New Year, New Look

My blog has needed some updating for way too long!  So, today I found an awesome FREE blog background from Shabby Blogs and put up one of our latest family photos.  Thank you sweet Heather for taking such great photos of my family.  I appreciate you and your gifts!

There is much more I want to say, and I'm working on some other posts…lots to share.  This is actually a really hard time of year for our family as we prepare to celebrate Solveig's birthday at the end of this month.  We miss her a lot.

There is also much to be thankful for.  This morning I heard a sermon on the radio from Chip Ingram about not being a victim when difficult things happen.  (Here is a link to his website where you can download the message for free.) He talked about the need to grieve and acknowledge and work through what happens, but then to not play the role of victim…the constant "why me," or "why did this happen?"  I think this is so important to remember.  But it's also a tricky balance.  We do need to thoroughly work through grief and not think that we can just brush it off.  That's not healthy nor is it  practical.  If we think we can brush it aside, we will actually only be making our problems worse…as they will grow like bacteria in a petri dish and become more lethal.  Chip's point was that once we've  done some of our grieving, we should stop and say, "now, what can I do with this?  What can I do and how can I allow God to use this situation to help other people?  How can I help someone else who may be going through something similar?"  Great reminder, isn't it?  If we don't try to get outside of ourselves in the midst of our grief, grief can instead become so selfish.  I have definitely experienced this first hand.

I'm thankful to be having opportunities to talk with other people who are going through baby loss, or to share with those who are on the outside wondering how to help those who are going through the loss.  And I'm thankful to be working on Solveig's Boxes for the hospital.  I have more to share about that and some other neat opportunities and will do so soon.  Stay tuned.

Her Room

It finally happened today.  We were able to go to our hospital and spend time in the room where we delivered Solveig one year ago.  Over the last few days, I called several times to see if and when the room might be available.  Each time I called it was occupied, which I totally understand.  However, this morning when I called it was open.  We quickly got ourselves ready to go to the hospital before the room would be occupied once again.  Thankfully, the nurse that I was working with said that she could save it for me for awhile this morning which was incredibly sweet of her.

Before we left, I made a new batch of frosting for some cupcakes that we baked the other day.  I really wanted to bring the staff a treat in honor of Solveig's birthday.  They weren't fancy looking, but goodness, they sure tasted great.  One of these days I'll figure out how to make cupcakes look more fancy.

The kids were in good hands with my parents who had agreed to care for them while we went to the hospital.  When we arrived, we walked in with cupcakes in hand as well as a card to thank our wonderful staff, a program from Solveig's funeral and the photo card that we sent out around the holidays.  Sweet Vicki, our nurse that helped arrange this time in the room brought us to the room and let us have some time to ourselves.

For the next hour, Erik and I spent time looking at all of our photos from our short time with Solveig, listened to the music that we listened to during her delivery and afterwards, talked, cried and prayed together.  It was such a healing time for us and I'm so grateful that we chose to do this.  Erik said to me at one point, "it is so sad to think of this life that could've been."  I agree sweet man, and I'm so glad that you could verbalize that point.  It is incredibly hard and yet somewhat sweet to imagine what our little love may have been up to one year later.  Maybe she would have been getting into everything, crawling all over the place, pulling herself up on furniture, eating hunks of solid foods, giggling and talking, perhaps walking or preparing to walk.  But I think what my dear husband was more referring to was not just these baby moments.  I think he was instead probably referring to all of the phases of life which she is missing here on earth...the phases that we are missing with her as a family.  We aren't watching her grow up as we are our other children.  And often times when I see them doing different activities, I imagine little Solveig along with them and what it would've been like to have her along with us.  We don't get to see Solveig play the piano, sing in the children's choir, dance in a ballet, play soccer, create art masterpieces, run around the yard with the dog, ride a bike, learn things in school and so much more.  It's hard to imagine those things.

