Remembering and moving on.....

In all that is going on around us right now, it is hard for me to blaze past tomorrow without remembering what the day is for us.  It was on May 2, 2013 (just 1 month after our sweet Doron's birth) that I was suffering my 7th miscarriage.  Losing Isaiah was difficult, he was by far the longest pregnancy I had ever carried and still lost, and because of a tumultuous pregnancy we had spent the 5 weeks we had known of his existence getting to know his little body inside of me.

Isaiah Michael 9 weeks gestation

You can read about Isaiah's pregnancy here and his memorial service here.  I remember those few days between losing him and his service on May 4 as a sort of limbo I lived in.  It was the world of grief that I knew from previous losses that I would come out of but I didn't know when or how.  I just knew that somehow Jesus had always carried us through and he would only continue to do so.

Isaiah came as a surprise, halting and interupting our adoption plans.  We had seen him as an answer to prayer as to what we should do when we didn't know where to go. And when we lost him, it gave us more time to think and prepare.  We had made the decision to wait until Isaiah's due date before pursuing adoption any further.  I never wanted to replace a child I'd lost with a new child.  I wanted to be for sure that I had 100% grieved Isaiah's loss before we moved forward with bringing another child into our home.  

For months I would rock Zemirah to sleep and wonder when I would get to hold Isaiah and rock him to sleep.  I mourned him, long and hard.  His due date came and went and still I would have to remind myself that Isaiah was never coming to my arms this side of heaven.  It is strange the way grief can grip you.  It holds on to your heart and while slipping into the shadows it will alert that it is still there at the most inoportune times.  I would sit and wonder about the child we would adopt someday and in my mind say "When I can rock Isaiah..."  

As time passed eventually I stopped thinking about rocking Isaiah.  I stopped wondering what he would have looked like or smelled like.  I stopped picturing him in my arms.  By this time we were ready to move on with our adoption from China, and finally we are ready. 

It was a few months ago when I realized that when I rock Zemirah to sleep, or just sit in my rocking chair while she falls asleep by herself, I wonder what life will be like when Doron is in my arms.  I remember Isaiah but he is not who I yearn for anymore.  My heart has healed and I am ready and willing, excited, to bring home a different little boy, one who has his own dreams and passions, one uniquely created to be himself.  No strings attached.  No previous agenda.  Doron for who Doron is.  

Someday all my children will play together in heaven, our 8 babies who have gone before us and the 3 we have here on earth.  I can't imagine what it will be like, but it will be a beautiful day.  

Isaiah, we remember you.

It's hard to believe where we were just a year ago.  The weather was certainly nicer than it has been, but the weather isn't really what's on my mind.  It was a year ago that I woke up early in the morning to cramping in a regular pattern.  The cramps became more and more intense: paralyzed by pain, my mind couldn't comprehend what was really happening, while my husband prayed for a miracle.

Isaiah, we met you too soon.  You're not just a number in a line-up of recurrent miscarriages for us.  You're a God-given reminder of life given and life taken away.  You put life to the lives of those like you that have been lost.  You put a face and a name to children whose faces and names have not yet been seen or heard.

We have survived, although I wasn't sure I could.  We have recovered, but will never forget.

As we move on to the next phase and stage of our lives, we see reminders of you everywhere we go.  Spring brings blossoms of bleeding hearts just over where your body rests.  A small statue will be placed outside soon, to mark where we laid our eyes upon you one last time.  Oh little boy, you were wanted.  You were cherished.  We live full, happy lives here, but yearn for the days when we are a complete family; when in heaven there are no more tears, no more sadness; where we see all of our children, completely whole.

It is hard to believe, with where we are now, that it has only been one year since we felt so much pain.  It was so difficult for me to imagine being the same again.  It was difficult for me to imagine not saying your name every day.  Darling, I still think of you, nearly every day.  I still miss you, nearly every day.  My days and life are full, but you are still missing.

I am happy, I am joyful, but I will never not miss having you in my life.

11 weeks gestation

Isaiah's Song & Memorial Service

I am a big JJ Heller fan.  I like to sing "When I'm With You" to my girls and "The Boat Song" to my husband.   So it is only fitting that we have a song by JJ Heller for sweet little Isaiah too.

At the end of his memorial service we played "Sunshine" and while the music played my beautiful 5 year old daughter, completely enamored with her tiny baby brother and with a perfect perspective of the wonders of heaven, danced through the whole song. 

 It was perfect.

