Unfortunately, our busyness does not rid us of our grief…

I agree with that. It can provide a temporary distraction, yes, and give us something else to focus on, but I’ve found that being “busy” just to be busy, that being wrapped up in work or projects, are not as helpful as others might think. “Keep busy,” “move on,” “get on with life” may seem like solutions to those who around us, because they only see what’s on the surface, they only see the “doing” that appears to be life returning to normal. Lisette at Learning to Breathe Again, recently blogged about an anonymous comment that basically told her to stop living in the past. People just aren’t comfortable with grief.

I’ve learned, from personal experience and from professionals in the books I’ve read (which have helped me to feel less abnormal-slash-crazy-slash-alien), that a big part of healing is leaning into the grief, of respecting and accepting the emotions that come with it, and working through it. This is not the same as wallowing (though I thing there is a time for that as well).

Over two months ago, I took a couple avocado pits, wrapped them up in damp paper towels, put them in a sandwich bag, and left them on top of the microwave. I told Louie that I wanted to grow them for Calvin and Rainbow. One day I checked on them and the paper towels were stained pink and the pits felt a little slimy. I thought about throwing them, out thinking they may have gone bad, but I didn’t want to give up. I changed the paper towels and put them back. A few weeks later, I checked on them again and saw that one was starting to crack. I covered them up and put them back. I’d forgotten about them for a while, and noticed them again. This time, one had a root starting to poke through the pit. I changed the paper towels, again, wrapped the pits up, put them back in the bag. Today, I checked on them and both had roots growing, and one had the start of a stem. I transferred them into glass cups with water, and can’t wait to be able to put them into soil. Two plants – one for each of my babies. These pits needed time in the wet, damp darkness so that they could be cracked open and new life could start. I think it’s a pretty good metaphor for grief and the time and patience it takes before we’re fully ready able to find joy and light again.

Your Activities

Immediately after losing Calvin my activities consisted of sleeping, crying, looking through his memory box, crying, sleeping. Right after losing Rainbow, I spent a week in bed, alternating between crying and watching “Ugly Betty.” I would try to make myself feel better by watching TV and DVDs. I distracted myself with more freelance work, but eventually the emptiness would grow. Others would try to distract me by changing the subject when I would start to feel sad. This didn’t help because it made me feel like my sadness was being trivialized or ignored.

The activities that did help were the ones that allowed me to express my grief in a more creative and meaningful way, whether it is remembering my own babies or honoring the children of other babyloss parents. One example was Mother’s Day last year, when Louie took me to the beach and I wrote names on the beach for babyloss mommies. If you look at my My First Mother’s Day post, you can see photos I took of these words: “I am a Mother” and “I gave my child to God.”

Something that I need to work on is not letting myself get overwhelmed to the point of exhaustion. Lately, I have realized my need to make time for quietness, and I am learning to find stillness again.

Parenting

I wrote this in January:

Waiting for my Earth Babies

I’m not ready to settle
(I’m sorry to say) for
“just the two of us” or
“us against the world.”

I loved our children — love

our children — in a way

that is raw and primitive
and full.

I miss our babies.

And (I know it’s selfish to say) I want
the chance to be a mommy
to living children, not just a mother
to little ones who are Heaven-bound.

I think having another child could help ease the grief of losing the chance to mother a child on earth, but I don’t think it would ever erase the aching for Calvin and Rainbow. With each milestone of this next child, I would know what I missed with my first two.

Though I do want to have more children, I’m also afraid of losing another baby. I’m afraid that the reason neither of my babies survived was because they are better off without me.

If I am unable to have anymore children, I think I would be devastated, and would have to cling to God even more and pray that He would be quick in unveiling the plans He has for me.

Your Relationship to God

I promised to raise my children to know and follow Jesus, to give them to Him. Although I cry for my babies and wish they were with me and want them here, I never asked God “why me,” but rather for understanding. Although He took them in a way that I did not want, I do not question it. With Calvin, I promised myself that I would take care of my special needs baby, should he be affected by the amniotic bands or have Down’s Syndrome. I’m not sure how these promises impact my life today, because my babies aren’t with me. I don’t mean this to be bitter at all. I just don’t know how they affect life right now. I would the same for future children.

