A Little Piece of Heaven...

I tried to find three early pictures of my three babies as I was thinking about how they look similar and different.  The following are sort of random, but they're sweet to us. :)

Bug - born May 19, 2006 - this was about a week or so later...she looks like she's playing air guitar, doesn't she?
  For some reason we didn't get many good hospital pictures of her.

Buzz - born June 22, 2008 - he has such a sweet round head.  I'll never forget Dr. C who delivered him and said, "this baby has such nice big round head!  hahaha!  I never seen baby with such nice big round head!"  I love telling that story. :)

Solveig - born still February 29, 2012...I think she looks so much like her big sister and I often stop in my tracks to gaze at the Bug and imagine Solveig and what she would be like...I love this picture of her, because I feel like we can see her features most clearly on here and on one other one that we have.  She was so tiny...my hand totally covered her body...

Writing has eluded me the past few days.  My desire and inspiration just hasn't been there.  But tonight I feel like I can write again.  After a stressful weekend and just not feeling well due to an ear infection, I'm just starting to regain some strength again.  My body and spirit just had enough I guess after all the stress of the last eight weeks.  Eight weeks...today marks eight weeks since Solveig's birth.  It is hard to believe that so much time has passed when many moments it feels like time has stood still.  But life goes on.  Life has gone on all around us, and some of the time we have been able to partake in those goings on.  It has felt good to do some "normal" things again.  But there are still days when I can barely get up and get going. Having two cutie pies with me kind of keeps me going.  They're really helpful for that and I'm so grateful for them.  Our furry friend Bailey is a great companion too, and I'm glad that we've had her for almost a year now.  And my sweet man...he helps me too.  Thank you Erik.

Today we had a really incredible speaker at our MOPS group.  Her name is Kellie, and she and her husband Todd lost their daughter Makenzie almost three years ago to a really tragic car accident.  Makenzie was 18 years old and she was a beautiful young woman who loved Jesus and also was a professional ballerina.  Kellie shared some pretty amazing things today that really spoke to my heart.  (Thank you Kellie.  It was awesome to meet you today.) I felt like even though my loss of Solveig is very different than her loss of her teenage daughter, there were many things that I could relate to.  Kellie talked about the need to hold her daughter after she found out she had died in the accident.  She shared that she wasn't able to see her daughter for a couple of days due to the law and needing to investigate the accident.  When she talked about that, I completely broke down.  I cannot imagine how difficult that must have been for her.  But I could relate to the desperate need to hold and see her daughter who had died.  I'll never forget how intense that desire was for me...knowing my sweet girl was already gone inside of me and just wanting her to come out so that I could hold her and keep her close to me...even though her spirit was already gone.  Kellie also shared some very special truths that I wrote down in my little blue notebook which now goes everywhere with me.  She said, "God doesn't function on my life's to do list."  Wow.  Isn't that something?  We think we need Him to do things in our time and when it will work best for us...but friends, He doesn't operate that way.  His timeline is different than ours.  The other thing that she talked about was how everything we've gone through in our life up to the time of our difficult moment was preparing us for that difficult moment.   I could really relate to that one.  I can honestly look at my life and say that I see how God was preparing me for Solveig's death in so many ways...from the tiniest details to the more major ones.  For instance, I do believe that having two miscarriages prior to Solveig's death was helpful for me.  I already knew that life isn't just a given and that we cannot take life for granted.  I also believe that He helped me even with those miscarriages and Solveig's loss through knowing the story of my own parents' loss of conjoined twins who were born before brothers Eric and Joel and me.  I can hardly wait to meet them in Heaven one day.  And other things like having a background knowledge of funerals and the customs therein and funeral homes (from my dad working in the business)...that was very helpful as we were planning Solveig's funeral.  I feel like throughout my pregnancy with Solveig I was just hesitant to accept that it would go "textbook."  It wasn't textbook, that's for sure, and I knew that fairly early on.  I just kind of had a foreboding sense that something was going to happen and that I would maybe be called to sacrifice her to the Lord.  I never had a "word" from the Lord about that as some people might, but I just kind of knew.  I don't know how better to explain that.  One other thing that Kellie said that I will remember was, "God never interrupts your life - He knows every detail."  He knew.  He knew that Solveig would die.  I believe that it was part of His plan for her and for us.  Sometimes that portion is quite difficult to reconcile.  Sometimes it is hard to understand how His plan for my daughter and for us could involve her early departure from this planet.  But His plans are not for us to fully comprehend here, as much as we'd like to.  We will know fully when we are in Heaven.  I look forward to having these earthly mysteries solved one day.

