Birthday Party at a Cemetery

Regardless of my bed rest state, I was bound and determined to get out and celebrate Sarah's first birthday. It was very bitter sweet. To celebrate something in Sarah's name was a sweet honor, but to go to her grave for it, was a bitter reminder. We had a headstone, with her name and her footprints on it. We set up a picture, just for the occasion, so we could see her face. It gives you that sick feeling everytime you come upon the grave of your daughter. Also, knowing full well, that "she" is not really "there". She is in paradise. It was a beautiful day. Sun shining, everything so colorful, you can even see that in the background of this photo. Beautiful.
We had Isaiah color a piece of paper for Sarah's birthday. Daddy and he went into the store, Isaiah watched as the balloon person, got his picture small enough to fit in the balloon. He picked the color blue for her and a pink one for him. He was very excited to give his little sister a present. To be able to "send it to heaven." We went to the cemetery in Altoona. We had gotten a little cake with a "1" candle on it. We lit the candle, sang "Happy Birthday", let Isaiah blow it out. and then we had him send off his balloon. As we watched this balloon slowly float up "to heaven" I even found myself in a child-like state, waiting for Sarah to receive it. We all watched until we couldn't see it anymore. When Isaiah said that he couldn't see it anymore, we said, "Well, that's because Sarah has it now."









I cried the whole time, of course. My aches of the present pregnancy melted away, as I relished in my memory of Sarah. We felt like a whole family again for that moment. We took lots of family pictures. Josh and I watched Isaiah play in one of his new "playgrounds". He would check out all the other headstones, seeing others that were from little kids. We got to tell him, once more about Grandpa Joe, (whose headstone was right next to Sarah's) and how they were together. I sense Isaiah gets jealous sometimes, hearing about them being up there, and him not.

But I just tell him that God decides when he will go to heaven, and that the point is, is that we will be together again.

Bed Rest

Oh, bed rest. It actually wasn't so bad at first, but with the medicine, and Isaiah acting up, that part was hard. Isaiah turned into those "Nanny 911" kids, and my mom can vouch for that. This picture is a good moment though. We have our "babies" in our bellies. (yes, Isaiah, put another one in my shirt, as he did his) The medicine mad me jittery and it was hard to sleep. I was nervous in the hospital. I believe I was only there overnight. My doctors and midwives were with me and letting me know that things look good. I remember one of the midwives, Susan, came to see me and gave me this deep hug, cause she knew my desperation of not wanting to do this, deliver a pre-mature infant, watching her fight for her life, not knowing for sure if she will be ok. But the doctor's ensured me that my chances for a healthy baby in the end are very good, after all I was 33 weeks, and was just looking at some good time in the NICU if I did deliver. I went to the hospital one other time also, about 5 or 6 days later, cause the medicine stopped working. Then they put me on different medicine. I'm more of a naturalist so you can imagine how terribly fond I was of all the medicine being put into my body, and then into my baby. Not a happy camper.

We talked with a NICU nurse, to prepare ourselves for the possibilities of delivering early. She was very nice. We were able to share our story to her. We learned that she was grieving a son who had passes away at an older age. She told us she needed to hear our story, and to see us, that we had peace enough to say, "God is still good." gave her that sense of fellowship that one has when surrounded my "family" that are like-minded. Sharing eachother's loads.... (there is always a reason for everything:)

I remember feeling sick every time we had to go to the hospital, thinking "this is it!" and still being scared to death of having an infant again. I felt shameful for thinking such things. But we'd go home empty handed. I remember on time, we went home before midnight, and Isaiah was staying over at Brandy's and they were just going to keep him overnight. I was having such a hard time being without him, and I never had been overnight without him after Sarah's passing... until this occasion. I remember crying so hysterically, sitting in the car still, in the driveway, back home. and Isaiah was gone. I don't know what came over me. I felt childless, altogether. No Sarah, No Isaiah, No baby Eve. My hands were completely empty. I begged Josh at midnight in that driveway to go to (25 min. away) Colfax, and bring him back home. I'm sure Brandy was a little confused at this, but everyone, I'm sure, didn't even try to lift a finger to me for that. They could appreciate it, I think. But I didn't care. I went into the house, to get back on my couch, while Josh picked up that little sleeping boy of ours. When he came back, I held my big 2 1/2 year old, like a baby. and cried some more, but took a deep breath of relief, that this was my proof that I was not childless. I still had my son. I wept bitter tears for Sarah once again, guilty tears for Eve, and relieved tears for Isaiah. I was a mess.
At this point my Jesus was the only one who could consol me. As I laid my head on my pillow, I imagined it was His chest. (that process was very familiar to me)

Pushing Everyone Away

I remember the bigger I got, and the closer I got to my due date, the more of a mess I became. We are talking by the beginning of my last trimester, things got messy. I felt suffocated with horror. I was thinking about Sarah, constantly, still pleading to have her back. I couldn't accept her death just yet. So much anxiety over having this next one overwhelmed me. I hadn't cleaned out Sarah's crib yet. We had kept it up, especially because there was no point to taking it down when we would be just putting it right back up for Eve. Over the months I had collected things of either Sarah's or things that people had made for her memory, or things that reminded me of her. Whenever I got so upset, I would just go to that crib and be surrounded by stuff that was Sarah's, breathing in every last scent. As my anxiety grew worse, I started pushing everyone away. There were only a handful of people I would let near me. My mom was one of them. She could relate to me in a way very few people could because we had grieved such a great loss together before...... Dad. Her husband, my daddy. I know it's not the same, but what was so healing about our relationship was the fact that she was more than comfortable to talk about Sarah and acknowledge the fact that this new baby is a very hard thing to endeavor. Like this picture, she would rub my belly, so mother-like, and say, "ooohhhh, kailan." and start to cry.
I can't explain all the weight of the anxieties, but I can say that God taught me how to breathe through it. He showed me mercy....
I remember pushing everyone away, to the point I barely went out of my house, cause I was so distraught with anxiety. In that time, I was terrified of what kind of mother I was going to be to Eve. Would I love her, even though she is not Sarah? Will I be scared to even look at her, because she does or doesn't look like Sarah? How will I have the courage to nurse this new infant, when all I could think about is that I was cut off from the last one. Will I ever sleep? Will she keep breathing? Even when I'm not looking? Will she leave me too? Will Isaiah remember he has two sisters and not combine both of the babies?

As I unfold my story for you, I will answer those questions.
All I knew at that point was that I needed space because I couldn't breathe, and I needed to take a time out, and allow time to be with my Father. I knew that if I didn't take care of myself, then I wasn't taking care of my baby. I knew that if I kept going this way, that I might go into labor soon. So I took time, my husband right by my side, and just let things be.

but, of course, as most of you know. Maybe a week after I decided my time-out, I went into pre-term labor at 33 weeks....