It’s been on my mind a lot lately, not in an overly emotional way, necessarily. I’ve just been thinking about it, and how hard it was, and how dark the time after the miscarriage was. I don’t even remember March or April, save for one or two events like Carolyn’s visit and Easter with Caleb and Marci.

We were singing a song at church on Sunday, and there’s a line that says, “I will arise and go to Jesus. He will embrace me in his arms. And in the arms of my great savior there are ten thousand charms.” I suddenly teared up, remembering the image Annie had of me getting to heaven and being embraced by the baby we lost and by Jesus.

Definitely, having Elanor here has helped immeasurably as I remember this time last year. It doesn’t take the pain away, and certainly she doesn’t invalidate the baby we lost, but it helps. I can look at her funny little face and feel happy that she is here, and she is ours, knowing that she couldn’t have been if I hadn’t lost our first baby.

So, yeah. What a year it’s been. A really tough first half, with the miscarriage and then me being so very sick during my pregnancy with Elanor, followed by a wonderful second half.

I feel so blessed, especially as I look back to this time last year and how bleak everything was, between the miscarriage and Brett’s struggle to find a job. Today, we have our little girl, Brett has a job he enjoys that seems like it was made for him, we are living in a house we love…really, there is not much more I could want.

There were times in the week before I went into labor that I thought it would never happen, and I would just stay pregnant forever. Last Sunday night, the 13th, was one of those days.

I spent most of the day either in bed or playing Nintendo. Brett had a bunch of friends over to help him shoot a video piece that he wanted to submit for an upcoming show. I felt anything but social so I stayed in bed while everyone was over. I felt bad hiding out, but I just couldn’t handle more questions about the baby and the pregnancy and how I was feeling.

After they finished the video, they all left to go have a beer, but a couple of hours later, about 6 people wound up coming back over to have some Thai food with us. I was so mad at Brett for having so many people come back with him; I did not feel up to talking to people and just wanted to hang out with him. I fear I was rather bitchy. So, Arianna, Lailey, and Leah — I’m sorry I was so grumpy. Please forgive me; I feel bad!

Everyone left and we went to bed pretty early, about 9:45. Brett fell right asleep but I was awake for a long time. I was having contractions but they weren’t bad, although they were enough to keep me awake for a while. I finally went to sleep sometime between 11:30 and midnight.

At exactly 1:03 a.m., I woke up to feel a warm gush of fluid. I wondered if my water had just broken or if I’d had one of those unfortunate pregnant-lady accidents. I got up and went to the bathroom and noticed there was some bloody show and that it seemed like the fluid was of a different consistency than pee.

I went back to bed and woke Brett up about 1:15 and told him I thought my water had broken. We decided to time contractions for a while, and he went downstairs to do a couple of things in case it was real labor — like put away the moped parts he had spread out on our patio, since he’d planned to do some moped work the next day.

After an hour, the contractions were 3-6 minutes apart and were definitely different than any I’d felt before. However, I hadn’t had a big gush of amniotic fluid and was questioning whether my water really had broken or not. I called the doctor and she said that it sounded like I needed to come in and get checked, but not to rush as it didn’t sound like there was any hurry.

So I took a shower and got the rest of my hospital bag together, and Brett made some coffee (of course) and we headed out to the hospital.

We arrived about 3:30 and went up to triage. The monitor showed that the baby’s heartbeat was perfect and that the contractions were, in fact, about 5 minutes apart. However, the nurse had a hard time checking me to see how far dilated I was, and she had to call the doctor to come check me. I was dilated to about 2 and was about 90% effaced — no real change from my doctor’s appointment a couple of days earlier. Also, they did a couple of the pH strip tests to check for amniotic fluid, and both came back negative, but the doctor wanted to make absolutely certain so they did a swab test as well, which she then went to look at under a microscope.

She came back about 4:30 and said that my water had indeed broken and they would admit me, and that after we got settled in our room we should walk the halls for a few hours to help things progress. We asked her if she had any idea how things would go, and she said that it would probably be quite a while yet before I was in active labor and that she’d think the baby would be born late afternoon or early evening.

In a few minutes, we found ourselves walking the halls and looking at all of the artwork on the Labor and Delivery floor, critiquing many of the pieces as a way to pass the time.

At this point, the contractions were definitely getting stronger and closer together, but it was completely managable, although uncomfortable.

Sometime around this point, we called our families to let them know what was happening. It was a bit like herding cats to try to get everyone sorted out in terms of how everyone would get to Seattle and how people would handle their work situations. Finally, we decided that my mom would drive up immediately and that Brett’s mom and sister Rachel would ride with her. My dad and stepmom would come up mid-morning, and Brett’s dad would come up with Brett’s sister Amy and her husband Seth sometime late morning. At that moment, we didn’t think my sister was going to be able to come. (Thankfully, she got someone to cover her shift the following day and was able to come that evening with my niece Adeline and nephew Zachary.)

I was relieved to find out I could eat some light food, since it was around 7 a.m. and I hadn’t eaten since our Thai food dinner the previous night. I had some Jello, and some graham crackers, and some hot tea. Little did I know that would be the last thing I’d eat for over 24 hours.

At this point, I was still able to focus on other things, so I leaned over the birthing ball on the bed and cracked open the copy of The Fellowship of the Ring I’d brought with me to the hospital. I didn’t get very far, but it was a decent distraction for an hour or so.

Around 8:30, the doctor came back and checked me again, to find that I was already 4cm dilated. Active labor had officially begun.

This is where things get much fuzzier for me. I know that I labored for a while all over the room, on the birthing ball, leaning against the sink or the bed, hanging on Brett. The contractions started to hurt quite a bit more and required some focus to get through.

