7 in Heaven

I am numb.  I don't even know how to begin or what to say, except, for the third time in a year, a baby has left my womb to join the ever growing part of our family in heaven.  Nine on earth.  Seven in heaven.

Sarah Lanae was the name God gave her.  Sarah - God's Princess.  Lanae - Light.

I got to keep her for 8 weeks - only a month that I was aware of her presence.  August 20th - my Mom's birthday - came with a positive pregnancy test and the realization that I hadn't had much luck with live babies lately, and "here we go again"...  Then, I got sick.  Really sick.  Nausea like you wouldn't believe.  And the pregnancy tests got darker and darker, indicating high levels of pregnancy hormone.  Hope.  Maybe... just maybe.

And, a mission trip to Peru is in the works.  I leave October 3rd.  I would be 10 weeks.  My other losses were at 9 weeks.  What if... who wants to have a miscarriage in the middle of the jungle with no flushing toilets? Not me.  There's only one thing to do...

T.R.U.S.T.  G.O.D.

I knew the odds were against me, but I also knew that I just read in Deuteronomy 32:39 that God said, "I am He, and there is no god besides Me; It is I who put to death and give life."

I also read Isaiah 14:24: "The LORD of Heaven's Armies has sworn this oath: "It will all happen as I have planned. It will be as I have decided."

There is a lot going on behind the scenes... something big is in the works with this Peru trip.  God has given me an incredible burden for the trip, and for one man in particular.  That man would be the key to major change as he is a powerful man and serves a false god.  But God said (a few lines up) ...there is NO god besides Me.  God is keeping him before my mind's eye.  When I awake, he is on my mind.  Throughout the day, he comes to mind and I pray for his salvation.  His name is the last name on my lips as I close my eyes at night.

So, September 16th, a couple days before my birthday, I was getting ready to go to praise band practice.  I went to the bathroom, and in an instant was struck with the reality that somewhere down deep in my heart, I knew, but was afraid to say it in case that little bit of hope would be quashed.

Blood.

I sighed and said out loud, "Oh no.  God! WHY are we doing this AGAIN!?!"

And in that moment, I heard God's voice loud and clear.  Almost audibly, but in any case, I heard Him speak to me.  He said,

"I knew Job would not fail me.  I knew Job would not bend. I knew Job would not break. But, Satan didn't know that.  I HAD to let Satan test him so that HE would know the kind of man Job was. And THAT is why we are doing this again."

The Bible says in the first chapter of Job that Satan came before God and sought permission to try Job.  I felt like he had done the same thing to me.  God was telling me three things:

1) I give life and I take it away, but;
2) I allowed Satan to use this situation as a tool to try you - to prove a point - you are not going to fail me; and
3) You will get through this and I will restore you and bless you as I did Job.

You would think that the knowledge I had gained through the previous two losses (or 6, for that matter) would sustain me.  You would think that I had it all figured out.  (Didn't I say that a few blog posts back?)  But, no.  I went through the hardest Spiritual battle of my life!  The miscarriage was only a small part of what I went through (and am still going through!)  I hit rock bottom, spiritually, emotionally and physically.

Not only that, but my friends who are going on the trip with me were hit with major battles as well. As I write this, one friend's husband is in the hospital with an infection in his leg.  Another friend is sitting in the ICU with her Mom.

We're 10 days out from getting on a plane...

I'm still numb and I don't think I can really process this until I get back home from Peru.  I need to see the rest of this unfold. In the meantime, I will honor the memory of my precious babies.

Poppy and Bibby

On my birthday, as I passed tissue and handed my gift back to God, I took a walk up to our pond.  As I was standing there alone, crying, I thought about my grandmother and felt like if she was there, she would want to comfort me.  I said out loud, "Bibby, please hold little Sarah for me until I get there. Let her know she is loved."  The reply came, "Poppy (my grandfather) is already bouncing her on his knee and singing her a little song."  And I knew he would be.  He did that with all the babies.  I could even hear the song.

