After Addie - Four Years Later (And A Six Month Update On Ella)

It's amazing how time flies. At this time, four years ago, I had kissed Addie goodbye for the last time, whispered "I love you" into her little ear, and laid her under the warmer. It was off. She didn't need it. She never did. Up to this point, I had not really felt much. But as I left her behind in that room, never to see her sweet face again, I finally started to feel. Tired. Hurt. Lost. Empty - both in my womb and my arms. A nurse wheeled me out of the hospital, my family following behind, and I sat in silence while tears streamed down my face. Having to leave her behind was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

Even after four years, I still miss her. And there's a part of my heart that wishes things had been different. Then I look at my life now and think of all the things that wouldn't have happened if Adelyn had lived:

• The experience of strongly feeling the presence of God and hearing His voice in the midst of a crisis.
• The increased faith in the goodness of God and His sovereign plan.
• Tessa.
• Ella.
• The ability to empathize with others who have lost babies or older children.
• The great privilege of getting to comfort and encourage them in their pain.
• The honor of pointing others to Christ through our pain.
• The laying down of idols in my heart.
• Becoming closer with the members of my family.
• Training to become Stephen Ministers who walk alongside other Christians through difficult times.
• A deeper longing for Heaven.

And these are just a few. I can't even fathom the ways that God has already worked through Addie's story, or the ways that He will work in the future, and I can say without hesitation that it has been absolutely worth all of the pain. So today, like every year at this time, I am remembering and grieving and rejoicing and thanking God for all that He's done. And I'm hugging my two girls a little more tightly.

~~~

Speaking of two girls, I never did an update about Ella! Here's a brief overview of her story (and I will try and get a more detailed post up as soon as possible):

I went into labor with Ella at 38 weeks, three days. She came just before 5pm, via natural birth (though I did get some pain medicine during transition BECAUSE TRANSITION). She was exactly a pound heavier than Tessa at 6lbs, 11oz, and she was exactly two inches longer than Tessa at 19 1/2". The first couple of months were really difficult, going from one child in the home to two. I couldn't just sleep in when Ella was sleeping because there was another little girl to take care of, so I dealt with some major sleep deprivation! Also, nursing was very painful and challenging this time around (thankfully those issues were resolved). But after the two month mark, things started to get a lot better and we began to get more sleep. Ella sleeps through the night now, and started crawling at just over six months! No doubt she is trying to keep up with her big sister, whom she adores! It's so sweet to watch them interact.

The three of us in the hospital.

1 week old, and super unhappy about having her picture taken!

Month Photos

I did get pictures for the second and fourth months, but haven't put all of them together in an album yet.

Best friends!

Life with two is very different than life with one, but I love it! Thanks for all your prayers! God is so good to us.

After Addie - Two Years Later

We sat on our bed last night and talked. The clock on the dresser read "10:45pm" and G commented that exactly two years prior, we were at the hospital and I was in labor with Adelyn Jane.

Two years?

Has it really been that long? Sometimes I remember it as clearly as if it just happened, and other times it seems like the remnants of a forgotten story someone told me long ago. But every time I stop, close my eyes, and think back to that day, it's like a movie starts playing in my head and I can remember even the most trivial details.

I remember G driving me to the hospital and me riding shotgun with my feet up on the dash. For some reason, that position eased the discomfort of my contractions and I sat there trying to take deep, slow breaths. I remember the sound of our feet hitting the pavement as we walked around the hospital to the side entrance after finding out the main entrance was locked for the night. I remember the look on the midwife's face after she examined me and knowing before she said anything that we were about to get bad news. And after we talked to the specialist about our situation, I felt God speak to my heart and tell me exactly how the next few hours were going to play out: The labor wasn't going to stop, I was going to have my baby, and He was going to take her home. I remember feeling peace wash over me alongside the certainty that I felt about what was to come. I remember holding our Addie, who we were told had the faintest of heartbeats that would only last an hour, and being surprised by how normal she looked. At only half-way through the pregnancy, I expected her to look like a little alien. Yet there she was, fully-formed and the tiniest baby I had ever seen. Her little head was still warm for the moment, and it felt like velvet when I kissed it. I whispered "I love you" in her little ear. I didn't know whether or not she could hear me, but I wanted those words to be the first and last words that she heard.

For the rest of the night G and I took turns holding her and looking at her, or trying to get some rest. In the morning, sometime between 7:00-8:00, our families arrived. The nurse told us they were there and asked if she could bring them back. I told her "yes" and as she went back out the door to get them, I remember feeling a twinge of concern. Would they be worried? Would they be hurting? Of course they would. They just lost a family member. All of a sudden I was desperate for them to know that we were okay and that God had a purpose for all of this, and I wanted them to have the same peace I had at that moment. Shortly after the nurse left, the door opened again and one after another, our parents and my brother walked slowly - almost cautiously - into the room. All of them were quiet and solemn, and some of them already had wet faces. I smiled at them in what I imagine would be the same way I would have smiled if I'd had Addie at full term and she were merely sleeping in my arms. It wasn't forced, either. I really did feel pride and joy about that beautiful baby I had just given birth to. There were lots of tears, though not by me. Whether because of shock or meds or just the enormity of peace I felt in my soul, I couldn't get emotional. It's as if my heart was still in crisis mode. My tears would come later, when it was time to leave. I watched each family member hold our tiny baby girl. They hugged and kissed her, stared down at her little face, and talked about how beautiful she was. It was a sacred time and God's presence in that hospital room was the heaviest I had ever felt. There was no doubt in my mind that He was right there with us in our pain. He was right there with us when we buried Addie a few days later, and He's still with us today as we look back.

Lots of other things took place after that which you know about if you have followed this blog for a while, and here we are - two years later. God's grace and goodness astound me. He truly never wastes an experience, and He is still using our heartaches for His glory. G and I are doing well, and we can think and talk about Addie without grief. I love thinking of her and talking about her with other people. God has brought us both closure in our hearts, and so we have been able to move forward in confidence, without fear of the future. We still have peace, joy, and hope, and our lives have never been fuller! Tessa is growing up quickly, and we are enjoying each new stage as they come. She is brings so much happiness to our hearts. For a while now, we have been praying for God's wisdom to know how to reach out to others and serve and we are considering a path that would allow us to use Adelyn's story (which is really God's story) to lift up others who are hurting. We don't know if it's the direction the Lord is leading in yet, but we want to go where and do whatever will bring Him the most praise. He is good, guys. Trust Him.