While this song plays you can scroll through a few of our memorial pictures.  These pictures were taken by two amazing photographers from Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep.  What a beautiful organization, thank you for capturing this day for us.

Isaiah Michael Kellett

May 2, 2013

7:50 am

This was engraved on Isaiah's white keepsake box that we have and also on the inside of the heart shaped box he was buried in.

This box was fitting for our butterfly baby, engraved on the outside was "expect miracles...they happen every day."  It speaks well of the short and miraculous life Isaiah lived.

Isaiah's statue

My girls

You'll see in the next few pictures that Amariss was quite the comforter.  She loved and adored her little brother very much.

My parents

A prouder big sister, I have never met.

Aaron's mom holding Zemirah; our parents did a wonderful job keeping her occupied and taking turns holding her.

We read:

Isaiah 49:14-23

Isaiah 65:17-24

Isaiah 66:7-13

Our final goodbyes

Amariss loves to finish her dances with a big full Mommy hug

*Isaiah was buried near our Bleeding Heart plant.  We found it fitting as it is in full bloom in early May.  We were also gifted with a Japanese Maple from Aaron's mom and a Blue Hydrangea from my parents.  In addition I received a wind chime from a wonderful group of friends and our once empty shade garden is now very full and has come to possess much meaning.* 

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day and in many ways I feel Isaiah's loss more poignantly today then most other days.

Although, I've noticed that as the shock of this loss has worn off, my heart is aching more deeply.

I have so many emotions and am doing such a poor job expressing them.  Maybe tomorrow I'll be more able.

For all the women out there with aching empty arms this Mother's Day, my heart is aching for you too.  Praying you feel God's grace and presence wrapped more tightly around you today.

The last 6 days....

I can't believe that tomorrow marks 1 week since we lost our sweet Isaiah.  Time has moved slowly and at warp speed at the same time.

1 week ago I got the muffle fixed but it feels like months ago.

1 week ago I bought maternity clothes and a blue whale sweater in anticipation that Tic Tac would be a boy. It feels like just yesterday.

Today was similar to last Wednesday, marked with perfect blue skies and warm sunshine.  Only today I could walk to pick Am up from school, and today my neighbor took my girls to the park with her kids so I could have some time to myself.  Last week we all laughed and played together on a blanket under the big maple tree while our 5 year olds put on a play about kitties again.  We talked about Rat's miscarriage (their cat) and I made a gesture and said "I feel ya sista" as a joke.  Oh how true the next day would make that statement.

Thursday was, well, overwhelming.  In every sense of the word.  I haven't yet decided if I'll post the details of that awful morning, from the early morning cramps to the very end just a few hours later.

We were so blessed to spend 2 1/2 days with our sweet Isaiah, memorizing him, holding him, counting his fingers and toes - loving him just like we would any other baby.  Our time with him was just too short.

A few have asked just how we knew Isaiah was a boy, it was quite obvious when he was born.  Although it wouldn't have been visible by ultrasound, there is no doubt about it.

My parents made a quick trip up - I say quick because they left within 1 hr of my mom getting home from work, but the 11 hour trip was certainly not quick for them.  But they came - and they mourned with us.

We had a beautiful service on Saturday attended by just us and our parents.  It was exactly what we all needed and brought healing full circle.  We called Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, and were blessed by two wonderful volunteer photographers who came out and took pictures of our memorial service.  They were truly a gift to us as we were able to experience Isaiah's service without thought as to whether or not we would have pictures to remember it by.

My parents had to head back home on Sunday, really - they spent almost more time traveling to get here than they spent here, but I can not thank them enough for making the trip.

These last few days with Aaron back at work have flown.  I don't really know where they've gone.  I know that there are going to be many emotional battles in the days, weeks, and months ahead.

I will begin teaching again this summer, and was hoping to be able to spend an afternoon a week at the pregnancy center.  November will probably be the most difficult, with the elation of Z's birth still pulsing through my veins, my heart will ache on Isaiah's due date more than the others.

I miss him so much already, as I have him pictured as a little boy laughing, running, playing.  I can see him jumping off of furniture with a cape and scaring me with snakes and spiders.

Life is full of crazy ups and downs, twists and turns.  Heartache and joy mingled into one.

Isaiah Michael

I'm sure in the next few days, weeks, and months - as my emotions unravel you will hear much more from me on all of this.  Probably every thought, whim, or idea that could possibly seek to provide answers but of course, answers that will really never come this side of eternity.

