Huxley part four: I am safe. L&D

One major fear I had after we lost Huxley that I hadn’t expressed yet was the thought of Billy walking out completely alone, without a child and without a wife. Now to fully explain this I need to go back to the night before. This is when everything was still okay for us. We didn’t know we’d lost Huxley at this point and I was going over my birthing affirmations. I didn’t do this with Samuel but I did with Molly and there was one affirmation that stuck out back then and I told Billy what it was and asked him to repeat it more often than the others. He did and it was great, calming and a good comfort during labor. So the night before I was going over my affirmations and I expected the same one to comfort me but instead it was a different one. One that made no sense to me either. It read “You are safe”. I found it weird because when I wrote it on a card… well I almost didn’t because it wasn’t like the others I lit I figured I might as well put all the ones I found. The others are phrases like “you are strong and every contraction brings you closer to your baby”. Some we’re scriptures that I found encouraging, etc so “you are safe” was a little out of place for me because it wasn’t really a major fear of mine at this point but God knew. I was reading these notecards with the affirmations on them and that one kept just relaxing me and bringing me comfort and peace. I told Billy and we chuckled as he asked “are you nervous or something” I said “actually, no but this is what’s comforting me so use it”! And we laughed some more.

Fast forward to after we lost Huxley and labor was getting stronger, everyone had left and it was just me, Billy, and Brooke. Billy stepped out to make a phone call or take a breather or maybe cry I’m not really sure but it was just me and Brooke in the room and she saw I looked either different or distressed or worried and asked what’s going on besides the obvious? I just told her I was nervous and mad and just wanting the rest of the day to “go my way” whatever that even means because I’d have taken anything not going my way to just have Huxley but anyways, she offered to pray with me and I don’t remember the whole prayer but she said “Lord, let Katina know she’s safe, she is safe with you…” after she finished I broke down and told her I was scared. Not really of losing my life but what it would mean if I did and that I didn’t want Billy walking out completely empty handed. Then I shared that the affirmation, that was so so comforting to me just the night before that I had completely forgotten about and even thought was silly at the time, she had just prayed for right then without even knowing it and a wave of peace surrounded me. I thought “Oh yeah, He sees me, He knows me and every fear and every moment of my life. He knew every moment of Huxleys life” and while I don’t believe losing Huxley was His will, I do believe that He is not surprised by that day or any day before it or any day since.
I asked if she’d spoken with Billy about that affirmation and she hadn’t. She had no idea that those words had a specific hold on me. I didn’t even know they had a hold on me. But God knew. He knew what I’d be going through and He knew what my fears would be and He prepared me to let me know He was there, He sees me and He loves me. I needed the reminder. I still struggle with the goodness of God some days. I know He is good. Sometimes I just have a little fight within and want to yell “but then why this”! Then I remember that’s not what faith looks like and he shows me day in and day out that He is indeed good.

Anyways, from there I felt safe to move forward. Labor felt like forever, I don’t think that’s specific to me though. All of my labors have felt like forever and anyone who has been pregnant probably feels the same. I worked really hard for a long time laboring in all the ways, Billy and Brooke doing all the things to help me. (Can I just say how amazing Billy is. He’s amazing always has been but especially during labor. I couldn’t ever have a better partner than the one I have in him. And Brooke was amazing too, I think very highly of her and will forever be bonded to her).

I wound up using some narcotics to help me space out some. I wouldn’t have used them if Huxley were alive and I don’t think my (also very amazing) doctor would have let me either but they were doing all things to help me get through this. At 9 cm I had been laboring for quite some time and got the epidural. This was a question in the room amongst staff as to why I wouldn’t get one sooner in a situation like this. The answer is simple: I have bad reactions to them and didn’t want it. But I was tired and had been at it for a long time, had pitocin which amped up the contractions, and was starting to fall apart at the idea of meeting my sweet baby boy. I got the epidural, I think I took a nap, at some point my cervix started swelling and was given Benadryl to help that but it in turn also made me sleepy. Finally I was complete and ready to push. I pushed for over 3 hours. I remember asking strange questions like peoples favorite states to visit, and I’m pretty sure I was passing out from exhaustion. Then the time came when he was getting close and he was crowning and this vbac was seemingly successful. I birthed his entire head and then he got stuck. I begged the doctor to just pull him out. I was done being pregnant. I was done pushing. I was done with this whole worst day ever. I hadn’t really grieved much yet and I was ready to start but I needed to be done and holding him now. I begged and she couldn’t. She did everything. My doctor was incredible and kind and compassionate the entire time and every day I’ve seen her since. She cried the entire time with each new thing that failed to get him all the way out. She tried hooking his shoulder to get him in a better position to finish his delivery. But it didn’t work. She looked at Brooke and said “he’s not coming out vaginally, I can’t get his shoulder. He’s stuck” over hearing her I said “what does that mean? His head is already out can’t you just pull him the rest of the way”? “no” and with tears streaming down her face she said “I have to push him back in”