One thing I loved about the hospital we delivered at is that you have one nurse, one-on-one, for her entire 12-hour shift. It was so nice to have that continuity and that level of attention. Our amazing nurse, Angelica, ran a bath for me sometime in this period, and I have to say that the Jaccuzi tub was fantastic. It really helped with the contractions, and I stayed in there for about an hour. It was easily my favorite part of labor.

I was starting to have to vocalize through the contractions — moaning, praying, even swearing, sometimes all at the same time.

I got out of the tub probably around 10, and our moms arrived shortly thereafter — sometime around 11. They really wanted to see me so I said they could come in for a few minutes if they were very quiet and calm. I felt self-conscious about vocalizing with other people in the room, so it took a lot of willpower, but I remember being able to be quiet during the contractions while they were standing there.

I think it was around this time (probably around noon, although I have no idea) that they checked me and I was dilated to a 7-8 and was beginning transition.

I remember things got really painful around this time. I had been feeling nauseous for a couple of hours, and I got up to go to the bathroom. While I was sitting on the toilet, I had a horrible contraction and knew I was going to throw up. I just sat there heaving while Brett and Angelica held me up and held a tray for me.

The next couple of hours are a complete blur. Everyone started making comments that I’d have a baby by lunchtime, etc. Our nurse Angelica kept pushing her lunch break back because it really seemed during the early afternoon that delivery was more and more immanent. I remember looking at Brett at one moment and saying how disappointed his sister Amy was going to be, since it looked like I was going to deliver before she and Seth and Jeff arrived.

The contractions were very painful by this time and I kept throwing up. I was starving since I hadn’t eaten but a 1/4 cup of Jello and two graham crackers in about 18 hours, and was terribly thirsty, but I was throwing up even ice chips. They’d put one in my mouth, and about 3 minutes later, out it would come.

By around 3, I was feeling the urge to push. The doctor checked me again and I was dilated to 9, but there was one small problem — I had what’s called an anterior cervical lip, which means that because the baby’s head was presenting at something of an angle, the front part of my cervix just wasn’t dilated to 10, although the rest of my cervix was wide open and the baby was at +1 station.

So around 3:20 I started pushing, and the doctor or nurse would intermittently try to hold the lip of the cervix back during a contraction so that the baby’s head could move down. Let me tell you, that hurt like hell. It was horrible.

The next couple of hours passed, with me getting more and more exhausted and incoherent and the contractions getting worse and worse. They were literally coming on top of each other, with no break in between. I’d have 3 or 4 before I would even get any kind of release, and that was brief and still quite painful.

I had been hooked up to the external fetal monitors intermittently throughout the day. These are small plastic discs that are about 3 inches in diameter, and they hook on to your belly via an elastic band attached around the belly. One monitors the baby’s heart rate and the other monitors contractions.

They started to really irritate my skin and my belly; the elastic bands were itchy and painful and the monitors themselves were digging into my belly and making the contractions worse. I remember at one point trying to push one of the nurses away when I saw her coming with them because I could not stand to have them on anymore.

The decision was finally made to switch to an internal fetal monitor, which I had been dead set against as it attaches to the baby’s scalp using a small screw. The thought of that had set my teeth on edge before I was in labor, but at that point, I didn’t really care and was just happy to not have the external monitors on anymore.

Sometime around 5:00 or 5:15, the doctor came back to check on me. I was still having the cervical lip, and the baby had not moved down at all since I started pushing.

By this point, I was so wracked with pain and so exhausted that I couldn’t even talk. I remember lying on the bed and feeling a contraction come on, and just moaning to try to let Angelica and Brett know that I was ready to push so they could come hold my legs back.

I remember just sitting there sobbing for part of this time. The pain was so intensely over the top that I thought I was going to break in half, I was exhausted, I was thirsty, I was starving, and I was still throwing up. Oddly enough, I almost began to look forward to throwing up as it gave my mind and body a focus other than a contraction for a minute or so.

My entire body was tense and hard as a rock. I still wasn’t getting a break from contractions and every muscle in my body was spasming.

I kept saying, “Oh, I wish I’d gotten an epidural.” I thought the point where that was a possibility had long since passed.

I was lying on my side when the doctor came over and sat down right next to the bed and looked me in the eyes. I remember that she said, “You have choices here. You can get an epidural. It’s still an option, and it’s ok. You’re not a failure. This is hard. You’ve been pushing for a very long time. We can get someone here right away.”

I looked at Brett and, crying, told him I think I needed one but that I really didn’t want to get one. He said, “Leen, if you need one, then do it.”

I said to the doctor, “How quickly can you have the anesthesiologist here?”

And she said, “I’ll go find him right now.”

We had both been so against epidurals. I felt so disappointed in myself, and if I’m honest, afraid of what our moms would say. Both of them had all of their kids without drugs, and my sister had her three naturally, too. My mom had been telling me practically my whole life how she believes that epidurals are bad, that they slow labor down, that they can pass the drugs to the baby, etc. And Brett’s mom, being a doula, had said many of the same things. After my nephew Jacob was born, the two of them sat there telling me all of this together, and how great they thought it was that my sister hadn’t had an epidural. So you can imagine it was a very hard decision for me to make in light of that.

The anesthesiologist was in my room almost immediately, and he began working. The hardest part for me was having to stay totally still — with my contractions coming so close together I had to maintain that stillness throughout the contractions, which was one of the hardest things I’ve done in my whole life. But Brett and Angelica were, as always, right there holding my hands (and sometimes even holding my legs and arms down), and that made such a difference.

