200 Times

It is a day that I will never forget…

Two years ago today, on a Friday morning much like this one, I woke up to feel my baby girl inside of me.  Only, her movements were not typical to her.  This time her body flailed 200 times over the course of 5 minutes.  Yes, it did.  I counted.  I watched the clock.  It was a steady, rapid tick type movement.  I later learned from my nurse while I was waiting for her to be born that this must have been a seizure.  Well that makes a lot of sense.  I have seen people seize.  I have been with a friend while she was having seizures.  I know that that looks like.    I know what that feels like.  So I could so easily now pinpoint what happened to my daughter inside of my womb on that morning.  It helped me to have a reason.  And to my non-medically trained brain that has been so curious about medical things and has enjoyed doing a lot of independent research, this seemed like a very good assumption.  I have held to that assumption these last two years.  For someone who loses a child, it always helps to have some type of "reason" for the loss.  Not that it helps it to feel any worse, but it just helps to bring closure knowing as many details as one can find.

And of course, the real underlying cause for what we think was a seizure was that darn umbilical cord.  It was constricted so tightly around Solveig's neck…three times…and around her abdomen, her arm, and it also had a true knot in it.  I get so mad about that cord sometimes.  I wish that I could have just reached in and released it from her body.  But of course that is not possible.  Nor was that meant to be.  I wish that she had been meant to be on this earth.  I will always wish that.  Even though I know that she flew straight to Jesus' arms and she is safe and free from pain, I will always wish that she could be here with our earthly family.

Sometimes I still kick myself for not calling my OB clinic immediately upon feeling that atypical movement series.  But I really had no idea.  And at the time, I was so busy with my two big kids that I didn't think too long about it.  All I thought was, "hmm, that was different."  And I got on with my day.  It was a busy day.  I remember taking my kids to the store with the big red bullseye and attending and participating in a piano and voice performance party with my mom.  And I remember as we got ready for bed that night, I said to Erik, "Something doesn't feel right.  I just am so worried about her and I don't think she is okay.  I really want to go into the hospital."  Because I'm such a worry wart, my sweet husband reassured me and said, "everything is going to be okay.  Just try to get some rest."  But I told him, "But I haven't felt her moving lately.  I think something is wrong."  And as I lay in bed, I prayed to the Lord, "Please God, please help her to move.  Please help her to move.  I just need to feel her to know that she is okay."  And sure enough, in just a little while I did feel her move.  But it was just a few little scratches.  Maybe she was still alive at that time, but I honestly think that it was just her body moving a little bit inside of me…shifting as I had shifted too.  But it allowed me to get some rest.

That next day, Saturday, we went about our family life.  We were getting the nursery ready, of all things.  Erik was putting up the crib.  And I remember sitting on the little futon in the nursery with our big kids, reading to them, and thinking to myself, "why is he putting that crib up?  This baby isn't going to be with us."  I knew.  I just knew.  It was the worst feeling.  We even went fridge and freezer shopping.  That ended up being a blessing in disguise, as we later ordered a new freezer for our basement just days after we delivered Solveig.  That freezer held many a meal from dear friends and family who literally provided months worth of meals.  And I recently learned that when we ordered our fridge over the phone, the people at the store who heard that we had just lost our daughter to stillbirth decided to pray for us.  Wow.  God shows up in the most amazing ways.  Thank you, friends at the store.

At dinner that Saturday, I remember feeling her move a little bit inside of me.  But again, it was more like she was just shifting.  And that is the last I recall her moving.

The next day at church, our friends in our adult Sunday school class prayed for us because I was feeling so anxious and nervous and shared with them that I thought something might be wrong.  And it was.  I couldn't believe that we were there that day.  I felt sick to my stomach and just knew that we needed to be at the hospital.  What on earth were we doing at church?  But now looking back, I think it was God who put us there…to be encouraged by friends before we headed into the eye of the storm.

