Hope

This morning I checked my blogroll and came across a link to this video on one of my favorite blogs.

I love Elder Holland because I remember him being the president at BYU when I went there so long ago, and he has always had such a gentle way with telling a good story. This made me cry, but for the first time in two weeks I cried with tears of hope.

Flying solo, day #15

Jim's flight is in the air somewhere near the Georgia-Tennessee border. Only a few hours to go...

Flying solo, day #11

Today I loaded the kids up and we drove to Yakima for a Costco run. Grieving or not, we were out of cheese and lunch meat, and two sandwiches away from no more peanut butter. My first foray back into being in public was relatively pain-free, at least until I tried to lift a 45-pound bag of cat litter.

On the plus side, I used fewer Kleenexes today than yesterday--though I'm still trying to sort through whether it actually makes me feel worse that each day I am crying a little less, that in a few months I will no longer feel this keen sense of loss, that someday I may forget how much I loved this little person who was with me for such a short time.

Flying solo, day #9

I went in for an ultrasound on Monday and we discovered that the baby had died. On Wednesday afternoon I was admitted to the hospital to induce delivery.

Friday night, just before 8 o'clock, I gave birth to a tiny baby boy. He weighed about 9 and a half ounces, and looked so much like Jim and Jimmy.

I got home from the hospital yesterday.

Physically, my recovery has gone smoothly--very quickly, compared to what I experienced after having Jimmy and Audrey by c-section--and that's something to be grateful for, as it's allowed my to channel my energy toward the much more arduous emotional recovery.

I've been surrounded by family and friends who have supported me, fed me, rubbed my feet, sat silently with me, held me while I sobbed, and left me alone when that was what I needed most.

Today I'll be spending a lot of time writing in my journal. I want to capture all this while it is still fresh in my mind, and before the kids return home later in the day.

All the wonderful thoughts, prayers and love being sent my way are very tangible to me, and I thank all of you. I'm getting through this, one minute at a time.

Flying solo, day #4

Yesterday I went in for my monthly prenatal exam, and we couldn't hear the heartbeat. My OB reassured me that often happens, for whatever reason--the location of the baby in my uterus, the placenta being in the way, etc. So he asked me to come in a couple hours later for an ultrasound, just to be sure everything was normal.

I brought Jimmy and Audrey along, thinking they'd be thrilled to get a sneak peek at their new sibling.

Right away, my doctor knew something was wrong: no movement, no heart beating. It was surreal in those first few moments, because I had felt the baby move, a gentle flutter, I thought, earlier that morning, and hadn't been worried even when the doppler didn't pick up the heartbeat.

Over the next few days I'll be undergoing a procedure to help me deliver the baby, and will probably be in the hospital for a couple days starting tomorrow afternoon. Already I've had so much support and help from family and friends, which has made this burden much more bearable. I'm so grateful to know that I'm not alone through this experience.

I also know that in the coming weeks as I sort through it all, that support will continue to be an anchor to me, as well as the deep faith inside me, which has actually grown stronger even in the last few hours. I don't know anything about how or why or what, but I know in time I'll be blessed with the grace to move forward, even not knowing.

If you call or email me and I don't pick up or respond, please know that I'm still grateful you're thinking of me--just in a very raw place right now--but no less grateful.

Flying solo, day #2

weeks of pregnancy: 19
time Audrey crawled into bed with me: 6 a.m.
minutes laid awake until alarm was supposed to go off: 90
minutes early to church: 10
dishes cooked Jim hates: 1
kids in this house who hate chicken divan: 2
kids in this house to be bathed before bedtime: 2
days till Jim gets home: 13

Flying solo, day #1

Shepherd's pie. I love it. Jim hates it. With him gone, I jumped on the chance to cook it for dinner, which I haven't done since before we were married.

Jim will be pleased to know the kids side with him when it comes to shepherd's pie. Though Jimmy did ask me if there were more of the mashed potatoes with cheese melted on top, just by themselves.

