Tag Archives: pain

The follow-up appointment.

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Yesterday I had my follow-up appointment where they check to see how I am recovering from giving birth. (Unfortunately Ted wasn’t able to go because of school.)

I was okay until I was a few minutes out from the clinic but the closer I got, the more overwhelmed I became. Was this really happening? All of this? I sometimes feel like I have crawled into someone else’s body. When I had read stories before about mothers losing their babies, I honestly just never thought, “this could someday be me”. You just never expect to this to happen to you. You never expect it and even if you expected this, you’d never be able to prepare for the heartache.

I arrived and made my way up 3 floors to the clinic. I signed in and sat down, feeling sick to my stomach. The waiting room was empty. Thank you, God. (I can handle my close friends who are pregnant, but with strangers I find it hard. Maybe it’s because my close friends know what we’ve walked through and are super sensitive to us in this time.)

I sat where I had sat many times last year in my pregnancy with Chase and read pregnancy magazines, with not a worry in the world.  The same spot where this year I had sat many times in my pregnancy with Eisley, where I would try to read a magazine to take my mind of the coming appointment but was usually unable to focus due to the tears. Yesterday, I couldn’t even bring myself to look over at the stack of pregnancy magazines. I just sat, with my head on my hand and took deep breaths so not to cry (I really didn’t want to walk into the appointment a blubbering mess).

Once they called me in and put me in a room to wait for Dr. Hill, the tears began. The nurse handed me a clipboard and had me do a survey-thingy to determine if I might be suffering from postpartum depression and there was a spot which read Baby’s name_________ and I cried as I wrote Eisley Antalya. Dr. Hill came in and hugged me tight. That might sound weird, but it’s really not. I am so grateful for that amazing man. Thank you, God for him.

They did the check up and turns out I am healing great (physically) for having delivered 5 weeks ago today. My muscles are still aching from being on bedrest and unused for so long, but they told me that it is normal and will take much longer to get muscle strength back.

And then something happened that I wasn’t at all prepared for … not that you could prepare, I guess. Dr. Hill also had the results back from the chromosome tests run on Eisley. I am going to share the results here but will blog again soon with how we are doing after hearing the news.

Eisley was absolutely perfect. Nothing was wrong with her. There was no reason other than my placenta alone failed her.

Our Eisley was perfect.

when words aren’t enough.

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I have this deep welling up in me. I constantly feel like my body aches. I know it’s more mental and emotional but sometimes when I cry I just reach for my heart, as if it’s physical. As if I could ease the ache.

This is grief. And no matter how hard I try, there aren’t words to even describe the feeling inside of me… inside of Ted.

When I journal or I talk with friends or family, or when I blog or even when I pray… it’s hard to find the words. You might be thinking. “Seriously?!” because of how often I write here and how much I say. But the words, the words to describe this ache… there just aren’t words to express or portray even the slightest bit of how we ache inside.

When people asked me how I’m doing, I get this sudden lump in my throat and heat in my stomach and I literally have to fight the tears. I have this deep welling up inside that isn’t satisfied even by weeping (or writing, talking, singing…).

Yesterday, I realized a few really significant things for Ted and I.

First let me just say, I was really amazed at the response to my blog the “what ifs”. I knew being so raw and vunerable could leave people wondering why I would even share so much or even have people judge me. Honestly, I just didn’t care because I’ve shared where I am at this entire time and that day, I just really wanted to share.

In the responses to “the what ifs” post I received via email, facebook/twitter messages, here or a text message… I was in tears. Most of you would say “He knows” or “He knew” and things which spoke deeply to my heart. I know some of what was spoken to me was straight from the heart of God. 

He knows (our ache, our hearts, our struggles, etc)

He loves us.

And we are clinging to that right now.

We were visiting our dear friends the Cobbs yesterday and as we were about to leave we remembered the time their little girl (3) prayed for Chase who was screaming (teething). All she said was, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus…” over and over. It was the most precious prayer, whispering his name over and over. My friend, Kat told us that they actually pray that way often because sometimes you just can’t find the words.

I love that and it rings so true in our lives. Sometimes, words aren’t enough. Right now, we can’t even find the words to speak even when we pray because this ache is so deep and overwhelming.