Push him back in? I’m pretty sure I looked at every person in the room to see if this was some kind of joke because I didn’t know that was possible. No one was laughing. Everyone had the same look on their face as I did mine. Wide eyes, jaw dropped, and a confusion as to what this would actually look like. I stopped feeling all things in this moment and asked “what is that even going to feel like”? With the sound of heartbreak in her voice she said “just like it sounds” and she was right. That’s exactly how it felt. Horrible. Terrified, I screamed while she cried and Billy held onto me. They readied the operating room and then we had Huxley. I had a vaginal tear, abdominal surgery, a hematoma on my bladder, bruised ribs that I would feel later on, and a broken heart. I was asleep soon after or maybe even during. I woke up to the sobs of my sweet husband much later and fell back out of reality not ready to take on what being awake held. I wish I could have been there better for him in that moment. But I was safe and Huxley was next to me with Billy on my other side and he wouldn’t leave empty handed. We’d get through this together hand in hand someday.

The next week in the hospital would be full of high blood pressure and preeclampsia scare, grief, and lots of amazing friends and family coming to cry along side us.
It’s fair to say that it was the worst week of my life but even with that I have to mention how much I have been blessed with the most amazing community throughout all of this. I don’t write these blogs to have anyone feel sorry for me but to show the grace of God which I will be focusing more on as I get the story out. But to understand the depth of His grace I have to show the depth of this pain for us, all of this, all of our lives are what we use to glorify Him so I have to share the tragic times to show His grace and love and peace for me and I have to share Huxleys name and his life. He matters. His life matters no matter how short he does have purpose. God blessed us with the best team and me with the best partner in Billy and with the most amazing church who are the hands and feet of Christ and stopped their lives to grieve with us and to love on us and to help us in ALL of the ways. I’m so in awe when I think about my family and the church and our friends, that even though I am full of sorrow I am also filled with joy to be a part of what they are doing. Of who HE has called us to be and a part of His kingdom with them.

Huxley Part 3: Getting ready for labor and delivery

The next few hours were really long. Most of the nurses left to let us be for a while. We called our doula, Brooke, and she headed straight over. She cried with us and held space for us. Helped us understand what was most likely to come next and didn’t leave our side for the next 24+ hours. I’m so grateful for her support not only through labor and delivery but also through our loss and everyday since. After she got there the nurses came and asked questions and filled us in on the steps we were required to take before Huxley was born. She helped us get info for a funeral home, set up someone to come take pictures and then we had to make a bunch of decisions for Huxley that we weren’t prepared for. I just remember the list of questions being quite long but don’t remember the actual questions themselves. The nurses were amazing and said at any moment we could take a break and come back to the questions but it was almost easier to just plow through them. If I stopped and started too many times it would have just broken me down through my core and I still needed the strength and energy to birth Huxley. Not to mention some sort of mindset that said “I can do this” even though every fiber of me said I can’t.

With Brooke there and some time to comprehend what was happening we called our parents. Phone calls I will never forget. I didn’t want to tell them because I didn’t want to be the person to break their hearts. But it had to come from us. We didn’t want anyone else doing it. I remember every word and how each word sounded and felt coming out for each call. I covered my face as I told each of them as if I were ashamed to have lost my baby. I knew it wasn’t my fault and they weren’t going to blame me but still there was shame in having to admit our loss. Then we text or called a few close friends, our pastor, and Billy informed his boss what was happening.