What do God’s promises mean to me? They mean that I don’t grieve without hope. I have faith and trust in God. Sometimes, my hope of finding happiness and joy has waivered, especially when I first lost Calvin and Rainbow, but I know He is with me and has carried me through the most difficult times. I really like Isaiah 43:2 and hold it especially close to my heart. Father Miguel shared it with me the day I delivered Calvin and gave me the bookmark to the left (in lesson 5, I shared the bookmark that Father Miguel gave Louie). Revelations 7:17 also speaks to me: For the Lamb that is in the midst of the throne shall be their shepherd, and shall guide them unto fountains of waters of life: and God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes. Through His grace, my tears will turn to rejoicing.

This Threads of Hope, Pieces of Joy Bible Study is part of the “Walking With You” outreach of Sufficient Grace Ministries, led by Kelly Gerken. To learn more, read Kelly’s post: “Upcoming Threads of Hope Study.”

To read my posts on other lessons, please use the links below:
•Lesson One: Your Story
•Lesson Two: So Many Questions
•Lesson Three: This Can’t Be Happening
•Lesson Four: Why Me?
•Lesson Five: How Can I Go On?
•Lesson Seven: Moving On to Acceptance
•Lesson Eight: Learning to Let Go
•Lesson Nine: Finding Joy

After losing my babies, I expressed my grief through crying, writing, art, and talking with people. I still do that. I also allowed myself to be sad — honestly, I wanted to be sad forever, if it meant I would never forget my children. I don’t allow myself to cry or express this sadness (at least in real life) as much anymore because I feel like I need to keep going and there are people in my life who expect be to be better already. Sometimes, I get afraid of getting stuck in the sadness, but I know it’s important to honor and respect my feelings. For some reason, though, I haven’t been putting that into practice as much lately.

Depression

I know I’m depressed when I feel lethargic and don’t want to get out of bed. Other times, I can’t sleep because my mind can’t find rest. I stop taking care of myself and things just start to get messy at home. I find that when I can grieve “productively,” and do things that honor my babies, that when I lean into the grief again, I start to feel better. It’s like what is said in Psalms 126:6: He that goeth forth and weepeth bearing seed for sowing, shall doubtless come again with joy, bringing his sheaves [with him]. I need to make something of my mourning and carry the good back with me.

Loneliness

I hoped my parents, family, and close friends could help me. Those who were present did, but I was hurt by the lack of response and acknowledgment, by words that were insensitive and didn’t respect my mourning, my grieving process, and the decisions we made. I felt betrayed, abandoned, and forgotten. And what hurt more was that if felt like Calvin was being forgotten, and his life was not respected.

My family was also grieving for my loss and for the hurt Louie and I were experiencing. I think they may have been overwhelmed by their feelings and not knowing how to offer us the comfort we needed because it was difficult to see us in such pain. I think they would rather see us “healed” and “moved on” or maybe just didn’t know what to say. So we were offered simple platitudes such as He’s with God, It wasn’t meant to be, and other things that would definitely make other baby loss parents really upset. These things did not help. They felt isolating.

Christ knew a lot of loneliness. He knew grief. I believe He knows my sorrow and understands it. In the times when I feel most alone, I am reminded that God will always be with me because He is the only to whom one I can turn. Father Miguel gave Louie the bookmark to the left, which has Romans 8:35-39 on, after he blessed and baptized Calvin (that’s Louie’s handwriting). He is constant, when others are not. I feel blessed by that.

Guilt

More recently, I’d been feeling really guilty about my losing Calvin, and specifically the day I delivered him and all the things I didn’t do. I found myself consumed, replaying this over and over again as I lay in bed at night, trying to make it right. I’ve tried to remind myself that I did the best I could at the time. I asked God to take this guilt from me, and I think He is doing that. He is helping me to let go. This incessant self-doubt starting has started lifting from me. What really helped was the homily at church a few weeks ago, in which the priest specifically spoke of needing to let go of unrealistic guilt. Louie and I had originally planned to go at different time at a church closer to home, but went to St. Ignatius instead because we were running late. I was meant to hear that homily, from that priest, at that Mass, at that church.

Fear

I’m more afraid for people who have babies or who are pregnant. I’m afraid I will never have a living child. I’m afraid that something will happen to my husband or to my loved ones. I’m repeatedly plagued by the thoughts of not getting pregnant again, and of always losings my babies if I do.

When I am anxious I turn to God and to my husband and try to keep trusting that whatever He chooses to do with me and my life is for His greater glory and that I will be with my babies again in Heaven.

