Distracted and it feels so good...

Ever since we got home from our trip to the beach we have been having work done inside our home. Our old shower in the master bathroom was faulty. It has taken years but we finally have a new working shower! Because the shower caused water damage we also have new tile floors in our bathroom and new laminate in our room. We decided to expand the renovations and also replace the carpeting in our living room and the incredibly cheap laminate in our kitchen. This wouldn't have been possible if not for the lady who ran into our fence*.

Back story:

* In early January a woman drove into our fence and damaged it. The insurance estimated the damages and we received payment and my husband realized we could fix and replace the fence for far less ourselves. That left us with a lot of money left over so we decided to use it to make our house pretty.

Here are a few pics to give you an idea of what we have been working on...

Living Room Before (after new paint)

Living Room After (My hubby does nice work eh?)

We even made a space for Immy's ashes (which I received the day of my last blog post).

Our Master Bathroom like the other rooms in our home, is cozy, but finally functions!
Our upstairs bathroom also got new tile floors. 

Our Bedroom 

Our Bedroom before we put everything back in its place. 

New lighting in the kitchen. New kitchen table and new flooring coming soon! 

Back to my original post though.

We have had our house torn apart for a few weeks now and although it is killing me (because I am a neat freak), it has been good to distract myself with going through my stuff and purging the junk or long forgotten items in my possession. As a general rule, if I come across something that hasn't been used or thought about in a year, it goes to either the trash can or the Salvation Army. Many things have been donated thus far and I am not even halfway finished. Once I de-clutter, my new focus will be a memorial wall for Imogen. I can't wait to hang some pictures of our sweet girl. I also have a scrapbook to finish. One moment I feel like everything is moving a million miles a minute and then the next I feel like it is going in slow motion. I know my routine is being interrupted and things feel chaotic and life will probably feel that way for a long time. For now, I will embrace the distractions these home renovations are causing. Soon I will head back to work and things will go back to normal. Or at least a new normal. I'm not sure I'll ever feel like I did before the loss. And I know that isn't a terrible thing in the long run.

Get me out of here...

I don't think I've ever really been in a deep dark depression. I think if I could describe myself up until this point I could use words like optimistic, annoyingly happy, hopeful to a fault, etc...
I don't know if it is luck or genetics that I have been such a happy and positive person. I have had rough patches for sure and I have shed many tears but nothing that I couldn't come back from. I always wonder if songwriting has anything to do with my optimistic nature? I suspect it does.

I have written a small handful of songs for Imogen ever since we learned she was going to leave us. I haven't played a single instrument in months but the words and melody flowed easily from my head (and heart) onto the Notes app of my iPhone. I haven't shared any of these things with anyone. They are just quietly waiting for the right moment I guess. And I guess I may be quietly waiting for something as well.

There is such a helpless feeling when you lose a loved one. I could always handle that we were losing her because nothing I could have physically done would have changed the outcome but now that she has been gone for three weeks, frustration is starting to set in. Currently a contributing factor is that we still have not received her ashes. She hasn't even been cremated yet and the thought of that alone angers me. The doctor who called her time of death has already signed twice but both times the signatures have been rejected. I am overwhelmed by how easily this could be resolved and yet getting this one signature seems like just one more disappointment in a long line of disappointments. I am struggling with this need to find joy and with feeling like I am angry at the world and really I probably just need a good cry and a road trip. And maybe a lot of ice cream...



P.S. I really want to share Immy's songs with you and at some point I will. There is so much freedom in declaring peace and I feel at peace when I am writing.

Until we meet again...

We welcomed Imogen Violet into the world on February 9th at 1:39 a.m. Her body held on for about 34 minutes before she quietly passed away on my chest. Those 34 minutes were some of the most beautiful minutes I will ever know. My prayers that she would be born alive had been answered and I will always be grateful. It has been two weeks since we had to let her go and I think I am finally able to write down my thoughts about her birth, the long labor and how my heart is.

