of it.

All of the things my parents hated about Christmas, I ADORE. I love shopping for those I love. I love finding the perfect gift. I love pouring over toys and selecting ones I know my children will love. I love the hunt to maximize my money. I love gifts under the tree. Gifts, for me, represent love. They represent the love and joy I have over the holidays, over my family, over the magic of the season.

This Christmas represents the love I have for my God and for my Savior. I've had a hard time showing it. Feeling it even. When I listen to the stirring music of the season my heart thumps in my chest as a testimony I have. I find myself crying as I listen, as I feel the reason of the season. God lives. Christ lives. I identify with the sacrifice that was given. I gave up my boy. God did the same.

I miss my sweet Isaac with every breath that I have. Many times my heart hurts so that I fear that it will break from the physical pain I feel. I have a weary heart, sweet friends. Such a weary, sad heart.

The greatest gift I gave this year was life. I gave life to my boy, even though I knew he would die. His spirit was tenderly given a body, no matter how broken it was. He was - correction he IS - the most valiant and pure child - spirit, even - that I have ever been fortunate to come into contact with. I am thankful for him, for his life, for what he has given me. His sweet face will never be erased from my mind. Those full cheeks and loving eyes, and his mighty soul. I will never forget the mightiness of his spirit and the army angels he showed up with. He is my soldier in heaven. Always. And I am his Mama, always. No one, no one can ever change that.

Sweet dreams, sweet baby boy, but I have a feeling there is not sleeping to be had in heaven.

Love, Misty

PS: Come back soon, if you will. We're kicking off the holidays with a series of giveaways. The catch? Getting to KNOW you, my reader.

Still?

2009-11-13T20:11:00.000-08:00

Isaac died April 8th. The morning of April 9th Andrew and I made the decision that by 8am, we would call the mortician to come for the baby. I remember feeling very angry when I spoke to the nurse about hospital protocol. She told me that Andrew and I would have to call the mortician to take IT away, that we would have to decide what time was best. I remember clutching Isaac to my chest and thinking how dare she call my baby an IT. She wouldn't be calling a LIVE baby an IT. What a bitch. I hurt too badly to do anything about it.

I had spent the night before beating myself up for being so tired. I was so frustrated with myself because I wanted to spend every second with Isaac that I could. I counted the hours down. I kept telling myself... I can hold him 8 more hours... then 5 more hours.... then two, then one. Then the moment came when Isaac was taken from my arms. Nothing has ever hurt me more. How could this be? How could this be that my baby was dead? That I was in these shoes? Not me. This was not for me. The craziness, where my mind went, the rocking back and forth until I fell against my pillow not being able to fight anymore. That. Was. Not. Me. Yet it was.

I asked the doctor to let me leave. I was able to the next morning. Lisa spent the night with me, Andrew was with the kids. All I could think about was how I was going to get the hell out of the hospital. Being stuck in that room. Listening to other new born babies cry. My baby was lieing dead and cold on some metal slab. I was stuck on the Mother Baby floor of the hospital like some sick joke.

Andrew came to take me home. I walked in like a zombie. Home. Not pregnant. No baby. Easter was a few days away. I phoned the funeral home, they could squeeze us in to dress the baby for burial. We had a 2 hour slot. I remember how fortunate I felt that we had 2 WHOLE hours. That seemed worth it's weight in gold. So off we went - Andrew, the children, and I. We walked in the small little room, and there Isaac lay, and he looked so perfect. He's beautiful, I told the mortician. The man that had cared for Isaac had done such a lovely job. He looked perfect. We took the children out, so that I could change Isaac's hat. We didn't want the children to see Isaac's missing head, and I was touched to see that the mortician had constructed the missing part of Isaac's head out of some sturdy material, so that his hat would fit nicely. We hadn't even asked for that. I was very touched by that gesture. Hannah and Ian wanted to help dress him, so I allowed that. We sat and held the baby, and Andrew took the children back to the car so that I could have a minute alone.

I laid Isaac on the table and fiddled with his blanket. He looked perfect to me. And yet there he was, lieing next to his casket. I picked him back up and held him close to my face and whispered to him how much I loved him. The man slipped back into the room, and asked if I wanted pictures with the baby. He took a couple. Sweet man.

I walked out of the room, in pain from my surgery, and stumbled to the car. Headed back home. Still no baby. Still empty arms. Still broken-hearted.

I relive that day still. Sometimes every day. It's still not me. How can this broken-hearted mother still be me?

Thy Will be Done.

2009-11-08T22:25:00.001-08:00

I came across this last night:

All of the earth's Mothers were gathered at God's garden of flowers;

Those beautiful budding spirits

Who could someday come to earth

Were nurtured and tended in the Holy garden.

A Loving Father spoke to the Mothers of earth.

"See the works of my hands,

Someday you will be the mother's of these radiant spirits."

The Garden of God glowed with a mixture of all of the colors.

"Choose ye", He said.

Now in the East corner of the garden

Pure white roses stood as sentinels.

They were not so colorful as the rest,

But glowed with a kind of purity

Which set them apart.

One by One the Mothers stepped forward;

"I want the blue eyes one, the curly haired one,

Who will grow to maturity and be a mother in Zion."

Yet another chose a brown eyed brown haired boy,

Full of life and love

That would someday be a prince in a grand country.

The Garden buzzed with excitement as the others with their own special spirits

Those they would soon welcome into the warmth

And love of an earthy home.

Once again, Heavenly Father spoke;

"But who will take the White Roses,

The ones in the east corner of my garden?

These will return to me in purity and goodness.

They will not stay long in your home

For I must bring them back to my garden

For they belong to me

But they will gain bodies as planned

You will miss them

And Long for them

But I will personally care for them"

"NO!,NOT I" many of the earthly Mothers said in unison.

"I couldn’t bear to give one back so soon"

"Nor I" said other mothers.

We will take those who will remain and grow to maturity

and live long lives.

The Heavenly Father looked out across the multitude of Mothers

With longing in his eyes for someone to step forward

SILENCE!

Then Heavenly Father said;

"See the most pure white and perfect of all the white ones?

I chose him.

He will go down and be a sacrifice for all mankind.

He will be scorned, mocked and crucified.

He is my OWN,

Will not anyone choose like unto Him?"

A few mothers stepped forward

Yes Lord I will

Then another as well

And then some in unison said YES we will

Soon all the pure white roses were taken

And they rejoiced in the choice in their mothers.

Heavenly Father spoke again

"Oh blessed are you who chose the white roses.

Your pain will be a Heavy Cross to bear

But your joy will be exceeding

Beyond anything you can understand at this time."

The white one embraced their mothers

And so full was their purity and love

That it filled their souls with such excitement.

Each mother knew they could endure the tasks.

The GREATEST of all the white roses gathered them

As a hen gathers her chicks

And the out pouring of love surrounded each mother and child,

Consuming all the white ones and their mothers

As he prepared them for their task.

Each mother who bore the weight of the white rose

Felt the overwhelming Love of God

As they all shouted

"Thy Will be Done"

"Parents who have surrendered the sweetest and smallest flowers from the family's garden need to remember our Heavenly Father. He has promised a special reward to those who now suffer in silence, who spend long days and longer nights through their trying times of bereavement. Our Creator has promised glory. He said, 'For after much tribulation come the blessings. Wherefore the day cometh that ye shall be crowned with much glory; the hour is not yet, but nigh at hand.' (D&C 58:4) That promised glory includes the blessing of reunion with each child who has left the family circle to help surviving members of the family to draw nearer to God. Those children still live and are a heritage to the Lord." Russell M. Nelson

How do your shoes fit?

2009-11-04T21:27:00.000-08:00

I am wearing a pair of shoes. They are ugly shoes. Uncomfortable shoes. I hate my shoes. Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair. Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step. Yet, I continue to wear them. I get funny looks wearing these shoes. They are looks of sympathy. I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs. They never talk about my shoes. To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable. To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them. But, once you put them on, you can never take them off. I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes. There are many pairs in this world. Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them. Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much. Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt. No woman deserves to wear these shoes. Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman. These shoes have given me the strength to face anything. They have made me who I am. I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

-Author unknown

Hiding out.

2009-11-01T13:04:00.000-08:00

I’ve been struggling with the right words to write – the right topics to share – the right depth of honesty to bring to the table.

I’ll admit I’ve been frustrated. I’ve been frustrated with the lack of understanding from person to person. The struggle to get pregnant is a very personal one. For someone to tell me to “be positive” about it is offensive. They don’t know my inner struggle with intimacy. They don’t know how desperate I feel about having another child. Trying to get pregnant after losing a child is different than plain old trying to get pregnant. Trying to get pregnant WITH fertility issues is different than trying to get pregnant without. Having gotten pregnant easily, right after your baby died, is different than waiting now 7 months to become pregnant after your baby died. Trying for 18 months, is different than trying for 7. It’s a touchy subject for me. I don’t necessarily want someone else’s opinion. You read that right - - I DON’T.

I don’t like to be asked if I’m pregnant yet. I don’t like someone to ask where I am in my cycle or treatment process. Looking back over the last couple months has made me evaluate how much I want to share – what is too much, and what is too little. I think it all really boils down to how I feel about it - - if I want someone to know about it, I’ll share. Otherwise, don’t bother bringing it up. Like it isn’t a smack in the face?? Like it’s your business??

I’m starting to feel more excited for the holidays. My heartache is so heavy and constant over Isaac being dead, but we’re finding ways to include him. He’s mine. He’s unique, he’s real. I would have done for him had he lived, why should I lose out on that now??

Below are the kids for Halloween. They are darling. They give me so much joy. I’ll admit I think about the blessing of being able to “start over” with a new baby ALL of the time, but it has not taken away how much I LOVE my older babies now. I cherish and enjoy each and every day with them - - because really, who is to say that this isn’t it for me, too?? Love who you have. All the time.