God will be with me and uphold me. He will comfort me and be by my side. I can cry to Him. He gives power, love, and discipline. When I find myself depressed, I plan to turn to God’s Word to lift me up. That is one new way I have learned to deal with my anxiety. By turning to His Word and remembering his promise, I can be soothed:

Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And [why] art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him [for] the help of his countenance. (Psalm 42:5)

This Threads of Hope, Pieces of Joy Bible Study is part of the “Walking With You” outreach of Sufficient Grace Ministries, led by Kelly Gerken. To learn more, read Kelly’s post: “Upcoming Threads of Hope Study.”

To read my posts on other lessons, please use the links below:
•Lesson One: Your Story
•Lesson Two: So Many Questions
•Lesson Three: This Can’t Be Happening
•Lesson Four: Why Me?
•Lesson Six: I’ve Got to Get Better Soon
•Lesson Seven: Moving On to Acceptance
•Lesson Eight: Learning to Let Go
•Lesson Nine: Finding Joy

I really like this sentence in the opening of this chapter: Anger expressed appropriately, however, can deepen our relationships, leading to personal growth. As the book says, expressing it in a destructive way can be severely damaging, but it’s also not healthy to suppress anger and let it eat away at you. It festers. It becomes toxic. And in the end, I think it can end relationships, when issues aren’t addressed. Anger is a valid emotion, and shoving it aside because you love the person with whom you are upset is an unfair expectation. If you love someone you should be willing to listen and try to at least respect where these emotions are coming from. When handled appropriately, I definitely agree that it can deepen relationships because it starts to create better understanding.

Our Response to Anger

I think the three warnings in Ephesians 4:26-27 have it right:

1. Be angry and sin not
2. let not the sun go down upon your wrath
3. neither give place to the devil

Anger with Others

I don’t feel angry too much anymore, but it did affect me in a very negative way. It made me unhappy and bitter. It made me want to separate from those that hurt me.

What makes me the most angry about my loss now is that I was not more prepared. I’ve let go of a lot of the anger I had towards people who trivialized my loss or who weren’t there when we first found out about something was wrong with Calvin. I haven’t forgotten, no, but I won’t let it eat away at me anymore. I think expressing myself – whether it was on Twitter or on my blogs or talking with Louie and our support group or writing it in my private journal – has been really helpful in allowing me to slowly let go of it. I’ve also been praying, too, asking God to lift these negative feelings from me, to help me do as Ephesians 4:31-32 says: Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and railing, be put away from you, with all malice³² and be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving each other, even as God also in Christ forgave you. I have also addressed some of these emotions in my N.E.T. sessions with my chiropractor.

Anger with Ourselves

I wrote about about a lot of my should have’s in this post: My Failings as a Mother. Since losing Calvin and Rainbow, I’ve felt inadequate, like less of a women, like less of a wife. I feel like my body failed me, my children, and my family. It has definitely hurt my self-image. It is so hard to let go of this, but I am trying. I am trying to remember Psalms 139:15-16. Calvin’s and Rainbow’s frames were not hidden from God when they were formed in my womb. He saw their souls and knew the path their lives would take before their lives even began. I have no control over the length of my babies’ lives.

Anger with God

I was never angry at God. I felt alone. I felt abandoned and forgotten. But I think I wasn’t angry at Him because I didn’t feel betrayed by Him. What I wanted most from Him was understanding. I know He had a great reason to allow my babies to die, just as He gave His only son up to death in order to save us, there is a greater mystery to Calvin’s and Rainbow’s lives that I was hurting to learn. I am still waiting, but I trust in Him.

This Threads of Hope, Pieces of Joy Bible Study is part of the “Walking With You” outreach of Sufficient Grace Ministries, led by Kelly Gerken. To learn more, read Kelly’s post: “Upcoming Threads of Hope Study.”

To read my posts on other lessons, please use the links below:
•Lesson One: Your Story
•Lesson Two: So Many Questions
•Lesson Three: This Can’t Be Happening
•Lesson Five: How Can I Go On?
•Lesson Six: I’ve Got to Get Better Soon
•Lesson Seven: Moving On to Acceptance
•Lesson Eight: Learning to Let Go
•Lesson Nine: Finding Joy

Knowing Him

During Easter Mass yesterday, as with every Mass, I find myself crying after taking Communion, while I’m kneeling in prayer. Lately, it feels like church is the only place where the tears flow freely, where the awareness of the rising in my throat is not accompanied with an urge to stop it. Yesterday, I realized it was because I know Jesus understands my pain and is okay with me being unable to carry my burdens with strength unwavering.