We knew we were being induced because of the high levels of amniotic fluid. I had gained roughly 30 pounds during the 37 weeks I carried her but about 80% of that or more was the weight of the amniotic fluid. I had been unable to walk for more than a small distance for weeks, couldn't sleep longer than a two hour stretch on my couch and was just plain miserable for weeks leading up to induction. I felt guilty for even wanting to be induced because I knew I was her lifeline and her birth meant her days were even more numbered. I really struggled with this. Ultimately I knew we were ready to face reality and I needed to make sure my health wasn't at risk. We went into the hospital on a Thursday evening. I knew an induction could take a long time or even cause complications but I was hopeful that wouldn't be the case with our labor and birth.

After determining I was not physically ready to deliver anytime soon, they used meds to ripen my cervix so I could start pitocin (the next day) and hopefully put my body into labor. This medicine worked pretty well and actually made me feel like I was in labor and for 12 + hours I was having hard and steady contractions. Unfortunately my body has a sensitivity to these meds and the contractions were too close to start pitocin. One of the concerns with a pregnancy like mine is the access amniotic fluid. My uterus was already stretched to capacity with the amount of fluid. That can cause very strong contractions that in rare situations leads to uterine rupture or a detached placenta. Both of these things could cause me harm. Those two outcomes were always in the back of my mind as I labored. It was a new experience for me as my other labors are relatively quick and uncomplicated. I was stressed out by the whole process by the end of Friday when labor stalled and nothing seemed to be happening. Saturday they unhooked me from the IV and allowed me to roam around and labor without being tied to the bed. I was able to get a lot of contractions going again and was hopeful. Later that afternoon though when we tried pitocin, it made my uterus contract violently and there continued to be no change in dilation. Overwhelmed and disappointed were thoughts that came to mind that afternoon. I was mentally and physically exhausted and I was starting to feel depressed.

When I awoke on Sunday (as if I really had gotten any sleep), we met with the doctor on call. Around 9 a.m. that doctor (who was very kind and calm) broke my water. It seems that I had dilated to 3 at some point after those three days of laboring off and on. When he broke my water you could see my belly deflate like a balloon. The fluid flooded the entire bed and some of the floor. If I could have captured the doctor's reaction to the amount of fluid you would maybe understand how those few minutes felt. I experienced immediate relief of the weight that I had been carrying around but I also felt guilty that the baby was now being forced out. Once my water broke, I knew time was literally ticking away and it wouldn't be very much longer.  It is a little bit of a blur but I believe we tried pitocin once again and it sent me into violent contractions again. I starting losing blood and releasing clots. There was concern that my placenta was partially detached and each strong contraction could make it worse. They took me back off of pitocin. This is where I started getting emotional and cried. None of this journey was fair and now I'm having a complicated labor? I was getting angry and losing hope. I hated feeling so helpless especially knowing on top of everything else, my baby was going to die. I had to fight a battle in my own head just to stay at peace. At some point in the day the dreaded C-section conversation started and words like epidural (which I have never had) started coming up. Thanks to good advice and an open mind (and complete exhaustion), I said yes to the epidural. My body had a scary reaction to it so he removed it and placed it again in a different spot. I was too exhausted to even be scared. I just let it all happen and knew it wasn't in my hands. I felt a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a few days and it came just at the right time. The epidural relaxed my body to the point of letting me dilate to 6 by that evening. I remember hearing the news and then I knew a C-section was probably not going to happen, which lifted my spirits even more. We watched The Walking Dead and then I dozed off for a bit. My poor husband was probably more exhausted than I was. Neither of us had to ever spend this much time in a hospital room. We were ready to be home. After a couple of hours of sleep I awoke to strange feelings and asked the nurse to check on my progress. At around 1:15 a.m. I was finally ready to push so we called our family, a photographer (and friend) and after a few pushes Immy entered the world and was put right on my chest.

We marveled over her resemblance to Mazzy. She looked almost identical minus the obvious physical deformities. She never really took full breaths and her heart continued beating for 34 minutes. There is no doubt she didn't suffer for a minute and was so peaceful as she stayed close to my heart. She was 3 lbs. 14 ounces and almost 17 inches long. She had a few wisps of dark black hair near her neck and perfect little hands and feet. Our family was able to hold and snuggle her and I will always feel that her life in its simplicity and briefness was breathtaking to witness. Looking back, I have so many thoughts. She impacted us in a mighty way and I will never again be the person I once was...