Then we waited for my doctor to make it in after they informed her too. It took some time but when she walked in she immediately cried with us. She hugged us and then my doctor, our doula, and both Billy and I talked about what was next. I still had to birth him. My original plan was as natural as possible and since I needed to be induced we would try other options before pitocin and move from there. But after you lose your baby full term, the pull for going in for a cesarean is really strong. She assured me the choice was mine and she’d help me in any way I requested. So the four of us laid out the options and everyone was truthfully on my side and reminding me I could do this any which way and I would be strong enough to handle it and no way meant I was weak. So I went ahead with my normal plan. Natural birth as a vbac trial and the fewest interventions we could manage with the exception of going ahead with pitocin to move things along. I was torn between starting and waiting. At this point it had been a few hours, they were just waiting for me to say go. I wasn’t quite ready yet.

How is a mother suppose to labor and deliver her sleeping baby with strength, dignity, and courage when every affirmation I practiced told me I could do this because it would bring my baby into my arms. Every pain would bring him closer. I would soon meet him and hear him and get to take him home with me. I would get to start my life with him in it. The reality was, every pain took him further away from me. It was one pain closer to him being gone forever. It was a moment closer to accepting this new reality. I was in this difficult place of wanting to keep him in my womb and as close to me as possible. Not having to share him or leave him. I could keep him “safe” and away from this world or maybe it was to keep ME safe from the reality of this day. But the other part of me wanted to see him fully and wanted to give Billy the chance to hold his son and share all the moments we could together with Huxley and our older two as best we could. Then there was this third part of me that said I can’t hold this death in me any longer. It’s killing me. Spiritually and emotionally and mentally it was overwhelming me. Thankfully natural labor took progression and I didn’t have to make the decision of when. This allowed me to give the go everyone needed to start their part in delivering Huxley and we started the official induction without much other choice.

Before I labored too intensely my mom, step dad, and dad all came to see us, many nurses stopped by to give their condolences and gifts even, our pastor came to pray, and even my husbands boss and the base chaplain came to pray as well. A bereavement doula dropped off a gift and some extra information for us to help with everything we would encounter later as well. And honestly I’m not sure if others came by. I can’t remember everything in this period of time, I’ve ask for Billy and others to fill in gaps for my memory but I was quite occupied with many emotions and a lot of work ahead of me so just know if I didn’t mention you and you came- I appreciate it and if you came but weren’t allowed in to see us until later please know that I asked for some peace and it seemed as though I would need it with what was to come. They stopped allowing people in at my request and now just kept it at the intended limit of people in the room for delivery. At this point labor was strong and constant but I was doing well. Surprisingly, I was holding it together. Billy was holding it together. Brooke was there at our side praying and encouraging us and helping keep visitors updated and explaining some of the medical terminology to us all. My doctor was around more often than expected and working with us every step and keeping us informed with what the action steps could look like at every turn. There were many turns too. It felt like we were being thrown about back and forth in a terrible storm.

Huxley- Part Two: Finding out

We showed up to the hospital early and I had been a little worried because I hadn’t felt Huxley move in a little while but nothing that should actually be too concerning or that was out of the ordinary for him. He usually spent some time not moving much- he was big and really cozy and I knew he was getting cramped. But also I was heading into the hospital anyways so if something was wrong they would surely catch it since I was just getting to the point of worry.

They called us back and started to get us set up. We were placed in one of the newest rooms. You could even say it was one of the BEST rooms. It was large, clean, updated, and had an amazing spot for Billy to rest. After oohing and ahhing at the blessing that would be, I got changed, Billy settled in and we started to get monitors on. Since I’ve done this before, I knew to ask for the wireless monitors because the other ones usually drive me crazy! The nurse was nice and said she’d track them down for me. While we waited we laughed and talked about what games we’d play while I waited for labor to get intense. The nurse came back enthused that they weren’t already being used and was happy to make me happy. With that we got started and I was happy. I had accepted the fact of having an induction, God had been so good to help me through the entire pregnancy and give me an amazing care team to guide me through, I was happy and we were ready.

She prepped me for getting the monitors on and then tried to find a good reading on Huxley. She couldn’t but we weren’t worried. We thought his antics were silly and right on par for him. She assured us that those monitors can sometimes be difficult. She grabbed another nurse to help find his heartbeat. She couldn’t and assured us that as babies move lower it can be difficult to find the heartbeat and he was quite low. They grabbed another tool to search, then another nurse. Billy and I were starting to wonder as we sat there with so many nurses touching and moving me but still unable to secure that beautiful sound of a heartbeat. They were asking which way he was positioned at my last visit and when the last time I felt him move was and the last time I heard his heartbeat, which place on my stomach they usually found his heartbeat. Billy and I gave reassuring glances at one another as we answered the questions that everything WAS fine. But we began to pray, just in case.