"Those who sow in tears will reap with shouts of joy. Though one goes along weeping, carrying the bag of seed, he will surely come back with shouts of joy, carrying his sheaves." -Psalm 126:5-6

Why I Struggle To Leave My Child In The Church Nursery

Today was the day. We (more specifically, I) had been struggling with the decision of what we needed to do with Tessa during church. For months she sat quietly in our laps, occasionally cooing or chewing on a toy. Sometimes we would have to walk out of service with her, but that wasn't a big deal because there were televisions playing in the lobby where we could still hear the sermon. Now, at ten months old, she is wanting to get down and explore. Sitting still and quiet for an hour is just not something she cares to do anymore, especially when there are other people to wave or squeak at, and aisles to crawl down. She needs to be in a class with children her own age where she can play and move around freely for a while without distracting those who are trying to pay attention to what the pastor is teaching. The most logical option, then, was to start taking her to the nursery. My mind knew it was not a big deal; people put their children in the nursery all the time and the children are just fine.

But I was not fine.

A decision that should have been easy and uncomplicated was weighing heavily on my heart. I felt anxious at the thought of leaving her, and I thought at first it was because I didn't know the nursery workers, or because I knew Tessa would cry. But no matter how many times I told myself it would be okay and I just needed to do it, I couldn't find any peace. Last week during service, Tessa crawled all over the place and made lots of noise and by the time we left church, I knew it was time. So we decided on the way home that today is when we would start taking her to the nursery.

All week long I agonized. I dreaded going to church, and I even mentally looked for some excuse to get out of going while at the same time asking myself why something that should be so simple was so hard for me. We got to church early so that we could fill out the forms and check things out. I felt trembly all over. I kept thinking, "This is wrong. I shouldn't be leaving her." A lady I knew who understood my hesitancy walked us to Tessa's room and assured us everything would be fine. "Everything won't be fine," I thought to myself.

At our previous church, I was in charge of the three year old class and I saw lots of moms who had a hard time leaving their babies. They would linger near the door or even come in the class and play with their children for a while (which always made it ten times harder when they finally did leave). My mind, then, knew it would be best for me to drop her off and go. And though I said I would never do what those moms in my class did, I had already made up my mind today to ask if I could stay for a few minutes and help her get settled. When we got to the room, there was such a rush of activity from other people dropping off their children that she was out of my arms and in the room before I could blink or think to ask. Tessa immediately started screaming and reaching for me, as I knew she would, and we were suddenly walking toward the sanctuary without our baby. As we walked down the hallway, my eyes were tearing up. I felt like my heart had been cut open, but it was more than just sadness over my child being upset. What I felt was both new and strangely familiar at the same time. Grief.

I clutched the sticker we would need to pick up Tessa from her class the entire service. Any time a number would pop up on the screen and signal for a parent to come and get their child, my eyes would immediately look down to see if it was our number. It wasn't. I sat there restlessly in my seat, knowing that my baby was probably unhappy and it stressed me out. Just before service ended, I was longing to go and get her. There was a sense of urgency - a need to have her in my arms again. Why is this so hard for me? I kept asking myself this question, but no amount of rational thinking could change what I was feeling. When service ended, I moved as quickly as I could toward the children's wing of the church. Before we reached her class, I spotted her in the hallway. A dear friend was pushing her around the in the stroller and Tessa was sitting contentedly, chewing on a toy. She did some crying, as we expected, and wasn't crazy about her classroom. But she was okay. When Tessa saw us, she immediately started screaming again. I got her in my arms again as quickly as I could, and she clung to me with all her little might. It broke my heart all over again, and I just wanted to leave and go home as soon as possible. When we were in the car and on the road, the tears came. I cried all the way home. I cried as I put Tessa down for her nap. Then I lay down on the bed and cried some more. And just as I was wondering for the thousandth time what my problem was, it finally hit me.

This is wrong. I shouldn't have to leave her.

I had said these words over and over in my mind when I would think of putting Tessa in the nursery, but this is also word-for-word what I was thinking when I said goodbye to our Addie Jane for the last time right before we left the hospital a year and a half ago. I held that tiny one pound baby in my arms, told her I loved her, and laid her gently on the warming table. The light was off, of course. She was gone, so it wasn't needed anymore. I had kissed her cold little head and moved toward the door, taking one last look before going through it and thinking, "This is wrong. I shouldn't have to leave her."

This is why I struggle to leave my child in the nursery. 

When my arms let go of Tessa this morning, they were remembering the other time I had to let go of my baby. I didn't understand why I was grieving because I wasn't consciously thinking about Addie. But my heart remembered. This time I was walking down the hallway away from my child just for a little while. Last time, I was wheeled in a wheel chair down several hallways away from my child and I wouldn't be picking her up again. The circumstances were completely different but the pain was the same. That's why I struggled with the idea of putting Tessa in the nursery. It's why my heart broke and I wanted to slide to the floor and weep. It's why the thought of doing it again next week makes me sick. Because I had decided that day when we said goodbye to Adelyn that I didn't ever want to leave my child behind again. It doesn't matter that I would be picking up Tessa again right after church. No matter how many times I remind myself that she's fine and that our separation is temporary, I will always remember having to leave Addie. And it will always hurt, though I know the pain will lessen with time. Eventually, dropping her off will become second nature. Tessa will grow to like her class, and someday I'm sure she won't want to leave when we come to get her. But right now it's hard, and we are stepping out in faith and asking God to guide our decisions.

When I talk about how much I dislike leaving Tessa in the nursery or anywhere else, this is why. It's because deep down I'm always reliving that moment when I had to leave Addie behind in that cold hospital room. I frequently forget that while it seems like such a long time ago, it hasn't even been two years yet. The grief is still fresh, and I know it will continue to show up at unexpected times for the rest of my life. Yes, we will keep putting Tessa in her class. We truly believe that it is what she needs right now, and that it's what is best for her long term. She needs the socialization, and she needs to learn to trust that we will come back for her. And we need to be able to sit in service and hear the Word of God without chasing a baby around the church and distracting her with toys to keep her quiet (which never works for long). When she is older, we will bring her back into service with us some of the time. For now, this is what needs to happen. Please pray for us as the Lord leads. Parenting is hard, but it's good. And knowing that Adelyn is safe in the arms of the Lord brings us comfort alongside the grief. I have a feeling my husband will be taking Tessa to her class, at least for a little while!

After Addie - One Year Later

Our "Addie Rose" is blooming today.

When I sat down to write this post, I thought about all that has happened in the last year. It seems strange to think that I've given birth to two babies in twelve months. While I remember all that happened with our Addie Jane like it was yesterday, it also feels like she died a lifetime ago. Most of the time it doesn't even feel like something that happened to us, but that it's something we read in a novel or heard about on television. Yet it did happen, and here we are a year later continuing to move forward. Yes, there have been many moments of sorrow - especially in the weeks leading up to this day - but our minds and our hearts are at peace. 

Sweet smiles for us this morning!