I started coming to full realization of how much Jesus went through on Palm Sunday. Yes, I’ve watched The Passion. I’ve been involved in the Passion play at my church. I have seen the Stations of the Cross. Palm Sunday, however, was the first time that the Word, by itself, without the visual impact, brought me to tears. Since losing my babies, I could finally related to what Christ was feeling as He prayed and sweat blood, asking, pleading with God, but only if it was the Father’s will. How I prayed and prayed for Calvin to be saved, for Rainbow to live, knowing that it was not His plan. And after being let down and disappointed by friends and family, I could understand the hurt that Jesus must have felt as He looked to the Apostles for support, but found them sleeping. For the first time, I felt connected to Jesus’s agony, and it didn’t seem so distant anymore. It began with the Responsorial Psalm: My God, My God, why have you abandoned me? and continued through the readings. I know that pain. I know what it is like to hurt so badly, that you question whether God has forgotten you.

But this was all part of God’s plan: Jesus went through all of that for me, for my babies, to ensure that we would gain eternal life and never be separated again. I don’t know that I could have come to know Him as intimately as I do if it weren’t for Calvin and Rainbow. Maybe that is part of His plan for me?

Hope in His Promise

This picture was taken during lunch after Mass yesterday. For any of you super geeks out there (I married one), you may recognize the symbols we are wearing. It’s the symbol of the Blue Lanterns’ power rings, which are fueled by the emotion hope (there are different colored lanterns, with different symbols, that are fueled by other emotions). I also love their oath (which they use to recharge):

In fearful day, in raging night,
With strong hearts full, our souls ignite,
When all seems lost in the War of Light,
Look to the stars For hope burns bright!

Isn’t that just awesome? I thought it was fitting for Easter, so I went ahead and “geeked out” with Louie in celebration of Christ’s resurrection and the promise it brings — especially that of seeing Calvin and Rainbow again.

Sharing in the Joy

Today, I also wanted to announce the official launch of Calvin’s Cupcakes! Last month, on Calvin’s birthday, I shared that Calvin’s Cupcakes would be coming soon on this post. There are already several cupcakes up on the site, because we started making cupcakes and sending them out as I was getting the site up and as we were waiting for today to officially launch. We did not want to miss any birthdays.

We are so happy to be able to do this in honor of our sweet boy and in celebration of all those beautiful children who have their birthday parties in Heaven and know the joys of being in His presence. Please feel free to grab the site button and share Calvin’s Cupcakes with others.

Happy 13 months in Heaven, Calvin Phoenix! Thank you for the hope you have brought into Mommy and Daddy’s lives, and the ways in which we have been inspired by you. We love you so much.

I’m posting Lesson 2 and 3 together, because I’m still so behind. I haven’t been feeling well and am fighting off a sore throat and sinus pressure that have been around for a week now. I’ve also been feeling down lately, probably because the end of the month is here, which means another day further from when I had Calvin…. Louie has said to think of as another day closer to being with our babies again.

The 4th and 5th of the month are always a mix of emotions for me. I have found, though, that thinking of Calvin and remembering having him can lift my spirits. I also remember feeling uplifted after doing Lessons 2 and 3, when I was feeling particularly down, so maybe revisiting my journal to post online will help me to break out of this. I’m scared to to go to Lessons 4 and 5 because I don’t want to find myself in there again, which seems so odd for me. Since losing my two babies, I’ve been all about allowing myself feel however I need to feel, respecting my grief, and leaning into it. I guess I just don’t want to get stuck. I know that being afraid to go there probably means I need to work through it. For now, though, let me work on this constant catching up.

To start from the beginning, click here read Lesson 1: Calvin’s Birth Story.

I didn’t mention Rainbow Baby in that post, since I chose to share Calvin’s birth story, so I wanted to also take a moment to speak of my second baby for those of you who are new to my blog through this bible study. I found out I was pregnant with Rainbow on November 22 (the Sunday before Easter and a little less than a year after I found out I was pregnant with Calvin). When I was 7 weeks pregnant, I started spotting and that turned into bleeding. I went in for an ultrasound and they only saw a fluid-filled sac. My hcg levels were within range for it to still be early in the pregnancy, but the next day, December 10th, I miscarried. We referred to this baby as Rainbow Baby, and decided to keep the name, because we both feel like she is a girl. Though her time with us was short, she showed me the expansive capacity of mother’s love. I am grateful for that. I am grateful for her.