When the drugs took effect a few minutes later, I experienced a feeling of relief that I have never felt before in my entire life. I just sat in bed, crying. It felt so much better. I could breathe again, and I could talk, and I didn’t feel like I wanted to jump off the Columbia Center just so the pain would stop.

I really wanted to see my mom at that moment, so Brett went out to get our moms. I saw them come through the door and I just started bawling and saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want an epidural but I just couldn’t do it anymore.” (I’m tearing up now just writing this…it was a very intense moment of emotion.)

Both of them just came over and hugged me and told me that it was ok and that they were so proud of me and that they didn’t care. I really needed to hear that and after they both said that, I felt a lot better.

A few minutes later, Brett’s sisters and my stepmom came in, too, while Brett went to get some food since he hadn’t eaten anything all day. We just hung out for about 45 minutes. I was able to laugh and joke with them and was able to relax and rest. I needed that time.

They left and we just rested for a while longer, as there was a nursing shift change. So while Angelica updated our new nurse, Joanna, Brett and I just rested. We were both exhausted.

Around 8 p.m., I started to push again. Joanna and Brett were fantastic. They held my legs and talked me through the pushing. I could see everything in a big mirror they had put at the end of the bed, and being able to see what an effective push looked like was really helpful since I couldn’t feel much with the epidural.

The doctor said we’d give it an hour or two and then see if the baby had progressed. She said that if the baby hadn’t moved down from that +1 station by then, we’d need to talk about a c-section. When she said that, my heart just sank and I felt a sense of disappointment.

I started talking to the baby between contractions, telling it to move down, to come on out, that we wanted to meet he/she. During the worst of the contractions before the epidural, Brett would try to talk me through by telling me to just keep up the good work and we’d get to meet the Snugglefriend soon. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care that they could see the head, I didn’t care that my baby was going to be born. All I cared about was the pain and how horrible it was. I could not focus on the fact or enjoy the fact that we were about to meet our baby.

After the epidural, though, I was excited. I wanted to get the process over not because it hurt, but because then I’d get to meet this little person who had lived inside of me for 10 months. I could use that as a motivator to push — my mind was in a state where I could accept rational thought, whereas before it had been consumed with the irrationality of the intense pain.

So I pushed and pushed and pushed, and finally the doctor came back about 10:30 and checked me. The baby was still sitting at that +1 station. A bit of the head was coming down to a +2, but the doctor said that it was the soft part of her head that was just getting squeezed through every time I pushed; the bony part was not budging. She said the words I had dreaded: “I think you need a c-section. This baby is just not coming out. If you’d made any progress since you’d been pushing, I’d be fine to let you labor for as long as the baby’s heartbeat looked good, but you haven’t progressed, and I’m afraid that you could be here all night and not get any further and just get more and more exhausted.”

Brett and I looked at each other, and we just knew that a c-section was the right decision. The circumstances were exactly the ones that we’d talked about being necessary for us to accept a c-section — I’d tried literally everything to get the baby out on my own but the baby just wasn’t fitting.

Overall, we feel 100% satisfied with the birth experience at Swedish and my OB’s care. We feel like our desires were listened to and honored, but that when it became necessary, the doctor told us what she thought was best for me and for Elanor. The hospital was fantastic, too. Every doctor and nurse who cared for us was amazing, especially Angelica, Joanna, and the anesthesiologist. They were all wonderful and compassionate and real and truly made the experience a good one, even though so many things didn’t go the way we thought we wanted them to. We will definitely be going back there when we are someday ready to have another baby.

After we decided to have the c-section, the next half-hour was a blur. The doctor spent a good 10 minutes answering our questions and walking us through what would happen. I really appreciated that she did that. I think we’d blocked out a lot of the details of what we’d talked about at my appointment a few weeks earlier with regard to a c-section, just because both of us believed it wouldn’t be necessary.

Brett ran out to tell our families (who had now been waiting in the tiny waiting room for going on 12 hours), and the doctor went to find another OB to scrub in with her on the surgery. The nurses got an anesthesiologist back in, and reserved an OR.

They upped my pain medication, introduced the doctor who would be helping with the surgery, made me drink this vile stuff that is supposed to neutralize stomach acid (which didn’t work and I threw it all up, of course, because what better way to end this pregnancy than how I began it: vomiting), and off we went down the hall.

One thing I forgot to mention is that I’d been shaking uncontrollably since mid-afternoon. It’s pretty common during transition and pushing for women to shake; the hormones combined with the pain are usually the cause. But in my exhaustion, the shakes had continued after I had the epidural, and they were even coming on and off while we were heading to the OR.

As soon as the doors to the ER opened at the foot of the gurney and I saw the lights and table and equipment, something released in me and I started sobbing and shaking even harder. It wasn’t that I was disappointed by the fact I was getting a c-section (honestly, by that time I just wanted it all over) but I was scared to death. I had never had surgery before, and I was already so tired and overwrought that it was just too much.

I tried to whisper scripture to myself, and to pray, but I was so over the edge that I couldn’t even get a whole verse out of my mouth and all I could think to pray was, “Oh, God, oh God, oh God, please help, I’m scared.”

Brett was overwhelmed at this point, too, and was running out of things to say. I remember opening my eyes to see him standing over my bed with his hands on my head, his eyes closed, and his lips moving, just praying.

Thankfully, the anesthesiologist saved the day. I cannot express my gratitude to this man. He sat with me behind the drape to monitor my pain levels throughout the process, so he was on my right and Brett on my left. He held my hand the whole time and talked to me in order to distract me from what they were doing on the other side of the drape. (Hearing them talk about moving my organs around was probably not a good idea, given how upset I was.)

The plan was that when they pulled the baby out, Brett would stand up and look to see whether it was a boy or a girl, and then he would tell me and go to the baby.