Poppy with one of his babies

Now, when I think of Sarah, that's where she is.  Sitting on Poppy's knee, giggling while he bounces her - in a rocking chair, on the front porch of his mansion.  If my other kids there are anything like their mother, they're running in and out of the house, probably with a piece of bologna or cornbread.  Bibby's probably taking the Kleenex out of her pocket and wiping the gold dust off their chins and slapping them on the rump as they run off the porch to play in the garden.

My Dad always says, "Heaven's sounding sweeter all the time."  I would say, "I can't wait to get there and meet them!" but Poppy would say, "Don't wish your life away.  God's not finished with you yet."

And I know that.  This is just another piece to a really big puzzle and the picture is all coming together.  Someday, I'll figure out what it is God is making me into.  Until then... all I can do is TRUST.

To be continued...

What to do when a friend has a miscarriage

This is going to be graphic - but you asked.  Now sit down and listen.

What is a miscarriage?

Miscarriage is the physical pain of giving birth to a baby, coupled with the emotional pain of having a child die.

Most people - people who have never had the unfortunate experience of going through a miscarriage personally - don't realize that when a woman has a miscarriage, she goes through labor and delivery, just as she would if the pregnancy had continued progressing.  The process is the same.  Contractions begin.  They get closer together.  She pushes and expels what would have become a precious child.  Then, she bleeds for several days or weeks - every trip to the bathroom a reminder of what might have been.

Whether it happens at 6 weeks or 9 weeks or 14 weeks or 18 weeks, a child is a child no matter how small. The length of time a child is in the womb has very little to do with how "hard" labor is.

Contrary to popular belief, a miscarriage is not "like a period".  Periods do not produce placentas and amniotic sacs and tissue and babies.  There is a huge difference between light cramps and the contractions needed to expel what the medical professionals refer to as "products of conception", but mothers refer to as a precious child.

What does she miscarry?  She misses carrying a baby to term.  She misses feeling little kicks and the bond that comes from being able to anticipate when the baby will move and squirm.

She misses the opportunity to choose names and pick nursery bedding and watch her belly bloom as the child inside her grows.

She misses looking into the eyes of her child as soon as he is released, with that final push and she picks him up in her arms and sees the child she has dreamed about for nine months.

She misses the thought of the first time he rolls over, starts crawling, first steps, first day of school, first tooth lost, first haircut, first crush, first date, his driver's permit, his graduation and his wedding day.

No matter what they say...this is not a clump of tissue that just didn't develop correctly.  It is a dream.  Paradise lost.  And it hurts.

Understanding is the first step in healing...

You just heard that a friend has started spotting and is beginning to miscarry.  What do you do?

What most people do is retreat.  Afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, they walk away and do nothing. THAT IS THE WRONG THING.

So what is the RIGHT thing?

The right thing is to try to imagine that YOUR precious child has passed away.  Your giggling toddler, or your blossoming school girl - your brave young man with that little piece of hair that always sticks up in the wrong place.  You are distraught.  You are grief stricken.  You are in denial and in the most pain you have ever been in in your entire life.

What would you want someone to do for you?  Bring a meal to your family so you don't have to think about food?  Send flowers saying, "I love you!"  Take your pet to their house so you don't have to think about the needs of anyone else?

Whatever you can imagine would be helpful in that situation - just do it.

Whatever you do, DO NOT TEXT YOUR FRIEND and ask, "Do you need anything?" or "Can I do anything for you?"

Yes, she needs something.  She needs her child back.  She also needs food and nourishment.  She needs someone to lift the burden of everyday day to day things from her back so she doesn't have to think about them.  Do not make her beg.  Who wants to say, "Yeah, could you pick up a few pizzas for us?"  No one. That's who.  Just do it!

Whether they NEED a meal or not, you have NO IDEA how it feels to be loved when someone goes out of their way to DO something instead of asking if they can.  Make Nike proud.