Finally the nurses said they were going to get the doctor who was on call to do an ultrasound while we waited on an ultrasound tech because that would be best. The group of nurses stood staring as the doctor said with little to no emotion “your human isn’t moving. The only movement I see is when you breathe.” And she repeated it over and over again. It didn’t register to Billy or me that she was telling us Huxley had passed. We just thought she just wasn’t as skilled with ultrasounds and was telling us to wait patiently for the ultrasound technician to come. After all, the doctor was only saying “your human isn’t moving” not that he wasn’t breathing or his heart wasn’t beating. She was wrong. She had to be. He would move as soon as we got to the highest limit of our worry. Then all the nurses and the doctor stepped back and watched as the technician came in. She started to look and said “I’m so sorry but do you want to see his face. I got a picture of his face for you” to which Billy and I looked in disbelief at each other and back at her and I said “wait, so he has no heartbeat”? She said “no, he doesn’t. I’m so sorry” immediately Billy and I started crying he hugged me and quickly said “it’s not your fault. This is not your fault” he kept hugging me while we both sobbed and the tech got as many sonogram pictures as she could. Every person in the room that morning witnessed one of my worst moments up to that point in life (many more moments like it were to come in the next 24hours) and they were sobbing with us. Not a trickle of tears but full streams of tears from each of them as they watched us break.

Huxley-Part One: The background

It’s time again to put thoughts down on paper- figuratively, at least. I have to recount that day all of the events, the looks, the labor, the physical side of this story. It’s one of only one story that I have with Huxley and even though it’s traumatic… it’s tangible. And beautiful. And raw too. So I’m going to tell it.

For background, my pregnancies are generally quite fine but I have pretty hard labor and deliveries. With Samuel, I had an easy pregnancy but ended with gallstones and gallbladder attack in labor, postpartum preeclampsia, and a c section. With Molly I had an okay pregnancy with preeclampsia towards the end, high blood pressure before and after delivery, but a vbac after a failed/scary experience with an epidural. So because my blood pressure likes to be wonky and labor and delivery are generally quite hard and scary we decided to hire a doula as well as have our care team at the hospital. This was going to offer us the best scenario for birthing in the way we wanted and gave us many options and knowledge from our OB and doula for anything that might come up.

With all of that, my pregnancy with Huxley wasn’t easy. It was probably the hardest actually. In terms of pains and incidents at least. I got sick with a stomach bug and passed out and knocked my head on our tiled tub, had round ligament pains and heartburn that wouldn’t budge and not for lack of trying EVERYTHING. Even though it was my hardest, it was also my healthiest pregnancy in terms of controlling my blood pressure, taking good care of my diet and taking the right supplements and having enough nutrients for me and Huxley all the way through. It was also the best in terms of readying my body to birth. I had all the tools I needed. My doula made sure of it. And my doctor saw all the benefits.

On Tuesday I went for a normal check up I was 39 weeks and my blood pressure had just started to creep up. It wasn’t anything too bad but based on a prior ultrasound the week before saying baby was estimated about 9.6 lbs and my history of high blood pressure in pregnancy, and the fact that this was another attempt at a vbac, my doctor wanted to induce. Something I absolutely did not want but agreed to do Thursday to give myself a chance to go into spontaneous labor over the next 36 hours. She checked Huxley and his heart rate was strong and steady. The following day was normal. I tried all the exercises, drank all the tea, walked all the miles and also did normal life like take my big little guy to a morning class and I went to get adjusted with my chiropractor and drank my water and ate good and spicy foods. With no luck in starting labor… I rested. The next morning we headed to the hospital to be induced. We were sad about being induced but excited to know we were on our way to bringing our baby boy into our arms.

The next step

We’ve gone through many steps and I haven’t written about all of them. Some it’s too soon, some it was too early on for me to wrap my head around, others I’m just not ready to sit and process right now. But I know that writing has helped me, to at the very least, not replay all of the words over and over throughout the days and nights. So here goes another post. Thanks for being here.