It's funny how what you think and what you feel don't always line up. My head is totally okay and "over it" for lack of a better term, but my heart still feels the occasional pain and grief of being separated from my child. It's in those moments that I am especially grateful that the Lord blessed us with Tessa. When I feel sorrowful, I pick her up and hold her close. The sadness never lasts long, because she either starts screaming in my ear because she wants me to walk around the house with her or she starts filling her diaper! Her little personality makes me laugh, and her adorable smile lifts my spirits every time. A few days after she was born my father-in-law observed that she looks so much like her big sister, only jumbo-sized in comparison (which is saying something because she's still so little). It's a comfort to know that I will never forget what Adelyn looked like because I can see her in Tessa's sweet face.

After Addie died last year, I spent a lot of time thinking about my own life and eventual death (which I know sounds morbid). When an opportunity arose at my church to be a part of a David Jeremiah study called Revealing The Mysteries of Heaven, I signed up right away. I'm a Christian, and I believe what the Bible teaches about a literal Heaven and Hell. It also teaches that you don't get a second chance to make up your mind about Jesus Christ after you die, and that accepting His gift of salvation is the only way to go to Heaven. If you'd like to hear about what I'm learning, I'd be happy to share what I'm being taught in this study. Just ask! I would love to have a conversation with you about it and get your thoughts as well. Anyway, I mentioned the study because going through it has reaffirmed the confidence I have in the hope that I will get to see my baby girl again one day. I have no doubt that she is with her Savior right now, and that she is in a place more spectacular than any we've ever seen or heard of on this earth. 

Life is short; shorter than any of us realize. So as we remember Adelyn Jane on this day, her birthday, we're going to keep stepping forward without fear into whatever future God is leading us to. We're going to hold each other a little closer and take time to say "I love you." We're going to thank God for giving us Tessa and allowing us to have this time with her. We're going to think back over the many ways that God has been faithful to us. We may even cry. And tomorrow, we're going to visit Addie's grave with Tessa. She's too little to understand right now, but she will grow up knowing how God used her sister's life in mighty and powerful ways for His glory. I believe He will use Tessa's life to accomplish great things as well. Thank you all for your prayers, and thank you especially to the people who remembered what this day means to us without me having to say anything. Knowing she hasn't been forgotten means more to us than you could ever know!

"'Your heart must not be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me. In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if not, I would have told you. I am going away to prepare a place for you. If I go away and prepare a place for you, I will come back and receive you to Myself, so that where I am you may be also. You know the way where I am going.' 'Lord,' Thomas said, 'we don't know where You're going. How can we know the way?' Jesus told him, 'I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.'" -John 14:1-6

Addie used to move and kick when we would play this song.

This song has new meaning to me at this point in my life. I love it.

Addie's Due Date

If my pregnancy with Adelyn had continued without any problems, today would have been her due date. As soon as we said goodbye to our little girl, I began to dread January 15, 2015 in the deep recesses of my heart, because I knew it would be a hard day. Yet here it is, and the grace of God continues to take me by surprise. Yes, there is a sadness to this day; but greater than the sadness is the overwhelming joy and peace we have in Christ.

While I am definitely thinking of Addie Jane today, my thoughts also turn toward the many other people who have been affected by death. Almost everyone has lost a parent, a child, a grandchild, a sibling, or a friend, and if they haven't yet, they will someday. Maybe that person is you, or maybe you're the one dying as you sit here reading my post. If that's true, then I want you to know how very much you are loved by God. I don't know what your internal reaction is to that statement, and I don't know all of the reasons behind why God allows suffering into our lives when He has the power to prevent it. But I do know that none of that pain is meaningless, and that God is working all things together for good. 

''I believe in Christianity as I believe the sun has risen. Not because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.'' - C.S. Lewis

When you trust Jesus and surrender your life to Him, it may not change your current situation, but it certainly changes your life and perspective. Without Christ, there is darkness, despair, fear, anger, and futility. With Christ, there is light, hope, courage, joy, and purpose amidst the pain. God changed more lives than just ours through everything that happened with Adelyn. I saw Him bring healing to people who had spent years of their lives in bondage to their pain. He revealed His love to more people in one day than I could have thought possible. Even now, He's using Addie's story to mend broken hearts and give hope to the hopeless.

Our pain always has a purpose.

If our suffering means that you experience the love of our Creator, hope in His salvation, and healing by His grace, then it is not in vain. You are worth every heartache, every moment of pain and difficulty, and God proved as much when He sent Jesus for you.

"But when the goodness and love for man appeared from God our Savior, He saved us- not by works of righteousness that we had done, but according to His mercy, through the washing of regeneration and renewal by the Holy Spirit. This [Spirit] He poured out on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that having been justified by His grace, we may become heirs with the hope of eternal life." -Titus 3:4-7

Do you know Jesus? Do you have the hope and peace that come with following Him? That is God's heart for you, and ours as well.

"[I pray] that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened so you may know what is the hope of His calling, what are the glorious riches of His inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of His power to us who believe, according to the working of His vast strength." -Ephesians 1:18-19

Happy Due Date, Addie. We love you, always and forever.

Postpartum Update: 6 Week Checkup

I don't know why, but I've been eager for my six week postpartum checkup to arrive so I could get it over with. Maybe I saw it as the last appointment that was connected to grief, though I know I'll always think of our Addie at every appointment for any future pregnancies. Or maybe this final postpartum appointment was the last page in this chapter of our lives for me, and I wanted to be able to turn it and move on to the next one. Regardless of why, I was ready to be done. As the day for the appointment drew closer, I researched what is typically done at the six week checkup so I knew what to expect. There would probably be an examination, maybe some blood work, and also discussion about the next step. As usual, I made a list of any questions I wanted to ask the midwife. There were only a couple of questions this time, and nothing very important - mostly about various herbal supplements I wanted to take. I felt great, and knew my body was pretty much back to normal.

Yesterday finally arrived, and G and I drove to the midwifery for my appointment. Mom had taken me to most of my prenatal appointments when Addie was still with us, so I wanted her to be there as well. We met up with her in the waiting room, and after a few minutes, we were taken to the examination room. I stepped out briefly to another room so they could get my weight and blood pressure. The last time I was in there, the lab tech didn't know about what had happened. This time it was obvious that she knew, based on the well-meaning looks of pity she gave me. She said she was sorry for our loss, and handed me a form to fill out. When I looked at it, I couldn't help but laugh internally, because it was basically a depression survey. It shouldn't be funny, I know, because there are many people who have a very difficult time after they lose a baby. But by the grace of God, G and I are doing great, so I answered all of the questions positively.