Kellie talked about how Makenzie met Jesus immediately upon her sudden death.  For me, that visual was so real today.  And what a beautiful image that was.  Not only could I imagine this sweet young girl who had died, but also my precious Solveig.  Solveig got to meet Jesus, immediately upon her death.  She got to see Him face to face.  She is with Him now.  Today, I saw a little piece of Heaven when I imagined my  adorable baby girl being held by Jesus.  I long to be there too.  One day sweet Solveig...one day we will meet again.  For now, maybe Miss Makenzie is playing with you and teaching you how to dance on the streets of gold.  I know your big sister Bug will love dancing with you too one day.

I miss you, baby girl.  Your mommy will always love you and think of you...and I'll always be grateful that I had you here for a brief while...you had life.  You had life in me, and that was a blessing.

Our Story - Part Four

Big sister Bug loved her little sister Solveig...she misses her so much.

Last I wrote about our story of Solveig, I left off here.  The following is the fourth installment in the story...it's kind of long, but this is our story...

After our photography session with Jen and the family members, we spent a bit of time with the family and then they left.  It felt so quiet and empty when our family left us there.  Now it was just us three.  We would not realize just how tender those moments were until we would sit in reflection and gratitude that we continued our time with our daughter for almost a whole day longer.  It was so peaceful just the three of us, and Erik and I took turns holding and rocking Solveig.  We talked to her and sang to her like she was still with us.  I don't remember a whole lot about that evening, except that there was one point at which I just sat looking at our daughter and I once again broke down weeping in realization that she was gone.  Erik came and wrapped his arms around me and held me in reassurance and love.  He pulled out our computer and turned on the i_tunes and what he chose at that moment was so appropriate.  It was Steven Cu_rtis Ch_apman's album "Be_auty Wi_ll Ri_se," the one he wrote following the tragic loss of his daughter Maria several years ago.  The song, "Jesus Will Meet You There" came on and I wept...knowing that He would be with me, no matter how dark things were and would get.  There is great comfort found in music.  I encourage you to click on that link above and listen to that song if you haven't heard it.  I may be a classical singer, but I enjoy and appreciate almost every genre of music, including contemporary Christian.  And since I grew up with listening to good 'ol SCC, I feel like he's my buddy and I find comfort in the text of his songs.

That night after the delivery, we decided to stay in the hospital.  I probably could have chosen to go home as some people do following a still birth, but I really wanted to maximize my time with Solveig.  That, and odd as it may sound, staying at the hospital was in a way comforting.  It felt safe there.  And there was the knowledge deep in my mind that when we left, we'd be leaving our story and leaving our daughter and heading back into the world...which I was not ready to do.  Erik fell asleep pretty easily.  For me however, it was not quite so easy.  I was obviously exhausted physically and emotionally, but I wanted to stay awake with my daughter.  I didn't want the next day to come.  I didn't want to miss any minutes with her.  She was wrapped up like a little burrito laying next to me in the hospital bed.  I needed to be close to her...and this would be the only night that I would get to sleep with my little baby girl.  I wanted to keep her warm since her warmth was gone hours ago from her body.  The coldness did not deter me from wanting her near...she was still my baby...part of me.  I caught a few hours of sleep, finally.

Morning came all too soon and the barrage of nurses and doctors came too.  I was glad to see my sweet Dr.'s L & M again.  Dr. L with tears in her eyes hugged me and then held my baby girl in her arms.  The kindness of these two sweet women reached into my soul.  Their story will always be woven with mine and I'll always be glad for their place in my life.  Thank you dear doctors.

We had to meet with a social worker to discuss plans and sign some papers.  After a few phone calls, we got some things straightened out and made an appointment for our funeral director to come and meet us at the hospital to sign the baby out.  Before he came, however, our dear pastors Sid and Rich came and met with us to work through the funeral plans.  It meant so much to us that they could be with us in the hospital in some of our darkest hours, showing us love and support.  We had been planning Solveig's funeral service for a few days already, since we found out that she was gone, and it didn't take long to get things settled with the pastors.  They prayed over us and we felt like our time was so sacred with them.  Thank you, Sid & Rich.  You are dear men of God and we respect you immensely and thank you for meeting us in our need.