Later that Sunday night, we called ahead to the hospital to tell them that we were coming in to check things out as I hadn't felt movement.  My mom came to stay with the kids and we went in.  On the way there, I remember we were saying, "hopefully everything is okay and she is just being quiet right now."  But moments after we arrived and were whisked away into one of the birthing areas, the nurses tried in vain to find the heart beat.  It was the most awful feeling in the world and I felt like my heart was pounding out of my chest.  I could hardly breathe.  My Dr. M came in and confirmed via ultrasound that she was gone.  She had tears in her eyes and she was so kind and gentle with me.  I watched in shock and horror as I saw that our baby was gone…she was lying still inside of me.  I turned away from that screen as I couldn't watch any longer and my body froze up.  The tears welled up and I sobbed, turning into my husband's warm embrace.  He held me for the longest time, trying to comfort me.  And he kept saying, "She's with Jesus now…she's with Jesus now…"  All I could say was, "No!  No!  She's gone!!!  Why?"

Oh the pain.  Today it comes back to me almost as if it just happened.  And yet there is some sense of removal, since it has now been two years.  But there are times that just creep up on me and hit me out of the blue.  Anticipating Solveig's birthday will I'm sure be harder than the actual day.  For it is all of these memories and emotions that are swelling and swirling like a tide pool that never calms itself.  The Post Traumatic Stress Disorder like issues I have faced following our loss have definitely calmed a bit, but they are still present at times.  I was never formally diagnosed with PTSD, but I read about it a lot and I definitely had every single symptom.  From what I have heard and read, it is so commonly found in people who have had this type of loss.  And that makes sense…because having one's child come out still is so shocking.  There is a lot to figure out…a lot to wrap the brain around.  And it takes so much time and healing and patience.  And it takes a lot of love from people around, who are willing to encourage and be there through the pain.

We have had a lot of help and encouragement through our loss.  We are thankful for those who have been able to "go there" with us.  There are some who are not able to go there.  And that has been very difficult, in all honesty.  But whenever that is hard, I try to remember all of the people that God has sent our way who have been such pillars of strength, hope and encouragement.

Please remember, if you are on the periphery of a friend or family member going through the loss of a child or another loved one, don't be afraid to say something about the deceased!  There is nothing that a parent of a child who is gone appreciates more than to hear that child's name spoken out loud once in awhile…or even to just say, "I'm thinking about her," or "I want you to know that I haven't forgotten her"…that means so much. If you say nothing, which some choose to do, it makes it feel like you have completely forgotten and that the person never existed.  That is perhaps one of the worst things about this.  And it is hard to not take it personally.

Trying to be grateful in the midst of trial…sometimes that is really a hard task, but it is indeed a necessary one.

So, as we remember our daughter in the coming weeks, and as we remember all of the things surrounding that loss, we have to continue to take hope in God.  He hasn't given up on us.  And He will never leave us…not for one moment.  We will have hard times.  We will have losses. People will come and go, but God will not go.  People will disappoint, but He will not let go of us through the disappointments.  He knows that we miss our daughter and that we will always think about her, for the rest of our lives.  He lets us cry to Him about it anytime.  That means a lot.

I can't wait to see her in Heaven…free from her tangled cord…dancing on the streets of gold…smiling and singing and playing…laughing with her Uncle Joel...what a beautiful thought to hold onto.

18 Months Later...

Today marks 18 months since Solveig was born silently into our world...into our lives forever.  There are a lot of months that go by that don't seem so significant, and I'll completely miss the 29th day.  But for whatever reason this month I have been thinking so much about her and thinking about how she would be a year and a half old.  Wow!  Last night it hit me really hard and I was so sad.  I've been noticing other little ones who are around that age, and I've enjoyed seeing them toddling around getting into mischief, playing heartily, smiling and laughing...all the things that our little one would be doing too.  It usually helps to see the other kids at the age she would be at.  I remember my friend Lea telling me that she will always notice children who are at the age her little Johnny would be at.  Johnny would be almost five and a half now...just a few months older than our little Buzz...he died when he was just four months old from heart problems.  I miss him too and think of him so often.  Hugs to you, Lea and Dave and family.

