Hatred of Halloween

Costumes and candies.

Trick or Treating and laughter.

Harvest fest. Games. Prizes. Bounce houses and petting zoos.

Halloween/Harvest is a day that brings such joy and fun. For me, it is a day that I am forced to put on a happy face for my kids.

It is the day that my heart physically hurts. Where I feel a sense of longing that can't be filled. At least not now.

I talk about it a lot here. Halloween is the day that my first child went to meet Jesus before I ever had a chance to meet them.

It is the day I learned what loss and pain really feels like.

Some years I feel like having such a significant day being the day of our miscarriage makes it harder. All the very vivid memories flood in. Forgetting the details are impossible. It makes it hurt so much worse.

Some years I love the distraction. Not sure how I feel today. My kids are so excited to dress up and I am truly excited to do that with them but the second they leave the room or it gets quite. I feel like I am going to collapse.

I wish I could explain the pain of miscarriage to those who haven't been there. So many are confused by our pain. Don't understand why we hurt so much all of these years later. Why I cry now that I actually have kids.

I wish people understood why I have to sit in front of a tv eating ice cream and ignoring the world. I wish people understood that I lost a child and not simply a pregnancy.

Right now I just wish this day was over...

Instead, I will put on a smile. Let my kids fill me with joy and remember how God has used this precious child. What a legacy that baby is leaving without ever walking on this earth.

It will still hurt but maybe the sting will be removed enough. Maybe.

WIWW- More than just an outfit post

In our day to day lives, we (women) wear two different types of... items, for lack of a better word.

::Top and vest- Old Navy.  Jean-Target.  Boots-Ross  Headband- Local boutique with Whippy Cake Clip::

There is our clothing. We wear it for practical reasons. You know, like staying warm and being modest. It is also worn to make us feel good about ourselves. We keep up with the latest fashions. We wear accessories to help out the cute factor. We wear our clothing as an expression of ourselves and our likes.

Then there's the second type of "item". The items that mean so much more. They serve a symbolic purpose.
It's our wedding band representing a commitment between ourself and our spouse. It is the heirloom piece handed down from one generation to the next. We hold these pieces near and dear to our hearts. They stand the test of the trendy times. We cling to them for a life time.

Today I received one of those items from a close friend.

If you know my story or have read my blog recently, you know of the loss of not one but two babies that we never got the chance to hold.

I have struggled so much lately to simply get by. My heart aches for the babies I am missing. My friend Tess was able to capture it all in one gift. To help this hurting mommy on a path of healing. All with this necklace.

::Necklace- Amy Cornwell::

A bar with mine and Stevens initials and our wedding date. Where it all began.
The heart charm. One heart for each one of our children. The two who are here with us and the two who are not.
And then two angel wings.

For the first time there is a visual of our family. Complete. Not just what meets the eye but what truly is.

Beyond that, this necklace represents the support and love of our friends. The prayers that they have poured out on us. The love they have for, not only us, but for our family. Our COMPLETE family. The extent of this gift cannot be expressed. The appreciation for this gift cannot be expressed. The joy that came from this gift cannot be expressed.

Because of what I'm wearing today, I feel a little more whole than I did yesterday.

Faking a Smile

On October 18th, I had my second miscarriage.

I didn't really tell anyone.

I have put on a fake smile and let everyone think that everything is okay, that nothing out of the ordinary is going on.

I was prepping for The Threadery. I was getting ready to see lots of people there. I didn't want the attention. I didn't want the hugs. And let's be honest, I didn't want to hear the things people say to comfort you but hurt you even more.

I kept myself distracted. I kept myself busy. I WAS okay, in a sense.

And then The Threadery was over. And I had time to hurt. And I hurt. I am broken.

My emotions are EVERYwhere. I am sad. I am confused. If I want to be really real; I feel guilty that I can't help thinking about my first miscarriage. The one that happened 5 years ago today. I feel guilty that as devastated and sad as I am now, it fails in comparison to the one I had then. Maybe because I was further along? Maybe because I was more bonded with the baby I had known for longer? I don't know.

Now I sit here aching. I am mourning the 5 year of the first baby that I lost and now I am mourning baby number 2. I am broken.