But I imagine also that she is watching us from the greatest castle in Heaven.  She is playing on Heaven's playground with different children and all kinds of animals.  She must be singing in the choir and playing instruments.  Or maybe she would have been tone deaf...who knows! :)  But whatever the case, even though we're missing out on these earthly moments with our baby girl, this life is such a blip on the radar of eternity.  When we are in Heaven forever, we will probably look back on this life here and wonder why we were so worried about so many things.  We will probably be so enamored with the splendor of God and His glory.  And our reunions with our loved ones will be so precious.  I can hardly wait.

We will see you again Solveig.  There will be no more what could've beens.  There will only be what is.  And that will be magnificent.  Until then, may you rest peacefully tonight and always in Heaven.

(I posted this picture before...but it is one that I found last year and still need to put up somewhere in our house.  To me, this is Solveig's castle in the clouds.  It reminds me of her in Heaven. :))

Outfits and Blankets

Ever since we had Solveig nine weeks ago today, I have felt the need to take action and do something to help other people who have gone through the loss of a baby.  One thing that I wrote about before was how special it was for us to have a special outfit and blanket for our baby.  I also purchased duplicates of those items so that I will always have the duplicates with me to help remember Solveig.

I was lucky to have the time to go out and find these items, but many expectant parents have no forewarning that their little one is going to die and thus certainly don't have time to go out shopping.  Or maybe they don't have the energy to go and get something.  Maybe they don't have the funds to purchase these special items.  Whatever the case, there are people who don't have special outfits or blankets for their babies after they die, and they might not have a lot of options at the hospital they are in.  Some hospitals have a few items that have been donated but they can probably always use more.  Our hospital did have a few outfits and hats that had been donated...but I can honestly say that the outfits weren't things that I would probably choose.  I sort of feel bad even admitting that, but it's true.  People have different ideas about what is beautiful and suitable for them and their babies, so it would be nice to provide a variety of lovely options and then let the family have their choice of what they would like.

All of this to say, I really would like to start collecting new, beautiful baby blankets and outfits in preemie and newborn sizes to donate to the hospital where we had our Solveig for people like us who are experiencing stillbirth/antenatal death or postnatal death of an infant.  And I'd like to try to donate these in pairs, so that there is a duplicate outfit and blanket for the parents to take with them if they plan to have their baby buried in that outfit as we did.

I don't really know how to go about this, but if you're reading this and you feel led to participate in this effort, please let me know.  Perhaps a non-profit thing will come from this...or maybe just a small sized effort. :)  Regardless, I know that I intend to donate outfits and blankets in pairs to the hospital in honor of our little Solveig.  Maybe that will be one of the ways that we commemorate her birthday each year...or more!

I'm looking forward to going back to the maternity floor with bags full of outfits and blankets. :)  I think that will be healing...

Our Story - Part 3

Some weeks ago now, I started writing the story leading up to Solveig's birth and finished writing through the birth itself. But I haven't been able to write more about it until now, six weeks later. I guess I just had other things on my mind that needed to be shared. But now I want to write more of the story...

February 29th - 8:03 am - Solveig Sofia entered the world in breech position, which again was just perfect for her since she was already gone in spirit and her body didn't need to arrive head first. After untangling her from the cord which engulfed her body in too many places, the nurses placed her in my aching arms. Just like with my other babies, it was incredible to hold her finally. Although it was so odd and difficult that she hadn't entered the world with a cry of life, the contrary was true - she was so peaceful. My baby had been through so much already, so much strife. And now she was at peace. As hard it is was to accept all that she had endured and all that we were to endure from there on out, there was a calm about the situation that could only come from the Lord who was covering us with His utmost presence. We were not without Him at any time. The room was filled with light and I believe that angels were in our midst. Even though I could not physically see angels, I truly did see white light all around...such irony in the midst of what could only humanly be understood as one of the darkest moments in a person's life. That in itself was an immense gift of the Lord. For us it was dark, yes it was awful, but yet filled with light and hope and peace. I still don't understand how God would allow this to happen, yet I know that my daughter's life was not in vain and there is vast purpose that has come already through her life and this difficult situation. It doesn't make it right. It doesn't make it easier. But it gives me hope that there is purpose.