Last week Billy went back to work. I was scared. We’d been living in this bubble and that bubble was about to burst and with it possibly my heart, again. We had prepared for months and months before Huxley was born to be taking care of a newborn with two other small children and I’d prepared my heart, my energy, my strategy for getting snacks and meals on the table, all revolving around a new normal with an infant. But instead we are faced with a completely different new normal that is quite similar to our old routine. Two small children while Billy works and I tend to all things on the home front. That made me so nervous and sad. Not only that though, I was worried for what Billy’s heart and mind would go through being at work, away from us, possibly in a quiet office, or dealing with high task and time consuming projects while his mind was wanting to be elsewhere. Thankfully he chose not to fly his first week back because I would have been an even bigger nervous wreck thinking about him operating a plane in that mental state. I worried about Billy being at work and people who hadn’t heard asking “how’s the newborn” and him having to answer with the dreaded “we lost him” forcing their well intended kind and celebratory questions into mourning and awkwardness and unease.

Fortunately, we were recently introduced to some new friends who have walked a similar path to ours who have been an amazing source of comfort and wisdom for us and they were able to give us a few warnings and pointers and while you can never really be prepared for these conversations, we were aware they’d likely happen. And they did. And they will continue and that’s okay. We’re glad that people want to celebrate what should have been and we aren’t shy to answer questions. I like to talk about Huxley and really anything pregnancy and birth related to me or otherwise. But I especially love to share and talk about Huxley even if the questions are hard or awkward or personal or even make us sad. I don’t mind, really. But I worried for Billy having to go through it still.
I worried a lot for that first week back but I didn’t account for the fact that I still couldn’t lift Molly or even a jug of milk then and my mom and women from my church would be coming over daily to help me with the kids and around the house. Meaning I didn’t need to worry because I wouldn’t really be alone yet. I’m so grateful for everything they’ve all done. I’m grateful they had to be there to help me because I didn’t really have a chance to get too into my feelings and it kind of lightened the blow of that first week back. Crisis averted. Or actually, postponed.
This last Monday I was released to drive and lift the kids and physically do most things. I was passed the worry of the week prior but now was when I would actually be alone and going through it (with the big kids but still alone as an adult in my house where I be lost in my own thoughts). I was finally going to see what this new normal/old routine would look like. It wasn’t too bad at first. I mean, I sleep a lot and am unmotivated to do very much so we sit outside in the sun and the kids watch tv while I rest and do nothing but watch them be. We eat snacks instead of meals most days but it wasn’t too terrible. Not like I thought it would be… until Wednesday. We got a package from some work people Billy met on his last trip out of state and they sent a beautiful frozen meal from a company and everything looked amazing. I called Billy to tell him how kind it was and that he should message them a thank you for the wonderful meal (meals are hard for us to make still. It takes a little more brain and energy than I have right now) and that we were thankful for their thoughtfulness. After I got off the call I sat down next to Samuel who was building a Lego at the table where the package was and the dry ice that was in the box had a very distinct smell, it smelled like Huxley (or maybe his care cottage, which is basically a very cold bassinet for a recently passed infant or stillborn so that parents can be near their baby for up to 5 days after they pass). I associated that smell with Huxley. With loss. With the worst days of my life. It wrecked me. Dry ice shook me so hard that it spun into anger. I was so mad at God. I know God didn’t cause this. I know he didn’t will this. I know he weeps with us and for us and stores up every tear I’ve cried. But in that moment the only question I could sob was “but why did you LET it happen” I was angry and knew I needed to tell someone so I asked a handful of friends to pray. Each one of them did something different and each thing so necessary that I immediately felt seen and known and loved. That’s how God works. Even when we’re mad at him and pounding on his chest and screaming “why” at him he says “come to me” and he hugs us and he uses people to show His love. By the way, if you’re reading this and wondering why I didn’t message you for prayer… it’s probably because I thought I was going to see or talk to you that day at some point. Not that I need to excuse myself for who I message at any moment but some of the people I didn’t message are some of my closest friends and family. Idk God knew what I needed and who I needed to message and it worked out….