Lesson 2: So Many Questions

Question #1: Where do I go to find out the truth?

After losing Calvin, I turned to support groups on BabyCenter.com, blogs of mothers who had also lost babies, grief books, and I also joined a support group through my hospital for bereaved parents. I had tried seeing a social worker in the OB department before joining the support group, but she trivialized my loss and said, Your baby wasn’t even a baby. Maybe it was on it’s way to becoming a baby. So that wasn’t helpful. The books helped, except when I ran into parts I didn’t agree with – like needing to stop and touch a swing your child used to play on whenever you walked by doesn’t seem like a problem to me. Neither does living your life for your baby even after he or she has died. Maybe “living for your dead baby” is subject to interpretation. The support group was really helpful, as was reading from and speaking with other baby lost mommies. Louie and I also turned to each and to God. Before we got married, we started praying together at night before bed, as our pastor suggested, and this has strengthened us especially after losing our babies. Thanking Him for choosing us to be Calvin and Rainbow’s parents, for blessing us with these two little lives, is a reminder that even this grief is a blessing.

Question #2: Where does life come from?

When we were asked to look up scripture about finding truth in the bible in the first question, I was confused, because I thought, isn’t that why we are doing this bible study? But it is provided validation and confirmation for the next verses. One that I really like is Psalm 139: 13-16:

¹³For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother’s womb. ¹⁴I will praise thee; for I am fearfully [and] wonderfully made: marvelous [are] thy works; and [that] my soul knoweth right well. ¹⁵My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, [and] curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. ¹⁶Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being under feet; and in thy book all [my members] were written, [which] in continuance were fashioned, when [as yet there was] none of them.

God knew both of my babies before I had any idea there was life instead me. He knew their physical weaknesses, but they were fearfully and wonderfully made – just as He had intended them to be. And even though Calvin and Rainbow died before being born into this world, God had already wrapped them in His love. The verse that brought me to tears, especially for Rainbow Baby, who died so tiny was Jeremiah 1:5, specifically the second part: …and before thou camest forth out of the womb, I sanctified thee, [and] I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.

Question #3: Why was my baby too weak to live?

The story of the man who was blind in John 9:1-11 and Jesus saying that it was not because of his sin or that of his parents, but rather so that through him the works of God can be shown, was a much needed reminder that it wasn’t my fault that my baby died. It is so hard to let go of the blame, to let go of a sense of control really, and to understand that sometimes we need to get saliva and mud rubbed in our eyes before being able to see. One example of this, for me, was when I found myself completely devastated and feeling alone and isolated because of some words that were said about Calvin and how he died. Louie had to go to school, and I sat on my bed sobbing. I looked at my phone and tried to think of someone I could talk to. And there was no one. No one I felt would listen and not say anything to further hurt me (even if it wasn’t intentional, much of the hurting during this grief was not intentional, I couldn’t take it). So I finally turned to scripture, and found a verse that brought me peace and stopped the tears. In that, one of the lowest moments of my grief, God was glorified, even if just for me.

Question #4: Where is my child now?

The story of David, was more difficult for me, because the reason why his son fell ill was because he took Uriah’s wife, and seemed to contradict the example we got of the blind man, but I understand the importance of seeing his ability to praise God and worship and not be torn down by his loss because he had the promise of going to be with his son in the next life.

Question #5: Can I ever understand WHY?

I don’t really have a lot of ‘WHY’ questions anymore. A lot of my questioning was more about what I did wrong, what I failed to do, and what I could have done to save my babies. My biggest ‘WHY’ question with Calvin was why didn’t our baby live if we were willing and ready to accept a special needs child and fight for our baby’s life? For Rainbow, it was why did we get pregnant again on the same timeline as Calvin, if we were just going to lose her? Another one, which I only thought but never said aloud, was in response to people saying it wasn’t meant to be; if it wasn’t meant to be, then why did I get pregnant? After losing Calvin, I really just wanted understanding. I knew God had His reasons, but I felt like if I was privy to that, then maybe it would be easier. But it is in His time, not mine. And I have faith that one day, I will understand.

Question #6: How can God help me deal with losing my baby?