When that time came, the doctor told him to stand up. The baby’s head an shoulders were out but they were having a hard time getting the rest out and were pushing on my stomach/torso really, really hard. I remember that I couldn’t breathe and that it hurt a lot, even through the drugs.

Finally the rest popped out (at 11:22 p.m.) and Brett exclaimed, in a surprised and incredulous tone, “Oh my GOD, Leen, it’s a girl!!!”

I replied, in an equally incredulous tone, “WHAT? Are you serious? A GIRL?!”

We were just so sure it was a boy. I had even bought some boy things and had really gotten into that mindset; I think we both had. So it was quite a shock for about two minutes, and I even admit to being somewhat disappointed. But since we got over that shock (pretty much immediately), it seems so right that she is a girl, and I cannot even imagine her being a boy.

She didn’t cry right away, which scared me to death. I really thought something was wrong. Thankfully, she just had fluid in her lungs as a result of having been born via c-section instead of vaginally. (With a vaginal birth, the contractions and trip through the birth canal help squeeze out that fluid.)

I remember calling to Brett, “What are we going to name her?” And him saying, “I don’t know!” A few minutes later, I called over, “How is Elanor doing?” and then realizing what I had said and saying, “Wait, I just called her Elanor. Is that ok; is that fine?” And him saying yes. (I think he would have said yes to anything I wanted at that point; he was so awed at what I’d been through that day.)

I couldn’t really see her, since the nurses and doctors and Brett were all crowded around the warming table where they’d taken her. It was really hard for me not to be able to jump up and see her right away. Even when they got her all done and bundled up and Brett brought her to me, I couldn’t get a good look since I was lying flat on my back. The best I could do was kiss her little head a few times — I couldn’t even touch her since they didn’t want me to move my arms.

I remember Brett leaning over me and saying something like, “Here’s our little girl,” with tears in his eyes. I was crying then, too.

Finally, they got me all closed up. It seemed to take forever. Toward the very end, I started feeling sensation, too, which was very scary. The anesthesiologist immediately upped the dose in my epidural to the max and also added at least 2 narcotics, so by the time they finished, I was very out of it. I couldn’t even open my eyes. I could hear everyone talking on the walk back to the room, but it was as though they were very far away.

In the recovery room, they continued taking care of Elanor and I just laid there because I couldn’t move. Gradually, I began to be able to talk and move a bit again, and finally, finally, I got to hold her. They brought her to me and helped me get into position, and put her up to my breast, and she just latched right on and began nursing. It was a beautiful moment.

Brett had to go get our families at this point; it was now almost 1 a.m. and they didn’t know what was going on. So the onslaught began, and all 12 of them came rushing in to meet her. It was hard for me to let them hold her, since I’d only held her for maybe 10 minutes at that point. But I did it, and I know they were all glad I did. I actually loved seeing them all ooh and ahh over her. I think my father-in-law Jeff’s reaction was the best. He was instantly smitten with her and turned from his sometimes gruff self (if this says anything, the current front runner grandpa name for him is Grumps) into this big melty man who would do anything for his little granddaughter. It was really special to see all of the family (except my brother and his wife and kids, who live in Oklahoma) get to meet her right away.

We didn’t get moved to our postpartum room until about 3 a.m. The curtains were open when they wheeled me in, and I could see the entire downtown all lit up right there, including my building. It was really pretty.

By the time they got us settled there and left us alone, it was 4 a.m. — 24 hours since we’d been admitted, it was finally over. We were so tired but were too full of adrenaline to sleep.

That hour or so in the darkened recovery room, with the curtains open to a view of downtown at night, is one of the most special moments in our relationship. Just sitting there in the dark, looking at the city I love, praying and thanking God with Brett for this blessing, talking to Brett and holding Elanor in my arms was so special and intimate and wonderful.

I felt so whole and complete in that moment. Everything was right in my world. Even though the labor and delivery had been pretty much the list of everything I didn’t want — continual monitoring, epidural, c-section — it was completely worth it to have what I have now, this perfect little girl, who makes my life complete in a way I didn’t even know I needed.

It’s only been a week, and I cannot imagine life without Elanor in it. Not only is she herself incredible and perfect and amazing, but having her here has brought me closer to Brett in a way that I never dreamed possible. The love I feel for him is so much deeper and stronger now than it was a week ago. His continual, reassuring presence during labor (even though I know it horrified him to see me go through so much), his praise of me afterward, telling me how tough I am and how proud he is of me, his sacrifice of his own needs and his selfishness to care for me this week, and most of all his clear, deep love of Elanor — all of this has overwhelmed me.

He has truly been Jesus to me this week in a way he never has before, and has completely fulfilled his command in Ephesians 5: “Husbands, love your wives just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her … In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.”

There are so many examples of this; I could list them out here but it would take all day. I’ll just say this: I am so in love with my little family, with Brett and Elanor.

It’s bittersweet to know that Elanor couldn’t have been here without the loss of our first baby. That baby was definitely on our minds and in our hearts on Monday. Still, knowing he or she is in heaven is comforting — and now, having Elanor…well, I don’t want to imagine not having her. I guess I feel like the miscarriage has been redeemed now through her, not that she’s a replacement for the baby we lost, but that I can move on in a way now that she is here, knowing she couldn’t have been without the miscarriage having happened. It’s hard to explain this well; I hope I am making sense.

Our lives will never be the same — we won’t be able to sleep in, or go to the movies on a whim, or any of that kind of thing, but that’s ok with me. This new family of three is so much better than before. None of that matters now. We have each other and we have Elanor, and she is worth any sacrifice we have to make in terms of our lifestyles. So while our lives will never be the same, I wouldn’t want them to be.