After our pastors left, the time was quickly approaching that we would have to leave the hospital.  We were by this point quite ready, yet at the same time my spirit was hesitant.  I knew that it was going to be difficult to leave our safe refuge in our room at the end of the hallway...but we packed up our things and got ready to meet our funeral director, Dan.  The plan that we made was that I would ride with Dan to the funeral home.  Due to hospital, state and funeral home policies not lining up, the best scenario we could come up with was that I could help escort our daughter in my arms if I was willing to ride in the car.  Having grown up around funeral homes and the funeral business, this really didn't bother me too much as I imagine it might bother many other people.  My dad used to sell music systems for funeral homes, so we saw a LOT of funeral homes growing up while we were on family vacations and he would make business calls.  In fact, the very funeral home that we worked with for Solveig's funeral is one that I got to see and tour upon its grand opening.  Never did I think they'd be helping me do a funeral for my own child.

Dan arrived.  Standing outside our door were two of our sweet nurses ready to help push me out in a wheelchair, a police officer who had to be there to make sure the dead body wouldn't get stolen or tampered with or something...interesting...and Dan, the funeral director.  It was such a strange and grim scene, and so surreal.  But it was real.  It was very real.  I held Solveig, wrapped in her pretty white blanket, and a blanket was placed over her and me so that people wouldn't know that I was carrying my dead baby underneath it all.  We went down a sort of "back" hallway so that we wouldn't have to go past the nursery...so grateful for that.  But while we were going out, there was a woman pushing a stroller, chatting away happily with her husband.  That was really hard. It was so extremely odd and different that instead of joyfully holding my new baby and heading to the car to go home, I was holding our deceased baby and heading instead to the funeral home...in the white Cad_illac...with my husband following behind in our car.  Dan was incredibly kind and respectful, as was the police officer.

I held Solveig in my arms all the way to the funeral home.  I was not about to let someone else take her and escort her any other way.  We went inside and made our funeral plans with Dan.  We wrote Solveig's obituary quickly so that it could make it into the paper for the next day's printing deadline.  We talked about cemeteries and caskets and burial plans.  Because our daughter was so tiny and had already endured much being born still and dying inside of me, we decided that we would not embalm her little body and would therefore not do an open casket funeral.  Growing up with funeral business being talked about around me all the time, I have come to agree with the idea that seeing the body of the deceased is an extremely helpful thing for people who are grieving.  Sometimes that is not possible, but when it is possible, it is so helpful.  When we can see the body of the one who is gone, we can more fully come to terms with their death and its reality.  When we don't have that chance to see the body, it can sometimes feel like perhaps the person never really died or maybe we'll see them again somewhere, somehow.  I didn't get to see my grandparents' bodies as I wasn't at their funerals, and I honestly think it was harder for me to come to terms with their passing.  Anyway, that's something for you to chew on and consider for you and your loved ones.  For us, at least some of our family members and our pastors were able to see our baby's body...so it was very real for them.

After a few hours with Dan, we had to leave Solveig.  It was extremely difficult for me to relinquish my daughter into Dan's loving arms.  He treated her with such respect and kindness...but I didn't want to leave her there.  I could hardly let go.  But I had to.  I'm sobbing as I write this portion because I can so clearly remember that pain.  Solveig's body had to remain at the funeral home until the burial.  After leaving, we went and visited three cemeteries.  Finally when we reached the third stop, we knew we were in the right place.  We love our tiny little country cemetery.  It just feels so comforting.  If you've never lost a loved one and haven't hung out in a cemetery much, you might not be able to relate to that part.  But when that day comes for you, you'll know what I mean...that you can find comfort knowing that your loved one is safely laid to rest.

How odd to have a baby and not rest afterwards.  But that was the journey we would be on for the next several days until her burial...to be continued...

Bracelet Story Contest

Yesterday I went to the Bri_ghton store at the mall to see if they could help me with my charm bracelet which had a loose closure and also a lost stopper bead.  They immediately looked at the bracelet and said that they would just replace the bracelet itself as well as the stopper bead.  FABULOUS service, I tell you!  Thank you Bri_ghton and kind ladies at the store.

I went on to tell the ladies of my story and the significance behind my bracelet.  They said that they had heard about me from the other sales associates and they were so moved by the story of my daughter.  Then they told me about a contest through Bri_ghton.  The contest is for people to share their story of their charm bracelet and the woman that the bracelet is for.  They were cheering me on, saying that I absolutely had to share my story!  So, today I wrote that story.  Some of it I have already shared on here, so it was not too hard for me to come up with something.  What follows is the story that was just submitted this evening.  Also, I have to say that one of the ladies who helped us create the bracelet was there tonight.  Her name is Doreen and she's so sweet.  She gave me a huge hug tonight and said that it meant so much to her that I came back to the store and that I decided to share my story.  Thank you Doreen.  You really did make a difference for us.  Here it is!  I'm hoping that it will be selected for voting.  If it is, I'll be sure to let you know and I'll ask for your votes online!