When I am weeping and crying out I can barely utter what my heart feels… but He knows. He knows my ache… Ted’s ache.

You might know those times (I think we’ve all been there at one point or another) when words aren’t enough. But He knows.

“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus… be with us now”

The Beautiful Party for Eisley.

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On Saturday we celebrated Eisley’s life with dear friends and family.

We were so touched by how many people came and recognized our daughter’s life and felt the loss of her , even though they had never personally met her.

We had our friend Darren do a medley of  ‘You Are My Sunshine’ and a piece of a song by Manchester Orchestra. I will post the lyrics, the meaning to us and the song itself soon. (They actually recorded it for us so we can have it forever)

(We had this photo stretched onto canvas and will put it up in whatever place we call home)

Ted shared the meaning of the songs in the medley. I read a letter I wrote to Eisley. Our friend Katherine read a short story we asked our friend Nate to write, about the life and storyof Eisley. And then we ended with ‘Hallelujah’ and ‘How Great is Our God’ as we released pink balloons her honour. Everything combined was as we hoped it would be. It was difficult and tearful and painful, but beautiful.

 One of the most memorable, beautiful things was the balloon release.

  Eisley, you are so loved.

  I can’t explain with words just how much it meant to us to have everyone celebrating her life with us and those of you who celebrated her life from around the world (pictures of balloons release from around the world soon.)

Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.

It was an especially emotional day. We felt everything from grieving the loss of dreams we had for her as we watched the balloons float high above us to the next second feeling inexplicable peace and joy when we remembered Who she was with. We celebrated her life and mourned her loss at all once. It was beautiful and painful. I can’t even find the words to express exactly how is was for us, but it was everything we hoped.

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(I almost didn’t add this, but to be honest, I really feel I should be raw. We need prayer. When everyone left the party for Eisley and we went home, the weight of everything began to hit us again. I told a friend that I didn’t want the memorial service to end because I was afraid people would forget her life and legacy. We’re also afraid to feel alone in this. We have no idea “how to handle” loss other than feeling what we need to feel, but even then?…I think I will write a bit more about this later, but please pray for Ted and I.)

Forever, her big brother.

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Chase did his balloon release for Eisley a little after the service and it was something I think a lot of us will never forget.

 It’s true, he doesn’t know the fullness of the loss of his baby sister, but he know something has happened. We taught him to say “baby” when we learned I was pregnant with Eisley and he would give kisses to my belly. I know he knew something and I can’t say how much, but I can say that I am telling him about his baby sister Eisley and will continue to tell him her story until he understands. He will know her as his sister.

I still hard for me wrap my mind around her not being here to run around with him. My heart aches when I’m reminded of this as I watch him play.  Today we walked to a park with my sisters and I watched him run around and do and say things that make him suddenly seem so big. It’s really hard for me to watch him get bigger knowing she isn’t going to be growing alongside him. I don’t know if this makes any sense, but it’s one of many dreams I had for her that I have to let go.

It’s so hard to watch the dreams we had for the two of them disappear so quickly. I think we will ache often throughout the years as we watch Chase grow up without Eisley by his side and we’ll always wonder what it would have been like. Yesterday, watching him let the balloon go was memorable yet hard. Beauty intertwined with the bitter taste of letting those dreams go.

It might “get easier as time passes” but right now it is so very, very hard.

Jesus, be our strength as we ache and grieve the loss of our daughter and Chase’s baby sister.

A “party for Eisley”!

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I was looking through my photos to find a “picture that says a thousand words” and this fit perfectly. ( I took this on one of our Thailand outreaches)

Saying this past week has been hard is putting it lightly. I’ve avoided getting things all in order and ready for the memorial service for Eisley. I know it needs to get done, but it feels so hard to plan this memorial because I feel like it’s another step to letting her go and saying goodbye. I feel like we are becomming more and more aware, that this is our reality; She is gone. I really, really hate those three words.