One friend immediately answered “I’m praying for you now”- I needed that. I needed to know someone was available to pray right then. Another called me after I’d gathered myself and she cried with me over the phone- I had told her earlier this month that I felt so bad for making others cry because of what we were going through and she said the most powerful words “it’s an honor to cry with you for Huxley” I needed that. Another sent her prayer in text- I needed that. I always love to see words and I needed to SEE hers. She said “I pray you feel seen” and “he knows you katina he knows every hair on your head” and she said “yeah, this sucks” and she validated me and my hard day. Another texted words of encouragement and truth of who God is and His promises for me. That’s the power of God y’all! Only He can do that. Later that day I had Bible study and I chose not to go. I took the kids to their church classes and decided I’d walk the beach until Billy could meet me after work. But last minute instead of going to the beach I got a strong hankering for a pink drink from Starbucks so I said you know what I’ll go there, sit outside where I can still see the water and read. After I sat down and opened my book someone drove through the drive thru and stared me down to the point of unease and then she rolled down her window and said “is your name Katina” why yes, it is and then her voice clicked in my head and I saw a sweet friend I haven’t seen in over a decade! She said “Katina, I’ve been wanting to give you a hug all week” and all I could mutter was “I could really use one right now” and she CRAWLED OVER THE RAILING …BAREFOOT and gave me a wonderful hug. She left and I cried sitting there until Billy met me and when I tell you God sees us, I mean it. He sees us in every day, in every emotion, in every way he knows our heart and what we need before we say a word. I know anger is a normal step through grief but I’m thankful for a short burst this time. I’m thankful to a God who isn’t letting me sit there too long. I know I’ll have more waves of anger but I will continue to ask for prayer, and seek Him in the midst of trial, through every step and every day my prayer is to know Him more.

Happy Mother’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day. It truly is a happy Mother’s Day and I am so grateful to be a mom to three beautiful babies but I am struggling to find the right words to get through any kind of “happy Mother’s Day” post. Mostly because this is a hard day for me this year. I’m not sure it will always be this hard but this year it is. This is the first Mother’s Day I’m celebrating incomplete. I’m missing a key component to this day. My third child. It’s hard to believe that I will always be this incomplete. Today there were moments where it was hard to breathe but there were moments that were beautiful and filled with joy with my older two babies too.
Today Samuel was so excited to give me my present, socks with his and Mollys faces. They are perfect! Molly made me a necklace with her fingerprints and hand print flowers at church. It was a lovely day feeling all the beautiful things motherhood has blessed me with. But I’d be lying if I didn’t mention the sorrow I felt today for being a mom of a baby that isn’t here. Motherhood has changed and challenged me in so many ways. I’m a better person, I’m learning so much about Gods love through being a mom, I have grown less selfish and more compassionate to those around me. All in all I am so grateful to be a mom. I love my role as a mom. I will never, not ever, take for granted the beauty in motherhood. I am so incredibly thankful for the good, the bad, the hard, and the unbearably sorrowful parts of my journey that are all because of the immense and so fiercely intense love that I have for each of my children. I am thankful to be a mom and I will joyfully take on all that God has planned in motherhood for me. I will glorify Him in the purpose He has given me in being a mom. And I will rest assured of His love for me and my babies in this journey as a mama to a baby that He is holding close on this day.

Happy Mother’s Day to my mom whom I love so much and have learned strength and grace from. Happy Mother’s Day to the mamas who are like mamas to me in church and in life who encourage and grow my love for God each day. To my sister and sisters in laws who are incredible moms to their kids and wonderful aunts to my children. I have so many wonderful relationships and mom figures surrounding me as you can see. Even my closest friends are some of the best moms in the world. I am so grateful for each one of you for your example, guidance, love, and dedication to not only your own families but to my family and myself as well. You all being mothers around me, to me, and with me have changed my life for the better and make this motherhood journey even more filled with joy. Happy Mother’s Day to you all.

Shattered. Broken. Pieced back together.