When I was finished, the lab tech told me I could return to the examination room. I stepped across the hall to where G and Mom were, and waited for the midwife to see me. We waited. And waited. And waited some more. I was used to this, because there was usually a long wait, and I know it's probably like that whether you see a midwife or a normal OBGYN. However, after an hour of waiting with no sign of the midwife, I began to feel frustrated. The walls are not well insulated between each examination room, and I could just barely hear the doppler one room over as a midwife looked for the heartbeat of a pregnant woman's baby. I heard the steady thumping of what I hope was a very healthy heartbeat, and smiled as I remembered hearing Addie's for the first time. After listening to inaudible talking from the other rooms for a little while with our wait time pushing an hour and a half, the pity party began. I guess you're only a priority here if you're actually pregnant, I said to myself. As soon as the thought entered my head, I knew it was foolish. Selfish. Untrue. I asked the Lord to help me keep a good attitude. Then the midwife knocked at the door. She came in, sat down, asked me if my period had returned, and then told me I was good to go. That's it? No examination? We waited this long, just for the midwife to spend five seconds telling me I'm "fine?" I knew I was fine, but I expected more from this last appointment than that. I just lost a baby, after all. Surely they're supposed to do more than just ask me a couple of questions. At this point, I felt myself starting to get agitated, so I politely requested she examine me, which she agreed to do. She finished the examination - which was very quick - and restated that I was fine, then spent the next five minutes telling me things I already knew; things they had told me at my previous appointment. We left without having to make another appointment for anything, which was fine with me, since I am going with a different doctor and hospital if I get pregnant again.

We hit traffic on the way back, so G and I spent the remainder of our trip home discussing the appointment. He reminded me that I originally went with the midwives because they didn't do a ton of unnecessary examinations or medical interventions, so we probably should have known this appointment wouldn't be any different. He was right, of course, but I couldn't help but feel like more should have been done. I am happy though, because we've been given the green light to have another baby as soon as we want to (which for us, is right away). There's no second baby yet, but I'll keep you posted on that!

To my surprise, I felt relieved to leave the midwifery (and the hospital they worked out of) behind for good. The midwives had been great until Addie arrived, and I liked everyone there, but I'm glad that everything will be different (hopefully in a good way) if I conceive again. Although I wasn't as satisfied with my last appointment, I do feel even more peace about the situation, and about the direction I feel the Lord is leading us for if there is a next time. I'm hoping, praying, and believing that there will be! All that G and I want is for God's will to be accomplished in our lives, and we will follow Jesus wherever He may lead.

Other than being a little disappointed with how my appointment went, life has been good. The last few weeks have been spent researching different hospitals and doctors, because I want to have all of those decisions figured out in case I get pregnant again quickly. G and I went on a hospital tour (which is apparently an unusual thing to do when you aren't pregnant, but we're both planners), and I made an appointment with a different OBGYN (who actually goes to our church) so I can ask her the many questions I have compiled about what I can and can't do or opt out of for my next pregnancy. The appointment isn't until January, but it's scheduled, so I don't have to think about it for a while. I've also started helping out at our church a couple of days a week, and I've returned to the women's Bible study I stepped out of for a while.

Being the only person in a study on parenting without a child (at least on this earth) isn't as hard as I thought it would be. I love to see the women with their babies, and hear about what each of them are experiencing with their children each week. Sometimes I feel a little down when I think about how I won't get to experience the ups and downs of parenting Adelyn, but then I remember where she is and Who she's with, and I am comforted again. More than one woman has reached out to me and told me they were praying for us, or that they read my blog and had something from our experience resonate with them. It amazes me how many people God has encouraged through the story of our baby girl. Things don't always go the way we expect (like my postpartum appointment), but God is never surprised, and He's always in control. I know He's not finished using her or us, and I can't wait to see what He has in store for our future.

Me and G a few days before our anniversary.

The days are turning cold now, but our hearts are warm. Before everything with Addie, I often wished that I could feel God's presence more clearly and love Him more deeply than I did before. Now I sense Him with us constantly in the most powerful way, and I feel like I could burst with love and gratitude for Jesus. Every day is a new and glorious gift from Him, unique with its own beauties and challenges. Sometimes there is sadness, but there is joy all of the time. And through Adelyn's precious life, He has reminded us how fleeting our own lives are. We aren't promised tomorrow, so we try to make the most of each day He gives us. I cherish my family and friends in ways that I didn't before, and I don't take any time I get with them for granted. God has blessed us so much, and He has proven His faithfulness and love to us over and over.

Get to know Him. Walk with Him. Trust Him in all things. I know I am young, but if I've learned anything in the 24 years that I've been on this earth, it's that Jesus is worth trusting. In good times and bad. In sickness and health. And when you place your life in His hands, nothing - not even death - will separate you from His unending love.

"For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing will have the power to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord!" -Romans 8:38-39

Postpartum Update: 4 Weeks After Addie

Four weeks.

Has it really been four weeks since everything happened with Addie? As strange as it sounds, it seems like years have passed instead of weeks. Actually, most of the time it feels like it didn't happen at all; that it was just a dream I had, or something I saw in a movie or read in a book. I think, "Surely that happened to someone else." But then I see the box with her things, or the candle that my sister-in-law decorated with her name on it, or the dishes that recently held a warm dinner from thoughtful friends waiting to be returned, and I am reminded that it really did happen - and it happened to us. Then I close my eyes and I can replay with perfect detail the moments when she would start kicking. I remember what it felt like, and how it made me feel. I remember her perfect, doll-like face that looked so peaceful and beautiful. That was our baby. Then my mind will move from the pleasant memories to the more painful ones; the awful back labor, waiting for what felt like an eternity for the nurse to come in when G called her and said Addie was coming out, and the look of surprise when she finally did arrive and discovered that I was right. I remember being unable to react emotionally to seeing my husband and our families weep and mourn. And I remember G and I alone in the delivery room with Addie as we kissed and hugged her, and said our tearful goodbyes.

It's weird to think that if she had lived, she would already be four weeks old (and a month old on Sunday). I'm not naive enough to think that every year on her birthday, every holiday, and every 23rd week of any future pregnancies won't be spent thinking of her and wondering what she would have been like. Would she have liked ruffles, lace, and tea parties, or would she have preferred to climb trees, play paintball, or catch bugs? I liked all of it, so maybe she would have been like me. Or maybe she would have been like G, liking to build things, move around, and work on cars.

Things aren't as gloomy as they seem, though. I truly can write all of this with a light heart! There are things I won't get to experience with Addie, but I don't feel as though I have been robbed. She was God's before I ever knew she existed, and you can't steal something that already belongs to you. I don't feel like I'm "missing out" on the life she could have had. Yes, I will wonder what if from time to time. But God is always good, and He knows what is best. Job 14:5 says that the number of months and days are determined by God, and that He has set limits on our lives that we cannot pass. Addie's life wasn't wasted, nor do I believe it was cut short. She lived exactly as long as she was supposed to, and every second of her life glorified God. I want the same to be said about me someday.