I wasn't going to share this at all. I didn't want to tell anyone really. A friend told me I should. Not because I am obligated to but because I need your prayers.

You have all been there for me. You prayed with me throughout my pregnancy with Talon and we saw miracles. You showed me more love and compassion after I shared about my first miscarriage than I could have even imagined.

I need you all again. I need to get through this time. I know I will. I have before. But I need to be okay for my kids. I need to not lock myself in my home for months at a time like I did before. I just need prayer.

God has been so faithful and I find comfort in Him. I find comfort in knowing that my babies are with Him.

I will be okay because I find refuge in God but can you all just pray for me and my family?

My loss - My reaction

Go HERE to read the 1st part of this.

I couldn't pull myself out of bed for weeks. Did I really lose my baby? Was he/she really gone? I didn't want to face the world. I didn't want to see the people who shared in the joy of our recently announced pregnancy. I wanted to be alone, in silence.

I got tons of phone calls, people telling me it wasn't my fault. I 'knew' it was. Whether I did something wrong or my stupid body just couldn't carry my baby properly, it was my fault. I know better now, at least most of the time.

I got a call from a close friend, telling me not to blame God. What nerve! I never blamed God. In fact, I had never depended on Him more. I put my faith in Him to get through it all, I knew I could not get past this time without Him. I cannot tell you how many times I prayed, how many hours were spent with him in prayer or silence, listening for Him to tell me what to do next, how to use this for His glory. How the death of my unborn baby could result in glory was beyond me but I knew that He had a plan. I still don't know His plan but I cling daily to the hope that He will use that precious baby for good somehow.

Although the phone call made me beyond angry, it made me think. My husband and I were the youth leaders at our church. If this one person thought I was blaming God, what was everyone else thinking. After a few weeks at home, I decided I needed to go to church and face the crowd.

I got all the courtesy hugs and sympathetic words. I cannot tell you how many people told me stories of their own miscarriages and pointed to their now healthy children. Or how many people told me that I would be okay and I would have plenty of babies. These words did not comfort me. I wasn't worried about future babies, I knew they would come. I wanted the baby I lost, I wanted that baby's life to be recognized. I wanted that baby's death to be mourned.

Before church even began, I ducked into the office to hide. The church secretary was there, we ditched service and hung out in the office until everyone had left the building. I snuck out of the building and went back to my cave. I stayed there for another month.

I had to get back to work. We were struggling to pay our bills. My time off had put us into debt, not to mention our medical bills. We weren't trying for a baby, we didn't have insurance and I didn't qualify for any of the emergency medical care. We are still paying off debt acquired in that time. We had to move out of our apartment. We stayed with my grandma for a few months after that, trying to get back on our feet financially.

I had to re-enter the world. I had been hiding for too long. I was getting lost in my sorrow. Although I needed the silence, I would not recommend anyone dealing with loss being alone as much as I was. Going back to reality was tough but I managed.

I still struggle. The past few weeks have been extremely hard. This Halloween will mark 5 years of my pregnancy loss, my child's death. In my moments of weakness, I have had people say things like "you were only 3 months pregnant" "At least you weren't further along" I encourage you, to NEVER use these words. A life is a life. Please do not belittle peoples feelings or loss. Do no get me wrong, this is not to say that it wouldn't have been more devastating if I were further along or even more so if I had actually held my baby. Simply that the place and stage I was in was already bad enough. Comparisons were/are NOT needed.

I'm not sure why I am feeling the need to share this all with you or why I hadn't already. I don't know what it will make you think or feel. I hope that in some way this will help you to understand me and other mommys like me better. If you have had a loss of your own, I hope in some way I can encourage you or we can encourage eachother. Like I said, I'm not sure of the purpose of any of this, all I know is that God will use it. Somehow, He will use our circumstances, even the worse of them.

My Story- Loss

{I originally wrote this post ahead of time and scheduled it to publish on the worse day ever, I decided that responding to comments on the blog would just be too hard on that day. So I am sharing today and tomorrow.}

I had always hoped and dreamed for a Honeymoon baby. So, on October 8th 2006, when it was confirmed that I was 9 weeks pregnant (despite being on birth control), I knew it was an answer to my prayers. I had not actually got pregnant on our honeymoon but only weeks into our marriage. God was giving me the gift I had always hoped for.

