Wishes for heaven.

Dear Family and Friends,

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

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

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

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

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

We love you,

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

Rainbow what?

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

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

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

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

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



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

Ramblings from the semi insane.....

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.

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.

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....

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.

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