Physically, I think I'm back to the way I was before I was pregnant. Until week 3 postpartum, I didn't notice anything weird with my hormones. Then came the smell...the kind of smelly smell that smells smelly. I would get a whiff of myself and think, "Gross. I just showered! I shouldn't smell like this!" Fortunately it was only temporary, and now I don't have to put on my husband's deodorant or walk around with my arms pinned to my side all day like a penguin. I also noticed more of my hair would fall out if I brushed it. It's not like it was coming out in clumps or anything, but there were definitely more loose strands when I would wash or style it. I think it's almost back to normal, though. Emotionally, G and I are both doing extremely well. I know some people will just say that because they don't want people to know how much they are struggling, but I promise that I'm being honest! I have been a little grouchier this week, and would get agitated about little things for no reason, but I think that it is just the hormones (which seem to be leveling out now). Most of the time I feel perfectly normal.

I think I am going to check out different hospitals and doctors if I get pregnant again, so I've been compiling a list of questions to ask them. Though I really did love the midwives that I went to with Addie, I want to see what my options are. Right now, I'm wrestling with the question of whether or not it's worth me having to use that hospital again (which I did not like) so I can use the same midwives (who I liked a whole lot), or if it would be best for me to go elsewhere. G and I are open to whatever the Lord has planned for our future (whether that means I get pregnant again quickly or not), so there is no time like the present to be thinking about these things. I have another postpartum checkup on the 30th, so I will probably have more information to work with after that.

Thank you all for your encouragement and prayers. They keep us going when we have hard days, and feed our hope in the fact that God is working all things together for our good and His glory.

"Let your eyes look forward; fix your gaze straight ahead. Carefully consider the path for your feet, and all your ways will be established." -Proverbs 4:25-26

Postnatal Update: First Checkup

Before I was discharged from the hospital, the midwife told me I would need to come in after a few weeks for a postnatal checkup. I was already scheduled to come today for my glucose test, so she said I could keep the same appointment date. Yesterday afternoon, I called the midwifery to confirm my appointment and double-check the time, only to find out that it had been cancelled by someone in the office. After giving some information about my situation, they rescheduled my appointment for the same time.

We (G, Mom, and I) went to the appointment today, and I noticed right away that the ladies on staff didn't seem to understand what had happened. Part of the checkup routine is to get my weight, blood pressure, and a urine sample, and while they were getting my blood pressure, one of the ladies asked me some standard questions. When she asked if I was nursing, I was certain that there had been a drop in communication somewhere about my time in the hospital. The question didn't offend or upset me, and I didn't want to make her feel bad by explaining the situation, so I just answered "no ma'am." She then asked if I'd given birth to a boy, and when I said the baby was a girl, she congratulated me. Again, this wasn't offensive to me at all. Personally, I feel congratulations are very appropriate. I am, after all, a mother now; even if I didn't get to take Addie home.

The three of us waited in a room for the doctor for a while, and when she came in, she asked me to tell her what happened from the beginning. I recounted our story as best as I could, and explained that we had come to this appointment in the hope of getting some answers that the hospital was either unable or unwilling to give us. We also were hoping to get some direction on what our next step should be. When we finished our account, she apologized once again for the confusion, and informed us that it was unacceptable. She then asked about the test results for the placenta, and I told her we were not told anything about that (plus, I didn't even know testing was part of the procedure), and she said she would go and check my file.

While she was gone, the midwife who saw me at the hospital came in and spoke with us. She asked how I was, and she seemed uncertain when I told her I was doing very well. I guess she thinks I'm still in shock or something, because I know how strange it must be to see someone act calm and normal after going through what we've been through. Anyway, we discussed my symptoms and then she gave her professional opinion about the situation with Addie. She felt confident that there had been nothing wrong with me or my sweet girl, and that the only reason that made sense in her mind for why any of this happened was that I may have an incompetent cervix. I had never heard of such a thing before Addie's passing, at which point G's brother mentioned it to us as a possibility. If that were the cause, it simply means that my cervical muscle is weak, and that it couldn't handle Addie's increasing weight. Because my contractions became painful after I was fully (or mostly) dilated, the midwife believed that the weight of the amniotic sac and fluid combined with Addie's weight caused my cervix to dilate prematurely, which is likely what caused the contractions to start. To prevent this from happening in the future, a perinatal specialist would cinch my cervix shut with a special knot in week 14 of my next pregnancy. This is called a cervical cerclage, and it would remain in place until I reached 36 weeks, at which point the knot would be cut to allow the pregnancy and labor to progress naturally. The doctor came back after a little while, and she informed us that the results of the placenta test were normal, and that there had been no indications of infection or other issues that could have caused early separation. Then she also mentioned the cervical cerclage as a good option, and left us again with the midwife. After answering any remaining questions we had, the appointment came to an end, and we headed home.

It's a relief to know that there were no other medical issues, and that - as I already believed - there had been nothing wrong with Adelyn or with me. My instincts, as far as anyone can tell, were correct. A small part of me felt sad today at the thought that Addie's situation could have possibly been prevented (if only in theory) with a cerclage, but I believe that if God's will had been for her to live, He would have allowed her to live. Logically, I know that even if I had heard about a cervical cerclage beforehand, there would have been no reason for anyone to believe I needed one. You can't test for an incompetent cervix, after all. And before anyone starts to worry about me, I do know that I am not to blame, so I don't feel any guilt. I just really miss my baby.

This week has been pretty good for me. I did have a hard day yesterday, though. I spent a lot of time driving in traffic, which made me really tired. When I get tired, I get emotional, so I cried off and on a lot for the remainder of the day. Then, last night, I suddenly felt frustrated over the lack of concern that I was shown by the hospital staff (not the midwife or midwifery, since the hospital took over after we learned about my condition). It hasn't bothered me for almost two weeks, and then for some reason, it suddenly did. It was all emotion though, because I know that even if they had been really encouraging, informative, and attentive, it wouldn't have changed what happened. What I felt was fleeting though, and likely caused by postpartum hormones, because I was my normal self today.

It has started to sink in that this is our life now. Every year, as long as we live, we will celebrate her birthday without her. Every year, both on G's birthday and hers, we will replay everything that happened - from the contractions to kissing her goodbye after we were discharged - in our heads. It's not nice, and it won't always feel good, but it is good because God is good. He hasn't left us on our own, and He never will. It won't always hurt either, and it doesn't most of the time anyway (at least for me). Most of the time, the memories of sweet Addie Jane bring us happiness. But on the days that it does hurt, we can cling to the hope of a glorious reunion and spending eternity in the presence of Christ together.

"To Him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen." -2 Peter 3:18

Postpartum Update: One Week After Addie

It's strange to think that a week ago yesterday, our little girl had gone to be with the Lord and we were waiting to be discharged from the hospital. It both feels like something that happened years ago and like something that happened yesterday. I'm not sure how it's possible to feel both things simultaneously, but somehow it is.