This story is not about a woman, but about my stillborn daughter who would inspire me greatly.  February 26, 2012 my husband Erik and I received some of the worst news any parents could ever hear – our baby girl Solveig Sofia had died inside my womb at 33.5 weeks gestation.  We went home to prepare over the next day for the delivery of our daughter.  The hospital grief counselor encouraged us to find a special outfit and blanket for our baby, but also to get a piece of jewelry that would be in honor of her…something that we could touch to her while we were holding her and saying our hellos and goodbyes.  We made our way to the Brighton store at our nearby shopping mall and after explaining our story to the two ladies working in the store, they helped us through many tears to put together what has become a most incredible keepsake.  My silver bracelet has on it the three initials of my children, all on beautiful silver beads with tiny crystals.  I also chose a special charm for Solveig: a round circle with a cross on one side and the word “believe” on the other.  There are two silver stopper beads with diamonds on them to hold all of the charms in place.


Solveig was born on February 29 and we had photos taken with our family. We placed the bracelet near Solveig’s hands and feet for many of the photos.  For Solveig’s burial, we purchased duplicates of the “S” charm as well as the cross that says “believe.”  At her funeral service, those charms were displayed next to Solveig’s tiny pink casket along with her photo.  Two days later we buried her, with her little “S” and cross charms inside her casket.  Even though her spirit has left her earthly body, wearing my bracelet helps me to feel connected to Solveig in a special way, since we both have the same charms with us.  Since her death, I have worn my bracelet nearly every waking minute of each day.  Little did I know when we purchased the bracelet just how much it would come to mean to me.  When I look at the cross charm that says “believe,” I am reminded that our daughter is in Heaven with Jesus.  I believe He died so that she could be there, and so that I could believe and hope in Him, knowing that I will one day also be with her in Heaven.

Thanks again Jen for your amazing photos.

Solveig's Imprint

It has been a few weeks since we were given these wonderful photos taken by Jen Kelly on behalf of the NIL_MDTS organization. To us they are absolutely breathtaking still, even after nearly seven weeks...and they always will be breathtaking. Tomorrow it will be seven weeks since Solveig was born into the world, not breathing and not uttering one tiny peep. We miss her immensely. Sometimes the pain of our loss grips so tightly that the body wants to shut down and not go on. But there are so many reminders of why we must go on...one is dancing to classical public radio while I type, and the other is shoving delicious morsels into his mouth at the lunch table and trying to snuggle with the dog at the same time. They are excellent reminders of what is good and lovely and excellent here on Earth. And one other incredibly priceless reason is probably at a desk answering phone calls from colleagues and customers and typing away important data, working hard to take care of our family...I love him so much.

Right as we were beginning to take pictures with Solveig, Buzz started to lose it and didn't really want to participate. I think he was perhaps overwhelmed with sadness and confusion as well as lack of sleep and missing Mommy and Daddy. The look on his face is full of grief. Then big sister Bug has her focus solely on the precious baby sister that she wanted so much. Both kids were glad to meet little Solveig that day and they were not too stunned by her appearance which had already started looking a bit purple. Kids are fabulous that way. They just see the person...they don't care about particulars of physical beauty the same way that we adults seem to notice. Even with her skin turning purplish, our baby was still so beautiful to us. She will always remain beautiful to us in our memories.

As Erik and I sat together for our photos with our baby, it was such an odd place to be...so different than when we were taking photos with one whom we would bring home. For this precious one was already HOME for all eternity with Jesus. We were not to bring her to our earthly home...a fact which is still incredibly difficult for me to this day. But we could cherish her there at the hospital. (There is a way to bring home a baby who has died, but we chose not to do that...and it is complicated with hospital, funeral home and state legalities not quite matching up at this point.) We could have our photos taken with her, and we did. We created memories for a lifetime and we will never forget. She has made an imprint that is so deep and all the storms of time could not blow away the print that has been placed on our hearts.

We are forever changed by our Solveig. Now, the hardest part is learning to walk in faith with the Lord and not cursing Him, and not blaming Him, and not giving up on Him. Believe me when I say that I've had some very dark moments of not wanting to trust Him. But I keep coming back to Him. For He has never left me, even in the darkest of moments. One foot in front of the other...one day at at time...we must keep going. And He will go with us through it all.