The day I found out I was pregnant, was my dads birthday. We announced it to my family by giving him a Happy Birthday Grandpa card. We wasted no time in telling the world about our little blessing. How could we not share this overwhelming joy we were feeling?

About 2 weeks after finding out I was pregnant, I started spotting. The doctor told me not to worry, this was normal. I was still worried. My cousin took me to an early ultrasound tech. She said she couldn't tell me anything medical but she could show me the baby and it's very strong heartbeat. I breathed a sigh of relief.

A week after that came the cramping and the clotting. No! This could not be happening. This baby was a gift, God would not take that away!

On October 29th, we took a trip to Hoag hospital. (My doctor was in Anaheim but we were living in Costa Mesa at the time). Everyone was very comforting. The doctor in the ER was amazing. After sitting there worrying for a few hours I was taken in for an emergency ultrasound. The tech said that everything looked great. She showed me my babies super strong heartbeat and assured me that everything looked just right on my 7 week baby.

In that moment, when they told me that my due date was off but my baby looked perfectly fine, I painted on a fake smile. I acted like everything was great and pretended to believe that bed rest would do the trick. They sent me home saying that obviously you could never guarantee anything in pregnancy, especially in the first 13 weeks but they were not worried.

I left there acting calm and relieved. Deep down I was mortified. My baby should not have been measuring 7 weeks. My due date was not off. I knew it was not off. My baby should have been 12 weeks at this point. I continued acting like everything was fine. I didn't express these fears or concerns to anyone. I knew that God would work it all out. And the cramping got better. The bleeding slowed down.

Then, October 31st came. The cramping was back. We decided not to go to Harvest fest this time around. I was on bed rest. I looked forward to handing out candy to all of the cute kids that would be trick or treating. I made Steven get the good stuff. If I couldn't go out, I was going to be the cool house. But the trick or treaters never came. I know it sounds silly but the whole night all I could think about was "this is a sign that my child will never come"...I was right.

At 9:30 we decided to go to bed. By 10pm the "cramping" was to much to bear. I felt like I had to use the restroom but couldn't. After 30min I realized I was no longer cramping, I was contracting. At 11pm I delivered a small sack, in my bathroom. This was not the way I was supposed to deliver my baby. I should have been in a hospital, with doctors. The baby should have come out screaming and crying. Instead, I sat in my bathroom with a little sack and a thought that maybe that tan area was in fact my baby. I wept.

We left for the hospital. Because of finances we decided to go to Anaheim Memorial, where my doctor was. We called ahead. They told us to bring the sack that was "discharged". We arrived and waited. After only a few minutes they took us back. Soon enough they were taking my blood, missing my veins and spilling my blood on the floor. I felt like I was in a horror movie. They came and asked for the sack. They were going to take it to the lab for testing. I wanted to yell at them. Tell them it was not a lab mouse. No tests were needed. I am no doctor but I knew that was my baby! I was too emotionally drained to say anything.

I laid in my bed in silence. No tears, no words, nothing. What was there to say? After a while, a doctor came and took me for an exam. He then sent me for an ultrasound. Steven and I were directed through the poorly lit silent halls. I did not want to go. I wanted to go home.

We finally arrived to the techs room. It felt like it took hours to get there. She had me lay down and instructed me to insert the ultrasound wand. Was she serious? She wanted me to do it myself. I felt like I was being asked to go on a wild goose hunt for my own baby. I asked her if she could do it. She repeated the question "you want me to do it?" I wanted to yell at her. Isn't it your job?!?! I just responded with a yes, please. She looked around for a little while. I knew there was nothing. I couldn't see the screen. I could see it on Steven's face. Then came the dreaded words, by the rudest woman with the poorest bedside manner ever "Welp, no baby". I wanted to punch her. I wanted to get her fired. Instead, I laid there in silence.

I was silently wheeled back to my room in the ER, where my blood was still on the floor. After waiting an eternity, the doctor came in and told me that I had lost the baby. The good news was that I had in fact delivered the fetus and would not be needing a DNC. All I could mutter out was "thats what we said when we called". I left the hospital no longer pregnant and with no baby.

{Tomorrow I will be sharing how I reacted to it all}
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