Our Story - Part Two

Monday February 27th, 2012 - This was the day that we were to pull everything together at home. I didn't yet know exactly what was to happen, as we were hoping that maybe my body would just go into labor on its own. But since Solveig had passed already a few days prior, it wouldn't be healthy to let her lie inside of me too much longer. My sweet Dr. L called me around lunchtime to discuss a plan. She recommended that we come in the next day to try for a version, the procedure to turn the baby since she was lying transverse, and then induce labor after that. She said it could take a couple of days for the delivery to be complete after the induction began.

That afternoon I spoke with an AMAZING woman from the hospital who works with families like ours as an advocate and grief counselor. She's incredible. I knew immediately over the phone that we were going to get along well and that she was going to be a wonderful resource and encouragement to me for time to come. "A" encouraged me to go out and find a special outfit for our baby girl, and to make sure to get a duplicate. I wrote about that in an earlier post and if I knew how to link to it I'd do that, but you see I'm not too fancy yet in that regard. Anyhow, that night we went out and got a special outfit and blanket and made sure to have our own clothes pulled together for what would be a photo session two days later when Solveig was born.

After shopping for several hours and being together, we came home and crashed and got our luggage ready for the next day...

Tuesday, February 28th - We had been told to call the hospital early in the morning to schedule an appointment. We arrived there around 8:30am after Grammie (my mom) came over to be with the kids. It was so odd to walk into the hospital for this delivery. I was a bit apprehensive yet anxious to see our daughter. The nurses in labor and delivery knew we were coming and escorted us to the end of the hallway so that we'd be in a bit more of a separate area from some of the other delivering moms. We were shown a pretty teal box sitting on a table which had been prepared for us by another family who had gone through a similar loss years before. Inside there was a letter from that family as well as some things to help us remember Solveig and work through our grief. There was a special plaster mold to capture hand and footprints, a "tress press" for holding clippings of hair, a book for our kids about how there was supposed to be a baby and there was instead an angel, and some other grief pamphlets and things that I'm forgetting. We read that book about the angel baby and wept.

It took awhile that morning to get things started medically. Around noon, the anesthesiologist came to give me an epidural prior to my version procedure. After my body was numb, then Dr. F came to perform the version. She first did an ultrasound only to find that little Solveig was somehow head down now and therefore I wouldn't need the ultrasound. Sometime that afternoon, Dr. F used a fol_ey cath_eter to help things to dilate more "naturally." I was glad for this as I was hoping to avoid any further medicine. The nurses and dr.'s kept monitoring me closely to see if things were progressing and they really weren't going that far. They kept asking if I wanted to take Pit_ocin to induce labor more quickly but I said I'd like to see how far things could go naturally.

February 29th - We slept some during those wee morning hours. Erik caught more winks than me, as I was enjoying talking with some of the lovely nurses who were caring for me. In fact, there was one named "C" who happened to take care of me and helped to deliver Bug almost six years ago. It was so great to talk with her - such an incredible, caring woman who encouraged me so much. ALL the nurses did a great job - they were so wonderful and helpful. I really respect nurses. Thank you sweet nurses.

SO, after sleeping for awhile Dr. L came in towards then end of her shift to check me and determined it was a good time to break my water. I was okay with that as I knew it would most likely help labor move along. An hour later my sweet friend "M" who is also a dr. came in to visit us and to bring chocolate cookies and oranges for me and Erik. I started having very intense contractions while she was there with us.

Right after M left, Dr. M who had been with us on Sunday to give us the news was on call and she came in for delivery. Little Solveig had somehow moved back to transverse position so she would be delivered breech, which for her was not a problem. In any other circumstance, being delivered breech could be an extremely dangerous situation...but because she wasn't alive and she was so tiny, it was okay. Her little arm came out, then her end, and then her head last.

8:03 AM - our little Solveig was out and in my arms. She came out and right away they were talking about the cord. Her cord was wrapped around her neck three times, around her mid section and around her arm...and there was a true knot in it. There was no need for an au_topsy at this point as it was clear to see the cause of death was all about the cord getting in the way. As dr. friend M said to me, "that blasted cord." I couldn't agree more. Blasted cord, indeed. Dr. M said that the cord was very long. That little girl had been SO busy inside of me...she was doing somersaults and getting tangled in that cord for who knows how long.