Light

Dark engulfed me for a few days...but the Lord slowly lifted me from the darkness, and has been showing me His light and goodness in the land of the living. There is much life to be had here on this Earth. He has me here for MANY purposes, two of which are currently playing in the other room. Praise be to Him for those little lives which are STILL here and to be celebrated, every minute of every day. Praise be to Him for the amazing husband that He has blessed me with...the man who said to me the other night as he wrapped me tenderly in his loving arms, "it is going to be okay. WE are going to be okay." I'm thankful for that man. And I'm thankful that the Lord is doing a mighty work in his heart and drawing him closer to His spirit, amidst the darkness which could so easily overtake us. We are praying for Him to be near us. We are praying for Him to show us His truth in this mess...and He is. Believe me. He is STILL good and His love endures amidst the flames. Erik and I are drawing closer through our trials.

THANK YOU does not even begin to express how grateful I am to all of you who are praying over our lives. Your love and prayer is palpable. Yesterday when I didn't know how I could possibly go on after I wrote that blog post, people began to let me know that they were and are praying. My spirit began to loose its grip on the darkness, or rather shall I say, the darkness began to loose its grip upon me. The load was lifted. You shared in this burden. We shared the burden and gave it to the Lord. For that I will always be so thankful. What a gift that when we cast our cares on Him He does care for us and does help us through and does lighten the burden from our spirits.

Spending time with some very sweet friends in the last few days has meant a lot to me. Knowing that people still love me and care deeply for me through this trial does help keep me going. Thank you sweet friends. You are dear to my heart, and the Lord will bless you for caring over me.

And of course, THANK YOU LORD for revealing yourself to me not only through the gift of friends and acquaintances the world over who are praying for us, but thank you for revealing yourself to me through your Holy Word. I yesterday opened up my Bible in the little room of the house where I can hide away from the small people in my life...and I literally came to a quite appropriate scripture in Psalm 27.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?"

Woah. There's food for thought, my friends. Such fear had taken over me...such anxiety...but I need not fear. He is my light. He is my salvation. He is my stronghold. What a blessing.

Then today, after trying to rest and not being able to fall asleep because so much is on my mind, I opened again to Psalms and was drawn to Psalm 40.

"I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the LORD. Blessed is the man who makes the LORD his trust, who does not turn to the proud, to those who go astray after a lie! You have multiplied, O LORD my God, your wondrous deeds and your thoughts towards us; none can compare with you! I will proclaim and tell of them, yet they are more than can be told."

Whew. That's incredible. He drew me up out of mire and destruction and my feet are secure on the rock. It makes me want to go and scale a mountain and sing praises to Him. I want to tell the World about Him. Your wonders are there, Lord. You are still there. Thank you for your presence and for your truth which keeps me alive. Thank you for your mercies that are new every morning. Thank you for drawing me into your Word.

Dark

The sky is dark, and my spirit feels dark. A weight of heaviness is pressing down on me and I have hit a wall mentally and emotionally. Anger manifested itself last night and I found myself crying out to God, asking Him why He would allow our baby to die when she was so close to living here on Earth. Why would he allow us to lose another child after having two miscarriages before Solveig's rather healthy pregnancy? Why wasn't that cord seen before her death and the subsequent delivery? Why didn't I ever have a 3D ultrasound where perhaps the cord would be more noticeable? Why didn't anybody suspect cord problems when we learned that Solveig had PAC - premature atrial contractions - sometime around 26-28 weeks? I cannot remember now exactly when that was...and in case you don't know what PAC is for an infant in the womb, it just means that there is sort of an extra heartbeat...but that is supposed to resolve upon delivery when the cord is cut and the baby's blood then completely flows on its own through their body. But I just read something which I need to verify with my dr. friends...that heartbeat abnormalities can sometimes be attributed to nuchal cords...and that true knots in cords often happen fairly early in the pregnancy. If those things are true, then why wasn't the cord seen in the gizillion ultrasounds that were taken of my daughter? There are so many mysteries that I'm trying to solve...and I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I will NOT be able to solve them all this side of Heaven. There are many things which will have to wait. That is excruciating right now.

We had our second counseling appointment last night with Grace. It's good that we are facing our issues head on...but it is extremely difficult at the same time. I know that in the long run it will be for the best. But going through the mire is the hardest part. We need your prayers. We need God to remind us of His presence right now...and His goodness...and His strength...He never will leave us or forsake us...a fact that it so hard to swallow in such a time as this...yet a fact that I have to choose to believe.

This morning I am taking some time to read, pray and maybe sleep. I'm exhausted and can barely think straight. This is where I am. He is still there...even when I am here.

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.