I get asked often how I’m doing or what I’m thinking about (especially when I stare off into space) and I’m so grateful that people care and care enough to actually ask the hard and personal questions. Because I like to talk about things and I want to help anyone understand any of this better including myself. The truth is most days I don’t really know how I’m doing. It changes often and I don’t want to down play feelings or over exaggerate others or say I’m good and then it turns bad and my help for the day has walked away thinking I’m good because that’s what I said. It doesn’t feel honest to say I’m good or bad at any given moment. But I think the best way to describe my place right now is I don’t feel shattered today. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel like my heart is in a million pieces but somehow those pieces aren’t scattered across the floor. Like I’ve managed to pick them all up or like I’m holding all the pieces in my arms but not put back together yet. Maybe they won’t ever be, but the shards and pieces and fragments of me aren’t scattered across the floor just waiting to be trudged on today. I feel like I’m still broken but at least I have my pieces in one place again. I think that’s a pretty good place to be. Some day God will fit those pieces back together. It’ll be messy. It’ll be rough and jagged edges. There will be gaps and the pieces won’t fit perfectly because they once were whole and now they aren’t. But one day they will at least be held together. Today isn’t that day but I have hope for it because today I don’t feel shattered and that’s… good. Even brighter days will come in heaven when not only am I put back together but made whole and fresh and new and perfect. There will be no missing pieces on that day. No gaps to be filled. No breaks. Just one perfectly whole me. I wish I could draw on nights like this because the picture in my head is so cool and I would love to be able to share it. Alas, I cannot draw well at all! So hopefully the description is enough for you to imagine it too. Today I’d draw me picking up the pieces of my heart and just holding them. Gathering them in my arms and waiting for the day they will be put back together.

Bereaved Mother’s Day

It’s bereaved Mother’s Day. I didn’t even know this was a specified day until a couple years ago when a friend of mine had lost her twins. I had forgot about it until today when I opened Facebook and someone had posted about it. “Oh yeah,” I thought, “this is a day and I’m a part of it now”. What a sucky realization. At church we talked about how next week is Mother’s Day but nothing about today. We talked about how children are a gift from the Lord and that is true but the thought crept in “then why are our arms empty right now”. But with more consideration I guess being bereaved doesn’t take away the fact that they are still a gift. It’s just harder to see the gift and while the blessing of those children gone too soon aren’t here tangibly for us to love and hold the blessing of their lives and the lessons that come with them are still true and real and…a blessing. I miss Huxley every day and I never won’t miss him this side of Heaven but I know where he is and where I’m going and like Samuel said earlier tonight “I’m happy he has Jesus”. Me too little buddy, me too. Sending love to all the bereaved mamas today. May you be held a little closer in His embrace and know that our little ones are loved perfectly and immensely by the most wonderful savior.

A whole month.

It’s been a month. A whole month since we lost our baby boy. A whole. Month. I feel sort of numb saying it. The sort of numb where I have tears streaming down my face but have little emotion otherwise to show for it. I mean it’s there. The sadness, the anger, the frustration, even gratitude is there, grief is weird.

It’s been a month and from where I sit I see a vase of dead flowers from Huxley’s memorial service. My hospital bag sits on the floor untouched and still packed with most of my things. There’s a bassinet in the corner overflowing with Huxley’s things and a shelf covered in his blankets and outfits he never got to wear. Our dresser is piling high with papers, pictures, cards and books filled with condolences that we have no clue where to store or know if we’re strong enough to read and look through just yet. A whole month and yet it feels like I relive this nightmare every single day. However, not every moment is hard. We have found joy in the last month. It seems strange to even say that though. We’ve been constantly covered in prayer and felt the Lords presence with us constantly. Our family and friends have been checking in on us better than I’ve ever imagined possible. They’ve taken care of us in many ways from food, groceries, play dates, cleaning, lawn needs, gifts for us and the kids, encouraging words, laughter, crying, and so much more. We are eternally grateful for our community near and far. I will never forget the strength you have all shown to hold us up.

This month I’ve done things I’ve never imagined doing. I’ve had thoughts I wish I’d never have. I’ve said things I never thought I’d have to mutter. But this month God has drawn nearer and thankfully so because I’ve sat still not moving towards Him most days but still He comes to me and lifts my head and reminds me He loves me.

In the first 2 weeks of this month I found myself saying “I should have a baby” “ I should be nursing a baby” “ I should….” A million other things fill the end of that sentence and one day I realized “I should, nothing”. There is nothing that completes that sentence because I do not know better than God and by saying “I should” I was saying I know better. Or worse, I was saying “I deserve”. One thing that has been made clear in knowing Christ is I deserve nothing! God blesses me immensely but I deserve none of it! I’ve earned nothing. I know it sounds pitifully sad but we don’t and it really isn’t sad at all. It’s amazing when we think about it. We are only anything because He is everything. And He says I’m worthy not because of who I am or what I can or have done but because of who He is and what He has already done for me. I deserve nothing which makes the blessings I have that much sweeter. Knowing that I don’t know better than Him and knowing that I deserve nothing this side of heaven makes me that much more grateful for those blessings I’ve already been given. It still hurts that things aren’t how I thought they’d be or even the way I want them to be. I’d do just about anything to hug on Huxley alive for any amount of time but if I am to fully trust God then I have to trust Him in this too. And man am I trying. I’m not always good at it. This month has been an up and down roller coaster of trying to trust God and feeling defeated at every turn but I know His promises for me and I know His love for me and I know He is who He says He is. So I’m clinging to that knowledge and that hope. I sure do miss Huxley but right now he’s in the presence of perfect love. Even more perfect than the love of my arms. He’s in His arms.