When a friend saw that I am having a hard time planning this memorial service and that I’ve even been avoiding it, she wrote me with a challenge she felt God gave her to give me. She wrote about how this “wasn’t the Jami she knew”, the one enjoyed planning events and especially those for the ones I love and my kids. I realized how right she was. I put so much effort and work into the ‘Pink or Blue’ party for Eisley and had a blast planning it. And I want to put as much effort into our daughter’s memorial, the celebration of her life. When I initially sent out the invites to the memorial, even then I wrote “a celebration of her life” and I meant that with everything in me. Over time, I guess I let that vision sink away while the sorrow has settled inside of me.

My friend wrote about making it more of a “party for Eisley” and I love that idea. That is what we want.

I told Ted last night about the challenge to look at this as her party even though she cannot attend physically. We both got teary because it is hard that we’re planning this kind of party without her here with us, but we really want to honour and celebrate our little Eisley’s life.

So, let’s celebrate sweet Eisley! I hope you can attend the party for Eisley this Saturday and if you can’t attend in person, stand with us in prayer and in your thoughts that day. And if you want to, we will be releasing pink balloons during the service and I want to ask that you TOO will release a pink balloon whereever you are and snap a photo of it and send it to my email address; colourherhope@gmail.com. I will put it in her scrapbook!

Eisley will be watching us celebrate her life as she rests between His shoulders. I do believe that, with all of my heart. :)

(I took this photo when I was first pregnant with Eisley. These photos of our spring walk that day will forevermore cause me to think of her when I see them.)

Eisley-girl, we’re going to throw you the best party ever, in honour of your life and your legacy. You are loved, so very loved.

Where my heart and mind aren’t connecting.

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The past few days I have been having flashbacks of the day Eisley’s heart stopped beating. It all comes back to me, like a nightmare, only this is our reality.

I’m lying in the hospital bed as they use the monitor to search for her heartbeat. 5 minutes pass, then 15, then 30. I think deep inside I knew but I kept hoping. 45 minutes passed and I began to have a hard time remembering to just breath.

My heart was racing and they kept finding my heartbeat low where hers normally was. Each time they would find my heart and I could hear it beating, I would just close my eyes and listen and feel my own heart in my chest. This wasn’t her heart, it was mine. My heart racing  because I knew she was gone.

They called Dr. Hill in and he came quickly along with an ultrasound machine. I felt like I was in a horrible nightmare as they plugged it in and kept thinking “This can’t be happening. I just felt her this morning”. They put the warm jelly on my stomach and I had to force my eyes to look at the screen that would tell me if my baby girl was still hanging on or not. I could see right away, she wasn’t reacting as she normally did when we had ultrasounds. I could see she was still. Dr. Hill brought the wand over my belly for a few minutes and finally pointed to the screen. He told me we were looking at her heart and that is was no longer beating.

I immediately began moaning and crying out “Oh God, no” over and over. The most horrible moment, realizing she was no longer with me.

I couldn’t even bring myself to call Ted and I had one of my favourite nurses make the dreaded call. Ted told me when he saw my number pop up on his phone, but heard Deb’s voice instead of mine; he knew. Our girl was gone.

Because I was alone so often, I had this horrible feeling that if I ever did lose Eisley, that I would be alone when I found out. And I was. My body shook from shock and sobbing for what seemed like forever but was probably not even an hour. I felt so alone and confused during that time. But when I finally regained my composure, I realized, I was most definitely not alone. Dr. Hill and two of my nurses had stayed by my side and  Dr. Hill was actually rubbing my leg to comfort me, which I didn’t notice until I looked around. Dr. Hill stood close to me with tears in his eyes and my nurses were crying as well as they stood by my bedside. I wasn’t completely alone; I was surrounded by two nurses who I have grown to love and our amazing Doctor who has been such an incredible blessing throughout our pregnancy. Once I really opened my eyes, I soaked up the comfort they offered me in that time and the tears they shared with me meant the world to me.

One thing I still wrestle with is that I didn’t feel God’s presence when I found out my daughter was gone. Maybe it was because of the hopes and dreams I had for her were gone in an instant, but in that few hours of my life, I felt so confused, and alone and even abandoned by the One I placed my hope in. That is the one part of the week that still bothers my heart greatly and I’m still trying to process the entire day… and the time I felt without Him. But He  did provide me with people who loved me and grieved with me, until Ted was able to get to Denver.