Do not stick around after you drop off the food, unless she wants you to.  If she wants to talk, then stay. Stay forever if you have to, but just do it.  It is possible that although you have been her best friend and you have been together through thick and thin, she just may want to be left alone right now.  That's perfectly reasonable.  If her needs are taken care of, then respect her and go.  Let her know you love her and are thinking about her and you will be there the second she is ready to talk.  It may be awhile.  It may be tomorrow.  It may be next week.  Follow her lead.

Acknowledge her child.  Did they name him/her?  Call him by name.  "I'm so sorry about (insert name here).  I love you. I am here for you."

Remember her husband, too.  ESPECIALLY if you are a man.  He has also lost a child.  If he had lost a 10 year old son instead of a 10 week old pre-born child, would you ignore him at church or ask him how work is going?  ACKNOWLEDGE his pain.  Validate his child.  Give him a hug.  He is hurting just as much as his wife, and maybe even more, given that he is helpless to "do" something.  He can't "fix" this. He just has to stand by and watch.  He is grieving.  Recognize that.

Hug her children.  The baby they were hoping for and picking names for is not going to be joining the family as they had hoped.  Even if they are young and can only understand that the baby is "with Jesus in Heaven", love them.  It's OK to talk about it.  It's OK to say you are sorry.  They will always remember that you hugged them and cried with them when they hurt.

Don't think you will help her "take her mind off things" by engaging in mindless chatter.  Don't say, "By the way, you know that thing we were talking about the other day..."  She won't care.  Her child has just died. Her dreams have just died.  Don't make her try to be polite in the midst of her pain.  If you must talk, talk about her and what she needs.

ABOVE ALL - don't stay away because you are afraid of saying the wrong thing.  She probably won't even remember what you said - but she will remember if you were absent and she will remember if you stopped what you were doing to let her know that you are grieving with her.

MOST IMPORTANTLY - NEVER - no never - say things like:

-"Well, at least you weren't that far along."  (Totally irrelevant.  A child is a child no matter how small.)
-"At least you have other children." (THIS child is irreplaceable.)
- "You can have more." (Would you say to a grieving widow, "You can always get another husband."?)
- "It is God's will." (That's a whole theological kettle of fish for another time.)
- "Hey, are you going to be there Tuesday?" (Her world just stopped.  She has no idea what she will be doing Tuesday, nor does she care.)

Did you get it yet?  HER CHILD HAS DIED!!!

Don't pretend that nothing significant has happened.

WHAT DO you say??

You say,
- "I'm so, so, so sorry."
- "I am here for you."
- "What can I do?"  (You can ask, but don't believe her when she says she's fine.)
- "What would you like for dinner? Is there anything your family would prefer?"

SHOULD YOU BRING A GIFT?

Yep.

Anything that says, "YOU ARE LOVED" is appropriate.
Flowers
A sympathy card or "thinking of you" card
A gift with the baby's name on it
It doesn't even have to cost money.  It just has to say, "I love you."

Above all - LIFT HER and her HUSBAND and her CHILDREN before the throne of grace.  Ask God to heal her heart.  Ask God to heal her body.  Ask God to give you wisdom and show you how you can be a friend to them.

Make a note on your calendar to check in on her.  Remember the anniversary of the death of her child. Make it a point to follow up.  Eventually, the wound will scab over and heal, but the scar will always remain.

By the way, how do I know this stuff?  I'm not a medical professional.  I am a Mom who six times has gone through labor to bury hopes and dreams.  I've been there.  It's old hat, unfortunately, and sometimes friends just feel like, "Here we go again.  I really don't have time for this right now,"  Unfortunately, the Mom can't make that choice.  We're in this together,  I promise you that if you are there for her now, there will come a day when you need someone to love on you and someone will.  Pay it forward.