G went back to work on Tuesday, and has gone every day this week since then. He didn't stay as long each day as he normally does, but his bosses graciously told him to stay home as much as he needed to. It helps him to have work as a distraction, and whenever he starts to feel sad, he comes home. I've had family and friends visit every day, which eases G's mind because he doesn't have to feel badly about leaving me at home by myself. My only real need has been for company, and God has met that need this week. I know eventually I will have to be on my own for most of the day, but it's been nice to be surrounded by people this week who love me while Hubby is at work. My mother in law took me to Home Depot on Wednesday, and we got all kinds of flowers. That afternoon, she and I (along with G) replanted some pots that were on our porch, planted a container she had given G for his birthday, and made a bed of pansies beside the driveway. There is something therapeutic about gardening, and it was so nice to spend time with her.

While G has usually felt most solemn in the afternoon, I've felt my saddest in the evening - probably because I start to get tired. Although we've both had our emotional moments this week (which were amazingly few and far between), we are doing surprisingly well. I can only attribute this to the mercy and grace of God, because if we didn't have this supernatural sense of peace and joy, I don't know how we would make it. I honestly don't know how anybody can go through anything remotely difficult without Jesus.

I got this picture in an email after the "salad in the shirt" incident.

Physically, I'm doing very well also. My chest and abdomen no longer hurt, and it seems like my body is going back to normal. I tire out easily, so I am getting as much rest as I can. Emotionally, I am very well also. I've found that I will often resort to humor when I am dealing with grief, which usually includes lots of facetious comments and "too soon" jokes. G isn't bothered by them at all (thank goodness), but I will probably keep them to myself so that they don't upset other people! I have also been remembering humorous things that have happened at various points since we went to the hospital, such as hearing Dad's ringtone just as we were getting the bad news, and accidentally using lettuce leaves as a natural ice pack instead of cabbage leaves (which I jokingly called "salad").

Most of the time, everything seems normal. I haven't forgotten Addie in the least, and in the rare moment that her little face does slip from my mind, it quickly returns. It's something I remember with happiness, rather than the deep sadness and grief I expected to feel. As I said before, there are sad moments from time to time, but they are brief and uncommon. It was a blessing and a privilege to have her in our lives for as long as we did. The hardest part for us has been seeing the obvious discomfort or awkwardness displayed by others. It's as if some people are holding us at arms' length, or putting a wall up in their hearts. I know we all deal with grief differently, and I can't expect them to act normally if things don't feel normal for them in the way that they do for us. However, it does make it harder. We really are doing well, and we can talk about all that has happened (or not talk about it, if they prefer) with anyone. Feel free to ask us questions about any part of this experience, and know that it's okay to show emotion. We can handle that just fine, but please don't push us away, because we're here for you as you are here for us. You don't have to say or do anything else.

G and I have been surprised by how easy this burden is for us to bear, and I'm reminded of Jesus's words in Matthew 11:29-30:

"All of you, take up My yoke and learn from Me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for yourselves. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light."

He truly has replaced our heavy burdens with light ones. Things that I thought would be hard have not been a problem at all. I walk by the crib we bought pretty much every day, and it doesn't bother me. I see the bag of baby clothes from family members and am happy because I know that they'll be put to use someday - whether by me or someone else. I see the box that holds Addie's ultrasound photos, her foot and hand prints, and the extra outfit that came with the doll clothes my mother bought to bury her in, and it only makes me smile. Other people have had babies and posted pictures of their sweet children on Facebook, and I can genuinely celebrate alongside them without sorrow. 

Some sweet friends brought us dinner last night and we ate, laughed, talked, and teared up together. They have a new baby, and when they originally asked to bring us food, I encouraged them to stay and enjoy it with us and to bring their sweet little girl. Though I knew I wouldn't have any problems mentally with having a little baby around, I wasn't sure how I would react emotionally. I did react, just not in the way I expected to. Seeing her sweet face and marveling at how tiny Addie was in comparison warmed my heart. After dinner, I even had the honor of holding her in my arms. In that moment my heart felt so light! She was nothing like my baby (though still absolutely perfect, sweet, and beautiful), but holding her brought an incredible healing. It was refreshing both to my arms that had felt empty and to my soul. Every time G would look at her, she would break out into the most adorable smile. Babies truly are a balm. God used that baby's parents to heal us as well, because their love for us and their friendship was so evident in our time together. We are truly blessed to have them (and all of you) in our lives.

On Thursday, we will head to the midwifery for my first postnatal appointment. Mom is going with us, and I'm sure we will all have lots of questions to ask the midwife. I don't need to know how or why this happened to us because God has given me His peace, but if they have any insights that would be valuable to share, I would certainly like to hear them. This appointment will be the first of many steps forward into an uncertain (yet hopeful) future. If it comes to your mind that day, please keep us in your prayers. 

"Now we have this treasure in clay jars, so that this extraordinary power may be from God and not from us. We are pressured in every way but not crushed; we are perplexed but not in despair; we are persecuted but not abandoned; we are struck down but not destroyed. We always carry the death of Jesus in our body, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who live are always given over to death because of Jesus, so that Jesus' life may also be revealed in our mortal flesh. So death works in us, but life in you. And since we have the same spirit of faith in accordance with what is written, I believed, therefore I spoke, we also believe, and therefore speak, knowing that the One who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus, and present us with you. For all this is because of you, so that grace, extended through more and more people, may cause thanksgiving to overflow to God's glory. Therefore we do not give up; even though our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day. For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen; for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. For we know that if our earthly house, a tent, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." -2 Corinthians 4:7-5:1

Postpartum Update: Adelyn's Memorial

I'm tired, but my heart is so full. We laid our Addie Jane to rest today beside the lake at the church where G and I met and married. The sun shone so brightly and beautifully, and a cool breeze blew through the grass and trees. I can't remember a more lovely and peaceful day.

We sat in front of her little white casket, surrounded by family and close friends. There was a simple arrangement of white roses on top, along with the tiny little shoes (which ended up being far too big) that we bought the day we found out she was a girl. It was the only thing we had bought for her, and it just didn't seem right for any other little girl to wear them. The service was perfect; everything pointed to Jesus, and the hope that He gives in times of trouble. We laughed and cried, and were greatly blessed by all of the kind words that were spoken. Then we sang "Jesus Loves Me" in unison, and there was a great sense of sacredness as our voices echoed across the graveyard. Pastor closed in prayer, and as soon as he finished, I felt an incredible calm. It was as if a door had closed in my heart - in a good way - and my soul felt rest.

Lunch was served in the same room we used for our wedding reception almost two years ago, and I was struck by how much can change in such a short amount of time. It was a day not unlike today; warm, sunny, and beautiful. We could never have imagined that we would be back here just before our second anniversary to bury our first child. Although it isn't what we thought our life would be like when we would dream about our future, we are choosing to trust God and go wherever He may lead us. His plans are always best, even when it doesn't seem like it.