Love, Misty

In order:
Isaac's pumpkin.
Olivia as a clown.
Ian as a ninja.
Hannah as a butterfly.

No dice.

2009-10-01T21:11:00.000-07:00

Well, friends. Nothing happy to report here. My period started today. I'm feeling empty and sad tonight. But. Any child I have dreamed of before in the past, has been worth the effort and heartache it's taken to conceive him or her.

There is a lack of understanding when it comes to trying to conceive after you've had a child die. I'd had a lot of reactions. Most reactions could have been remedied with my middle finger, but I chose the higher ground. To ignore. To bite my tongue. Some people just don't get it.

They don't get what this next baby means to me. This next baby means that I am NOT done bearing children. This next baby means hope. Means new life. Means another chance. Another dream. This child means a dream come true. There is NOTHING more important to me, besides my faith, my husband, that compares to how I feel about motherhood. It IS my calling in life.

This next child does not mean I am replacing my dead child. Isaac's place in our family is secure and forever. The desire to raise another child did not die along with Isaac. The desire grew.

When Isaac died, my security did. The security I placed in knowing my dreams would come true died with him. People say to me "at least you KNOW you can get pregnant again". People say "at least you KNOW you can have healthy children".

Do I KNOW that? No. No, I do not. I "KNEW" Isaac would be born and that he was mine to raise. I took my pregnancy for granted. What I did not "know", was what was ahead. I did not KNOW he would die. I did not KNOW he would be diagnosed with a fatal birth defect, that he would die in my arms.

I do now KNOW if I can get pregnant again. I do not KNOW if I will have a healthy baby. My fate isn't my own choice. All I KNOW is that I want another baby. All I KNOW is that I am going to try. I don't KNOW if I have faith. I don't KNOW if God hears me.

All I have is my dream. And what is most important to me. For now anyway.

I know I am broken. That I am tired. That all I have right now is what I can claim for myself that is tangible. All I have is my dreams, what ever is left of them. That's what I KNOW. Anything beyond that? Some one else has those answers.

Uncle.

2009-09-30T08:48:00.000-07:00

I've found myself anxious over getting pregnant again. Mainly because I REALLY want to be pregnant but I am PRETTY sure I am not. And, I'll be honest. I'm a little angry - well, maybe A LOT angry about it. Isaac already died. I carried that baby for God. The least He could do would to let me get pregnant right away, right?? I'm fully aware that's not how it works. I've gotten the short end of the stick for much of my life.... abandoned by both biological parents and adoptive parents. Molested. Beaten. Abused. Neglected. That was enough right?? Not so. I had to have the death of my youngest child thrown in there to. What's next? Job loss?? The death of my spouse? Something worse? Trust me, I don't rule it out. But. I will tell you this. I. Am. Broken. In pieces. I cry UNCLE. I cried it months ago.

I stumbled across this website this morning: www.recover-from-grief.com. I pulled off the information below:

7 Stages of Grief...

1. SHOCK & DENIAL-
You will probably react to learning of the loss with numbed disbelief. You may deny the reality of the loss at some level, in order to avoid the pain. Shock provides emotional protection from being overwhelmed all at once. This may last for weeks.

2. PAIN & GUILT-
As the shock wears off, it is replaced with the suffering of unbelievable pain. Although excruciating and almost unbearable, it is important that you experience the pain fully, and not hide it, avoid it or escape from it with alcohol or drugs.

You may have guilty feelings or remorse over things you did or didn't do with your loved one. Life feels chaotic and scary during this phase.

3. ANGER & BARGAINING-
Frustration gives way to anger, and you may lash out and lay unwarranted blame for the death on someone else. Please try to control this, as permanent damage to your relationships may result. This is a time for the release of bottled up emotion.

You may rail against fate, questioning "Why me?" You may also try to bargain in vain with the powers that be for a way out of your despair ("I will never drink again if you just bring him back")

4. "DEPRESSION", REFLECTION, LONELINESS-
Just when your friends may think you should be getting on with your life, a long period of sad reflection will likely overtake you. This is a normal stage of grief, so do not be "talked out of it" by well-meaning outsiders. Encouragement from others is not helpful to you during this stage of grieving.

During this time, you finally realize the true magnitude of your loss, and it depresses you. You may isolate yourself on purpose, reflect on things you did with your lost one, and focus on memories of the past. You may sense feelings of emptiness or despair.

5. THE UPWARD TURN-
As you start to adjust to life without your dear one, your life becomes a little calmer and more organized. Your physical symptoms lessen, and your "depression" begins to lift slightly.

6. RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH-
As you become more functional, your mind starts working again, and you will find yourself seeking realistic solutions to problems posed by life without your loved one. You will start to work on practical and financial problems and reconstructing yourself and your life without him or her.

7. ACCEPTANCE & HOPE-
During this, the last of the seven stages in this grief model, you learn to accept and deal with the reality of your situation. Acceptance does not necessarily mean instant happiness. Given the pain and turmoil you have experienced, you can never return to the carefree, untroubled YOU that existed before this tragedy. But you will find a way forward.

You will start to look forward and actually plan things for the future. Eventually, you will be able to think about your lost loved one without pain; sadness, yes, but the wrenching pain will be gone. You will once again anticipate some good times to come, and yes, even find joy again in the experience of living.

Pee already.

2009-09-21T22:32:00.000-07:00

Alright ladies.

I am sitting here tonight. It's 11:33pm. I have the STRONGEST compulsion to get a pregnancy test. Actually I have three shoved in the hall closet, but I REALLY want to take one and I REALLY want to see a positive. Trouble is, I REALLY should not be testing until the end of the month. Testing you ask?? YES. Testing. This is the first month Andrew and I allowed for a pregnancy to occur. I was able to start one of my fertility treatments, which showed success, so could this be the month??? Ya think??? Maybe???

Now.

What happens if it is not??

I think I might be a little heartbroken. Maybe even a lot. But. I have a plan B. I can go into my OBGYN and get my hands on the other 2 meds I've needed in the past to produce ovulation. So if not this month. Maybe one soon.

But.

I REALLY want it to be this month. Don't you REALLY want it to be this month for me too??

Life changes.

2009-09-08T16:14:00.000-07:00

I need something from YOU!!

Life changes, doesn't it, after you experience a loss?? And I'm talking all loss - - a parent, a friend, a spouse, a child. Let's get grieving out in the open. This is how we're going to do this.

ALL comment are to be shared anonymously. I will change my settings for this specific post. This is what I am looking for: I want to know how your life has changed during your grieving process. It's all out there: marriages change, friendships change, your family dynamic changes, your personality, feelings, dreams - - it ALL changes. It's private. It's heart breaking. It's hard to talk about it, share about. It is for me. The really secret stuff.

This is your time to let it all hang out. Tell me how your life has changed. After all the comments are in, I'm simply going to post them.

Let's not travel alone in this.

I'm ready to share, are you??

I mean this.

2009-09-02T18:56:00.000-07:00

I wanted to further explain something I wrote in my last post.

I was not meaning to blow off the few friends I have that have done their best to be here for me. I have had a friend being meals into my home. I've had a neighbor bring bread and flowers. I've had care packages in the mail. I have a friend that curled up by me on the couch as I cried for my sweet boy. I've had emails, a play date or two, a phone call from time to time.

What I wanted to explain is what I have needed, that another bereaved mother has provided to me in friendship:

1. I don't have to worry about talking about my son too much. I don't have to worry about making some one feel awkward.

2. I can talk to her about how my marriage has changed.

3. I can talk to her about this sadness has changed every day life.

3. I can talk to her about how much I love my boy, but she understands how much I hurt because I miss him.

4. She can understand that the constant care, and checking in, and cute emails and notes is something I love. I need people to remember, because I hurt every day.

5. I know she won't tire of my journey because she is journeying the same one. I know she is patient with me, and understands why I would and still do hurt. She understands that it's possible to hurt, even if you have faith in God, and she understands it's possible to hurt, even if you have moments of joy. I don't feel judged by her.

It's not that I don't appreciate what others have done for me, but I appreciate having a friend, too, that is in my same boat.

I'm sorry if I hurt anyone's feelings. I guess it's just how it is sometimes.

Letting it all hang out.

2009-09-01T23:19:00.000-07:00

You know it’s one of those bad kinda nights, when it’s just you and your three year old up at 11 and you turn to her and say “Hey, Livvy, you wanna go buy some chocolate cake?”. She agreed, so off we went! While I was at Albertsons a homeless man approached me in the store, and asked if he could have a couple bucks. I normally wouldn’t grab my wallet in this kind of situation, where he was close enough to grab all I had and run, but there was a clerk nearby, so I proceeded. As I opened my wallet the man says: I LOVE you. I smiled. He notices I have a 10, and says: How about that 10 instead? I gave him the 2 bucks and off he went.

Some days I wonder why I blog. It is really in my best interest that I wear my heart on my sleeve? Bare my soul? Let it all hang out? I think it’s best that I have an outlet. I also think it’s best that I share in case some other bereaved mother happens across what I’ve written and doesn’t feel alone. That’s the real reason. I feel alone now. Someone else should not have to.

I generally don’t throw pity parties for myself. I was raised to “shut the hell up”. You don’t cry. You don’t complain. You don’t moan. You are not weak. You pretend what is happening is ok. You look the other way. I’ve had a lot of practice being closed off, pretending not to hurt, keeping my tears in. I found myself over 2 facebook chats tonight being honest. I reached out, over my chocolate cake, and admitted how lost I feel. And then the chatting turned into me sobbing like a maniac over my computer screen. And for a moment, I felt a little better. God made facebook for me. He and I aren’t really on speaking terms right now, so He gave me facebook chat, right?