So, with a heavy heart -

This morning, at 7:50am, on May 2, 2013, I miscarried our son, Isaiah Michael, at 11 weeks 1 day gestation.    A beautiful little boy, perfectly formed in every way, will be spending the rest of his days with Jesus and several of his siblings.  However, Mommy, Daddy, and big sisters have heavy hearts as we miss our little boy.

Thank you so much for your support, and your prayers over the past few weeks and even as we go through the next few days.

Much love,
Brie

7 weeks pregnant

I can't believe I'm here.  Still pregnant at 7 weeks.  Although this is not the furthest a pregnancy has gone and then miscarried for me - it is still much further than all but 1. 

Which gives me hope, lots and lots of hope.

I still have this fear in my head though, what if?

What if this one doesn't make it? 

What if the ultrasound doesn't show a heartbeat? 

What if I start to miscarry at youth encounter next weekend or my friend's wedding the following? (and none of these people even know I'm pregnant)

What if there is something wrong with this baby?

What if I get my heart broken again?

But you see - what is hope if it is in things I am certain of?  Well, that is not hope at all - that's knowledge. 

Trusting God these past few weeks has been especially hard, and to be brutally honest - I've ignored him more than anything. 

Infact, I've forgotten that I'm pregnant most days, other than those few moments when I have to take my Welcome Womb (nasty, nasty stuff) or progesterone, or vitamins - or when a good friend calls just to see how I'm holding up. 

I hate that I've disconnected myself but connecting myself right now - although I love this child with all that I am - is not what I can handle. 

I have too much to do, too much to handle to consider the weight of losing a baby right now.  And no time to grieve, so I choose to ignore. 

And if this child finds his or her way to heaven before I have a chance to meet them face to face, I will grieve - if the time comes.

 (maybe a little too much Cinderella for me, but every time I see "if" italicized I think of Lady Tremaine saying  "If you can get your work done and If you can find something suitable to wear" and then explaining to her daughters... "of course I said "If")

As my mother so often said "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."  Hopefully this road does not take me to that bridge, but right now - I still don't know.

I read this verse on a friend's blog last night - and found that as fitting as it was for her, it fits here as well. 

“For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

Romans 8:22-25

The aftermath - July 14, 2011

For those of you who have wondered why I kept this to myself and didn't tell many people about my pregnancy, here it is.  Sometimes its nice to pretend that everything is perfect in my world, even when I know its not. 

The Aftermath :

It’s way too late.  I spent an hour (or more, I lost track of time) reading nothing on facebook, wondering how in the world other mothers have the time and abilities to accomplish all that they do. 

Exhaustion and frustration are not becoming of me. 

I keep wondering when I can post the story of the past week on my blog, but then I wonder how, so that it makes sense, and why.  My blog is about the delicate balance I walk in life; living my own personal struggle with infertility and miscarriage while working as a birth educator and now doula. 

And here it is, where the rubber meets the road.  Here is where you see it all, the dirt, the part that has always made you wonder how I do what I do. 

So, this crazy last week – I have to post it.  Even though I’m afraid of the comments.  It’s not sympathy I seek.  No, that’s not really me.  No, infact, I wish to handle this privately.  But somehow out there I thought it might be nice if people who ask me all the time “how do I handle my friend’s miscarriage?”  would have a place where they can hear the feelings of one who has been there. 

Not so that tomorrow you can give me an encouraging hug, or one of those looks that says “I’m sad for you”.  But so that someday when you’re faced with something you don’t really understand – you can let your friend know that it’s okay that they don’t know what they need from you, but yet they know that they need you.  And that’s all there is to it.

So, one of these days, I’ll post the story.  All of it – the blog posts, the journal entries, the prayers. 

But today, it’s still private.  I like it that way.

7/14/11 

Goodbye Bunnin - July 13, 2011

written shortly after recieving the phone call from the drs office

I had some cramping and spotting over the last few days. I tried to pass it off as implantation spotting but as my nausea abated and everything else returned to its not pregnant state - I went in for another blood test. It came back this afternoon that my hormone levels had dropped from 49 (on Friday) to 11 today.

So, in essence, my body will probably miscarry this baby in the next day or two once my progesterone shot from this morning wears off.

However, amidst the tears - and frustration, I choose to remember that God can still work a miracle here. He can bring these levels up. And I was encouraged last night when reading in Romans - that my faithlessness does not nullify God's faithfulness.

So, although I close this chapter on this baby's life I know that God may not have that in store at all, and all hope is not lost.

7/13/11

The Update - July 12, 2011

This was written the day before I got blood tests that showed I would be losing the baby.