I guess where I am at currently, in this hour and sporadically throughout the past few days is denial. It sounds so twisted, that I can remember these horrible moments yet I feel like this can’t be happening. She can’t be gone. My heart still can’t believe what my mind keeps telling me. She is gone. I think that is why I keep having these flashbacks. I want to “make sense” of what happened.  I just want to understand what happened and it even ask it replays over and over it just doesn’t seem real. Denial. One of the “stages of grieving”, I know, I’ve heard. I go through probably all of the stages throughout one day and over and over sometimes. It will probably be like this for a while and I am really trying to let myself feel what I need to feel.

Yesterday little things I read or heard or saw kept triggering this feeling of  “it just doesn’t seem fair” in me. We had dreams and hopes for our daughter that were all gone in the instant they told us that her heart had stopped beating. Yesterday I kept thinking of Chase and how he will never know his little baby sister Eisley. They were going to be 16 months apart and they were going to be best friends. He was going to be her protector and give her big sloppy wet kisses. He was going to be the best big brother Eisley could ever had. All of those dreams are gone… and it breaks my heart more than words can say.

I will always tell Chase and someday our other children, of Eisley and who she was and the legacy she left behind, but it does break my heart that they will never personally know her and grow up with her. I watch Chase run around and I mourn the loss of his baby sister who I want so badly to be running along side him.

Our hearts and minds are having a hard time connecting the dots between what is reality and where we had such  hopes and dreamed for our daughter. It’s even hard for me to put into words because it’s so obvious physically… she is gone… yet my heart doesn’t quite grasp that fully.

I know this is kind of  a raw post, but it’s where I am at and I always want to be real and raw. Will you please pray for me? For Ted? For our hearts and minds to begin to connect the dots as we mourn the dreams we had for our Eisley and at the loss of her life. I am not strong, I am really the weakest I have ever felt. It’s not that I am in an unhealthy place but I’m hurting and aching and in need of your prayers. Ted is too.

Thanks for your love and support in this time.

One week; wishing time would stand still.

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It has been one week since we first held our sweet Eisley and had to say our earthly goodbye. I wrote in my journal of how I wish time would stand still. Time is moving forward a lot faster than my heart is healing. I close my eyes and imagine myself holding her for the first time again. Remembering how in awe I was at her tiny hand between my thumb and finger. I can still picture her tiny little Chase-like nose and her beautiful mouth shape and lips. Her tiny soft toes… everything so perfect.

After she passed away Tuesday and we decided to be induced, they told us that is could take a while for my body to deliver, because it just wasn’t time. They told us that there will be changes her body will make immediately and they prepared us for what we might see. They told us that her skin would be lose and could even be falling off and that her features will have changed. I immediately wondered if we should just do the c-section so things would be over quickly. But they reminded me to think about future pregnancies and also the healing process which would be incredibly difficult on top of the loss of our daughter. I couldn’t even believe I had to face these questions right away and to think about being pregnant again… hours after losing her… it was the most difficult thing.

The 3 decisions to choose from for delivery were; one, a c-section. two, induced labor. Or three, go home and wait for my body to naturally go into labor. I knew immediatley 3 was out of the picture. It had only been 2 hours of knowing she had passed and I ached knowing that she was inside of me, but she was no longer alive. No way could I go weeks of waiting for my body to deliver her. And they also told us that Eisley would have a lot of changes during that time. I couldn’t bare the thought of what we might see weeks later.

We choose to be induced. It took 3 days (72 hours) for my body to deliver her naturally but we don’t regret the decision. We we’re able to see our daughter and she wasn’t anything like they had told us.

When I delivered her (which someday I will share about the actually delivery part and maybe soon) I was terrified to look at her. I actually asked them to clean her and dress her before I saw her, because I was so afraid of what I would see. Ted later told me, he was afraid too.

The nurse I had at the time I delivered her said, “Oh Jami, she is so beautiful.” She paused and I wondered if she just had to say that. “She is so beautiful. I was afraid of what we would see since she passed away 3 days ago… but she is perfect.” I just looked at Ted’s expression as he looked down at our daughter and realized, our nurse was right. Ted’s face said it all. She was perfect.