I was talking to one of my greatest friends tonight. She lost her Noah to Anencephaly like I lost my Isaac, and we met through blogging. She is one of my greatest blessings. We talk often on the phone. We laugh, we cry, we curse, we empathize. We were talking about our friendship today, and I said to her: You know why God gave you to me? God gave you to me because I would otherwise have no one. I don’t really have any one else I can talk to about the baby. I fully admit I have trust issues. What I really want someone to do is hold me like a baby so I can cry like one, but I just can’t let myself be that vulnerable. It’s hard for me. It takes me a long time to learn to trust someone. I have spurts of bravery where I can reach out. Then days of hiding in my home. I needed her. She is my gift.

When I tell you I am ok, I’m really not. My heart is weary and I am really tired. I hurt deeply, and I don’t want to have to justify my journey to anyone else. I don’t want to explain that really what I am doing is most healthy. I just want someone to squeeze my hand, and accept me for where I am at. I want someone to do something for me to make me smile. I just want to be something. Something I can’t even explain.

I blog so someone else feels like they have someone else that understands.

And now…. Now I’ve got a date with chocolate cake and my kid. ‘Til next time.

In the sand.

2009-08-26T13:11:00.000-07:00

Healing, aren't they? Thank you Celia.

Think again.

2009-08-24T22:49:00.001-07:00

I'm sitting here bopping my head to Olivia's techno piano playing. Those electronic pianos. The louder-than-necessary, have-to-play-it-all-the-time-or-I-will-die key boards. Oh yes. Those ones. Bring it on.

I have a new talent. Now this one, I have REALLY perfected. It involves my mouth and my foot. Get the picture?

I find myself feeling a little irritated tonight. I've been reading through my normal set of blogs, but some how missed some posts. Dude. Don't even get me started.

Where am I at now? I'm kinda at that faze where every one else has forgotten about Issac, and most people are tapping their fingers in anticipation for me to "get over it" already. You have the well-meaning folk that think they "understand" where you're at, and think they can some how just hurry you up through the process. Then the others that still hide from you in fear that - heaven forbid - you mention you dead child's name. And then you have those friends - you know, the really good ones, that have managed to stick by you, through thick and thin, just letting you be - ya know - your "new" self.

Let me take a stab at explaining what nearly 5 months means to me. Isaac will have been dead for 5 months now on September 8th. It still seems like yesterday I placed him in his casket for the last time.

I have now endured 5 months of endless heartache. I still miss my baby, still wouldn't mind taking him back, still cry for him every day. It is still hard for me to see other babies. I still cry nearly every time I speak about him. My heart still aches, it physically hurts. My mind wanders to him many times a day. I am still grieving.

I still like my house the best. I still like, for the most part, not seeing people. I like my safe place, even if does not include many people around me. I hate feeling like I'm being hurried up. I hate the impatience I see, the irritation of not being "myself" yet. It angers me, like I should have to explain to some one else that has no clue, that how I'm doing, is just fine. My children are cared for and loved. I work 25 hours a week. I keep a tidy home. I prepare healthy meals for my children. I play card games and basketball and take walks and chat on the phone and read and blog and laugh and play. I do all those things, and yet my heart is still broken.

I find it offensive when another would question my faith in God, because I still grieve for my son. Make no mistakes friends, I know where my child is. I know he lives. As much as I know that he lives, I know that I must learn to live my life with out him here in my home. And for one second, imagine it for yourself. Imagine carrying your baby for 25 weeks, and then being told he would die then be willing to carry him for 15 weeks more. Love him, feel him alive, then plan his funeral. Plan his funeral and plan how to say goodbye. Figure out how to watch your children's hearts break. Figure out how to manage their sorrow and then your own. Give birth to your baby. Meet him. Feel his heart beat. Watch him die in your arms, along with all of your dreams of raising him. Feel your love for him, you love him no less than your other children, but know his life was meant only to be a fleeting moment because your Maker and your son's called him home. Come home empty handed and broken hearted. Feel your body heal, but realize your heart isn't. Place your baby in his casket, listen to your children sob, feel your body heave with sorrow. Imagine your child arms length under ground. Figure out with all your might how to move on. Figure out how to grieve so that you don't alarm your children. Figure out how to keep your grief hidden. Miss your child. Dream of him. Remember him. Remember that he's dead. Imagine how it was to carry a child to term, and in one breath say hello and goodbye. Don't for one minute think that my journey has to meet your expectations, it's barely meeting mine.

Owl.

2009-08-10T22:22:00.001-07:00

I'm a night owl. Naturally my kids have followed suit. Our summer schedule has been non-existent. We've played the days away. Stayed up way too late at night, slept in way too late in the morning. We've skipped baths some days and let chores wait until another time, and, seriously, it's been blissful. I had lofty goals of making the kids journal and get their summer reading in, and instead we've watched movies and colored pictures and snuggled the hours away. Part of me feels a little guilty, but part of me doesn't. We've needed it. We've just needed to be comfy in our own skin, we've needed to be carefree, and obligation free, and I've loved it. Summer is drawing to an end though, and a huge part of me, almost ALL of me, is really sad about that. I'm sad to see the kids go, sad to see them advance another year in school, sad to seem them grow. Some days I want them to be little forever. Part of me feels saddened because I should have a baby home right now, which, for me, makes it a *little* easier on my heart for my older children to be growing so quickly. But, I don't. Isaac is dead, and it'll be another year of Olivia and I home alone. I find myself in a different stage of "nesting". The time for us to try to get pregnant again is nearly here. We're thinking September or October. I find myself thinking I should clean and get the house in order to take some pressure off of myself when I am crazy and sick with pregnancy again. What ever this need is of mine, I'm just going to go with it. If it makes me feel like I am preparing for this dream of another baby, then it can't hurt. I find myself, although missing Issac with every breath, also feeling excited about what may be ahead. Can you imagine it friends? Can you imagine the joy that could be around the corner? I allow myself to think about it some days, and every once in a while I feel this giddiness in my heart. I LOVE being pregnant. I LOVE creating life with God, and I LOVE dreaming about my children to come, and shopping for them..... buying bottles and clothes, car seats, cribs. I can almost taste it. Taste that joy. September we're allowing the possibility to become pregnant. If my body isn't producing eggs on it's on, like in the past, I will be seeing my OB in October for Metformin and Clomid again. Either way, we're moving forward and we're going to make this happen. I know it's in the cards for us. I know because my Father in heaven has whispered this to my soul. It's a frightening thing, to have faith. With faith, some days doubt lingers. I have faith in what is to come. I hold on to what I know is true. God lives. Christ reigns. Some how we all wade through life. Life moves on. Believe that.

Grieving has taken a toll on my patience. I'm more snippetity. I'm less patient. I'm not the mother I want to be right now. It's been on my mind a lot these days - - I can do better. I will do better. I know days run together and the children can be tiring, but I love what I'm doing. I love being a mother. I have it with in me to love and to nurture. THAT is the kind of woman I need to be.

This has been our summer to grieve Isaac. We've grieved him together. We still grieve him. Grieve him strongly. We're closer for it. I am a better mother for it. I can claim success for my children, that they have experienced the joy of summer. I didn't have that as a kid. I had summers full of boredom and fear. I was locked up in my room for weeks at a time. We longed for a different home, one where we were loved, one where we could just be kids. Although some moments I have failed miserably as a mother, my children have been happy, and nurtured, and loved. THAT I can claim this summer. I can still claim that I have given more to my children than that which was ever given to me. Small triumphs, dear friends, small triumphs.

Imagine it.

2009-08-06T11:19:00.000-07:00

Been there, done that. That's how I feel when I come across someone who is less than understanding about the grieving process. Been there, done that. Felt their judgment. There's been a little buzz around the blog word: those of us Moms that have had babies die full term have posted about family, friends, and by standers not supporting those of us that feel that some days we're drowning. It's made me angry the past couple days. And maybe a little embarrassed. No one likes to be perceived as weak, yet right now, I have the most "weak" moments of my life. Oddly enough though - I'm they are getting it miserably wrong. I'm not weak, I'm my own hero. I made and CHOSE to make the greatest sacrifice I have made in my entire life. I carried my child, in womb, and CHOSE to give him what ever life I could. I loved him tenderly, I showered him with adoration, I shared him, I allowed him to born, claim his body, and fly back to Jesus. Jesus exists, friends. I've felt him. God's there, too. I know Him. I know the love He has for my newborn babe. I'm strong. I birthed my child, I LOVE my child, and I dare to mourn him, though others may not. Be patient with me. Be patient with any woman in your life that has suffered a loss such as this. Let her grieve. Let her be strong in her weakness. Let her be, let her be in any moment she's having, her heart is broken just like mine. And to any others that feel like you're able to snap me, or another grieving mother out of this, this was my response to someone that thinks like yourself:

"And this is exactly what I meant - - even the thought that you would think you could make her "snap" out if it proves my point. Her children will be alright. Her husband not talking about it is normal - - my husband doesn't either. A year from now, even a month from now, there will be progress, and they'll look back very tenderly and realize that they've some how made it through. I cry for my baby every day - - I miss him, I want him back. I have retreated into my home, and I'm less patient with my children. I think about Isaac every moment of every day, even if no one else does. Time, sweet friend..... time is what helps. There is no way around, but only through it, through the grief. Even if we ALL know our children were called home to serve God, we with them here with us instead .

This I know to be true because I witnessed it myself: God exists, and that the spirit world is as real as the seat I sit on. It is a sad thing, though, to be chastised, and misunderstood. Faith or no faith, this is the trial of my life - - - feeling really low is part of the process. I appreciate that you apologized to her, and I appreciate that you took time to write me back. I know your intentions were good, and hopefully we've all learned to be more empathetic towards each other. Imagine it for yourself. If you can. I used to imagine it, and now it's my worst nightmare."