Just a little while ago, G put it perfectly when he said that it was as if we've crossed a bridge in our lives and can move on down the path. We can't know how many bridges we have left to cross, but we are confident that God will be right there crossing them with us. Thank you all for your prayers, your emails, and your words of encouragement. They have meant more to us than you could ever know. It has been an honor to hear your stories of love and loss, and I am humbled by those of you who shared them with me. May we together move forward from wherever we have been with confidence and faith, trusting in God to lead the way.

"...In all these things we are more than victorious through Him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing will have the power to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord!" -Romans 8:38-39

Postpartum Update: Two Days After Addie

It's hard to believe that it has already been two days since we said goodbye to our Addie and came back home. Family members from both sides came to visit us on Friday evening, and provided us with a much-needed distraction from the trials of the day. When we were by ourselves, I collected my thoughts and wrote my previous post. It just seemed like a fitting way to end the day, and the most convenient way to inform a large group of family and friends about what had happened all at once. We were in bed a little after 9:00, and we slept hard for a good ten hours. I lay in bed the next morning for a little while, and my mind went back to Adelyn. It was strange to think that she wasn't tucked safely inside of me anymore. G held me as I cried about it, and we talked for a while. We were grieving, but we both knew that feeling sad, weeping, and hurting are just part of the process.

The rest of Saturday went surprisingly well. Both of us were able to talk about things as they came to our minds without much difficulty, and a sweet friend visited and spent a few hours with us. G fixed a couple of our dining chairs that he had been meaning to repair for a while, mostly because it was something easy to do. I think projects (especially for him) can aid in the healing process. Anyway, we decided to turn in early again last night, hoping we would get another restful sleep. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

At 10:15, we turned out the lights, prayed together, and tried to go to sleep. That's when my brain turned on. For the first time, I felt a little angry; not at God, or the midwife, or anyone really. But I had noticed something unusual taking place throughout the day that I wasn't okay with. My stomach was almost completely flat. I could even see outlines of my abs, and I don't say that proudly. I was deeply insulted that only a day after I said goodbye to my sweet baby, that most every sign of that bump I treasured so much had already disappeared. My body was moving on, and quickly, whether I was ready for it to or not. As I lay in bed feeling frustrated by this, I happened to notice the time. It was after 10:00pm, and that is when Addie was usually her most active. She would normally be kicking up a storm around now, sometimes kicking until 11:30pm every single night. Hubby and I had spent many evenings in bed feeling her move and laughing as he would tap on my stomach and she would kick in response. Now there was nothing. No movement, no sign of life because there wasn't one in there anymore. Then I realized that, although God could bless us with another little baby in the future who would probably kick and wiggle just as much as Addie did, I would never feel her kicks again. At this moment, while these thoughts were running through my mind, G whispered into the darkness.

"I miss her kicking me in the back."

That's all he said, and I realized the occasional sniff I had heard from him wasn't related to a stuffy nose, but because he was feeling the pain of her absence at the very moment I was. You see, the morning of G's birthday, I had snuggled up to him and Addie had decided it would be the perfect moment to start thrashing against his back. He felt her kicks, and we laughed about how cute it was, and how it was like she was telling him Happy Birthday in her own way. We didn't know that we would make a trip to the hospital later that night or that our lives were about to change forever. That was the only time she had kicked him in the back, and it wouldn't happen again. A tidal wave of sorrow washed over me, and we clung to one another, weeping over our loss. After the tears stopped, we spent a few minutes smiling over those memories that had just made us cry. It was a sweet moment. Not long after the quiet returned, my chest began to hurt (something I have been expecting) and I felt some mild uterine cramping (also expected), so I took some Tylenol and got back in bed. I thought sleep would come then, but it would be a long time before either of us finally drifted off.

This morning was the hardest day (at least for me) so far. Part of it was the lack of sleep, I'm sure, as well as the pain in my chest and abdomen. We got up because we had decided yesterday that we needed to go to church. If we had to leave because we couldn't handle it, then we would, but we both wanted to go. I brushed my hair and put on just enough makeup to make myself presentable, and ate a little breakfast that my Honey had fixed for me. I wasn't hungry; in fact, I haven't had much of an appetite since Thursday, but I've been trying to eat whenever I can. It was a quiet, solemn morning for us. I knew I would probably cry at some point, and I barely made it into my seat at church before breaking down. The worship songs that they sang were perfect reminders of the love of Christ, and we left service feeling refreshed in our spirits.

We took it easy for the next few hours after we got back home. At one point, I was laying on the couch texting my brother and was struck suddenly by grief. G happened to come back in at that moment, and he told me it was okay for me to let it out. So I did. I sobbed and mourned for a few minutes, and felt much better afterward. There were lots of moments today where I would be perfectly fine, and then - out of nowhere - be overwhelmed with emotion. It's just part of it, though. It's healthy, and it's okay.

The sunshine has been absolutely brilliant over the last two days. We went outside this afternoon and I sat on the porch while Hubby trimmed some bushes. I watched him work, and realized that God is pruning us in the same way. It doesn't feel good when He removes the parts of us that are ugly or growing the wrong way. We may even feel like there aren't many "branches" left on us, or that we look kind of pitiful and sad, but when the new growth comes in, it's more beautiful than ever.

I don't know why God allowed all of this to happen with Addie, and I may never know. I do know that He is in control, that He is good, and He knows all things and sees every angle in any given situation. I also know that without Jesus Christ, there is absolutely no way I could handle this. None. It shouldn't be possible for me to function. I shouldn't be doing as well as I am. There is no way I could accept my little girl's death, or have hope in the midst of the sorrow. It's all because of Jesus, guys. In such a short time, He has worked and moved in the mightiest of ways that I never could have imagined. When I went to bed last night, this blog had almost 5,000 views in one day (a huge difference from it's usual one or two). Adelyn was only alive on this earth for an hour at most, yet God is using her tiny, sweet, brief life to reach people who are desperate for hope and love. I couldn't be more humbled by this.

Some people have called us brave. But if we're brave, it's not because of who we are, but because of Who we know. Why doesn't it destroy us to lose our baby girl? Jesus. Why can we face death and an uncertain future without fear? Jesus. Why can I wake up every morning with all of the memories of what were and thoughts of what could have been without spiraling into severe depression? Jesus. Why can we smile a true and genuine smile in spite of all this heartache? Jesus. How can I possibly take on the heavy task of laying our girl to rest tomorrow? Jesus. He is what makes all of this possible. He's the rock we cling to as our breath is knocked out of us. He's our hope for a brighter tomorrow. He's our strength when we're weak. He is our joy, our help, our life. If you turn your heart to Him as a result of this situation, whoever you are and wherever you've come from, then our suffering is not in vain. Our heart's desire is that you find peace, love, hope, forgiveness, healing, and rest in Him. He's the source. He's the only way.