FURTHER READING:

Another excellent article can be found here:

Why miscarriage matters when you're pro-life

Coping with a Miscarriage: Biblical Words of Encouragement

Precious in His Sight: Today's Turning Point with Dr. David Jeremiah

Laying up Treasure in Heaven

But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust does corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. - Matthew 6:20-21

So here we are - nearly five months since our little Andrew Stephen visited me in a dream, said goodbye and went to heaven.  Since then, I healed physically, got back on track with my diet and health, and felt the emotional healing that was so needed. 

I have set up a soapbox on Facebook and in my circle of friends to champion the cause of Mothers and Fathers whose children die before birth.  I want our society to know that a child is a child, no matter how small.  The death of a 10 week old child in the womb IS equivalent to the death of a 10 week old child out of the womb --  Or a 10 month old, or a 10 year old.  A child is a child, no matter how small...

So it came as a complete surprise in January to see two pink lines on the pregnancy test.  I was pregnant three months - almost to the day - of saying goodbye to Andrew.  I am 45 years old. Everything I've read says that it's next to impossible to get pregnant at that age.  I don't have a problem getting pregnant.  I have a problem staying pregnant.

My first thought was anger. I was mad that this was happening again.  I thought I had learned all the lessons and was ready to move on.  Now I could come alongside others who were hurting and help them handle the hurt.  I didn't want to hurt again.

At first, I didn't have a lot of pregnancy symptoms.  No aversion to coffee - very little nausea.  But then as time went on, I started feeling more and more pregnant.

By 8 weeks, I felt like I just needed to know what was ahead.  I made an appointment with a midwife to have a sonogram to see what we were looking at.  Was there a baby? Was there a heartbeat? We just needed to know.

We went to the appointment and when they did the sonogram, there on the screen in front of me was the image of my womb.  And there was a large black hole.  There was no baby.  There was no heartbeat.  Just emptiness.

We went back into the exam room and the midwife came in and said she was sorry.  She gave me the run down of what to expect.  She said within the next couple of weeks, the miscarriage would start.  She told me what to do for pain and bleeding,  Then she said, if nothing happens in the next two weeks, she wanted to see me back in the office to repeat the sonogram.  So...there is no hope, but just in case, we'll look again and see if the sack is still empty.

I cried on the way home.  I texted my friends and family and told them the news.  The pregnancy has stopped progressing.  The miscarriage should start in the next week or so...

We went to lunch at Red Lobster.  We smiled. We talked.  We tried to pretend that I was not carrying around a perfect little placenta and an empty sack with the tiniest little remnants of our child in it.

Then we went home.  We told the children that the baby was in heaven with Jesus.  At least I could start shopping for a dress for our oldest daughter's wedding.  It wasn't going to be a maternity dress.  I could start fundraising for my planned trip to Peru in September.  I wasn't going to be having a baby in September.

I sent a message to my homebirth group on Facebook and told them the prognosis.  One of my friends said, "Hey, don't you have a tilted uterus?  There's a pretty high incidence of misdiagnosed blighted ovums in early sonograms when you have a tilted uterus.  Check it out."  So I did.  I read story after story after story of women who had gone for an early sonogram and had been told the sack was empty, only to have the baby show up on the next sonogram.  They all had a tilted uterus.

And mine is tilted.  Majorly tilted.  My babies all hang out posterior.  My cervix points at my rectum instead of forward.  Up until giving birth, I have all manner of knees and elbows protruding out the front of my belly instead of a butt and a nice smooth back.  "They just fit better that way.  That's just the way you are made."  I've heard it over and over.

So you would expect that if the pregnancy stopped progressing, the sack would not measure 8 weeks 3 days.  It would measure 6 weeks like it had twice before when my body realized that the pregnancy was not viable.  But it measured right on for dates.  You would expect that my hcg levels would have started dropping, but they didn't.  They continued to rise. You would expect my belly to stay flat - but it didn't.  I started LOOKING pregnant.  The kids would look at me and just say, "Wow".  People started asking me if I was pregnant.  I didn't even know how to answer...