I have found God’s comfort through His word; through the people who have offered us love and support; in the peace He filled me with when I held my son; through the priest who baptized my baby and in the scripture he gave me and Louie scripture after he blessed Calvin; and in the outpouring of prayers and love we received after losing Rainbow. I have found comfort in being able to do things to honor and remember my children and in the strengthening of my marriage and of my faith.

I would like to be comforted through validation of my grief, acknowledgment of the significance of losing our babies, and recognition of the life our children had and the love we continue to have for them.

Lesson 3: This Can’t Be Happening

Biblical Example #1: Joseph

When Jacob said that he would mourn for Joseph until he went to his grave, it felt like he was speaking to my heart. When I first lost Calvin, I felt like I would grieve until I died and that the raw pain would never go away. I couldn’t imagine ever finding joy again, and a lot of the past year was more about surviving (even when I didn’t want to) than it was about living. I still believe I will mourn my two babies until I die – how can I not miss my babies? How can I not be sad that they are not with me? One year out from losing Calvin, and three months since losing Rainbow, things don’t feel razor-sharp anymore (at least not constantly). There are still moments when I lose my breath, but I guess I am learning to live with and accept the life I have so far. I think part of this is because I have been so open and adamant about talking about my babies and expressing my loss. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to try to choke down all that pain.

Biblical Example #2: Job

Job was actually the first book I read completely in a long time. I read the first few books of the Old Testament on my own in junior high or high school. During confirmation we read Acts of the Apostles. I actually downloaded an iPhone app through which I’ve been reading the bible (including Job and for this bible study; weird merging of religion and technology? Or a cool way to bring your bible with you wherever you go? both?).

Like Job, I felt very blessed in my life. My husband and I have been together since the end of high school, we were comfortable and happy to grow our family with children. We were afraid during the difficulties early on in the pregnancy and when we found out about the amniotic bands, but we had faith and prayed for our baby to live. When Calvin died, it felt like our world fell apart, and just as Job was admonished by his friends, we also felt alone and like no one understood. We clung to each other and continued to hope in God that we would hold our babies again. The scripture I relate to most is Job 13:15. That was why I was drawn to read Job. I came across this verse early on during my grieving for Calvin:Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him… because even as God is allowing me to suffer from the loss of two children, I am choosing to put my trust in Him, to trust that He will see me and Louie through this grief and suffering and that we will find joy again.

Now that I think about it, that verse has multiple meanings and doesn’t just speak to clinging to the Lord and having faith through the difficulties. It also says Though he slay me, that God is the cause of the pain, and that it how I felt when I lost Calvin and Rainbow, like I was dying and being broken multiple times over. But it is more than that. I am being refined in the fire.

The Grief Chart

Right now I am in between depression and busy-ness. I’ve been distracting myself from my grief, which is why I think I have been feeling down.

Relief

I only felt relief when Calvin was delivered, but ti was only from the physical pain.
I feel guilty about this.

Denial

The hardest thing to face about my loss is that I have to live out the rest of my life on earth without my two babies. I like the quote by C.S. Lewis I live each day thinking about living each day in grief. It can be so overwhelming and just the anticipation of the pain can be consuming, especially as milestones and anniversaries approach; even the thought of potential triggers is difficult. This is something that has been hard for others to understand, but as I’ve learned that, it’s easier to recover from people’s lack of foresight.

Facing Your Loss

I need to work on keeping God first, handing my grief and suffering over to Him, and being vigilant even in my sorrow so I am not led astray.

The promise in Romans 8:28: And we know that to them that love God all things work together for good, [even] to to them that are called according to [his] purpose, makes me feel hopeful that good will grow out of my grief and that, ultimately, God has a greater plan and good reason for allowing Calvin and Rainbow to die before they could be born. Some positive things that have resulted from my babies’ lives are:

• finding my support group
• drawing closer to God
• being able to offer support to others
• drawing closer to Louie
• being able to be an advocate for families who are grieving pregnancy loss and baby loss
• being more creative in my babies’ honor
• finding love and support in unexpected places
• finding conviction and confidence in expressing myself
• becoming a mommy
• the wonderful ladies I’ve come to know through our shared connection

I thank God for each of these things and feel truly blessed by all the good I experienced during my pregnancies and after my losses. Although I grieve, and I do so deeply, I do not do so without hope. I have faith that Louie and I will find real joy again, and are thankful for the happiness we have experienced with Calvin and Rainbow and after they went to be with God.