While I haven’t yet been able to post these last few posts, I’m finding great therapy in writing out what is going on. 

I had a frustrating doctor’s appt. on Fri. in which I believe the exact words she used were “It’s still early so you could either way.”  I’m not sure she meant it to sound so cold but it hurt a little bit of the hope I’d been banking on. 

The weekend was busy and, baby wise, uneventful.  We visited friend and had family come into town for a few days. 

Sunday night I had a sharp “twinge” on my left side and began spotting.  It made me very nervous and left me running for the bathroom often to check if the spotting had gone away, which it did very quickly.  Monday morning I got a call from my doctor/midwife’s office that my hormone levels had doubled from Wed. to Fri (like they’re supposed to) and they wanted me to come in and start progesterone injections.  So my husband and I went in and they showed him how to give those injections at home. 

So here we are today.  I started spotting again midmorning.  I had some mild cramping this morning but nothing major or worrisome, till the spotting started.  So instead of spending my day watching 19 kids and counting with my mother-in-law, I left my daughter with her and came home to calm down my worried self and relax and make as many trips to the bathroom as I want.  

So that is where I’m at right now.   

New Hope - July 9, 2011

This was written Friday, July 9, 2011 - following my dr appt. 

New Hope

I have a lot of things to accomplish today, but unfortunately I’ve spent the last two hours sitting around, doing nothing.  My day is wasting away and all because I can’t rid my mind of today’s unsettling news. 

I’m going to keep the frustrating stuff short, because there have been too many other promises revealed since then.   I went to my Dr. this morning to receive the shot I was expecting.  We arrived at 9am, right on time and sat and waited and waited and waited.  I was surprised we actually got to see our Dr.  being that I was just expecting a shot and had brought along my trusty husband so he could learn how to give it at home.  She went over my HcG results which were pretty low, but I am pregnant.  Because of this, she said I’m in the very early stages and doesn’t want to give me the progesterone shot just yet, she wants to wait and see what happens with my second blood draw levels later this morning. 

I felt….frustrated, like I’d just wasted my morning to get frustrating news that you could have told me over the phone.  That I’d built myself up in excitement, saying “Body, just make it till Friday, Friday you’ll get your shot.”  But that’s not what happened.  It upset me, truly.  Deep down, I felt like I was given little hope. 

But here’s what I know.  That result was from Wed.  today is Friday, things have most definitely changed and progressed.  I have no spotting, and I feel more pregnant.  God is not confined to a blood draw.  So,  I called a few friends, I cried a little, I sent some texts.  I prayed.  They prayed.  I’m so thankful that prayer works. 

I went to lunch with my very dear friend.  When I think about all that we’ve been through together, it brings tears to my eyes.  There is nothing like a friend who has seen it all with you and knows exactly how to love you.  Anyway, she gave me a gift.  And what a sacrifice this gift is, but it’s a reminder to me of my promise.  And a reminder of a friendship that goes beyond what man can see but to a bond that has been formed through the great grace of God.  Few people will understand the significance of this exchange but it will forever be another brick in the building of this friendship.  So thank you, dear friend, for reminding me today that my hope is not in man – but my hope is in the Lord. 

After returning home I was vegging on facebook and I read a post from a friend of my mom’s.  It told the story of a family who, after 3 miscarriages this past year, were given the devastating news through ultrasound that the baby they were carrying had died in the womb.  In a follow up appt today, another ultrasound was done and what the Dr. saw on the screen was a healthy, 10 ½ week baby bouncing around. 

Today is a day I need to surround myself in miracles.  I know the statistics, I know my body.  But that is nothing compared to knowing my Lord.  So, today in the midst of what could take me down – I will be up.  God has not given up on my child and neither will I. 

Blog posts - from pregnancy (July 2011)

This post may seem out of order, as it is.  But I wrote this the day I found out I was pregnant with Bunnin.  Since losing that baby I'm finally ready to put things out there - so here it is:  (I hate to have to say this, but just a reminder, I did miscarry this baby so please, no congratulations)

Blog Post 7/7/11 – 4 wks pregnant

I want to post on my blog, but all that’s on my mind concerning our fertility is our latest blessing.  And as excited as I am about finally and surprisingly achieving pregnancy, I’m not quite ready to share our joy with everyone.  Mostly because I am unable at this time to match their level of excitement. 

I am excited, oh yes, but not jump up and down, shout for joy, let’s tell everyone, excited.  I will be, give me a few weeks and a few more days of morning sickness and let these abdominal pains slow down and then you can bet I’ll be jumping, screaming, beaming with joy.  So until that day comes, I’m keeping my news between some family and a few close friends. 