I had hope.  They must have just missed the baby.  We told our friends that there was still a chance that we were going to have this baby after all.  We were beginning to relax and feel happy that we would be blessed again.  I was due on my 46th birthday.  Talk about irony!!

Then one night, I had a dream.  In my dream, I heard the voice of God saying, "His name is Paul Richard.  His name is Paul Richard.  His name is Paul Richard."  Then I woke up.  I got up to go to the bathroom and I grabbed my phone and looked up the meaning of the names.  Paul means "Small" - and he is.  Right now at this moment, he is small.  Even if he is there.  If everything is going to be OK, he's the size of a grape.  That's pretty small.  Richard means "Brave Leader".  It had been the name of Kings and actors and famous people.  So I had a small, brave leader in my womb.

I went back to sleep and went back into the presence of God.  This time, I was in a place that was all light.  I walked into the light and there was a giant throne.  The biggest throne I had ever seen.  I could make out feet on the bottom of the throne.  They were wearing sandals and coming out of the bottom of a white robe.  My eyes moved upward toward the face, but I couldn't see a face.  Just light.  Pure light - like looking directly into the sun.  Then I heard the same voice I had heard just a few moments before.  It said, "I have called him by name.  He is mine."

Then, as fast as I had entered into the holiest of places - the throneroom of God - I was back in my own bed, pondering what that was all about.  I didn't particularly like the name.  I would not have chosen it.  I laughed at the fact that I had taken 13 months to teach my Sunday School class an exogetical study of the book of Acts, which was all about Paul.  Everywhere I turned, I was reminded of Acts.  What an obvious choice for my son...

A friend called to say that she had had a dream.  The night before I had told her I was pregnant, she had dreamed that our family was at her house.  I was pregnant and we had shared the news that the baby was a boy... Now she called again to say she had another dream.  This time I was at her house and we were folding my laundry on her couch - and it was little blue shirts and blue baby clothes.  I teased that she didn't know how to fold boy clothes because she was the mother of daughters.

Further confirmation.  I was having a baby, and he was a boy -- and his name would be Paul Richard.

Hope swelled within me.  Then I would plummet.  Yes, I am pregnant.  Yes I feel pregnant.  Yes, I look pregnant.  My hormones are still raging.  Coffee makes me gag.  The nausea was overwhelming.  BUT, I saw the empty sack with my own eyes.  But it happens.  The baby HAS to be in there.  Just wait.  In a few days, when I go back to the midwife, they will find the baby.  He will be kicking away in there.  His heart will be beating wildly.  I will be so in love with that little guy.  They wouldn't be able to tell that he was a boy yet, at 11 weeks, but he was.  I knew his name.  I was folding his little blue clothes.  BUT I saw the empty sack with my own eyes...

I was up, I was down.  I was up, I was up, I was down.  I would say to Mike, "So, what do you think?" and he would answer, "I don't know.  We'll just have to wait and see."  "Easy for you to say," I would reply. "You are not constantly looking down at an ever growing belly and being reminded that he is in there."

We were remodeling our bathroom.  I needed to get out of the feeling of "limbo" I had been in since January.  Am I? Am I not? Am I? Am I not? 

Then, the kids all got a tummy bug and between painting the ceiling and the shelves in the bathroom, we were cleaning up barf and running with buckets.  First one was down, then another.  The first was better, then the third started,  It was a long week that ended with me getting it.  A night spent in the bathroom.  Horrid, horrid stuff.

By Saturday, I was feeling better.  Most of the kids were gone to other places.  The older kids were at a retreat.  The next one down was at a friend's house.  Mike was gone on a day trip to run an errand with a friend.  I was alone with the little ones.  I spent the day excited about having a baby and worried that I wouldn't.

That night, as I prepared for bed, there was just the slightest little tinge of pink on the toilet paper.  But I knew.  I knew.  