I wrote this to her in my journal:

Imogen,

We may not get to experience the joy of bringing you home, but your spirit will always fill it.

You have taught us what unconditional love is, what it feels like and how to give it freely. Our ability to love has increased. We will never be who we once were. Your brief life has left an eternal mark on us. 

You only knew love and loved you are. With everything in me you are loved. 



Imogen taught me to love even when loss was imminent and even if disappointment was the end result. She showed me how her life mattered even if it was not lived for very long on this earth. She connected me with feelings I've never felt before. She filled in the cracks of my faith. My pregnancy was filled with both beauty and pain. And it was through this experience that I can say I understand how beautiful God's love is. I loved Imogen without condition and knowing she would never thrive in this life. Her existence was nothing short of love in its purest form and forever I will honor her life with mine.

Thank you Immy for teaching me about love.

Dear Imogen

My sweet precious daughter,

For many months I have carried your lively spirit within me. I have treasured these months with you, feeling just how alive you are. There will be no greater joy than being your mother and I have carried that joy with me as I try and prepare for the day we will ultimately say goodbye. None of this has been easy but I have been at peace for awhile now. Of course some days I still silently crumble at the thought of your last breath and when I think about how you will likely never come home with us. We will have to settle for your sweet eternal spirit carried within our hearts instead. There will be no first car ride. No sweet swaddles late at night watching you sleep. So many things we will never do and that makes me so sad. For whatever reason, this has all unfolded and while I accept this is our territory now, I will never truly understand why all of this is happening. But I am not angry. I am still so happy you exist and even when you don't physically exist, you will be forever etched into my being, always here with me.
Thank you for hanging on these many months. Thank you for making your presence known with every wiggle, kick and roll. I will miss feeling your movements, even if I complain that you use my bladder for a trampoline far too often. It will be hard giving your tiny body to the funeral home but I know that your little spirit will be free and without pain and absolutely perfect. Even as I type this I can feel how very much alive you are and I am looking toward your birth with anticipation as well as grief. Losing you will be the hardest thing I will probably ever go through but I will hold on to the perfect love that has been taught and shown to me while on this journey. We will plant violets for you, hang your pictures and forever remember your impact. For someone who won't have the chance to live a long life, you will have affected so many people. This weekend we will honor you at your baby shower and donate baby items to our local Pregnancy Center. I am so happy to do this because I want only good things to come from this. I want to bless others the way your tiny life has blessed mine and show love to others the way others have shown me love during this journey. These are the beautiful parts of loss. Thank you little girl for trusting your life to me. You are loved.


-Mama

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Winter finally arrived and I couldn't be more relieved. I crave the gloomy, foggy, cloudy weather much like most people prefer the sunshine. Unlike a majority of people in the Winter months, I get depressed during the Summer. And even though this Winter I have a lot of things to be depressed about, I am doing pretty well. These last few months have been hard and a few times I felt like everything was caving in but I also begin again each day with a new perspective. I try to keep everything I am truly thankful for close to my heart and it helps get me through the tough days where I want nothing more than to feel sorry for myself. I won't though. Everyone is fighting some sort of battle (as they say) and although this battle seems pretty lame in comparison to say...someone who can't find their other sock, it is my battle. I have to face it either way so I may as well face it head on. For me, that is accepting Imogen will die much too soon. I know even if I feel I am prepared for that day, I won't be. Even though I have been in a state of grief since September, I haven't even felt an ounce of the grief I'll feel letting her go. To cope and to look ahead I am trying to compile a bucket-list for myself in 2015.

So far:

1. Focus on my health- Excuses are for suckers. I'm going to get myself out of bed and make time for me and really try to eliminate a lot of sugar from my diet. This one is always hard but I think I can do it.
*Of course right after baby comes, I will probably indulge in a margarita or five... Maybe a few trips to Dewars because hello?

2. Train for a 10k. I've done 5k's and I know it will be a good way to rid myself of stress. It would also be a great distraction to sign up for a few fun runs in and out of town. Trip to Ventura anyone?

3. Get away with the family. After we come home without baby, I think it will do me good to surround myself with my children and husband and just be...together. A trip to the ocean always makes my soul sing.

