I'm surprisingly calm.

I expected to be a total wreck during this pregnancy.  I was for the first few days.  It's amazing what a little prayer can do.  I just asked God to give me His peace during this time and you know what?  He did.  I feel a peace.  I feel like things will be okay no matter the outcome.  But I also feel like we will get a live baby this time.  I know there are rocky days ahead.  I expected to be induced two weeks early with Nathan so the 14th is going to be hard.  Then there is his due date, the 28th.  The biggie, though, is going to be the 21 week ultrasound with this baby.  I have so many bad memories of that day with Nathan that I am a little scared of doing it again.  But God will get me through it.  He's gotten me through everything so far and there is no reason to doubt Him now.  I can do this...with God's help.  On another note, I asked God to make this pregnancy different from Nathan's.  I knew I would obsess about every little thing that is the same.  I was very sick with Nathan.  Not really sick with this one.  I was VERY tired with Nathan.  Less so with this baby.  I didn't show with Nathan until a few days before we lost him.  I am already showing now.  God is good.  I realize now how much I was depending on myself to get me through life.  Now, I am turning to God first for help.  And He is answering.  No request is too small for Him.  I know that now.

Nathan made a friend this week.

I am so sorry for your loss.  Your child is in good company, though.  Nathan will watch over your baby and show him the ropes.  I have cried many tears for you today.  I never expected this day would come so soon.  I saw something shiny near Nathan's grave and wondered what had been left this time.  It was the wrapper for your flowers.  I saw your note.  Cling tightly to the child you got to keep.  Give them more hugs and kisses than they can stand.  Treasure every moment.  You know how precious those moments are.  I know your pain is too great right now.  I know you feel like it will never get better.  I'm here to tell you that it will.  There will be days where you can make it through without crying.  I am not so sure there will be days where you won't think of your lost child.  I haven't had one yet.  But you will make it through.  It hurts.  It stinks.  And I'm sorry you are having to live through this hell.  I don't even know you or your child's name but I am praying for you.  And he is playing with Nathan in heaven today.

It's not just about me.

Becoming pregnant again has brought a lot of things to the surface.  I have been having a lot of flashbacks to when I was carrying Nathan, his delivery, and the aftermath.  I keep going back to the ultrasound room where I was told that my son had died inside me.  To the hospital when his cold, lifeless body landed on the bed.  To holding him and seeing how perfect his little hands and feet were.  To the funeral where all I could see of my son was the coffin he was being buried in.  I have no desire to repeat any of that, yet I have no assurances that things will be different this time.  God obviously thought I could handle a lot more than I thought I could.  Maybe He thinks I can handle losing another child.  I don't know.  It is putting a damper on my joy.  I am having a hard time believing that I actually am pregnant again.  I am having trouble believing that I will have a living son or daughter at the end of this process.  So are my kids.  Jack told me he thinks God changed his mind and decided we shouldn't have another boy after all and killed Nathan.  He is convinced this baby will be another sister for him.  He just can't hope that there will be a brother for him.  It hurt too much last time.  Katherine is convinced she had something to do with Nathan's death.  She told me yesterday that she will do her best to make this baby cooperate.  It broke my heart.  I don't know where these ideas have come from.  We have never blamed God for Nathan's death.  We have never even hinted that any of the kids were to blame for what happened.  But the thoughts are there.  And I don't feel equipped to handle them.  But God obviously thinks I can.  I know our family will come out stronger on the other side of this.  My children's characters are being molded how God sees fit.  The repercussions of this tragic event will spread to everyone my children have contact with throughout their lives.  God didn't cause Nathan's death, but He could see the big picture and knew we would all somehow be better because of it.  Now I just have to trust that whatever is in store for us with this new pregnancy that God will see us through.  He was there in the midst of the worst of the grieving and He is here with us now.

Well, there goes my nap.

I was exhausted, now I'm panicked.  I love you, Jim, but...really?  We were having a conversation this afternoon while playing pool.  The conversation started innocent enough.  I mentioned how tired I was and then I said it was for a good cause.  Then I added, "well, at least I hope so."  Jim said he was thinking the same thing.  We're a little scared.  Understandable I think, after everything we have been through.  So I mentioned how incredibly small the statistics were for the same thing happening again.  It's like 1% of the 1.5% that it is for a stillbirth to happen at all.  So, my engineer hubby mentioned this was how statistics work.  Stopping there would have been good, wonderful, helpful.  My poor hubby, who has been so wonderful throughout this whole ordeal, did not stop there, however.  He goes on to tell me that that statistic is only true if there is a known reason for the stillbirth to have happened to begin with.  Otherwise, he tells me, the statistics are the same.  I started sobbing.  A lot.  I lost my appetite for pool-playing and I left.  Sorry, Jim, about the lack of a hug.  At least I didn't smack you.  Now, here I sit on the couch after furiously cleaning, wrapping gifts, and folding clothes.  My brain is running a million miles a minute and there is no hope of a nap anytime soon.  And I am tired.  Maybe writing this will help my brain shut down.  Please, Lord, let that be the case, I need to sleep.

Here we go again.