Even no matter what she would have looked like, she would have been perfect to us. Although, I am extremly thankful that it didn’t end up being what they had told us. Thank you God.

One thing that helps me are the photos Ted took of our little Eisley. It felt so strange to pull out the camera in a time like that, but we knew we would want photos of our daughter because our memory may fail us, although I pray we will never forget.

(I may never share all of the photos, just some for now….)

Ted and I both wish we could have had more time with her, but we agreed that any amount of time with her, wouldn’t have been enough. We were only able to keep her with us for a few hours after her delivery because of the changes her body would go through outside the womb. I’ve already shared, but the time we did have with her were that of peace. We felt complete peace as we held our little Eisley and we knew it was right that she was with Him.

We didn’t get a lot of time with her on earth, but I do believe that I will see her again and I will spend eternity with her. Right now she’s hanging out with Jesus and He’s telling her how much she was and is loved by us and by Him.  A friend gave me a photo last night that made her think of Eisley. It is incredible.

It makes the ache inside a little easier when I think of her in heaven. Healed and whole. In the arms of Jesus, who’s showing her the universe.

I will remember, I will grieve.

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The very moment they put Eisley in my arms, after they cleaned and dressed her, I felt a peace wash over me. For the first time in my life I felt the “peace that passes understanding”. I looked at my beautiful baby girl and just knew… it was right that she was with Him. It wasn’t because she looked ill or sick… she didn’t, in fact, to the naked human eye, she was perfect. Her hands, her fingers, her tiny finger nails, her feet, her toes, her little nose that looked like Chase’s and her lips that were shaped like mine but big like her daddy’s.

She was perfect. But I knew, she was meant to be with Him.

I can’t really explain it, but yesterday from the moment that I first held her to our final earthly goodbyes, I felt peace. She is whole and healthy with Him. She rests between His shoulders. She isn’t suffering, she isn’t fighting. It is what is best for her.

I thought her being here with us would be best for her and now I know it wasn’t.

Like so many people, I felt like Eisley was going to make it. I truly felt, deep inside, she was going to win this battle for her life. I did. I don’t have answers, and right now, I don’t feel like I need an answer. Right now, I just know, it is right that she is with Him but we are grieving that she isn’t with us.

Someday, maybe soon, I may question this. Right now, I feel the utmost peace, the kind which passes my understanding. The kind that says, this is truly difficult and I am filled with sorrow, but God I trust You and will rest in that.

The day I found out Eisley’s heart stopped beating, that her fight was done… I didn’t feel peace. I can’t really say what exactly I felt.

Today,I ache. I ache deep inside. When I cry, I keep literally reaching for my heart just wanting the pain that’s deep inside to just calm. The ache that feels almost physical, to stop.

I grieve as I sit here with this stillness in my womb. Silence. My body no longer holds my precious Eisley. She is no longer here with me on earth.

We are filled with grief and stricken with sorrow, we will be for months and years to come. I will always ache when September 14th rolls around each year, the day her little heart stopped fighting. I will still remember September 17th, the day of her birth, as bittersweet. I will still cry and wonder what life would be like with her when her due date, December 17th comes each year.

But even more than just those 3 dates, I will mourn and grieve maybe every day from here on out for a while. That’s okay and I know that. 

But I will also remember.

On April 26 I will remember with joy, the day that I found out we were pregnant with our little surprise baby. I will still remember rejoicing on August 8th at our ‘Pink or Blue party’ where we found our we were having a girl, our precious Eisley. I will remember feeling her little kicks and hiccups deep inside.I will remember the very first time I felt her kick from the outside, at the very same time her daddy felt too.  I will remember the ultrasounds where we watched her suck her thumb and stick her tongue out. I will remember the heart monitoring and hearing her swift heart beat, beat, beat to let me know she was okay.  I will remember the night before she passed, when she reacted to her daddy’s voice as he talked to my belly. I will remember her final kicks to me the morning she passed away, like she was saying goodbye to me. I will remember the day we finally gave birth to her, September 17th-  the perfect delivery of our beautiful baby girl and the peace that washed over Ted and I when we held her. I will remember how perfect her little nose, mouth, ears, toes, feet, fingers… how perfect and beautiful she was.