We held Solveig and looked at her for a long time. Time seemed to stand still in those moments. It seemed serene and perhaps like a dream...a really tough, bad, yet beautiful dream. Our daughter was so perfectly formed from all we could see. She was amazingly beautiful. Oh how we loved looking at her, holding her, touching her dark wavy hair...holding her tiny hands with long piano fingers, and noticing her long spindly legs that may have danced across the stage and the fields with her sister. She had not one ounce of fat on her body as she was only 33.5 weeks in gestational age, and our babies typically are just not very big. Her skin had been torn in many places, as that is typical of babies who are born still...they get cut while they are washed about inside the wombs of their mamas and while they go through delivery...they become incredibly fragile when the blood stops flowing to them as it should and would with a typical baby. Her blood had stopped flowing and bringing life to her days before when that horrible knot was pulled tight for the last time...a true knot. How I wish I could have gone inside and untied my daughter from that knot...but apparently, some knots are not to be undone.

Solveig's little face was sort of round, but maybe not quite as round as me or Buzz brother. We think that maybe she looked a little bit more like Daddy and also like big sister Bug. Erik tried to pull back one of her eyelids to see her eyes...but her little eyelids were so delicate and there was already too much blood coming through her orifices...eyes, nose, mouth...sorry if that part is hard for you to read, but its true. That is what happens to a baby in this situation. We found ourselves dabbing away the blood droplets from time to time. Especially when we would move Solveig in a certain way or if her head would move at all, then we would see the blood. This continued off and on for the next couple of days and it was such a painful reminder of her suffering. But because we were her parents, we loved her through the blood and it probably didn't bother us as much as it might a nervous onlooker or other family members.

For the next few hours we spent time bathing our limp baby, studying every inch of her body, dressing her in her special outfit that I had gotten for her, and wrapping her in her soft, white blanket. It helped to do all these "normal" things that most parents do after the birth of a baby. It made her life seem more valid...more real...and extremely priceless. The nurses helped to capture her hand and footprints on plaster cast as well as paper. Little did I know at the time just how much those hand and footprints would mean until after she was no longer with us.

After having some time to be with our baby, we were moved to a different room on the maternity floor...again at the end of a hallway, maybe a little bit more distant to the new nursing mamas and their screaming babies. I think I only heard a tiny bit of crying in the next 24 hours that we were there. That was a relief.

The day of Solveig's delivery, we were bombarded with all kinds of people coming into our room...social worker, chaplain, children's grief care...not to mention our regular nurses and doctors. In all honesty, it was difficult to have so many people coming and going at a time when we just wanted to be more alone with ourselves and our family. I know that some of it was necessary, but it just became too much. I felt a maternal instinct, a need to protect the precious few moments that we had with our daughter...the moments which would all too soon end. It would be so nice if there was a way to limit the number of people coming and going. My feeling now is that the "check at the nurses station" sign should be mandatory for situations like this, because I didn't even realize that it was an option until later on. And maybe some of the people who are supposed to visit don't need to...maybe they could leave their materials at the nurses station if need be. There just needs to be more filtering in this kind of time.

Shortly before we were to take photos with Jen Kelly, our photographer representing NIL_MDTS, my friend Trisha came not only as a friend showing support from my amazing MO_PS group, but also representing The Mis_sing Gr_ace Foun_dation. Trisha brought with her a basket from Missing Grace that was filled with all kinds of wonderful things to help capture our last moments with Solveig and things to help us remember her. I still use the pink bear and weighted bean bag that were in that basket, wrapped inside Solveig's actual white blanket, on days when I'm really missing her and just need something to hold. At the time of our loss, I didn't know that I would actually need that bear...but now I so appreciate it. Trisha also brought me this book which has been the most comprehensive and helpful resource that I have yet seen regarding still_lbirth. It holds personal accounts of people who have been through stil_lbirth (including the perspectives of daddies, grandparents and physicians) as well as medical information, current research in the field and other helpful things to know. If you have experienced a still_lbirth or know someone who has, PLEASE read this book or give it to someone who needs it. Thanks Trisha and my MO_PS friends, and thank you Candy from Mis_sing Gra_ce...the organization named after her daughter, also lost when she was born still.

There is more to share in another post...stay tuned. Thanks for reading and for your prayers.