So much has happened in these last few years.  We lost three children to Heaven.  We gained one to our earthly family.  My brother died.  There has been a lot of grief and sadness.  And there has also been a lot of joy in the midst of the sadness.  After we lost Solveig, I wondered if I would ever be happy again.  I didn't think it would be possible to ever find joy again.  But I did.  I have.  Then my brother Joel died and I thought the same thing...will I ever be filled with joy again?  Why is there so much sadness in this earthly life we live?  Why do people I love keep dying?  Why does it have to hurt so much?  But God has given me new hope and new joy.  Our little Squeaker has been such a help during this season of hurt.  He has brought much joy.  He will never replace his big sister Solveig...he is his own person, and we are so glad that he is.  She will always hold a special place in our hearts.  We will always talk about her and remember her.  I think of her every day...sometimes with heaviness and sometimes with happiness.  But either way, I'm grateful for the place that she has in our family.  I'm so glad that we had her.  I wouldn't want to take her out of the picture, for she has shaped who I am today.  I'll never be the same.  Some of my innocence is gone, but there is a new awareness of life and its fragility.  There is a deeper sense of gratitude for the children who are here with us, for my husband, for every moment that we live and breathe.  These are all gifts from God.  I don't believe that I will ever take these gifts for granted.  I don't think I could.

Sweet Solveig, I hope you are getting into a healthy dose of mischief in Heaven today. :)  I hope that you are having a lot of fun playing with all the animals, spending time with family members and friends who love you, eating yummy food, singing songs and banging on instruments, hugging Jesus and enjoying the life that you have.  We sure do miss you here, and we can't wait to see you again.  I can't wait to hear you singing songs.  Thank you for changing our lives forever.  We're so grateful for you.

Love,
Mama

Mother's Day

I'm linking up with Tesha today.  If you're new, please go over to the sidebar and click on my recent posts or on the labels for stillbirth or Solveig if you want to read more about our sweet girl.  She was born still on 2/29/12 at 33.5 weeks gestation, 3 lbs. 11 oz and 18 in. long.  I still need to get some tabs or something at the top of my blog page for different subjects but don't know how to do it.  If you know how, would you please leave me a message?  Thank you so much.

Mothers' Day was two days ago.  It was such a bittersweet day for me.  Sweet because I have two wonderful, adorable kids here on this earth...and bittersweet because I have three babies in Heaven waiting for me.  I wish I could have hugged those three and had them with us for Mother's Day.  I really miss my Solveig as she was the one that I held here on this earth...the one that I carried for 33.5 weeks until learning that she had died prematurely inside of me due to the umbilical cord wrapped around her and a knot in the cord.

One of my sweet friends named Mo prayed over mothers in our Sunday school class on Mother's Day.  She prayed for those of us who have lost babies or who have struggled with infertility or other issues.  She has such a kind, loving heart that seems to have more room than the average heart...and I admire her so very much.  Thank you Mo for your sensitivity to me during this time.  You're a beautiful woman of God and I appreciate you.

In all honesty, it was painful to be at church on Sunday without my littlest, newest baby in my arms.  I felt such a deep emptiness with her missing and yet such a fullness and appreciation for my two living children.  At times I think, "who am I to complain about not having my babies here?  For with me are two of the most beautiful creations I could ever imagine, and I'm incredibly grateful for them."  My gratitude for my little ones is not diminished by my grief, but my grief and loss is ever present and it is not just going to go away today or tomorrow or in another month or year.  I imagine I will feel this pain for a long time.  But I will also find joy amidst the pain, because He does that for me...the Lord also gives me joy.

As I stood in the back of the sanctuary praising God through some of my very favorite worship songs that Sunday, I was so moved by the music and definitely felt the presence of the Holy Spirit.  Thank you Jon and Karla for leading in that time of worship.  After the songs finished, the reality of it being child dedication Sunday hit really hard.  Several sweet families got up to bring their children before the church and before the Lord, to dedicate them to Him.  I love these types of services, usually.  But this time, it was different.  I felt so bad, but I had to leave.  We were going to leave anyway after the worship songs as we had to get home to prepare for company.  But I had to leave because it was hard to think about the fact that we weren't going to be dedicating our baby to the Lord that day, or any other day to come in the future.  In fact, we already did dedicate our baby to the Lord.  We gave her back to Him the moment that we knew she had left my body.  I'll never forget my sweet Erik and what he said the moment Dr. M left the room following the news that our baby had died inside of me.  Through tears and with his steady voice he said, "She's with Jesus now, Honey.  She's with Jesus."  We surrendered her back to Him the day we brought her to her grave and buried her...and we continue to surrender her whenever we think about wanting her back...so, in other words, for me that is every minute of every day right now.  I think about having her back and wanting her present with us all the time, but the intensity of it isn't quite as much as it used to be.  But whenever I sit around wondering why she isn't with us, I have to remember that we surrendered her...

we surrendered her...

and she is not in her grave...

she is with Him...