And now for a little of the humor I pride myself of: All my baby loss Mamas: We're going to get through this. There is peace that passes all understanding on the other side. *chest bump*

Yes, you read that last part right.

Convinced.

2009-08-02T09:48:00.000-07:00

I'm convinced that there is nothing that can happen to me in this life that is not precisely designed by a sovereign Lord to give me the opportunity to learn to know Him. ~ Elisabeth Elliot

Wishful thinking.

2009-07-21T12:54:00.001-07:00

I have a lot of anxiety these days. Anxiety over my dreams to become pregnant again and to bare another child. I think about it ALL of the time. The fear I feel takes my breath away. It’s almost paralyzing. Almost like I should be breathing into a brown paper bag every time it crosses my mind.

I know there are more children for us. Some times moments pass that I would rather think there are no more, that I can find peace with the children I have now. I’d like to think that, but these sweet spirits still whisper to me that they are still waiting. Some times I think if I could just birth one more healthy baby, then if something happened during a pregnancy after that, I would be willing to make this same sacrifice again. When in all reality I think it would kill me to bury another one of my children. No more. Not again. I can’t be asked twice, right?? I find myself bartering with the Lord, almost begging and pleading with him every moment of every day. Just one more chance... just... one....more... chance........

Some how women push through and make their dreams come true. Some how women silence their own fears enough to become pregnant again and trust the fate of their little one to God again. I remember that when I am afraid. I remember the promises that have been made to me. I dream of buying a new crib and clothes and bottles and formula and baby shampoo and a new car seat. I dream of lieing there listening to my baby scream after he’s born and knowing he’s mine to take home and love and raise. I won’t leave empty handed again. I won’t be wheeled out by a nursery full of newborns while I stare ahead at the wall as hard as I can, so I won’t see. I won’t be listening to other newborn babies cry for their Mamas while I hold my baby that never made a sound. I won’t dressing my newborn in burial clothing and placing him in a casket. I won’t bleed for no reason and count every day as is passes, wishing my milk would dry up. I won’t be sitting at a computer thinking I need to get back into the world again, but knowing I’m just not ready. Life a year from now can be SO different. Let’s count on that.

Picture Perfect.

2009-07-14T00:18:00.001-07:00

Flash Back.

2009-07-06T23:22:00.000-07:00

I wrote this back in January. Wanted to share. Wanted to start at the beginning.....

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.

Walking through it.

2009-06-28T21:46:00.000-07:00

Isaac's stone went in the day after Father's Day. As I was driving to go visit him and to see his marker, my mind drifted back to the day we placed him in the ground. Our service was small, only my closest friends and family were there. I remember feeling so proud of my baby and so happy to have in my arms again. He looked like a baby doll. I don't know if it was because I was doped up on Xanax, or if it was because I wasn't familiar with funerals, but I was expecting to hold Isaac through out the service. I wasn't prepared at all for when I was instructed to lay Isaac in his casket. I remember the children starting to sob and I remember the tears blinding my eyes. I remember thinking "Oh God... Father... Do I really have to say goodbye?". "Do I really have to put my child down?". I remember kissing him over and over again, like mad, laying him down, tucking him in, kissing him again, and stumbling to my chair. I really didn't want to make a scene, but I remember thinking to myself... this is why mothers fall to their knees and wail when their children die. The pain could kill you, I swear it would, I thought in that moment. Andrew was the only listed palbearer. Ian was the only listed honorary palbearer. Andrew carried the baby out. We drove Isaac, in his casket, to the grave site, on my lap. My poor baby, dead, in a box, on my lap. I was proud to do it. But I was mad as hell. I remember thinking who the hell made this decision for me. Did I really agree to this? To carry my child, only to later bury him?

It's almost been three months now. I've struggled with blogging, because there are some people that read my blog that I have decided (peacefully and confidently) that I did not want them in my life. It bothers me to have made that decision, still knowing that they can be a part of my life this way. I've thought back and forth about setting my blog to private, but I decided it was more important to keep the avenues of communication open. Not for them, but for me, and for you. I need to be able to share my story in an open forum. I cherish meeting new people, and reaching out and touching those back, that have touched my life so deeply. If another has to read my blog to keep tabs on me, then so-be-it, I wouldn't have shared with them otherwise.

Summer rolls on here. The children are happy and my days are mad busy with work and play and housework and cleaning. I have a few people I keep in touch with personally - - those would be my nearest and dearest. Othen than that, I stay home, in my "hole" as I refer to it. I keep to myself, avoiding most communication with the outside world. I like being in my own space. I like being alone. I'm different. I can't fix or change it, and don't necessarily think I should have to. We're planning ahead for our next baby. Making plans for the days, weeks, and months ahead. But for now, for now I try to make it through my days, being present in motherhood and as a wife and friend the best I know how, inspite of this huge sorrow I feel and burden I carry. Heart ache is really over rated. I'm beginning to think growth is, too. Some days I wish I could go back to how it was before. No such luck, friends. No such luck.

Child of mine.

2009-06-07T21:20:00.000-07:00

Friends, it has now been two months since Isaac joined our family. Two months of a different kind of hell and joy, that I have never experienced before.

God lives. Jesus is the Christ. I believe with my whole heart that my sweet Isaac lived in the pre-existence, just as you and I did before he was born. I believe we, together, chose the right, and those of us that chose Heavenly Father's plan, also chose to usher Satan and his followers from the heavens. I believe Isaac waited to be apart of our family. I believe Isaac waited, knowing that his Father would create a body for him that would ensure his quick return back to him. I knew, and felt in every bone of my body, that this child I was asked to carry was perfect. I knew that his soul was so mighty that he would not have to live on this earth through the trials and heartache and schooling that you and I need. This child would kiss us with his holy presence and return back to God and Christ's arms and ask what he was needed to do next. When sweet Isaac was born, and for the hours to follow, the precence of God and His love, not only for Isaac, but for me, was felt time and time again. I had completed the task I had set out to do. I had delivered my child safely back into his Heavenly Father's arms. Friends, Isaac still lives, just as Jesus and God does. I feel this in my most quiet moments, and in my most sorrowful moments, my most joyous moments. I miss him, my heart aches for him, my mind searches for the right ways in which to continue to live again.

This is the struggle. To know the right balance of joy and sorrow. To know the right balance of including Isaac's memory in our home. To know that I truly have four children, but my youngest was too mighly to be raised by his earthly mother. The struggle is to praise God for this perfect child, but to beg Him to carry me as I crawl through loneliness and heart ache. The struggle is to believe with all my heart, that this child will join our family again, some day, and that I can live to be worthy of that greatest blessing.

God is there, my sweet friends. Some of His greatest requirements of us, will truly be our largest sacrifices. Carry on. Run, walk, crawl through each day, knowing He is waiting to bare you up. Christ lives. He loves you, as He love me, also.

Carry on, endure on, and know that I carry and endure on right with you. Isaac's story is the light in our life, our hope is that we can share some of that bright light with you, and that together, our lives will be better for it. My prayer is, that God's love, through Isaac's story, will reach hundreds, and that each and every one of us will continue on, to become better, more joyous, and loving people for it. Hold your children and loved ones close tonight, as I do the same.

Love, Misty

A slideshow for our boy.....

2009-06-03T14:19:00.000-07:00

Please click on the link below to watch a tribute to our perfect and sweet little boy:

http://animoto.com/play/s6wQYCtgHPxuMz6YSm5SMw

Love, Misty and Family

Finished.....

2009-05-31T22:40:00.000-07:00

Lisa, with Isaac, after we had bathed and dressed him.

I finished getting my blog in order. Quotes had been deleted - I fixed them. I had photos up of only Olivia and Isaac on the side bar - I added more. I've gotten things switched around and simplified, just how I want. I found myself sitting here with tears rolling down my cheeks, gazing at Isaac's sweet little face. Many days I drift back to the day he was born, and I find myself wishing to go back, to visit with him, to hug him and to kiss him.

Did you know Isaac had golden blond hair? Of course his hair was wet when he was born, but when I bathed him. I could see the golden shade, as his hair dried. Because of his deformity, I couldn't see a "full head" of hair, but the hair that he had was long - an inch in length. It would have been fuzzy and poofy like Ian's had been. Ian had so much hair that when he was first brought to me after he was born, the nurse had parted his hair. I immediately messed that part right up, but when I think of it now, it makes me chuckle.

I enjoyed bathing Isaac. Holy crap was it hard to clean the vernex off of his skin. Liken it to trying to clean diaper ointment off with water - - doesn't work. Lisa was there with me, as was Andrew. The children had left with Grandma, and I was left to do what mothers do - - fuss over their babies. This time I inspected Isaac from head to toe. I asked about his head and was told it looked pretty bad. I looked anyway, and my heart skipped a beat. It was bad. Much worse than I had seen online. But. I quickly snapped into mama mode, and I asked for clean gauze and ointment, and I took care of my child's wound no different than I had taken care of my other children's wounds before. Lisa and I washed Isaac and laughed and giggled over him. He was a thick little boy. Wide shoulders like Ian's. Burly and sweet. I had my Johnsons and Johnsons baby lotion with me - the pink, origional kind, which is my favorite. I've used it on all of my babies, just like my grandmother had used it on me when I was a child. I rubbed lotion onto Isaac and loved him and kissed him. Lisa helped me dress him and we situated a hat on his sweet little head. I could NOT believe how sweet he looked, perfect in every way. I was amazed at how quickly his body turned cold. I didn't like the feeling. He body was becoming stiff, and I felt better to have his sweet little self wrapped snuggly in a blanket. Soon after we took more pictures, soon after that, they moved me to the Mother Baby floor..........