The next morning, the pink was darker pink - and then red mucous.  And it had begun.  The beginning of the end.

I sat at my desk and prepared for my Sunday School lesson.  It was from James 2:21.  It was about Abraham's faith - Abraham, our father - who had been given the assurance that his son had big plans. He was to be a brave leader.  He was to be the father of a nation...but God told him to put an end to his life.  Sacrifice your promised son.  Give him to Me.  Do you trust Me? Do you love Me?  Put your faith into action, Abraham.  Do what I tell you, because I know the ultimate plan.  TRUST ME, Abraham.  Do you trust Me?  And he did.  Abraham trusted.  Unless I miss my guess, there were sleepless nights before he put legs to his faith and gathered his son and a bundle of firewood - and headed up the mountain,  He was a father.  This was his child.  This child he loved.  He had a promise.  BUT, he trusted God above all else.  He knew God loved him and he knew that if God willed it, he would raise his son from the dead if need be.  He HAD to trust God.  He just HAD to.  And he did.  And you know the story.  Just as he raised his hand to take his son's life, God stopped him.  He just needed to know that he trusted Him.  He would provide a sacrifice.  Take your son from the altar, Abraham.  You have passed the test.

I dressed for church, feeling numb.  God gave me a son.  He gave me a promise.  He was to be a brave leader - though he was small.  Now he was going to be taken away.  Did God have a job for him to do in heaven, like his brother?  Would he be a leader there? How was I going to teach this lesson?  How would I stand in front of my class and tell them that we must have faith in our crisis moment, when I was facing a crisis moment?

I did.  I taught the lesson.  I talked about trusting God in our crisis.  I talked about how our faith HAS to be so strong that it produces spiritual fruit.  Faith without works is dead.  Then I told them about my crisis.  There were tears - not just mine.  My friend, Sylvia, asked if she could put action to her faith and pray for me and Mike - right then.  She did.  It was a healing balm to the soul.

I sat and cried through the service and then as half the congregation was away at a retreat and we were short staffed, I went down to teach Junior Church during the sermon.  I hadn't prepared a lesson, so I told them what I knew.  We talked about heaven.  We talked about who was there and what it looked like and how one day, if we have asked Jesus into our heart, we will go there.  We will walk on streets of gold and see rainbows of jewels and bask in the light of God that lights the city and the lamp of his Son, the Lamb.

Then I asked them to draw pictures of what they think heaven is like.  One picture had a unicorn blowing a trumpet and a jet.  Because you get to heaven on a big jet and you fly round and round and round. One showed the throne.  The same throne I had seen a few nights before.  The same feet at the bottom of the throne - and a teeny, tiny angel sitting on the foot - to show how BIG God is.  Another showed a huge building with lots and lots of windows - and a horse coral off to the side.

Monday morning, labor started. The contractions came on hard and long.  For four hours, I labored, passing what was to be a boy named Paul - a small, brave leader.  The contractions stopped abruptly and the cramps took over.  In my abdoman, back and down into my thighs. Standing hurt, lying down hurt, sitting hurt.  My tailbone hurt, by sit bones hurt.  My heart hurt. 

The cramps would continue until Tuesday night... about 36 hours later - when my body finally let go of that last piece of the life giving placenta.  Then, as fast as it started, it stopped.  I remember that feeling of relief when the placenta is delivered.  I am usually holding my newborn and looking into their eyes and telling them how much I love them.  Then, we cut the cord and the physical bond that has held us together for the past 40 weeks.  And then a new life begins.

"All God's Children" by Danny Hahlbohm

But not this time,  This time, Paul flew straight from my womb into the waiting arms of His Creator.  He is there now.  Someone is holding him.  Maybe it's God himself?  Maybe it's Jesus? Or maybe his big brother Jonathan, who would be 11 or 12 now, is holding him. Maybe his sister, Katie is telling him what it's like to live in heaven and that Mama and Daddy will be there soon.  Maybe his brother Andrew, who has only been there for five months - is telling him about that day that he met Mama and told her that she wouldn't understand right now, but he had to go.  "And she'll know that you couldn't help it that you had to leave her.  She knows where we are and they will be here with us forever and ever some day."