And if you have read this far, I am thankful for that also, because your eyes must be aching! I am grateful for the chance to share not only how Calvin and Rainbow have profoundly affected me, but also how God is working in and through my life.

This Threads of Hope, Pieces of Joy Bible Study is part of the “Walking With You” outreach of Sufficient Grace Ministries, led by Kelly Gerken. To learn more, read Kelly’s post: “Upcoming Threads of Hope Study.”

To read my posts on other lessons, please use the links below:
•Lesson One: Your Story
•Lesson Four: Why Me?
•Lesson Five: How Can I Go On?
•Lesson Six: I’ve Got to Get Better Soon
•Lesson Seven: Moving On to Acceptance
•Lesson Eight: Learning to Let Go
•Lesson Nine: Finding Joy

“Walking With You” is an outreach of Sufficient Grace Ministries, led by Kelly Gerken. We are a group of mothers who have lost a baby or child. We gather together from different places on our journey, each month to share our stories, to encourage, and pray for one another as we walk this path together. Our hope is that you will be comforted when you join us here…and maybe that we can offer some grace for the journey as we look to the Lord for comfort and strength.

This month for Walking With You, we are starting something new. We will be going through the Threads of Hope, Pieces of Joy Bible Study for the next nine weeks. Even if you have not joined us previously, I hope you will join us for this. All are welcome. My prayer is that it will bring hope and much-needed encouragement to hearts that are grieving.

*Because a lot of material will be covered in each study, you may share as much or as little as you wish about what speaks to you. You may answer every question on your post, or just choose one particular concept or scripture that spoke to you. Share as little or as much as you are able.

I am a few weeks late getting this post up, as it was more overwhelming than I expected to start it around the time of Calvin’s birthday. Because I never shared on the Precious Goodbye “Walking with You” post, I decided to go ahead and do Lesson 1. After celebrating Calvin’s 1st Birthday in Heaven (which I will write about later), I think it’s time to share his birth story. To read about the moments that led up to this day, please reading Waiting.

Delivering Calvin Phoenix into this World

Getting into labor and delivery.

Louie’s dad parked the car in the garage that had become so familiar since I first got pregnant and had to go in for the many ultrasounds and appointments. The air was dry, crisp, and cold. We didn’t speak as we walked towards the hospital. All I could hear was the shuffle of footsteps and the sound of the bags I carried brushing against my coat. We found our way to the “special elevator” that would take us to Labor & Delivery. This whole time I was walking quickly. Almost rushing. I don’t know why. But when we got out of the elevator and stepped on the 15th floor, I began to hesitate. It became more real, what I had to do. But it also felt like a dream. Almost as if I was watching myself take that really terrible, unreal walk past the posters of happy, smiling babies with that knowledge that my baby – my first child – the blessing I was carrying in my womb was dead.

After checking in with security and getting name tags, we walked through the double doors, and I approached the nurses station. I told them I was supposed to come in at 8 o’clock. They took my information, looked me up, discussed whether I was 15 or 18 weeks, what type to put me in, decided on a postpartum recovery room since it was an early induction. That whole time, I stood there listening, wanting to scream at them that my baby was 18 weeks, that I was standing there in front of them, and couldn’t they have had this conversation before I got there? But there I stood, feeling lost and numb and helpless.

When I got to the room, L1518, I lost it. I stood in front of the window, which overlooked the city, and cried. The first thing I said was I’m so angry. Followed by I don’t want to be here. Followed by This is going to break me. My sister-in-law put her arms around me. My husband clutched my hand. And we all stood there as I continued to sob until it was time for me to put on the hospital gown, put on the hospital gown, and wait for the induction to start.

One last look.

Before they began, I asked the nurse if I could have one more ultrasound. The doctor explained that their ultrasound isn’t as good as the one in radiology, but she was willing to do it. I needed to be sure. I needed to see my baby still on the monitor because the monitor was turned away from me during the ultrasound earlier that day (as my husband and mother-in-law saw my still, lifeless son). A part of me wanted a miracle, a part of me wanted some sense of confirmation and acknowledgement that my baby was gone.

The induction.

At midnight, they began the induction by inserting 3 pills of misoprostol into my cervix. It hurt. They put three more in at just past 3am. The last set was at around 6:30am. Each time was painful. I had to wake Louie up for each dose. He held my hand as I tried to breath through the pain. They told us that it could take anywhere from 12 – 24 hours.