Because this? Is so much better.

I’ll end with this verse from Ephesians. It sums up exactly what I’m feeling, that right now I have immeasurably more than I could have asked for or imagined.

The author captures the family’s story very clearly and highlights the emotion of losing a baby so accurately. I think that is what struck me most about this story.

Anyway, it’s a tear-jerker, and was a bit scary for me to read as I approach this baby’s due date, since I hadn’t really considered the idea of stillbirth and now it’s definitely on my mind, but I think it’s worth reading.

Here’s the link again: http://www.oregonlive.com/special/baby/index.ssf?/special/baby/content/2-days.html

At the top of my list is that Brett and I seem to grow closer every day. I don’t know what it is, but after almost nine years together (!), something seems to have clicked in our relationship over the past few months and I absolutely love it. We have so much fun when we’re together, we fight better, we laugh more, we talk more, we pray together more. Plus, watching him get excited about meeting this baby thrills me in an indescribable way. We’ve come through the fire of the past couple of years and are only stronger for it. It’s wonderful.

Also at the top of my list is this baby. What can I even say? After experiencing the miscarriage, every kick and every movement feels like a gift, every good appointment a relief, every week that passes a triumph. Being able to push on my belly (like I’m doing now…well, when I take a break from typing, anyway) and feel the baby’s different limbs whacking me back or moving around is amazing, and I cannot wait to meet this person. Becoming a parent is a daunting and scary thing to think about, but overall I know Brett and I are anticipating this baby’s birth with joy and excitement at the fore.

My third top-of-the-list item is our financial situation. I didn’t talk much about it with anyone when we were going through it, but between moving to Maine, the economy there, Brett being in school, moving back, and then Brett not having a job, we’ve struggled money-wise pretty much since we got married, with it at its worst about this time last year — basically right through the holiday season and into January. It sucked. There is just no other way to describe it.

A year ago, Brett was jobless, we were financially strapped to a point that I still can’t think about it without practically having a panic attack, and life seemed unbelievably stressful. The prospect of not fighting about money and of having enough money to, you know, pay our bills, let alone consider having a baby, was pretty remote. So now with both of us gainfully employed, making enough money to pay down debt, save, travel, and have fun, and with Brett having a job that he loves…it’s brought a whole different feeling to life. That’s not to say we’re suddenly rolling in the dough (not by any means) but it’s just nice not to have to worry as much and to be able to do fun things if we want to.

We were talking over dinner a week or so ago about Brett’s job, and how thankful he is to have it, and how much he enjoys what he does.

“God really provided amazingly with this job, didn’t he?” Brett asked. “It really is the perfect job for me.”

And it is. It’s perfect in ways neither of us could have imagined, and I am so deeply thankful for it. I know so many people told us when he was jobless that the right thing would come along at the right time. After a while, I couldn’t take that anymore. I didn’t want to hear it. Rejection after rejection loomed so large in our lives; I sort of stopped believing he’d ever find something. So to look back and see how faithful God was, and how he provided this job at the perfect time (the same week as the miscarriage)…it blows me away.

Anyway, there are, of course, lots of other things I’m thankful for:

• Our families
• Our home
• Our friends
• Our church

Basically, bottom line, I am beyond thankful for God’s amazing provision for us. The glory belongs to him. We haven’t done anything to deserve this; it’s truly through his grace that we are where we are right now. In the past year, he has fulfilled Ephesians 3:20 in our lives, doing immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine. I’m so excited to see what he has in store for us in the next year!

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”

1. Hola, Isabel — I am not sure how Isabel (her online persona name) and I first found each others’ blogs. It was most likely through each others’ comments on Amalah a few years back. I was living in Maine, she here in Seattle, and we just started reading each others’ sites, the city of Seattle providing that initial link. Then, when I came back here and began working downtown, we started meeting up for lunch. Now we see each other for lunch maybe once a month or so. It’s really fun! We never run out of things to talk about and often wind up looking at the time and having to jump up and run back to work, 10 minutes late. Anyway, her blog is always interesting; Isabel can make a post about the most run-of-the-mill thing interesting. One thing I love about her — Isabel asks her readers questions. That interaction is great; it turns this monologue into a dialogue.

2. Frema — I found Frema through Isabel, actually, and started reading regularly during the Tragic Love Friday series, a serial wherein Frema posted the soap opera-esque story she’d written as a young teenager. I remember one day I was bored and spent literally hours reading all the back TLF posts. From then on, I was hooked and would check the site obsessively on Fridays for the latest installment. It’s not only funny, but really well-written for someone who was, at the time of writing it, in her first year or two of high school. Then, although TLF (tragically) came to an end, Frema got pregnant and is due only a few weeks before me, so it became fun to read her blog to get another perspective on pregnancy from someone a few weeks ahead of me. I enjoy Frema because I identify with a lot of what she writes about, whether it be pregnancy, her adolescence (as displayed to all through TLF), marriage, writing, or life.

3. Miss Doxie — I think I found Miss Doxie through the Snarkies, but I can’t remember for sure now. Although Leigh (Miss Doxie herself) doesn’t post super-often, when she does, her posts are so hilarious and well-written that I often find myself in fits of laughter. Whether posting about her three Dachshunds (hence the name Miss Doxie), her family, her crazy lawyer job, or her childhood, I can’t get enough of Leigh’s hilarious stories and fantastic writing.

4. Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters — I found this site through my good friend C over at This Sorta Fairytale. It’s a site for all things infertility- and pregnancy-loss-related. It was a very valuable resource to me in the days after my miscarriage, and I still enjoy checking in there. Melissa, who runs the site, has turned it into so much more than a blog — it’s really a community touchstone for those who have struggled with infertility, pregnancy loss, or some derivative.