Did I mention it is summer vacation here? I've got some pictures to post, I'll do that later in the week. It's been a little hectic. It's a little tiresome working out all of the bickering and arguements, but I feel so content that my house is full. I try not to think about Isaac missing. I think about the coming year, and I am looking forward to the fall months. We had the ok to start trying for another baby in October. For a minute today I thought about that, and felt the same excitement I've felt in the past thinking about that possibility.... buying a new crib, new clothes, a car seat, lotions and shampoos, bottles, formula..... It would be a dream come true. A dream come true. And then, I admit, a little panic set in, and I'm snapped back to reality. I can worry about that another day...........

Do me a favor, if I haven't been to your blog yet, comment and let me know. I'm trying harder to visit blogs and trying harder to get to know you better. Let me know where you are, and I'll stop by.... It's important to me.

Till then, I'll be thanking God for your support.

Let me clarify....

2009-05-30T14:35:00.000-07:00

I wanted to make sure that you women knew how much I love and appreciate you. There are women (you) who read my blog, and comment knowing I don't get back to you often. I'm working on that. What I didn't mention is that I need YOU to keep reading and sharing your support and stories with me. I pull much strength from those, who are strangers, and have reached out to touch my hand, through blogging and emails. Thank you. Thank you for loving me, although you're still getting to know me. Thank you for cheering me on and telling me you care, and telling me how you relate to me, or even if you don't. I just need to be accepted. Accepted now that I am different than I was before, and that I am pulling whom I'm close to, closer.... which is some of my readers, too. I appreciate that you get and try to understand my struggle right now. I'm just in a different place. I knew this was a make it or break it kind of trial I was facing. People would have a chance to prove their love to me, as I proved my love for them, right back. For some it's worked, for others, it hasn't. What ever it means, thank YOU for still reading, although I am a whole ball of nut job right now. Don't you just wish you were my neighbor, too??

Love, Misty

The new....

2009-05-30T07:59:00.001-07:00

Me?

Few people know her. It's how you change after your baby dies in your arms. It's how I noticed I trust less people, yet trust others more. It's how I prefer to stay at home, and prefer to not see anyone, except my own family, and a best friend or two. I have been so thankful for my best friend. She lives across the street. She has really, really come through for me. She calls me every day. She involves me in her every day plans like she said she would. I'm not alone. I have her. She made promises, she kept them, I trust her. Completely.

I don't like other people's babies. I don't want to HOLD other people's babies or hear about them. I want my own baby. I don't want to hear about pregnancy, I want to be pregnant myself. And I can be, starting in October. The doctor said. I wish it was October. I hate being asked "How are you doing?" by random people. How do they think I'm doing?? How do they think they'd be doing if their baby died? I hate how people make my emotional distance from them about them. I think it's safe in this situation to assume my sorrow has nothing to do with you. Right? You bet it is. My already tight circle has tightened more. That's just how it is, and how it's going to stay. I choose - - it's my choice to have very few friends, and the ones I have, I LOVE. There isn't anything wrong with that. I don't need therapy over it, don't need to be discussed, don't need help - - it's my nature, it's who I am. My friends are my family. I don't need dozens of them.

The children are home for the SUMMER! Can I say I'm happy?? I'm HAPPY!! Really, really, really, REALLY happy. All three of my babies are home with me, for three months. Bliss. Late nights. Late mornings. No homework. All play. You just can't beat it.

I think about Isaac all of the time. I cry when I see my Ian grow, because I think that Isaac should have been that little boy, too. I was at the music festival at the kid's school today, and I thought about how I should have just given birth to Isaac, and that he would have been only a week or so old. But he's not. He's dead. I should have him to hold, but I don't.

And that, my friends, is just how it is............. Life moves on in a different sort of way. I've changed, I have new challenges, different things are important and less important to me, and I simply am learning how to live knowing I have a child, whom is a living part of our family, yet he soars above me, but is mine just the same.

A Road Less Traveled.

2009-05-19T22:34:00.000-07:00

Isaac was born early that Wednesday morning, and didn't make a sound. My surgery took longer then I had expected because there was scar tissue to cut through, so I asked the doctor if the baby had born yet. He hadn't. I lay there on the operating table knowing the birth of Isaac would also meant his death. I wondered if my baby would cry. I wondered how severe his defect would be. I wondered if the baby would breath, I wondered if he would even live. And live he did, for 70 minutes. Isaac was born, in all his glory, at 8am, and peacefully slipped away from us at 9:10am.

The section itself was the same old thing. I barfed a couple times. My blood pressure was all over the place. I had a hard time breathing from all the water. They pumped fluids into me like no other. And I was tired. By that point I had already been up 24 hours, and a couple times I felt like closing my eyes and just resting. Part of me wanted to sleep, to escape. I had completed my task. I had carried my baby as long as medically possible, and God was deciding the rest.

Isaac was born, and they whisked him away. I asked the doctor if the baby had attempted to cry, and he said that Isaac had pulled that classic new born grimace face and tried once to breath, once to cry. He couldn't. But. His heart was beating strongly. I knew we had him for a short time. Andrew hovered over the baby. In that moment, it broke him. He brought the baby to me, tears streaming down his face, and told me Isaac was still alive. I looked at the baby. I didn't cry. I stared. I stared and I took deep breaths. I stared and realized that God had given us this child and I loved him. Completely. I looked at Isaac's face and remarked at how pretty he was. His face was complete. He had chubby cheeks and a button nose. His eyes were open and he was looking at me. His defect didn't show, and I began to cry as I told Andrew to take the baby to the children. I knew they needed to meet Isaac alive. So I was left there, getting sewn up. Minutes ago I had been joking about how much water was gushing out of me, and now I was wondering if I would see Isaac again, alive.

About 30 minutes later I was taken into my hospital room. I cried as I was wheeled in through the door as I looked at my family member's faces. I had never seem that look in their eyes before. I told the men in the family to give Isaac a name and a blessing. They prayed over the baby, blessed him, and gave him back to me. Every few minutes or so our nurse would check Isaac's heart beat. I knew he was getting close to leaving us. He and I gazed into each other's eyes, and I held onto him. I held onto him and whispered that I loved him. I told the nurse that I felt like Isaac had died, and indeed he had. He passed quietly back to Jesus that morning, in my loving, adoring arms. At that moment I clutched Isaac to me and wept silently over this body. No one made a sound in the room. Not. One. Sound. They respectfully and quietly watched and grieved with me.

The rest of that day is hard to explain. It was the most horrifyingly spiritual experience of my life. It was the hardest day of my life, yet the most peaceful. At some point, over the next few weeks I'll account for those moments, but for now, this is the next part of our story. There is much that is too sacred and private to share, and there is much left to write about, and I will, as I write on.

This road.

2009-05-11T21:08:00.000-07:00

Friends, this road is so long and so hard. Grieving seems to have a time and season of it's own. Some days are good - - really, really good. And some days are hard - - really, really hard. Mothers Day hurt this year. Today hurt. Tonight hurts.

Today my heart aches for my friend Celia. Today I carry her heartache and my own. She gave birth to Noah on Mothers Day, born with anencephaly, as Isaac was. Noah has entered this world, and slipped onto the next. In part, this is an update I read tonight, written by Celia's husband:

"Today was another hard part of Noah's Journey. I carried Little Noah to the funeral home. My heart broke as I pulled little Noah from Celia's arms and carried him on the last part of his journey... My tears soaked his little face as I held him close."

My heart aches for that sweet family, and my heart aches for myself. I remember watching the clock after Isaac was born and then died. I watched the clock as I knew 24 hours later, I would have to call the mortuary. I stayed up with Isaac all night, as did Andrew. I did my best to not nod off, even though I was delirious from exhaustion. I would catch myself sleeping and rub my face to wake myself up. I would shake my head and stretch my arms. I knew I needed to spend each minute with my baby. I knew the minutes would fly by, and I knew the time to say goodbye was drawing close. I knew the time I had would never be enough. It wasn't. Is still isn't. As the night turned into morning, Andrew called the funeral home. Some one was dispatched to the hospital. A kind man walked in, and I began to sob. I asked the man if I had to give him the baby, and he said that I did. I kissed Isaac over and over again, and handed him to Andrew, and looked away as he carried him out the door. I held myself and rocked and stared ahead blankly. The man passed by the door way with Isaac, and I laid back on my pillow and fell asleep. Now was the time to sleep. Now was the time to sleep and dream of my son that had just been taken from my arms. Now was the time to sleep and pretend none of what had just passed had never happened.

Stop by and offer Celia and her sweet family words of comfort. Do it for me. And for her. Tell her I sent you so that she knows that I love her.

21.

2009-04-29T21:56:00.000-07:00

Twenty one days have now come and gone since we met our mighty Isaac. Today was a bit touch and go, but we got through it. And not only got through it, but I was productive today. The house is clean. We went to the grocery store as a family tonight. We ate homemade food, the washing is swishing away - I even gardened a little bit today. Not too bad for a bad day - - agree??

Back to my Isaac's birth story. I've have scheduled c-sections with my babies after I gave birth to my oldest child vaginally, and she got stuck on the way out. Not pretty. Not nice. Not pleasant. VERY painful. My c-section was scheduled with Isaac at 34.5 weeks because of the high amniotic levels I was carrying around. I was informed a normal water level is up to 25. 25-35 was high, and at 33 weeks I was toting around a level of 44 and gaining. And boy could I tell. During delivery the water was very apparent. Apparent spilling over onto the floor, apparent spurting out in a spray, and apparent when we ran out of suction cups. I filled over 3 containers - usually a woman needs one per surgery. My Doc said I set the record - - 12 liters., 25 pounds or so of JUST water. Nice.