So this year around Mother's Day, I am thankful that I knew my precious Solveig in my womb for 33.5 weeks...and actually had her there for 34 weeks.  I'm thankful that He has given me a wonderful husband to be the greatest daddy in the world to our Bug and Buzz.  I'm thankful for my mother-in-law and how she raised my husband to be a wonderful human being, and for the love she has bestowed upon our family. I'm thankful that I get to be the mama for Bug and Buzz...they are some of the richest blessings I've ever known.  I'm thankful that God has given me a great mom who has been so present in my world and has loved me through thick and thin, and has modeled for me how to be a woman of deep faith in God.  And I'm thankful also for my aunties who have been like moms to me and my brothers and grandmas for our kids.  I'm thankful for all the women in my life who have shown me friendship, grace, strength and love...there are some of you who are like mamas to me and I appreciate you and love you so.  And I'm thankful for the friends who have stood by my side, especially through this journey of grief.  You  are such special gifts to me.

May the Lord give all you women out there a special hug of grace today.  May He surround you with His love, whatever journey you are on.

And know that I'd give you a hug too if I could.  Bless you, dear ones.

Her Name In The Sand...

Today, I'm linking up again with my blog friend Tesha.  If you're visiting from her website today, I'm glad you're here.  If you're trying to find my story, I haven't yet put a special button on my blog to say "start here" or something of that nature.  But if you go to the labels on the right hand side, you can pick the label "Solveig" to read about my daughter.

If you don't know Tesha yet, I encourage you to read her story here about her sweet family and their loss of their precious son, Jonathan.  He was born too early this past January, and dear Tesha has done a beautiful job of honoring her son through her story on her blog.  She has been a real encouragement to me and to so many others.

Briefly for the newbies...
Solveig Sofia was born still February 29, 2012 at 8:03 am weighing in at 3 lbs. 11 oz.  She was 33.5 weeks in gestation.  Her cause of death is known, unlike many others who experience stillbirth.  Solveig had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck three times, around her arm, around her middle and also a true knot in the cord.  We are devastated by this loss, but we are choosing to trust in the Lord through the midst of the difficulty.  He has shown Himself to be so real to us during this trial.

Sunday May 6th was International Bereaved Mother's Day.  Tesha did an awesome thing in honor of my precious Solveig and MANY other little babies who are in Heaven.  She wrote their names in the sand using shells.  How amazing is that???  I cannot tell you what it did for my spirit to see my daughter's name written out like that and on her blog!  I was so surprised and had no idea that she had this wonderful gift in store. :)  THANK YOU TESHA!!!  I wish I lived near the ocean so I could find beautiful shells and flowers to create these things as you have done.  For now, I'll have to settle for Minnesota rocks and shells and lakes...which are also great, and pretty in a different way than your landscape.

Here it is:

Isn't that so cool?  There is nothing quite like seeing my daughter's name spelled out.  It warms my heart and gives me the chills all at the same time.  Here's a few more pictures that Tesha made for me...

I miss my little Solveig so much.  The days of feeling intense, gut wrenching pain have waned a bit.  Now it seems I have more moments of feeling that pain, but they last for a much shorter duration than they did previously.  I still think about Solveig every single day, throughout the day, but I'm able to go on and do other things more than I was even a few weeks ago.  That seems healthy and good, and I'm grateful that I've gotten to that place.  I know that the waves will come and go though, as that is how grief tends to operate.

But for this moment on this day, I'm going to again be grateful that I had the chance to carry that sweet girl in my womb and know her there.  And I'm going to look forward to holding her in Heaven again one day.  I can hardly wait!

I miss you dear Solveig.  I'll ALWAYS love you and think of you...

Love,
Mama

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.