5. The Amazing Adventures of Overshare — Again, I can’t remember exactly where I found this site but I believe it was through the Snarkies. It’s the blog of an anonymous woman (aptly named Anonymous) who works with the most obnoxious coworker ever, otherwise known as Overshare. It’s hilarious, and over the top, and so much fun to read, mostly because it’s just so hard to believe that someone (Overshare) can be so incredibly unaware of social conventions. Plus, Anonymous has a knack for writing the stories in a dry, humor-filled way that will keep me coming back for more and hoping that Overshare keeps on oversharing for a long time to come.

I hope that gives some of you something new to enjoy!

Today is the day you were due to make your entrance into the world. It’s a bittersweet day for me: I am at once sad, thinking of you and what might have been, and at the same time joyful because your brother or sister is kicking away inside me. It’s a strange mixture of things to feel.

I wonder who you were, who you would have been, if you would already be here with us or if we’d still be waiting impatiently for you to arrive. I wonder what (and who) you would have looked like. I feel in my heart that you are a girl, which seems strange to me because I have absolutely no intuition about what gender this second baby is. Maybe that’s part of how I have unknowingly protected myself against the hurt I felt over losing you.

I know that you are in heaven with Jesus, and with all of our loved ones who have passed away. I like to think that your Great Granddad is threatening to “rock” you to sleep by going out in the yard and getting a big rock to do it with (all the while winking and joking around and generally making you laugh), and that your Great Grandma is giving you tasty things to eat and giving you big hugs. That your Great Grandpa Big Al is teaching you something interesting and taking you with him when he visits with all of his many friends. That your Great Grandma Pat is making you beach breakfast. That my mom’s grandma, your Great Great Grandma, is giving you one of her bone-crushing hugs. That your Great Uncle Larry, and your cousin who was lost like you were, and your Great Uncles Glenn and Allan who died when they were babies, that all of these people, together with Jesus, are surrounding you and loving you as we would have if you were here with us.

I will always think of you on this day. In my mind and in my heart, it will be your day. I prefer it this way, to think of you on the day you might have been born and not the day we discovered you weren’t going to live.

I can’t remember who it was now (the time after we lost you is such a blur to me) but either Marci or Annie, I believe, told me of a vision they’d had of you, a beautiful blonde toddler, in Jesus’ arms, waiting for me to arrive in heaven. When I arrived, you jumped out of Jesus’ arms and ran to meet me and jumped into my arms.

That vision brings tears to my eyes, and I look forward with great anticipation to that day when I will get to hold you and to know you as I will get to hold and know your brother or sister in a few more months.

I’m not as sad as I think I could be today, mostly for two reasons: one, I know that I will get to know you in heaven, and two, that your brother or sister is on his or her way, and he or she could not have been if we had you. It is a weird thing to think, and sounds almost callous (I don’t mean it in a callous way) but it’s the truth, and it helps me to feel happier today than I could have otherwise.

I love you, and I will be thinking of you, especially today, and on this day every year.

Love,
Your Mom

First, an update on my sister. She is doing better, finally. It’s been a long two months for her, but in the past two weeks, she’s FINALLY been able to get out of the house a bit. They’re ramping back her pain meds, and she’s even considering starting back to work for one or two four-hour shifts in the next couple of weeks. Hooray! This is a huge blessing considering that since I last posted, things got a little better, then a lot worse (with her back in the hospital) and now, finally better again. We’re really thankful she’s doing better.

We’re gearing up for Brett’s sister Amy’s wedding this weekend. Yahoo! Very exciting. This is much-anticipated, as Amy has been dating her fiancé Seth for almost five years. They make a great couple and I am so very excited for them. We leave on Wednesday night to head to Portland and join in the wedding festivities. I can’t wait!

And now, the big update, and the reason I haven’t really been posting much: I’m 14 weeks pregnant, due January 18.

I’ve been really, really sick, like puking-all-day-OMG-I’m-going-to-die-I-can’t-even-get-out-of-bed-let-alone-update-my-blog sick. Thankfully, that seems to have abated somewhat in the past couple of weeks, since I’ve hit the second trimester, (although I did throw up for the first time in two weeks this morning, ruining my longest no-puking streak to date) but it doesn’t mean I am not still exhausted and drained all. the. time.

At first, I wanted to tell everyone as soon as we found out, but Brett convinced me to wait, and now I’m so glad he did. Having the time of just the two of us knowing was really good, I think. It gave us time to absorb what was happening, to get past that 9w3d mark (which is when I miscarried last time), and to feel a little more confident before we started telling everyone.

We told our families about a month ago, which was really fun. I pasted copies of the ultrasound photo on a pretty card and wrote, “Coming January 18, 2008″ on the top. They are all very, very excited. Brett’s sisters win for the best reaction: they started screaming and jumping up and down and hugging me. It was great.

I wound up telling at work much sooner than I would have liked, simply because I was so sick that I couldn’t come up with any more viable excuses about why I was missing work yet again. The cat keeps coming further and further out of the bag in terms of who knows, and after Amy’s wedding this weekend, I expect it to be fully out of the bag. (My bridesmaid dress makes me look nice and pregnant — not fat!)

Having so many people know is exciting but also a bit scary for me. Every time we tell someone else, the thought flashes through my mind, “Just one more person to tell if something goes wrong.”