I suppose the only other mishaps of the day was my IV and my spinal block. Friends, I was poofy head to toe with water. They could not find a vein to poke to save their lives. OUCH. And my spinal block - - my spinal block took FOUR attempts. Not fun. NOT comfortable. Not to mention it HURTS. Bee sting poke, my BUTT! I would have to say that was the closest I came to blowing a fuse, hunched over my WAY too big belly, try not to tip off the table, and trying hard to not be smothered by Andrew, who was trying to make sure I was staying put. Whatever.

Next time. Now, next time we'll talk about the birth of an angel, my angel. We'll talk about it when I am a little more with it, and a little more strong.

Till then, Ladies. I love you. Each and every one of you.

It's time.

2009-04-24T22:24:00.001-07:00

Me and my greatest friend and husband, Andrew.

Me and one of my dearest friends/sister/neighbor/girlfriend, Lisa.

My sweet, sweet baby boy, Isaac.

It's time friends. It's time to start writing the story about how we came to meet this sweet and perfect soul. The last of my family has left my home, and today was my first day home, all alone. I'll be honest and admit, it was hard. Not as hard as I had expected, but it was hard for me. I've been distracted the last week having my grandparents here making plans with me each day.... today there were no plans. Just me, home with the kids, and my grief, which is still very much there. The grief, although I feel it at some level all of the time, is not what one would imagine. I still feel joy and peace and comfort. I still feel happy and blessed and content. I feel all of those things mixed in with the dull heart ache of losing my child. It's manageable. Do-able. Bearable. None of which I would wish on my worst enemy, but we're making it - - one step at a time.

April 8th was the day our sweet Isaac was born into the world, living. I stayed up the entire night before.... cleaning the house, folding clothes, pacing back and forth. I fixed my hair, did my nails..... packed and re-packed my bags. 5am finally arrived, and Andrew and I picked up Lisa, and we headed to the hospital. Our check in was un-eventful, although the nurse was a bit of a dumb ass and had not been informed about our situation. She went on and on about the nursery safety guidelines until I finally spoke up and told her that my baby was going to die that day. She looked at me with a blank stare, and went on with what she was doing.

Once we got to our room I put on my lovely gown, and was of course bare-assed. I joked with Lisa that she was going to see a "new side of me", as I scooted over to my bed. The nurses came in and did all those things that nurses do.... and would you believe me if I told you the nurse assigned to me that morning was PREGNANT?? She sure was, and obviously so..............

I'm going to continue Isaac's birth story over the next several posts, complete with pictures. I also wanted to very much thank those of you whom have visited here with me and have left behind your love and support. I'm not in good form these days, but I plan to visit each of your blogs, that you call home, but I wanted to say thank you, in the mean time. I have been so touched (and surprised) by the great numbers of visitors and commentors. We're breaking records around here.... all made possible by one sweet little baby boy, with a very mighty soul. I'll be in touch.

Dear Anonymous.

2009-04-21T05:59:00.000-07:00

I found this comment on my blog this morning:

"Holy f$&k you're retarded and deluded- I suppose it's not surprising from one so religious as yourself. The thing that came out was not a person: it was a meatdoll, devoid of consciousness- it was less a being than a lizard or dog. The best thing to do would have been to abort it. Quick tip for you: there is no god. "

To which I would like to reply:

Dear Anonymous,

As we each have our opinions, I would like to thank you for sharing your own. As a brother or sister through our Father in Heaven, I would like to say that I love you. For every miracle in life, there is equal adversity. My heart is sad for you because of the anger you carry in your heart. I've been there, I know what that feels like. Some thing in your life has caused you to feel that way, which is unfair, and I am sorry for your hurt. For my precious and perfect son - with out a perfect body, he still lives on with a perfect and whole spirit. We cannot always touch and see the things we believe in the most. I wish you happiness, peace, and harmony in your life.

Your Friend,
Misty

Tinkering...

2009-04-19T22:26:00.000-07:00

It's quiet in my home, and I'm up late tonight trying to re-design my own blog to incorporate my sweet little Isaac. Stay tuned for the end result.... which could take a little time.

It still feels like a dream, friends. I sit here sometimes and I think to myself that no one knows. No one knows I carried a baby nearly full term, and that he died in my arms 70 minutes later. I look at people I don't know, and I know they have no idea I am bleeding for a child whom I wasn't able to raise, that my milk is in my breast needlessly, that my c-section aches, but that there is no baby to care for. I have FOUR children, although strangers only see three. I want to scream to a passer-by that I just had a baby, and handed him back to GOD.... and now I want him back, for keeps.

I want to claim to the world that I am surviving this nightmare. That I feel alone. And lost. That my whole being aches for my child, whom thrives in the afterlife. But some how I still have faith in our Maker, our Savior. I still have hope for healthy little ones to fill my womb in the future, that I still believe God will make this right and help my heart and family to heal.

Some how it'll happen, too. This I know. For sure. With out a doubt. Some how........

Helping your children heal.

2009-04-17T09:24:00.001-07:00

As the days pass, losing the baby gets harder. Normal life is settling in, and the loss is more apparent. Nothing seems natural. I hurt, my kids hurt, my husband hurts. I'm moody, I don't feel well, my hernia hurts, I'm still water logged, and I just feed plain old mean. I've had a migraine for three days and I'm not sleeping well.

I was sorting through the baby's things this morning. Getting his memory box together. I came across a book the hospital sent home with us.... concerning all things grief and your children.

We are going to work on this today:

Make a notebook for your child to write or draw about how he or she is feeling. When your family talks about the person who died, get it out and make lists. These might be titled:

1. What I'd like to say to the person who died

2. Thing that make me sad/angry/scared/confused

3. People I can talk to about my grief

4. Questions I have about how the person died

5. Where I go to feel safe

6. Things I worry about

7. What I do to have fun

It has been a struggle for me to un-hook from my own feelings, and concentrate on the children. I'm here, but not really, if that makes any sense. I've been able to check in with the kids a few times a day to see where they are at with their feelings, and they come to me when they want to cry or share how they feel. It's a good start, but I need to do more.

So. Today. It's going to more about them, less about me. I'll let you know how it goes.

I'll be checking back in.....

Feeling it.

2009-04-12T13:30:00.001-07:00

This picture was hard to get. Olivia had had it by this point Wednesday evening, but I REALLY wanted a picture with ALL of my babies together. My husband did his best, and after a final edit from my girlfriend, this is what we have: A not so perfect picture, that is PERFECT to me.

Oh how I miss this little one. We're all struggling. This is a heartache that I have not felt before. I think of the years of abuse and abandonment we suffered as children. That heartache I felt for years compares nothing to how my heart ache now. I cannot even begin to explain the grief my body hurts with, and how I ache to be raising this child, loving him, and holding him. I fall asleep in tears, wake in tears. Yet some how, though this, I know we will come out better and more strong. I know the sacrifice I made for my God was complete and whole, and will not be forgotten.

There is so much to share. The funeral was lovely yesterday. There is a slide show I am working on. My childhood best friend is working on editing my favorites for me..... I have so much I want to write about. But, there isn't a lot of time right now. The children are home for the entire week... it's spring break now. My focus is on them, and helping their sweet little broken hearts heal. Oh the pain I feel watching my sweet children long for this child....

I'll be in touch as I can, and soon enough I'll be posting much, much more. I have a feeling writing may be one of the only ways for me to begin the healing process.

Thank you for listening, sweet friends. How I love you, and appreciate you. And to all that have written and commented... some time soon I'd be stopping by your blogs and getting to know you, too. Thank you for reaching out.

Isaac Brigham Nielson

2009-04-10T10:38:00.000-07:00

Isaac Brigham Nielson. Perfect in every way....

Mommy, Daddy, and Isaac.

Perfect feet...

Loving my boy....

Holding Isaac after my surgery. Enjoying more minutes with my perfect boy....

Daddy holding Isaac. Ian meeting his brother for the first time, having to grow up too quickly.

Meet my perfect boy. Words cannot express how much we love and, and how our hearts now ache for him. I am exhausted from my surgery, but am thrilled to be home. We have so much to share with you, and plan too... a little bit at a time, as I have energy.... Starting with: Isaac lived for 70 minutes, a perfect gift from our Father above.

Safe place.

2009-04-06T11:53:00.001-07:00

Andrew and I took this picture Saturday. One of my dearest friends Mandy of La Bella Vita Photos did this final edit for me. Is is not perfect? This is the perfect portrait to remember Isaac's safe place, his safe time with me. And do I not have the most perfect grade school friend in my corner right now?

I have gotten nothing done today, when that should not be an option. I have to admit I feel like I am in shock, and in denial still. Can it really be my baby's time is coming to an end? In the midst of feeling like this sacrifice was going to last a lift time, it's about to end. And the worst is yet to come. Watching my baby die in my arms.

Lord, be with me now. Lord, carry me, my sweet husband, and tender children. We cannot do it alone.

Slipping away....

2009-04-04T19:50:00.001-07:00

My husband and I took these pictures together today. I'm going to miss this belly. All the stretch marks will remain, but my sweet child won't be alive there any more. I feel like time is running out, slipping away faster then I can grasp it. My heart fully realizes the immense sacrifice that is coming. My heart aches in a different way.

For now we prepare, we wait, we sob, we dream, we hope..... We know Wednesday will be here all together too soon.

We'll welcome our sweet baby Isaac into our arms just like we have done our others, and some how.... some how God remains the same, and life moves on.... even if it drags us behind.

Baby is coming.....

2009-04-01T15:52:00.001-07:00

Dear Family and Friends,

We wanted to let you know the latest development with our sweet baby Isaac.