Even though that delivery was very difficult emotionally, it was physically the easiest delivery that I have yet had. Thanks be to God for that. I'm so grateful that I could delivery traditionally and that I didn't have to do a c-se_ction. That would've caused a much more challenging recovery emotionally and physically. And also, through the difficult emotions, we had such a deep peace and sense of the Lord's presence with us. I really felt the power of the Holy Spirit in that room. It was quiet...and there was light. He was with us. He IS with us. We are not without our Lord, even through this dark valley.

We choose to praise Him who has chosen to give us life and who has chosen to keep us here on this Earth...and who has allowed our baby daughter to pass into all eternity before us. We can't wait to meet her there at the pearly gates one day...

Thanks for reading. And thanks for praying.

3 Weeks Later...The Story...

Three weeks ago today, our tiny little Solveig was born. The time has gone by so quickly and there are so many moments when it really feels like she just came yesterday. Last night as I was laying in bed, I couldn't help but remember where I had been three weeks prior...laying in a hospital bed, waiting for our little girl to make her arrival. As I talked with Erik about it, I told him that it was so different than the arrivals of our other babies...for this time we weren't awaiting a live baby, but rather a dead one. We were waiting to hold in our arms the little love whose spirit had already slipped quickly into Heaven a few days prior. That feeling of knowing that her spirit was already gone was so prominent for me - I truly could feel the absence of her life, besides the fact that she wasn't moving. Her shell was with me still and I longed to hold her. That night of waiting was one of the longest in my life. It felt like forever as we waited for my body to fully go into labor, but in reality it really wasn't that long. Here's the timeline leading up to the arrival of Solveig as best I can recount:

Monday, February 20th - My regularly scheduled NST and Ultrasound appointments at the clinic. I was a regular, going in weekly for extra testing due to my blood clotting disorder and needing to monitor more closely for clots in the pregnancy.

Thursday, February 23rd - I felt around 200 tiny rapid movements in succession from the baby...but they weren't hiccups. I know what hiccups feel like. To this day, I wish I had at that moment called the clinic about this. But I didn't want to be the "worried mom" who shows up all the time. I'm forever different about that and will never again worry about being the worried mom. (And I'm trying to let go and forgive myself for not calling...because I cannot change the course of events...) And to this day, I'm convinced that those little rapid movements may very well have been a huge part of Solveig's demise. After talking with some nurses and with my Dr. L, I feel that those movements were perhaps part of a seizure. If indeed they were part of a seizure, even if we had gotten to Solveig in time, maybe her well being was already so compromised...maybe she was brain dead already...we just don't know, and we will not know until we get to Heaven and can ask the Lord all about it.

Friday, February 24th - I went about the day and was incredibly busy. That night, around midnight, I realized that I hadn't really felt Solveig move all day. I told Erik and I was very worried. In fact, I went into a panic attack because I was convinced that she was gone. I just knew. Mother's have instincts. And maybe that was kicking in...and maybe God was telling me too...but I just knew something was wrong. However, as I lay awake for the next three hours worried beyond belief, I kept praying, "Lord, please let me know if my baby is okay. Please help her to move. Please keep her safe. Please God, please give me peace." Finally, around 3:30 am on Saturday morning, I felt Solveig move just a tiny bit. It felt like she was tickling me or scratching me with her tiny fingers - letting me know that she was there. She did that about five times. And that was the last that I felt of her...

Saturday, February 25th - We went about our day, because of how I had felt her move in the night and thought perhaps she was okay...so we went on...and around dinner time, I felt Solveig shift inside of me, so I thought to myself, "oh, okay. She moved. Great." Looking back, that very well may have just been my body moving her around.

Sunday, February 26th - We went to church. I had such a pit in my gut. I knew that something was so off, but I wasn't fully acknowledging it yet. And I wanted so desperately to believe that my baby girl was still okay. I kept searching and hoping for any signs of movement. There were to be no more. I felt no movement all day. We did life all day with our kids. I made dinner. And then I said to Erik, "We need to go to the hospital. I just need to make sure that she's okay. I need to know that things are alright." And there was some sense of peace in finally making that decision and finally going forth with our trip to the hospital to be evaluated. Even though I had a foreboding knowledge that something was wrong, I was glad to at least be in the right place, finally.