Cocoon

I had a glucose screen last week because my OB wants to stay ahead of the game if I develop gestational diabetes again. My test results came back borderline, so I had to do the more involved 3-hour screen on Monday, with a total of four blood draws.

Because I eat so little sugar any more (usually as a minor ingredient in things like bread or condiments), these tests really took it out of me. The rush of sugar made me so sick that I was tired and nauseated for 12 hours after. It was worth it, though; the results of the 3-hour test came back negative. So at least for a little while, I'll enjoy not having to poke myself four times a day. I do fully expect to wind up with gestational diabetes later on, though.

This week I realized I've been isolating myself a bit. Not on purpose, really; more out of self-preservation. I've been wrapped up in this tight little kid-centric cocoon: potty-training Audrey, powering through the final month of the school year with Jimmy (our last day of school is June 14), and bonding with baby #3, who I can finally feel flutter-kicking inside me.

It dawned on me yesterday that I need to start reaching out even if the urge to isolate continues, because at the beginning of June, I'm staring down the barrel of two weeks of flying solo while Jim does job-related training in Atlanta. No matter how much I feel like withdrawing now, I'm going to be starved for conversation and interaction with adults by the time Jim rolls back into town on June 19.

Abundant eternity

Reincarnation promises a certain
pleasing cosmic economy
in its efficient recycling
of the same few souls
working their way
across eternity’s furrowed field
one life at a time
in a world where none
are truly strangers
but are only meeting
for the first time
again
hoeing their rows
beside each other
again
and again.

I’m not sure why
but I can’t help chafing
at such a frugal
mean
careful
and spare universe.
I long to believe in an eternity
that is abundant
rich
generous
even extravagant
where I am
the only version of myself
a lavishly created single body
housing a single soul
that together
are
and always will be
me.

T-t-tuesday

Today we drove down to Yakima so Jimmy could have a lingual frenectomy. He's been tongue-tied since birth (a congenital anomaly that runs in Jim's family), which wreaked havoc with trying to breastfeed him until we had his pediatrician snip his frenulum to open it up a bit. At the time Jim was convinced that she didn't snip it enough, but I noticed such a dramatic improvement with nursing I didn't really pay much attention to his concerns.

Recently, though, it's started to impact Jimmy's speech. While the lisp is barely noticeable, we decided it should be addressed before he gets any older. Jimmy's dentist here in town couldn't do the procedure, so he referred us to a pediatric dentist down in Yakima. They had to put Jimmy under so he'd be completely still to prevent them from accidentally severing any nerves around the base of his tongue.

Jimmy, in spite of his usual reticence about dentists, and some real anxiety about this particular visit, performed like a champ. He didn't complain at all about not having anything to eat this morning (12 hours of no food or drink because of the general anesthesia), and when he got to the dentist, he didn't put up any resistance about taking the meds they gave him. Jim took the day off and stayed with him at the dentist's office.

Meanwhile, Audrey and I took a trip just down the road to Walmart in search of that holy grail of toilet training: big girl underpants. Did I mention we started toilet training this week? The prospect of having two in diapers is a big motivator to get it done earlier with Audrey than we did with Jimmy.

Not just any underpants would do, though—it had to be Tinkerbell underpants. The $7.75 pricetag for a seven-pack of panties (the exact same pack Macy's sells for $11.95) was enough to get me over any lingering qualms I have about the general PC-ness of shopping at Walmart. That, and for a buck apiece I will be able to dole out a pair of new panties every day she goes potty and make the magic last at least two whole weeks.

Of course, we also had to get the floppy-brimmed Tinkerbell sun-screen hat. And after picking up the boys, we stopped at Target to find sandals for Jimmy, and wound up with a pair of Tinkerbell flip-flops for Audrey while we were at it. So now she's kitted out in sparkly purple Tink, head-to-toe, inside and out.

Getting used to having a girly-girl is still an adjustment, after four solid years of snakes, snails and puppy-dog tails. I do find myself painting my toenails more often than I used to.