I had my doctors appointment on Tuesday where I measured 40 weeks along, instead of 33 weeks. I had an ultrasound today, and had my fluid levels measured inside the womb. A normal fluid level is 25. A high/at risk fluid level is considered up to 35. My fluid level is 44. The baby is scheduled to be delivered on Wednesday, the 8th, by c-section. Our time with him will be extremely limited. The specialist said they will be ready with oxygen and will help him along as much as possible, so that we will get (God willing) to spend a few minutes with our child, while he is alive. We are in shock over how quickly this is happening.

We expect that the funeral will be held in Springville, Utah, on Monday the 13th, a private viewing beginning at 11am. I will be meeting with a funeral director with in the next day or so, so that we can make our casket and program selections.

Between many, many tears, we feel calm as we complete this sacrifice for Heavenly Father.

We'll be in touch. Email any questions or concerns, or contact us by phone.

We love you,

Misty and Family

Most Important....

2009-03-30T16:52:00.000-07:00

First things first.

Please visit my friend Holly's blog: http://carleighmckenna.blogspot.com . She gave birth to her sweet Carleigh last week, and is in the midst of preparing her sweet angel child's burial. She needs support - - and I think she should have all that we can give her. She is a woman full of grace and courage. Tell her so. She deserves to hear it.

Which leads me to my next topic.

How on earth do women do it? How do women bare children, and hand them back to our God quickly after? My heart has ached for this sweet mother, and in the back of my mind, I know I am weeks away from the same journey.

How do these sweet mothers go on to have the same faith in the same God to, in the future, deliver them a healthy baby again, down the road? Yet one of my closest and dearest friends had a healthy baby after Anencephaly a couple months ago. God remains the same, as should our faith, but I'll admit to my sweet Jesus, I am quickly exhausting. The sadness is more this week. A reminder of what stands to come. May God carry us all through it, is my humble prayer this evening. Please let it be yours, too.

Pink. Green. Maybe a little brown.

2009-03-25T21:55:00.001-07:00

Oh friends. Don't you love pictures when they depict that motherhood suits you? This is me and Hannah - - YEARS ago, yet it still remains one of my favorites.

Now.... the last couple weeks.... I cannot tell you how many loads of vomit wash I have done, how many pink (infected) eyes I have washed out, noses I have wiped and de-clogged, fevers I've tested and medications I have administered. Holy freaking crap.

And now.

Now for the best part. I caught it. Caught it all. Even the pink-pussy-eyes. Do I hear an "ewwwwwwww"? Because really? Spell it with me. I look N-A-S-T-Y. Days upon days of about 2 hours of sleep per night does wonders for you..... NOT. Sleepless nights do, however, do wonders for my nerves AND my eye bags. Sleepless nights some how keep me from showering. I won't even tell you how many days it's been. Oh, Ladies.... what a rough week or so. But now, a Z-pack and lots of codeine cough syrup later, I feel 40% better. I am on the mend. Praise God. Seriously. I am not being sarcastic. I'm not cut out to be sick, nor am I cut out to be the "tender" of all those that are sick. Not my strong point.

It's dawned on me this week that I have 5 1/2 to 7 1/2 weeks to prepare for Isaac's arrival. Just those short weeks to plan his burial and memorial. Those weeks to plan for more photographs, packing my hospital bag, getting the children situated at school. The time has flown. Seriously it has. I have been reminded this week that no matter how huge this trial is to me, it is also a sacred honor to make this sacrifice for my Father in Heaven. I know we all believe so differently, but this I know to be true. God lives. He is real. His plan for our eternal progression is real. This child I am carrying is perfect. He is exempt from a life on this earth. Although we are desperate to keep him, I am willing to help create his body, allow for his breath of life, and will humbly pass him back to our Maker. This child will grow in the here-after, and there will be day that he is mine again. I will know him and love him. There is a great peace in following the plan which God has set before me. As much as my heart aches and my mind grieves, I have faith that there will be more children for me. There is happiness ahead. There is peace and understanding to be gained. As for now, I will cherish and enjoy each movement from my sweet child, and will cherish and love him for what ever amount of time God chooses to give me with him. I will look for the peace that surpasses all understanding, and will continue to believe I am walking hand in hand with the Savior, to give this sweet little perfect boy just what he needs.

Listen and Learn.

2009-03-16T16:22:00.000-07:00

I know I've posted about this video before, and I tend to stay away from watching it because I sob until my whole body aches.

But.

Listen to the words of this song. It touches your soul in a tender way, and truly describes my feelings. Makes me want to dig my guitar out and write a song, such as this, like I used to.

Downhill.

2009-03-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

I have found, through the last 8 weeks, that it is amazing what one can learn to live with. Some days I feel like I am sailing along, getting by, and some days I feel like I merely exist. I found myself feeling low today, and feeling the gravity of the situation, when some days I don't. I had the children out shopping with me tonight - the girls especially were in need of some new spring and summer clothing, which I have been ignoring the last few weeks. I came across the most darling piece of clothing for a baby boy, and I almost bought it, and then immediately thought "why bother". At some point, the preparation has to hault, and the realization has to come that I don't get to plan and shop for this baby like I have for the others. And while I hate to admit it, it's true. This child does not need the amount of clothing my other children have needed, this baby is going to die. And standing there, round as can be, thinking that in the store made my heart ache so. I want this baby so bad. So bad it hurts. I want to raise him, love him, feed him, rock him, sing to him, hold him, burp him, dress him, bathe him just like I have my other children. I want my baby to live. I want to feel joy every time he moves, but I feel reminded that although my child is moving, he is lacking the greater part of this brain. And along with that, I feel the exhaustion that not only comes from grieving, but from being pregnant. I can't eat, I can't sleep as well as I want, my body aches, my ribs hurt, my back hurts, I am tired of giving myself injections because my insulin levels are so off because of the constant stress I feel. I want to feel excited for the baby to be born, but I feel so frightened that he might not live long enough to bring him home, which is my most secret wish. I am afraid of how I am going to feel once the baby is born, and dies. I'm afraid to get pregnant again, although I want to, more then anything else in the world. I'm afraid to put my whole faith in knowing I'll bear a healthy child again. I still feel frustrated at the great lack of support I long for from my family and Andrew's, and I worry that this is going to change my relationship with some individuals forever. I don't know how to go back, and realize that I never can. Our lives somehow are being molded by our Maker and some day we'll know and understand why. I am willing to serve the Lord in this way, but every day I feel more inadequate to fulfill this sacrifice. Oh how we love this child and will be eager to meet him, and pray for many tender mercies along the way.

Bird Brain.

2009-03-08T20:31:00.001-07:00

It's been a long week. For many reasons, I guess. I've been meaning to post, but I just wasn't feeling it. Above is Beatrice. I spent some time with one of my girlfriends today taking some pictures of her birds. It was a nice way to escape. I forget I love photography, and then I get behind the camera, and feel a peace that is comforting.

It's funny when I find time to sit and think, my mind often wanders back to my childhood. I felt satisfaction tonight, placing a meal on the table, and watching my family eat and enjoy. I thought back to when I was a kid, and knowing what Sunday dinner meant at my house. It meant a pot full of all of the weeks leftovers, mixed together, as some sort of slop. Not my kind of "Sunday Family Dinner". I'm thankful I have more.

This week I've thought a lot about burial plans for my baby.... whether we are going to go the traditional route or cremation. It's tricky living in such a religious community - I feel like I have people breathing down my neck. I don't want to know what they think is a righteous or more main stream choice. I fully plan to do exactly what I want, which is what will be the very best for me and my family, me and my baby.

I'm back into the normal swing of house work, although the more round I get, the more hard it is to clean. I feel more comfortable in my own skin when the house is in order. I felt peaceful shoving in a load of clothes to wash for the kids and Andrew tonight. I feel thankful that I have clothes to wash and dishes to do, and messes to pick up off the floor. It means my home is full, and that is just how I like it to be.

Fearfully and Wonderfully.

2009-03-01T18:53:00.000-08:00

"Thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made..... " Psalms 139:13-14

Faith-ing It Up.

2009-02-24T16:05:00.000-08:00

Hannah riding Olivia's tricycle.

Ian.

Olivia sporting mud from the garden.

Ian playing basketball.

Ian.

Ian.

Hannah.

Olivia's fashion statement.

Olivia making sure I think she's pretty. Although the child refuses to have her hair combed or wear matching clothing.

Boots, princess dress, and helmet. Ready for anything.

*Sigh*. I have been feeling very grumpy today. The following commentary isn't directed towards any specific person per-say, but it is something that is really pissing me off. I have been VERY disappointed in my support system, minus a few choice individuals. Shortly after I found out about Isaac, I called my girlfriend and cried. I told her I felt like this was something I was going to have to go through alone. She has suffered the loss of a child from Anencephaly, so she knows what it's like to be in my shoes, and was honest, and told me that it WAS something I was going to have to do alone. I believed her. And I still do. I would say that I am a very closed off person. It takes a long time to get close to me, and very few people ever do. It has greatly distressed me that even my close circle falls short. What is it with people not being able to follow through? No one calls. No one offers a meal. No one even emails. I can understand feeling uncomfortable about being in touch - - but through a computer?? Come on people. It ain't that hard. I find myself sitting here feeling irritated by the lack of response from even my family members, and I realize this is the type of trial that is going to make or break many relationships I have. It makes my heart break that I feel the need to retreat permanently from so many people. They are blowing it. This isn't the time to blow it, either. This is the most monumental trial I have ever had to face, and I'm facing it alone. I feel like if family and friends can't be here for me now, don't bother. Don't bother trying to wiggle in to see the baby when it's born, and certainly don't bother coming when I bury my child. Don't bother pretending there is something between us, when there isn't. Some times, no matter how uncomfortable a situation is, you can't run the other way. You stick it out because that is what it means to love some one. Even it you're floundering outside of your comfort zone. Because really? I am, too.