Well, almost 3 months after losing Nathan I am pregnant again.  And terrified.  I know way too much about what can go wrong.  I find no comfort in statistics; I was on the wrong end of one.  This is going to be a bumpy ride.  I froze at church this morning because I was too paralyzed with fear to even decide who to tell.  I had to talk myself through a near panic attack over it.  Yup, this should be fun.  Jim and I talked about what to say when we announced.  "We're going to have a baby!"  Well, we thought, if nothing goes wrong this time.  "We're expecting!"  Well, quite frankly we're not sure what to expect.  So we've fallen back on the old standby, "We're pregnant."  That's true....for now.  Every twinge, every thing that goes differently than previous pregnancies, everything that is the same as when I was pregnant with Nathan is cause for concern.  People can tell me that things will be fine, that God won't give me more than I can handle.  Well, I've learned that God thinks I can handle a lot more than I think I can.  I've ordered a doppler.  I can't even use it until I'm 10 weeks but I need that peace of mind.  I had one child die on me without my knowing it.  That is not going to happen again.  I know that there will be days that the baby doesn't move as much as I would like.  Instead of calling the doctor in a panic, I'll just check for the heartbeat myself.  Probably multiple times a day.  I am under no illusion that this is going to be a fun pregnancy.  I am going to be in fear until the baby is safely delivered and I might be a bit more paranoid than normal after that.  This is the first time that I am not convinced that the baby is safer inside me.  Things can go wrong.  Very wrong.  I know that all too well.  All I can do is pray and hang on for the ride.

A Long Way To Go

I have been impressed with what God has been doing with me through the loss of my son.  I felt sure that the trial was almost over and there wasn't much more God could do with me through this.  Church this morning showed me I still have a long way to go.  We were singing praise songs and got to a song entitled "Everyday."  The beginning of the lyrics for the chorus say; "Thank you for the trials, for the fire, for the pain."  I had to leave.  I'm just not there yet.  I cannot stand in church and praise God for the loss of my precious baby boy.  And no matter how much good He does with this, no matter how much more like Jesus I become, I cannot thank Him for the loss of my child.  Eventually I will be able to thank Him for what He has done with it, but I'm not anywhere close to that right now.  It hurts too much.  That is something God understands. 
I left the service and went into a room to be alone with God.  I told Him I couldn't thank him for letting Nathan die but that I want Him to work in me and make me more like Him through this.  Well, I went back into the service and the hymn we sang was "I am Thine, O Lord."  Just look at the verses to this song.  This is where I am.  This is my desire.  I don't have all the answers.  I won't know some things until I am in heaven with God, but I long to understand.  I long to be taught and to be loved and to have the faith I need to get me through this life.  And as long as that desire is there, God will lead me where I need to go.  He'll carry me there if that is what it takes.

"I Am Thine, O Lord"

1. I am thine, O Lord, I have heard thy voice, 
 and it told thy love to me; 
 but I long to rise in the arms of faith 
 and be closer drawn to thee. 
Refrain:
 Draw me nearer, nearer, blessed Lord, 
 to the cross where thou hast died. 
 Draw me nearer, nearer, nearer, blessed Lord, 
 to thy precious, bleeding side. 

2. Consecrate me now to thy service, Lord, 
 by the power of grace divine; 
 let my soul look up with a steadfast hope, 
 and my will be lost in thine. 
 (Refrain) 

3. O the pure delight of a single hour 
 that before thy throne I spend, 
 when I kneel in prayer, and with thee, my God, 
 I commune as friend with friend! 
 (Refrain) 

4. There are depths of love that I cannot know 
 till I cross the narrow sea; 
 there are heights of joy that I may not reach 
 till I rest in peace with thee. 
 (Refrain) 

The Saddest Thing Ever

I heard it said this morning that a small coffin is the saddest thing ever.  I can't argue with that.  This is a picture of Nathan's coffin, which was too big for him.  Not only did I bury my son, but I buried all of the hopes and dreams I had for him.  I know he's in a better place but in my flesh I wanted him to experience so many things here on earth.  I wanted to experience things with him.  And all of that was placed inside a very small coffin and buried under several feet of dirt.  I go visit his grave every week even though I know he's not there.  I talk with him about what is going on and tell him how much he is missed.  And I picture him cold and small and all alone in the ground.  It's irrational, I know, but I have to stop myself from digging him up.  And then I look around at all of the other tiny graves near his and I pray for those families.  Every one of those graves represents a family that has grieved and is still grieving now and I just want to make it stop.  I'm sure that there is a day coming when a new grave will be placed next to Nathan's and I know I will fall apart.  I wish there never had to be such tiny coffins.  No one should ever have to bury their child. 
Lord, come soon so there will be no more pain and suffering.

Please Pardon the Tearstains

I am so sorry I cannot be there for your baby shower on Saturday.  You see, I almost lost it in the card aisle at Target.  I'm just not strong enough to be there.  It was hard to buy the clothes and shoes that I picked out for my little boy.  Even harder to buy the diapers that he will never wear.  But, you are special and so is your baby boy and you deserve a nice present and a party to celebrate.  I'm sorry I haven't been able to look you in the eye when we pass each other in church.  You see, I look at you and I see where I should be, waddling around with swollen ankles, complaining about how heavy my baby is.  But my womb is empty and my baby weighed less than half a pound.  So, you enjoy your day and continue to look forward to meeting your precious baby boy.  I hope someday I can walk up to you and tell you how much I have prayed that your baby will be healthy.  I wouldn't wish what happened to me on anyone.  I hope someday I can walk up to your baby and look at him and congratulate you.  Maybe someday I will even be able to hold him.  Until then, know I love you and I am sorry I am so weak.