"This is the message of faith that we proclaim: if you confess with your mouth, 'Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. With the heart one believes, resulting in righteousness, and with the mouth one confesses, resulting in salvation. Now the Scripture says, No one who believes on Him will be put to shame, for there is no distinction between Jew and Greek, since the same Lord of all is rich to all who call on Him. For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." -Romans 10:8-13

Pregnancy Update: 23 Weeks - Say Hello (and Goodbye) to Adelyn Jane

23 weeks!

I had written yesterday's update and all I needed to do was post my 23 week picture, but the day took an unexpected turn. It was Hubby's birthday, and we planned to go out and eat dinner and walk around a few stores at the mall. While he was at work, I experienced what I thought was a Braxton Hicks contraction. All of my researching had taught me that although it's most normal to get them during the third trimester, many women start feeling them in the second. Typically, they are few and far between, and very irregular. Well, after confirming with my mom the suspicions I had about the contractions, I told her I would call the midwife if I felt anymore throughout the day. 

Other than feeling a little tight (but not feeling noticeable tightening), I felt fine, so I went about my afternoon. While I was styling my hair and makeup, I felt several more contractions that were close together. As time went by, the contractions continued. Sometimes there would be three or four in the span of four minutes, and other times ten, fifteen, or even twenty minutes would go by before the next one would start. They were very irregular in their occurrence, though I never went more than thirty or forty-five minutes without feeling something. When G got home, I told him about the contractions, and he recommended I call my midwife and ask for advice. They told me not to exercise for a few days (because I mentioned doing a new low-intensity exercise DVD that morning), and recommended that I take it easy. She felt that as long as I didn't start having contractions at regular, timeable intervals, I was probably okay.

With this in mind, G and I headed out and went to a Restoration Hardware store to look around for a few minutes before going to dinner. From the time I finished getting ready to the time we got home after eating, I had consistent (although irregular) contractions. Again, I had read that some women even had a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions in the second trimester without anything being wrong. But we decided to play it safe and call my brother-in-law, who is a doctor, and ask for his advice. He recommended going to the emergency room to make sure nothing was wrong, and after waiting to see if I had more contractions (and I did), we called the midwife and she told us to come in.

Honestly, I didn't think it was going to be a big deal. My contractions weren't painful, just uncomfortable. Yet the closer we got to the hospital, the more they went beyond being "just uncomfortable." After getting set up in a temporary room, the midwife joined us and did a quick examination. When she was through, I could tell by the expression on her face that something wasn't okay. She said the amniotic sac was pushing through into the vaginal canal, and that my cervix looked like it was completely (or almost completely) dilated. The contractions, she said, were actual labor contractions (in spite of their irregularity), and that I would have to stay in the hospital for at least a week without delivering before Baby Girl's chances of survival would increase. A specialist came in and went over the different scenarios, both for if I managed not to deliver in 36 hours and also for if I did. G and I agreed that we would do whatever we possibly could to save her, even if it meant being in the hospital for a long time. The specialist informed us about the reality of our situation; that if our baby lived, there was a high percentage she would be heavily mentally impaired, possibly blind, and possibly never able to walk. Fortunately none of this scared me, because I know a God who isn't bound by human statistics, no matter how "accurate" they are. I knew without a doubt that if it were His will, He could and would give us a healthy baby girl.

They moved me to a normal delivery room (and thank goodness, a more comfortable bed) and I felt my contractions starting to increase both in regularity and intensity. Then the back labor started. The nurses had angled my bed so that my head was lower than my feet, in an attempt to use gravity to encourage the amniotic sac back into the uterus. Unfortunately, this put more pressure on my back and whenever I would have a contraction, my back would start hurting severely. The contractions themselves weren't comfortable either, and even got fairly painful after a while, but the back labor made it so much worse. I'm not sure how much time passed while I was experiencing this, but the nurses finally gave me pain medicine and a sleep aid with the intent of stopping my labor and contractions. I did eventually fall asleep for a while, and the contractions stopped (or I didn't notice them because of the pain medicine). I woke up a little while later when my water broke. About thirty minutes later - at 3:45am - we welcomed to the world our sweet girl, Adelyn Jane. She was smaller than they expected, though I'm certain my due date was accurate within a couple of days, so I think she was just a petite little baby. She was too early to remain with us for long, and God graciously gave us one hour with her. We loved her and held her as much as we could. 

Addie was so beautiful, guys. She was really tiny, but every part of her looked perfect. She had the sweetest little lips, chin, and nose. While she was with us, she had just the faintest little hint of a smile on her face. It was absolutely precious! Even after she went home to be with the Lord, she was still exquisite. Her features were so dainty and smooth that she looked like a baby doll. A few hours later, both of our parents and my brother made it to the hospital. They were all able to spend as much time as they wanted holding her and admiring her sweet face. It was a special time, filled with both joy and grief. And that "peace that passes understanding," the same peace that filled me when my dear friend Katie died unexpectedly? I felt it so much more strongly today; so much so, that I didn't even feel any sorrow until we were discharged this afternoon. 

Before we left the hospital (G's parents left a few hours earlier), we all got to say special goodbyes to Adelyn. My mom, dad, and brother said theirs first, then Hubby and I had a moment alone with her to say goodbye. We would leave her behind at the hospital, where someone would be picking her up to take her to a cousin who is a mortician. She offered to personally oversee the preparations for the private memorial service we are having for her on Monday, and it eases my mind so much to know that she's being cared for by family.

Even though I felt pretty great physically, I opted to let the nurse take me to our vehicle (which Dad offered to drive home for us) in a wheel chair. Each step we took away from that room increased an ache that my heart had begun to feel. If things had been different, she would be coming home with us. We wouldn't be leaving her behind. Yet I take comfort (and have taken comfort over the last 24 hours) in this passage from Job:

"The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Praise the name of the Lord." -Job 1:21

This has been a very difficult year for me, but I know it's been hard for pretty much everyone. This is yet another of the many struggles I am told in Scripture I will face as a Christian, yet none of them are in vain if I turn my heart to Christ.

"Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. But endurance must do its complete work, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing." -James 1:2-4

If you are going through a difficult time, know that you can find peace and strength to move forward in Jesus Christ. Without Christ, there is no way I could accept something so traumatizing as the death of my sweet child. Without Christ there is no purpose for my pain, no rainbow after the storm. Without Christ, there is no hope for a better tomorrow or a glorious reunion in eternity after death. If you don't know Him, just sit and read through the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John in the Bible. Turn your hearts to Him and find that peace that transcends understanding or comprehension. 

Until we meet again, Addie Jane...I love you.