Our Eisley is with Him, which is really comforting, but we still ache and we will. We feel the loss of our daughter so strong right now.

And we will never, ever forget Eisley and her journey, her strength and the the legacy she left behind before even entering the world. We will never forget what we have learned as we were allowed to be her parents. She was a miracle baby is now safely in the arms of her Heavenly Daddy.

We will remember and we will grieve, but we will someday she her again.

Eisley rests between His shoulders.

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Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in Him, for He shields him all day long, and the ones the Lord loves rests between His shoulders. Deuteronomy 33:12

I wanted to try to write a little while I feel the strength, because I know after today, I will not feel up to it. I won’t go into great detail of everything leading up to today because it’s too hard, but here is what is going on.

Eisley went to be with her father in heaven Tuesday morning. I was 26 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I was induced Tuesday evening at 10 pm and have been in labor ever since. We are very slowly progressing, but this morning my cervix has dropped and thinned out. Around 8 am I was given an epidural and they started a pitocin drip in order to start speeding things up.

I had a c-section delivery with Chase only 14 months ago, so they have to take things slowly on my body, so not to tear my scar. Please pray for everything to go smoothly from here on out.

We are about to go through the hardest part, meeting Eisley to say goodbye. Please pray for us. I am terrified and can’t even really comprehend everything that has happened and that is about to. We are also making funeral arrangements and making decisions like that, which is incredibly hard.

Eisley rests between His shoulders now. She is no longer fighting. She is whole and perfect with Him.

Thank you for your prayers and words of encouragement.

What Makes Us Cry.

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Weaning. Need I say more?

Well, yes actually, cause it’s me and cause I need to process, maybe get some advice :)

It’s been an incredibly rough few weeks and we’re not finished yet. Weaning is taking a lot from Chase, Ted and I. I don’t really even know where to begin. It’s heart wrenching, exhausting, frustrating, disheartening, draining…

I thought I would nurse him for the first 3 months of this pregnancy (so another few weeks) but I’ve had to cut back immensely because Chase nursed so much (because he wasn’t getting enough), which caused my uterus to contract and that frightened me.

So basically we went from nursing every 1 1/2 to nursing 2 or maybe 3 times a day at the most. The evenings are the worst. Even still.

Ted has been incredible. Chase just wants to nurse when he wakes hungry, he won’t take a bottle from me, so Ted wakes up with him, feeds him a bottle and gets him back to bed. I am so impressed and so very thankful! I don’t know how I would do this without his help. But some nights, Chase refuses a bottle and we put him in his bed, put classical music on and let him cry it out until he falls asleep. I really, really dislike that part. I lay in bed, awake and sometimes crying until he falls asleep. We’ve never let him cry it out before and I feel so guilty doing that to him so suddenly.

I have personally been struggling a lot since we began this process. Part of this is because it is my first trimester causing a hormonal and emotional change in my body. But most of my struggle lies in feeling like I’m losing apart of the bond I have with Chase and feeling like Chase is losing some of the security and comfort he felt before.

I also have to really push myself to get up and get moving each day. I feel like I’m struggling with depression again. Even the things I love feel like a chore, like taking photos of Chase or for a project I am doing, or to write this blog, or to journal, to be crafty, go for a walk, etc.

I try and hold him, snuggle and cuddle him often but most times he wants to nurse. Last night I held him and he just fell asleep in my arms after taking a bottle (from Ted). He snuggled up to my chest and I scratched his back (which he loves) and he fell asleep almost immediately. I just sat there and stared at him in awe and cherished the moment. He wasn’t nursing, he was simply cuddling. Moments like that make this process feel a lot better.

There is hope. I mean, there is a plus side. The negative emotions just sometimes get the best of me. Honestly though, there is progress. He is taking a bottle from me more and more often and nursing less and less. He is probably gaining the weight back that he lost so suddenly. He’s begun cuddling without wanting to nurse. And tonight, as I was writing this blog, I took a break to feed him a bottle. He took the bottle from me easily and even held it himself. I almost cried. Just the encouragement I needed tonight!

Just needed to process. Thanks for reading :)

Jami