I try to push those thoughts aside and focus on the good:

• We had a fantastic ultrasound at 7 weeks, with everything measuring right on target
• We heard the heartbeat at 12 weeks
• I’m really, really, really sick

Well, whether that last one is good or not is debatable, I guess, but at any rate, it is reassuring. As a measure of how sick I’ve been, I offer this evidence: between our first appointment at 7 weeks and the second one at 12 weeks, I lost almost 8 pounds, none of which I’ve gained back in the two weeks since my last appointment. Yeah. Yikes. This coming from me, who has not been able to lose any weight in about 2 years. (I don’t recommend this diet plan, by the way. It works, but boy, it’s not fun.)

So, that’s about it. Our lives these days are kind of slow-paced. I don’t have the energy to do a whole lot (much to Brett’s dismay), but that’s just how it is. I did have a burst of energy on Saturday, which prompted me to clean the whole house (it took an embarrassingly long time, considering how small our apartment is), walk a mile each way to the store, make a big dinner, and make a cake for dessert. I paid for all that expended energy yesterday, though, when I was so tired and sore I could barely move. I think that overdoing it Saturday also has some bearing on my broken puke-free streak today, too.

I’m just hoping that I get another burst of energy to get me through this weekend of wedding excitement. If I had to pick one week in my pregnancy that I want to feel good, this is it. I really want to be able to enjoy every minute of it. We shall see…hopefully I’m lucky.

Anyway, if I’m not too comatose after the wedding, I’ll try to post again then, with photos and updates. I am really very excited for this weekend and all that it entails: seeing family and friends we haven’t seen since our own wedding, spending time with Brett’s sisters, and getting to share in Seth and Amy’s special day. I can’t wait!

After eating the pain au chocolat (while watching The Sopranos, of course, because we are addicted) and taking a shower, he gave me my present.

I had a feeling I was getting some kind of jewelry (probably earrings) because a few years ago on our wedding anniversary, I lost one of the pearl earrings I’d worn in our wedding. Brett had promised me he would get me something to replace them but we’d been super poor at the time so we never had.

Well. He put the box in my hand, and I opened it, and was completely and utterly shocked. You can sort of see them in this picture — he had gotten me diamond earrings!!! I was floored. I almost started crying. It was really sweet of him.

After I opened my present, we went downtown to the newly-reopened Seattle Art Museum. It was pretty cool — definitely an improvement over what they had before. Still, it was a little too focused on older art for Brett’s taste. He commented after we left that he hardly saw anything post-1980 in there. I don’t mind that as much; I tend to like the older works. I especially liked the collections of Northwest art that they had.

We were hungry after walking arond the museum, so we went and had some lunch at a bar we used to go to when we lived down the street. After sharing some hummus and french fries (I know, I know), we hopped on a bus and headed down to Elliott Bay Books to browse around.

By the time we finished there, it was getting close to time to be at our next destination, which was a surprise. Turned out that it was a pretty fancy Italian restaurant that I’d wanted to try for a few years. It was really yummy! We shared a salad, and then had pasta, and also warm chocolate pudding cake for dessert. Mmmmm.

We then left for our next destination, which turned out to be the Fifth Avenue Theatre to see the musical/dance version of Edward Scissorhands. It was totally cool! It was all dance; there was no speaking. Still, it was easy to understand the storyline because the dancers were so expressive.