Andrew and I spoke a lot about faith earlier this week. From what I can piece together, he feels like it must be a lack of faith on our part, if our baby isn't healed. I understand his frustrations, and understand each person struggles with the in-justices of the world, in his or her own ways.

There is so much more to faith then asking and receiving. Faith is knowing God is there, even through the trials that bring us to our knees. Faith is submitting to the will of the Father, and finding a way to feel His love, when you feel He is far away. Faith is knowing God is there, even if the world should tell you He isn't.

I have suffered beatings, molestation, food restrictions, room confinement that lasted years. I didn't feel like God was punishing me. I knew better then that, even as a child. I knew having faith meant enduring, not wishing God would take all my suffering from me. With out pain there is no growth. I knew though, that if I had faith, God would provide a way to ease my suffering as much as He could, and He did. I was prompted as a small child, at the age of three, to KNOW with out a doubt that what this certain man was doing to me was wrong. I found him naked in his bed, he pulled the sheets back, and asked me to join him. I knew then and there to say NO. I turned and left his bedroom. He never made another advance again. That is a perfect example of God watching out for his own child. Soon after that, we were taken from his home. I knew when I was 10 or 11 that I was a child of God, that something bigger then myself existed, even if I couldn't comprehend it. Faith is knowing God will show you a way, His way.

I can say that I have never doubted in God, or His plan. There have been times I haven't felt his presence as much as I desired, but I knew he hadn't forsaken me. I know now this child has come to us in such a way that will ensure his safe arrival back into God's arms shortly after birth. I have been asked to be a part of this plan for this child, and I oblige, with as much heartache, soul searching, and pain that comes along with it. Friends, God is good. God is true, and God knows, and facilitates a plan which is best for us, whether we drag our feet along the way. Have faith. Be true to that faith. Crawl, walk, run, sprint through the journey with Him, and dare to have faith that he is beside you, along the way.

Humbled.

2009-02-20T07:23:00.000-08:00

The beauty of my children humbles me. Their gentle ways, carefree outlook, forgiving hearts, and innocent spirits humble me. From whom they are given is humbling to me. To have been entrusted with the sacred calling of motherhood is humbling to me. There is no greater call.

My heart has been touched this week. Touched by simple gifts, great and small. Lara from Overstuffed has started a fundraiser for our family "just because". Stop by, tell her I sent you, and tell her what a gracious heart she has! A dear friend of mine sent me a beautiful care package with food, chocolate, homemade jam, hand written scripture cards, soup mixes. I know it was a sacrifice for her to put together that box for me, as her finances are tight, as mine, and probably even yours are. I also know she is struggling with her own trials right now, and laid them aside to care for me. I had a card in the mail from a sweet friend in Texas, and a card from my grandmother, after a phone call when she let me know she wanted to contribute to my "secret surprise" for the children in May. And not only that, but sweet souls, all over the US have taken the time to read my story and let me know they love and care for my family. I am beyond humbled to receive love from those that I don't even know, when I have felt others that I do know, have fallen short. So, thank you. Thank for you that have touched my heart this week. I fall short in reaching out personally a lot of the time, but please know I appreciate YOU, as you read this.

My heart has been sad this week as my oldest, Hannah, has been grieving much. Many times I have wished my children were young enough that they could skip through this situation un-blemished. I, too, have to remember that their little ears pick up on EVERY thing. For example: they hear Andrew and I speak about finances, and speak of making savings accounts for certain upcoming expenses. After noticing Hannah was quiet all day, I asked her if something was wrong, and she said she was worried that we were going to run out of money! As if it was her job, at the tender age of 8 to worry about such. And of course that is not so! I explained to her Daddy gets a pay check twice a month, just like I do. I explained to her also that is why we have savings. I explained to her, too, that there are expenses coming up that make me upset to have to pay for, but that I am upset because the circumstance makes me sad NOT because funds are lacking, because they are not. We'll make sure the money is there. That seemed to ease her burden, but I've noticed she's been sad about the baby a lot this week. Her journal entries are enough to make any mother fall to her knees and ask WHY! It is a harsh reality that I can only spare my children from much of what I suffered as a child, but that there is so much more in the world that I cannot. How my heart aches to see my children in pain.

I have, for the most part, felt good this week. It was only 5 weeks ago that we found out our baby would die. Something I will never forget is how I felt in that moment when the doctor told me. And yet after days of feeling like I wasn't going to survive, I have realized that I will, and that life goes on, dragging me behind. I am thankful to be able to prepare, and to know ahead of time what is coming. I am thankful that the grief comes in waves that are small enough for me to swim through. I am thankful I've been able to realize my own limitations, and to focus on what I can do, instead of what I cannot. It amazes me what people can survive through. Each of us is much stronger then what we give ourselves credit for.

Anyways - - lots to do around home today, groceries to be bought, laundry to wash, dishes to do. Better get to it, I suppose.

Picture Perfect.

2009-02-17T17:31:00.000-08:00

Hannah's been working out her grief over Isaac through art work.

Hannah drawing for Isaac.

Ian playing like Isaac would have.

Isaac's memory box... we're slowing adding to it.

xo Misty

Backed In.

2009-02-16T10:01:00.000-08:00

I'm not keeping track of how far along I am. It's just not the same. I thought I was 28 weeks along, I'm actually 27. I will have a scheduled section the beginning of May. So. Like. 11 weeks from now.

I'm feeling a wee bit peaked today. Saturday I found a piece of furniture on sale for 100 bucks, normal price : $700.00. I shop like that. I'm a stay at home Mom. Having had my hours cut by 60% (I have a "real" work-from-home job, too), I would say money is tight. We do out best to be "money smart". Tickled with my new find, my girl friend and I had the piece loaded in the back of the van, and off we went. Sorta. I backed into some one else in the parking lot. Going a mile an hour. I caused a paint blemish. Trouble is the other car already had front end damage. It's a wee bit tricky debating over who pays for what. We're going to have to to pay to have the fender re-painted, not paying for ANY other repairs. Still - - we're looking at $300.00, hopefully not more. The people speak Spanish., we're not communicating well. They won't pick up the phone if we call. I need to get this squared AWAY. The only thing I can control right now, is our modest income. I want to know what these other people want from us, so I can work it into the budget. We're looking at medical bills - - hundreds of dollars. We're looking at funeral expenses - - hundreds of dollars. We're looking at missed work in May - - hundreds of dollars. We're planning something special for the kids in May - - another 3 hundred dollars. Money is the only thing I can control right now - it doesn't have a due date, it's not going to die on me...... So, these extra stresses..... they are pushing me over the edge! Weeeeeeeeee!

Life here in Utah moves on. We're fine, for the most part. I still avoid leaving the house as much as possible. I always seems to run into some one I know, and then I cry, and then feel embarrassed..... like Ian's teacher, this Saturday, in the grocery store..... talk about awkward..... "Um... hi... nice to see you.... please excuse me while I bawl over my shopping cart......". My first extinct..... RUN away..... avoid all personal contact. Do. Not. Talk.

The children continue through ups and downs..... I'm doing my best to work things through with them. Summer is going to be a Godsend this year. We just need to play in the sun, and swim, and eat cold treats, and garden, and play the days away. No pressure. Just each other.

Anyway - - until next time. This basket case will be walking on................

Sleep on it.

2009-02-08T20:47:00.000-08:00

I've had a horrible time of it trying to sleep this week. The nightmares are relentless. I dreamed that my baby was still alive and they took him from me. I screamed and screamed that he wasn't dead yet, and belonged with me, but they took him anyway. Another night I dreamed I had the baby early, but they re-attached him into my womb, thinking maybe he could survive a little bit longer there. I dreamed a photographer came to photograph the baby and took one or two portraits and left, because he didn't like the looks of my baby.

I've found that I have had a lot of anxiety the last week wondering how the baby will look once he is born. With such a birth defect, much of his head could be missing, and I feel like I need to brace myself for the worst. Yet I have seen many, many pictures of babies with Anencephaly, and each and every newborn babe was a miracle to me, was beautiful, was perfect. I know that when I see my baby his birth defects won't matter, that all I will see is his perfect soul, and I will love him just the same as my other children.

I have had a lot of anxiety wondering how long the baby will live. Will it be minutes, will it be hours, or maybe days? The amount this child moves gives me hope that we will have more than less time with him, but I think it is wise to keep my dreams in check.

I now have 3 outfits each in new born size, and 3 outfits in preemie size. I have three blankets. I have an idea of what I would like the babe to wear for his burial. We know now which plot he will be laid to rest in. It's a family plot, a few miles from our home.

I think a lot about having babies in the future, and really, with all my heart, hoping that I will be able to carry and birth a healthy child in the future. It makes my heart ache in a different way, that this could be my last child, my last pregnancy and newborn. I have wanted all my life to be a mother, and each experience I have had creating life has been a miracle to me. My children are worth more to me than anything else in the world. I can't explain the value I find in having children, new babies, and now my older children. I feel so thankful that I have three of my own. I wish to journey through pregnancy again, bringing home a healthy baby again, and "starting over" again. I don't expect any one else to understand that, but I love being a mother and wife more then anything else in the world. I find immense value in my life, and what I have chosen to do with it.

I have about 12 weeks left to be pregnant. Baby Isaac moves a lot. We love him, and continue to love him more each day. Life moves on, although I find I struggle each day to act and feel like it does. On the other hand I spend a lot of time feeling happy and enjoying my children. I take a new pleasure in mothering them, as to make the most of every minute I have with them. The house is clean tonight, except the bathroom which I still have left to tidy. We enjoyed a homemade meal as a family this evening, and all the kids are bathed and dressed in clean jammies. I have laundry washing, laundry drying. I feel ready to start a new week, and feel capable to fulfill my responsibilites. God is good, and we carry on, one step at at time.