Although the cramping was terrible, I was afraid of the epidural. First I tried ibuprofen. Then I eventually agreed to stronger pain medication via the IV after the nurse, out of concern, told me, You don’t have to be in pain. I didn’t really agree with that. I felt that I needed to feel it. When I finally did agree to have an epidural, it was too late. I was ready to push before they could get the anesthesiologist, even before they could start the pitocin, which was supposed to help induce contractions.

I started feeling immense pressure and pain, followed by the feeling of my baby starting to push forward. In a panic, I told the nurse I feel something coming out, and she went to get the doctor. By that time the pain was ripping through me. I was clutching the sheets in my fists on either side of me as I tried to brace myself. Louie told me to hold his hand, but I couldn’t let go of the sheets. I started crying out in pain. The nurse told me to hold Louie’s hand. But I couldn’t. The doctor came in and asked me to lie on my back. I can’t! I felt myself scream in pain. Then I felt my baby come out in a big gush. The pain was gone. I fell back onto the bed and started sobbing.

Louie put his arm around me and said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” over and over again. I was crying at my own weakness and fear. I wanted to ask for my baby, but I was scared. And all I could do was cry.

Choosing to say hello/goodbye.

They told us they were going to clean the baby up, and when my nurse came back, she told us that they couldn’t take footprints because the baby was so small. I wish I didn’t just say okay and that I had asked them to try anyway. I asked her if the baby was a boy or a girl. I had felt this baby was a boy. Whenever I dreamed of Louie and I having a baby, we had a boy. Earlier in the pregnancy, I dreamed of my grandmother laying her hands on my moving belly and telling me I was having a boy (it was like she came to visit me and the baby in a dream). I was right.

During the wait to deliver, Louie and I still hadn’t decided whether we wanted to see our baby. After discussing our fears, we told the doctor no, we didn’t want to see our baby. Then, later, the nurse came in and told us about how they can take pictures and footprints and that they could dress the baby in clothing people made and donated to the hospital specifically for tiny babies born too early. She also told us that we could have a priest come and baptize our baby. I wanted all those things for my baby. Louie started doing research online, using his phone, about what other parents who had delivered their babies at 18 weeks, and he found that there were no parents who regretted seeing their babies. The only regrets were from some parents who had chosen not to see them.

The doctor came back and told us that the baby did have some malformations. I asked her what the baby looked like. And she gave us the answer we needed to hear: that whatever she said to try to explain would not describe what our baby looked like. I think she didn’t want to scare us into missing out on seeing and holding our baby. I’m so thankful for the works she used to answer my question. I told her that I wanted to see the baby.

His name is “Calvin.”

The doctor that brought my baby boy into the room asked, Do you have a name for your baby? Louie and I both answered, Calvin. Before she picked him up to place him in my arms, she said, Calvin is very special. He’s very special. I held my tiny little boy, his head resting in the crook of my right elbow, and looked into his sweet face. A very different kind of tears flowed from eyes. I was filled with such a peace and happiness that is so difficult to explain. I know Louie felt it, too, as he said, Our baby is so cute. All the fears we had about seeing Calvin fell away.

I held our boy as the midwife we saw earlier in the pregnancy stopped in to check in on us. I held him as our nurses and doctors walked in and out. I held him as a priest blessed and baptized him and told us that we have a saint in Heaven watching over us. When I finally asked Louie if he wanted to hold Calvin, he was happily surprised that I was willing to let him hold our baby. Thinking of that makes me smile. Remembering Louie holding our baby is one of my best memories.

There are so many things things that I wish I had known then; so many things that I wish I had done: dressed him, held his hands, allowed the rest of our families to see and hold him, kept him with us longer, taken more pictures. But I’m trying to let go of these; I’m trying to believe that we made the best decisions that we could with what we knew at the time. I am so thankful we decided to see our baby, that we God the chance to hold him, that our nurse went out in search of a camera so we could take pictures together. Though God did not answer my prayer in the way I wanted, He did say yes in allowing me to deliver my child into this world. For that I feel so blessed.

To read my posts on other lessons, please use the links below:
•Lesson Two: So Many Questions
•Lesson Three: This Can’t Be Happening
•Lesson Four: Why Me?
•Lesson Five: How Can I Go On?
•Lesson Six: I’ve Got to Get Better Soon
•Lesson Seven: Moving On to Acceptance
•Lesson Eight: Learning to Let Go
•Lesson Nine: Finding Joy