At around 6pm or so, we got somewhat settled in what felt like such a sterile and stark environment. Everything felt so dark to me. I felt so ill in my stomach. The nurses came in and tried to find the heartbeat with the NST and they were not able to. That in itself felt like an eternity. Then they got Dr. M who I knew from the clinic, and she came in with the ultrasound machine. I could barely see the picture on the screen because of how everything was positioned in the room, but I was so anxious and so worried...and then I saw what every parent does NOT want to see and is NOT prepared for...my precious baby girl and her vacant heart. After seeing such a vibrant, pulsating flow of blood and little valves working splendidly just days prior at her last ultrasound at 33 weeks, I was in shock to see absolutely nothing...just an empty little heart. It was the worst moment of my life. Dr. M, with tears in her eyes, looked at me and Erik and said, "I'm so sorry. There is no heart beat." We wept and held each other, and the primal cries of parents who have lost their precious child poured forth...and my amazing Erik said to me, "Melody, she's with Jesus. She's in the arms of Jesus now." And he held me for a very long time...

Dr. M comforted us in such a beautiful way. We had an amazing conversation and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was so of the Lord that she could be there with us that evening. Thank you, Dr. M. You were and are such a blessing.

We went home in complete and utter shock and devastation, as we decided that it would be best for our psyche's to be able to prepare more mentally, emotionally and physically for an induced delivery within a couple of days.

Immediately songs began to fill my head...and I started planning for the funeral which would come all too soon...

To be continued...

Fog

Forewarning...this is somewhat of a scattered post. That's kind of how my mind is working these days.

At times I feel like I'm in such a fog in this the beginning of our grief journey. Sometimes I wonder how I am supposed to be feeling and what it is I'm supposed to be experiencing. Then I remember that it really is going to be different for everyone, and that there is no specific formula or time table for grief. Some dear friends have been helpful to remind me of this as well, and it does mean something to hear it from some who have gone before me in their own journeys of grief. Perhaps when it is cloudy and rainy outside that may add to the feeling of mental fog, and we've had a bit of rain happening now after what was such a warm and sunny week. Thanks to B for sending me the link for this little devotional which captures some of what I'm feeling today.

One thing that has been nice the last few days has been spending time with some sweet girlfriends and their kiddos. Not only has it been a good distraction, but I've just so enjoyed their company and so have my kids. Thank you friends. I appreciate you. The way you and so many others have been loving on me and my family means so much.

Today my Bug and Buzz both were admiring the new necklace with Solveig's footprint...and they were holding it in their cute grimy hands and saying, "ooh, that is so pretty," and "oh, so sweet!" I agree. I have loved wearing it today, and I will continue to love wearing it for a long time to come.

Today I miss her being inside of my belly. I miss the weight of her. She will always bear weight in our lives. Tomorrow marks three weeks from when I delivered her into this world...it sometimes feels like a surreal dream that perhaps we will one day awake from, but it is not. Coming to terms with that is challenging in some moments.

These verses capture some immense truth that has brought strength to my life for years, and now really means a lot to me...

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written, 'for your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.' No, in all these things we are more than conquerers through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." - Romans 8:35-39-

Amen to that. Jesus loves me, this I know...

A Beautiful Thing

When Solveig was born, the hospital did a great job of helping us to capture her hand and footprints - things which I so treasure now. They captured them not only on paper but also in a plaster mold for us to hang on the wall. Today when I opened my mailbox I was surprised with a most incredible gift. There is a jeweler who has partnered with hospitals to provide necklaces for mamas like me who have lost babies...and my necklace came today. A beautiful, round silver pendant hangs from a silver chain. And on that pendant is my darling daughter's footprint shrunk to miniature size. On the back is her name and her date of birth. I was sort of in a fog at the hospital when we were told about this opportunity to get a free necklace, but I knew it was something I wanted and of course I signed up for it and filled out the paper. I completely forgot about it and it really stunned me today to open the tiny package holding this little memento. Now that necklace is gracing my neck and I probably won't want to take it off for a very long time...and that is just fine with me. I know it isn't my daughter, but it sure is nice to have something special by which to remember her. That and the charm bracelet from her daddy mean so much to me. A big, HUGE thank you goes out to THIS jeweler for creating this amazing piece of love for me, in honor of my Solveig. THANK YOU does not really seem like enough to say. I'll forever be grateful for this treasure. And if you or someone you know has gone through something like our loss or if you are wanting to honor a special girl or woman in your life with one of these pieces of jewelry, I highly encourage you to do so. It will mean so much.