All in all, it was a fantastic day. We had a great time hanging out. The effort Brett put into making the day special was incredible. I was so impressed and pleased. It really was the perfect day!

~~~~~~~~~

And now, something random.

When C came to visit in March, she was astounded at the sheer number of people I managed to run into, both downtown and in our neighborhood. I am not sure why, but I do seem to have a knack for running into people I know. I really love it, actually. It makes Seattle feel like a smallish community rather than a big city.

Anyhow, let me get to the point.

Last night, I had to go have my measurements taken for my bridesmaid dress for Brett’s sister Amy’s wedding, which is coming up in July. I was walking down Fourth Avenue (a street I never walk down at that time of day) and was waiting to cross the street when I heard a familiar whistle.

Some friends from college always used to whistle this specific whistle (who-WHOOO) whenever they wanted to get someone’s attention.

It made me pause and look around — only to see two friends from college (who had married each other) waving to me from atop a plaza a few floors up! They yelled to stay there and they would come down.

When they got to where I was standing on the sidewalk, they informed me that they had just been standing there having this conversation:

Her: “What would you do if we were standing here and we saw someone we knew right now?”

Him: “Well, I guess I’d whistle.”

Her: “OH my GOSH! There’s Kathleen!”

Him: who-WHOOOO!

I hadn’t seen them since the wedding of some mutual friends three years ago. It’s even more random, because these two don’t even live in Seattle anymore — they live in Portland and were just up for the wife to go to a conference.

We wound up standing on the street corner and talking for quite a while. Turns out, they had had a miscarriage a few months ago, too. I can’t describe, really, the emotional connection of that moment. Yes, these are people I’ve known for (gulp) eight years now, but just hearing that made me feel closer to them than I probably ever had. Unfortunately, it really *is* like joining a secret society when you have a miscarriage and when you encounter others who have been through the same thing.

I teared up a bit while we were talking about it, standing in front of Nordstrom. But it was a healthy tearing-up, I think: acknowledging the pain but not giving in to it, if that makes any sense. Talking to someone who has been there brings the emotion to the surface much more powerfully than talking to someone who hasn’t. I guess it was a moment when I realized that the emotions will probably surface like that for the rest of my life: at random times, in somewhat inopportune places, and especially when talking to people who have been there.

It was cathartic to realize that I’m moving on, feeling better, coping. And it was good and healing, too, to know that I haven’t forgotten. I realize that sounds like a contradction of sorts, but I know some of you will understand.

But today I feel like I’ve been pulled back into the emotional black hole I was in during the time right after the miscarriage. I feel like every time I take two steps forward in feeling better, something pulls me a step back and I am right where I was before. (So consider yourselves warned — this is going to be pretty bleak.)

I am so sick of this. I am tired of having my life be hard. I am tired of grieving. I am tired of feeling emotionally troubled. I just want to be normal. I want my life to be normal. I want to have a normal baby, a normal relationship with God, a normal relationship with my husband, a normal financial situation. Well, ok. Let me clarify. I guess by “normal,” I mean “trouble-free.” And maybe that’s not normal. I guess everyone has problems or troubles, but it sure seems sometimes like I’m walking around with my screwed-up life and everyone else around me is just doing fine and dandy and perfect.

I know that’s not true. I know that everyone is screwed up on some level. This is just my mood swings/depression/whatever talking, bringing me down. It’s that split of logic vs. emotion. I’ve kind of been dealing with that a lot lately.

Logically, I know that everyone has problems and I am not alone among my friends in feeling like I am screwed up.
Emotionally, it seems like everyone around me is normal and happy and has an easy life and I am the one who is messed up and having a hard time with it.

Logically, I know it makes sense to wait to get pregnant again. We can improve our relationships with each other and with God, we can save money, we can pay off debt, we can move into a house or at least somewhere more conducive to having a child, I can lose weight, etc.
Emotionally, the thought of waiting makes me want to cry, just full out sob. As C said today while we were emailing, “All the logical reasons to wait in the world don’t fill that hole in your heart.” That hole is present to the point that it feels completely gaping at times, like there is nothing to me but that hole. At other times, the thought of having a baby, an actual baby, scares me to death and I think that I can plug that hole with other things: books, movies, Brett, Audrey, friends, etc. Overall, though, that hole is there and it’s not getting smaller, just maybe a little harder around the edges, less raw — although one little emotional bump and it feels as fresh as the day the miscarriage started.

Logically, I know I need to stop eating so much and start working out more, even if that is just not having a second helping of something and walking farther to/from the bus right now.
Emotionally, I feel like I deserve to eat whatever I want, dammit! I deserve to lie around like a slug — I’m greiving. After all, my baby died! Give me some fucking french fries! *stuffs greasy fries into mouth while sitting in bed*

As I touched on a few weeks ago, my perspective on talking through all of this with the people around me has shifted. At first, all I wanted to do was talk about it, with anyone who would listen, but now I feel a strange shyness about it. I guess I feel like I should be getting better by now, and I feel ashamed that I am still so emotional about it. For one thing, I’m sick of (most) people’s pity. I know that people don’t know how to react or what to say, but I’m just tired of it. Like I said, I just want to be a normal member of society again.

Thankfully, I do have some non-internet friends with whom I can bare my soul — one who has gone through miscarriage, one who has experienced infertility, and one who has experienced neither of those things but who is a caring, loving, Godly, wise friend whose counsel I trust and whose love is always present.

And thankfully, too, we have a church that offers Biblical counseling for free, so I have been meeting with a lovely woman from church who is helping me sort through some of this.

Yet all of this remains heavy on my heart and forefront in my mind almost constantly — even when I am happy or laughing or enjoying myself, I’ll suddenly remember. And that will stop me in my tracks for a second and make me very sad. A friend (who is from NYC) related it to how she felt in the months following 9/11: it is like having a wet wool coat thrown across your shoulders, weighing you down and making you sad and lethargic.

Like today, the thought that I would have been 18 weeks pregnant today. It’s a sad thing and it makes me wonder what I would have looked like, what it would have been like to hear the heartbeat, how Brett would have been acting about it, what it would be like to be at work and be visibly pregnant.

But I don’t get to know that today, unfortunately. Hopefully, someday in the future, I will. I just have to hold on to that idea, even if it is not going to happen in the near future.

I don’t really have too much to say. Life is still very up and down. There have been some really good, much more back-to-normal days in the past couple of weeks, and some really bad, dark days mixed in as well. I hope those are getting to be fewer and farther between. They seem to be, anyway. (This said, of course, from my perspective today, which is a relatively good day.)

Oddly enough, after my first burst of sharing everything about what happened, I am feeling much more withdrawn about it, at least here. And that’s weird. At first it seemed like I couldn’t go on without everyone knowing what happened. Now, I feel really vulnerable and uncertain about how much to share about my emotions. Maybe it’s that the numbness is wearing off and I’m starting to come to terms with things. I don’t know.

In other news, I did our taxes on Saturday, which took far, far too long. I posted a couple of years ago about my Kafka-esque experience trying to consolidate my student loans. Well, dealing with TurboTax (more like Slow-as-Molasses-in-January Tax, but whatever) yesterday was kind of like that. Because of an error with the State of Maine tax forms, it took four hours of re-entering the same information over, and over, and over again until it worked.

Thankfully, I finally got it to work. The best news is that we are getting a really nice refund!!! We will be able to pay off all of our smaller debts and also one credit card. I’m really, really happy about this.

The debt we incurred while living in Maine was horrible. I wrote about some of those issues about a year ago. Since we’ve been back, we had just been treading water in terms of paying off our debt since Brett didn’t have a steady job. But now, with this tax return to help us jump start things, and with his steady income, there is actually an end in sight!! I can see the light at the end of the tunnel where this debt is concerned!

We are paying down our balances, paying off small debts, and saving money for emergencies. We aren’t using credit. We are able to pay all of our bills on time. We can buy groceries without adding up the total as we go because we only have so many dollars in the checking account. We can go out to dinner and not worry about it. I can get a manicure. Brett can buy moped parts.

It feels so, so, so good to be at this place again. So good.