4. Finally find the words to write a song for Immy. I just don't think I can do this now. Words don't quite come out like I want. Plus, I haven't held her in my arms yet and I have a feeling those embraces will inspire me like nothing else could.



This is where I am so far. I will add to this list as time goes by. We are looking at about 8-10 weeks until we meet Imogen, unless something happens to bring her here sooner. I know those weeks will go by fast. I am getting nervous for labor and delivery. I'm praying she isn't stillborn. I'm lost in a million thoughts about the day she is born. I know it will be such a  hard day. Although I am trying to plan for the pain of it all, I have a feeling I can't even begin to scratch the surface of how we will feel meeting and then ultimately losing her. I have been putting off writing a birth plan and registering at the hospital because I am not sure how I can get through walking the same halls where I gave birth to two of my other children, knowing this birth will be so completely different. I'm afraid of the chaos in my mind as I deliver, knowing that my baby isn't healthy or compatible for life. It will be hard. So right now I am savoring my favorite weather, the time with family at Christmas and soaking up every ounce of joy I can between now and the day we see our baby.

Thankful

Most people would find it rather difficult to be thankful when going through a pregnancy that will end in a loss. I can totally understand why people feel that way but I have been fortunate enough to find this isn't the case with me. Sure, I'd love a different outcome. A healthy baby... That would be on the top of my list. But since the cards I have been dealt are not in favor of a healthy baby, I must cling to any and every ounce of joy I can find. I'm just over 26 weeks and her kicks are stronger than ever! It feels amazing to be able to daydream about her while those little arms and legs kick me nearly around the clock. I try to imagine who she would have looked like had she been a typical healthy baby. Would she be a member of the blue eyed club like my boys and I or have those beautiful hazels like her daddy and sister? Would she have a full head of hair like her siblings? Would she have a calm temperament or be grumpy like her big sister? Who would she grow to be? I'll always have to imagine how she would have looked as the years go by. Here I am thinking about the future when we haven't even brought her into the world yet, but doing so brings so much comfort.

I've been preparing for our goodbyes long before we will need to say them. It should probably be really tough for me to think about all of these things, especially during the holidays and especially while following the pregnancies of my friends. It should be hard for me to get out of bed and face each day knowing with each turn of the calendar, we are closer to the inevitable. And yet I find myself so very thankful for the opportunity to be a mother again. I had thought another pregnancy was unlikely and I was feeling so much sorrow over the process of trying and never succeeding at getting pregnant again. I know that Imogen will not live for very long and although that is definitely a blow to my spirit, I know her life is a gift. She has allowed me to experience another pregnancy and another chance at motherhood. She is still my sweet little girl and will always remain a significant part of my life. How can I not be thankful for such a gift?

Buzz kill

I really didn't know how else to title this post. One of the more upsetting things about this journey is how honest I am when I respond to people who congratulate me on my pregnancy. There are usually two ways I go about responding depending on who I am talking to.
If it is a complete stranger, I smile and say thank you. No issue there. I will most likely never see that person again and do not feel the need to fill them in on any details. But I am starting to see more familiar faces who I am not connected to through social media and they come up and rub my belly and congratulate me immediately and I feel that being honest and explaining our situation is the best for all involved. Today it happened and I could tell she wished she never brought it up. I said in my best "I am keeping it together" voice, "Thank you! We are so excited but we also know that she has a fatal defect and unfortunately won't live for very long. Still, we are loving and cherishing her every second we have her."

....

That usually makes me feel like a real buzz kill. But I do it to save myself from having to tell those same people after she is born and already gone. I don't know for certain, but I am guessing that after she is born I will be an emotional mess and I'd rather tell people now than when I am likely to explode from my hormones. Basically, I'm saving us all from my hormones... You're welcome.

I have pretty much mastered not crying every time I talk about it. It isn't that I don't want to cry, or that I feel ashamed of crying, it is that I don't want to be a mess. I do shed tears and honestly, they aren't all from being sad. Her life and this pregnancy are still very joyful for me. I don't feel burdened by our situation. I am learning so much from it. I am amazed at how strong my heart can be even under so much stress. I hope my children can take something away from this as well. I don't think anyone likes to suffer. I sure don't. But I am going to embrace it and take the things I learn from it and make something wonderful out of it.