This month has been hard. Tears fall regularly in our home these days. But there are also moments when we can’t muster up a tear while those around us cry for us instead. There are moments that combine the biggest joy with the deepest sorrow, which is one of the strangest feelings. Afterwards there’s guilt of the joy in the midst of sorrow and guilt of the sorrow swallowing up the joy and then grace to hold both in the same moment. Then the space to feel each feeling as it passes through. Sometimes it’s overwhelming and other times it’s refreshing. Gosh, grief is weird. Emotions are weird. It’s been an entire month though and while we are going to have hard moments we are learning that we will also have joyful ones too. It didn’t feel like we would have true joy again for a while but I think we’re starting to see that we will be okay. Maybe not every moment but at least for a lot of them. We will carry on and Huxley will be there every step of the way in our hearts. God will be there every step of the way carrying us through and we will be there taking whatever that next step is to do the very next thing we need.

This isn’t the most organized thought and I realize that. It’s okay. If you read it, thank you. If you’re confused… well me too. I just needed a place to put words down. Whether they make sense or don’t I do feel a little better, at least in this moment and that’s a win for now. We take those small moments and roll with them these days. Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading. Thank you for the last month of prayer and thoughts and calls, messages, gifts, cards, hugs, meals, flowers, and every single thing in between. We are so grateful to have you in our tribe.

Filling Our Cup

Have you ever seen something thats totally normal, mundane even, something you see regularly and usually think nothing of it but one day it just strikes you differently? As if God is just saying ”LOOK, child”?

I recently had one of these moments. With my sons bath cups. Bath cups? I’m being serious. They are these plastic cups, some have holes, some fewer holes, others have slits in the bottom of them and they slowly leak out the water you put in them. Total winner in our house. Loads of fun for bathtime.
Now that we are all on the same page; the other day I was mindlessly scrolling and everything was pointing to ”self care” and it felt… can I use the word icky (now this term “self care” has bothered me for quite some time but this day was different. I was pinpointing my dislike of it- don’t you love when God does this)? It was icky. Please don’t think I’m about to say we shouldn’t care for ourselves. That absolutely is not what I think. But I do think we have some of this a bit backwards as a society.

Let’s just straighten out some ruffles before we move forward, I think caring for ourselves is huge and mental health is beyond important. Do what you need to do to reach loving yourself and stable health. This is not about that. I believe you are worthy of good things and self love… and all the things, really! This comes down to intent of the heart. In our society, self care is to “fill ones self up first so we can overflow to others” I get it, when you’re on a plane that has oxygen issues you put your mask on first before helping others because you can’t help others until you are taken care of. This I understand and agree with. Get yourself taken care of. The part I struggle with is HOW we get to this filled up place, this taken care of state. WHERE do we go to be filled? WHAT do we let fill us? You see, when we fill our cups up with self care (fill in the blank on how) we not only put ourselves before others but also before God. WE are the ones doing the filling. WE are not meant to do the filling. Please hear that: we are not MEANT to do the filling. Not even for ourselves. Should we love ourselves, of course- God loves you. Are we to care for ourselves, of course- God cares for you. Are you to put yourself first so that you can pour into others-no. This is where we get it wrong- me included. It is when we put God first that we are filled and overflow. It is when we put God first that we can help others. It is when we put God first that He fills us.

I totally fall for the self care scheme and buy myself fancy things and give myself breaks and eat junk food I love. I’m not saying you shouldn’t give yourself breaks or buy yourself something you love- thats great. But if we do it with the intent of filling our cups we’ve missed it all together and become like those little bath cups that leak. They are full for a moment but are constantly being depleted but when we let God fill us, it’s a well that never runs dry and overflows constantly.