Disappointment

Big Sister Bug today voiced these words while we were out at my favorite store with the giant red bullseye logo..."It's sort of disappointing that Solveig died. But it's not too disappointing because we'll get to see her in Heaven again, so that's good." Erik said, "That's a great attitude to have."

For me, I couldn't respond because I'm still quite disappointed. I'm bummed that I couldn't have these three kids grow up together. I'm sad that she's not in my arms today, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine. I feel a huge hole...she is missing. I'll always think of her. Life will never be the same without her. I know that we will eventually learn to move on, but she'll always be part of our family.

There were a few good days where I pretty much held it together. But last night I missed my little Solveig so much. I picked up the pink teddy bear given to us and wrapped it in a pink blanket that was given to us along with a little bean bag to give weight to the wrapped up teddy bear in the blanket...and I held it for a long time while I laid in bed. I was trying to remember what it was like to hold Solveig in my arms. It has now been three weeks since we heard that she was gone and two and a half weeks since she was born. However, sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday that we lost her. Everything is still raw like an open wound. Sometimes I think there is a bit of a scab forming, and then it will get ripped off in an instant without warning. I know that's normal and it will just take a long time to feel a sense of "normalcy." I'm not going to be surprised if it takes years. I've heard that it can. I imagine there will be more to this wound and the scabs which may form and reopen.

In the meantime, the little people are calling...and burgers are ready to be made...life here on Earth continues even through the pain...and there are moments of joy to be had and moments to treasure and remember...

God is still God. He is still on the throne. He is still in control.

Desert

Moment to moment...that is how some days are. Valley and desert and mountaintop...these are all the places I've been lately emotionally, mentally, physically and spiritually. One song which for us has been such a clear picture of where we are at and that we had at Solveig's funeral is called appropriately, "Des_ert So_ng." It is from Hi_lls_ong Ch_urch in Aus_tra_lia and we love it.

A few years ago when I first heard the song, I watched the video for it over and over online and then found this interview with one of the lead singers who originally recorded it. She went through somewhat of a similar experience to us losing a baby and she talks about her experience here. I highly encourage you to watch this as I can so relate to her...she talks about how she knew she needed to continue praising God through it all as that is what she was created to do. That is exactly how I have felt. May you be encouraged by this lovely testimony. And here is the link to the song in its entirety. I tried to find a video version of the band singing it but couldn't find a good one.

Hope

There is something incredible about spring time. Once the snow and ice thaw, the grass turns green again and the buds on the trees appear...the flowers peek their heads out of the ground...and the birds come a looking for worms to eat. One art song titled "Spring" is a setting of a poem by Em_ily Dic_kin_son, and I have sung it. The text and the music are sprightly and make a person happy just hearing it, and singing it. "Spring, the sweet spring. The pretty birds do sing...."

Not only do the birds sing in the spring and the blooms abound, but for me there has always been a sense of renewal and an impetus for fresh starts. Erik and I began our relationship in the spring, quite near this time, about ten years ago. So for us, the spring is quite nostalgic. Our wedding anniversary is in May, in the spring. Bug's birthday is also in May. And Erik and I have birthdays two days apart in the early days of June, followed by our summer baby boy's birthday in later June.

Here we are in mid March and the weather is glorious in what often times is a frozen tundra at this very same time of year. We are absolutely loving the warmth and the sunshine and the summer like almost balmy air. To me, this feels like a most amazing gift from God during such a challenging season of life. Feeling the warmth on my skin and soaking it in has been just the medicine I needed as I begin to heal emotionally and physically.

Yesterday, I felt like God began to grant to me a sense of hope. Not only do I have a continued hope in Heaven and longing to be there with my Solveig, but I also have a hope for what lies ahead here on this Earth. I have a hope for my life with my beautiful family. I have hope for what the Lord will continue to do in my life and in the lives of others as a result of my daughter's life.

One of my all-time favorite scripture passages is Jeremiah 29:11. "For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future." I have hope. And I have a future. Thanks be to God.