But here I am… 

Yesterday morning I took that pregnancy test.  I’d had a few symptoms here and there while on our vacation but didn’t want to look dumb when I wasn’t pregnant (again) so I kept that to myself… for the first time EVER.    I took the test and it was a very (and I mean, VERY) faint positive… so I took another one and it looked the same.  Different brand though.  A faint positive is a positive though, and I called my dr’s office.   I had blood drawn to check my HcG and progesterone levels.  I’ll find out those results tomorrow when I go in to get my first progesterone injection.   The injection makes me nervous – sounds a little more painful than swallowing pills with morning sickness (which wasn’t fun)…  and the side effects are about the same.  I can handle shots but I’m not sure if getting them 3 times a week will make me hate them or become ambivalent towards them.  I’m pulling for ambivalent. 

I feel… well…  not much of anything.  Physically I sometimes feel pregnant, sometimes not.  But emotionally I don’t feel anything except relief every time I go to the bathroom and I haven’t started spotting.  I don’t really like people that do know about the pregnancy asking me questions about it, because it’s always on my mind – but I don’t really want to talk about it.  I don’t really want to hear congratulations yet, I’m not that excited (yet). 

I wish that when my babies grew up I could say that I was so thrilled to find out they were coming the moment I took the test.  But even with Am, I can’t say it.  I cried when I found out Am was coming, so great was my fear over losing another baby.  This time, it’s just another thing on my mind for a few weeks – until it’s more real and likely to stay.  I wish I still had the emotion that I had with Baby K and even Tiny.  But after those two, excitement was kind of lost on me.

So, I’ll make it through today.  And we’ll see what tomorrow brings.  This weekend looks to be really busy; visiting good friends that are moving far away, a prenatal visit with a doula client, and family coming into town.  I’m not sure how it will go.  I’m hoping I still manage to take it easy despite the demands. 

I’m especially blessed to know that every person I’ve told is praying for a healthy baby, as am I.  I am blessed to have prayer warrior friends.  Thank you, Lord. 

July, the month of 4

Before reading, let me remind you once again that this blog is written as therapy for myself and also for insight to those managing miscarriage or recurrent miscarriage.  This is my personal story and each story differs from person to person.   

July 20, 2006.

Today marks 6 years since our very first miscarriage.  If I'd known then what this road would look like I'm not sure I'd have been able to handle it.  I took this loss the hardest as it came as the most unexpected.

I had never had any idea that 1 in 3 women miscarry, and most of all I never dreamed I would be greater than the statistic.

I was comforted one day by a woman who had had 4 losses and I remember thinking that I would never survive 4.  But here we are, we have, we did, and my life has continued.

The feeling most associated with this loss was shock.

This baby's name is Baby K.

July 24, 2010. 

This is the day we suffered our 5th miscarriage (6th pregnancy).

Physically, it was the most painful.  Emotionally the most devastating.  This was the 2nd loss since having Am and with it I was left with a sense of hopelessness.  Nothing will work, there's nothing left to try.  In a sense I felt broken.

This baby's name is Woven.

Psalm 139:15 "My frame was not hidden fro you when I was made in the secret place.  When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body."

July 27, 2009.

This is the day we suffered our 4th miscarriage (5th pregnancy). 

I never thought I'd lose this baby.  It was my first pregnancy after Am and I felt perfectly nauseous and had strange cravings.  It was glorious to feel to pregnant.  Just a few days in though bright red bleeding and cramping brought my world tumbling down and despite perfect blood results from a few days before my body could not carry this baby. 

This baby's name is Cinco, representing our 5th child. 

And then most recently...

Just last week, on July 13, 2011 we recieved some unfavorable blood results.  An unexpected pregnancy lead to an unexpected loss and no matter how strong you are, your heart breaks a little. 

In contrast to last year's loss (Woven), I do not feel hopelessness.  Infact, I feel quite the opposite.  I feel hopeful.  I know our future is bright and I feel more encouraged than ever that we will have more children. 

Romans 8:11 "And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit, who lives in you."

This mortal body, this messed up, mortal body - has never felt more alive in Christ than it has these past few days.  I see hope for our future and know that my life is complete and full in all that Christ has given us. 

I've surrendered my dreams but still believe in his promise.

This baby's name is Bunnin. 

I will post more regarding our last miscarriage in the next few days.

Thank you so much for all of your love and support.