"God's not finished with Mama and Daddy on earth yet.  He has a job for them to do there, Paul.  Just like He has a job for us here, they have work to do there.  But some day, we will all be together."  Sean and Melissa are nodding in agreement.  They look forward to that day, too.

At least that's how I imagine it.  Six little treasures - doing the work they were created to do - looking expectantly ahead to the day we will all be together.

“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”

1 Corinthians 2:9

So, what have we learned this time around?  I don't know yet.  I know that just as before, I was chosen to be the vessel that ushered a precious life from this world into the next.  I know that God was with us every single step of the way.  I know that just as Abraham trusted God in his crisis moment, so should we.  

I know that the morning of my sonogram, God gave me this verse from Psalm 30:11:  "You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness."

I know that day will come.

I also know that I still have a calling to educate those around us about how to help those who are hurting.  Many people don't know what to say or do - so afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing - they do nothing.  THAT is the wrong thing.

My next blog post will address what to do when a friend loses a child.

(For those of you who know me in real life, PLEASE NOTE:  My parents have been through a great deal in the past year.  My father is in a nursing home and my mother has her hands full. We have not shared this pregnancy or miscarriage with them to protect them from further pain and hurt.  PLEASE HONOR THEM BY NOT FEELING THE NEED TO HURT THEM FURTHER BY SHARING THIS INFORMATION WITH THEM.  We would greatly appreciate your assistance in this area. Thank you!)

Watermark - Glory Baby

We discovered this song after we had our first miscarriage.  It was such a source of encouragement and healing. I hope it helps someone else who has had the honor of carrying a Glory Baby - no matter how long you got to be the vessel. - God Bless You.

What it took me five miscarriages to learn...

Weeping may last though the night, but joy comes with the morning. - Psalm 30:5b

Laughing Baby by Jean Keaton.  We have several of Jean's prints on display in our home.  They have been a source of comfort as we said good-bye to our babies, knowing that they are in the loving arms of God.  You may order prints at Jean Keaton Inspired Art.

If you have not yet read Another Loss...the story of our miscarriages, I recommend you start there. You will see the transformation from one who can't fully trust through the blinding tears of loss into one who has truly been set free.

Sometimes, we think we have healed and "gotten over" our pain.  Then, the same kind of storm comes and knocks down the house we have rebuilt and we realize that we never really got over it.

Such was the case with me and my miscarriages.  Yes, with each loss, I found comfort in the loving arms of God.  I knew He was trying to teach me to trust, but I couldn't.  I said I did.  I said I had faith.  But truth be told, I secretly held a grudge.  I quietly resented God. I saw each loss as a punishment.  God was taking something precious away from me to teach me a lesson or to punish me for something.  But now I understand... I was looking at it all wrong.

And it took FIVE miscarriages before I figured it out.

As I said in the previous post, each time I saw two lines on a pregnancy test after that first loss, my faith and trust went out the window.  How could I trust God?  Five times He gave me a baby and then in a matter of weeks, He took it away from me.  Now that I know what I know, I can't believe how childish and arrogant that idea was...

After my fifth loss, I had a dream.  In that dream, I saw my baby...a son. And what he told me in the dream was the key to understanding.  He said that Jesus had a job for him to do (in heaven) and that he knew I wouldn't understand right now, but someday I would.

As I thought about that, God spoke healing into my soul and gave me understanding.  You see, He wasn't taking my baby away from me.  He was allowing me to be the vessel that would carry a perfect child of God until the appointed time.  God is the only one who knows the appointed time, because He is the one who writes our days in His book.

Jeremiah 1:5 says, "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you."  God knew our little ones before they were conceived.  Psalm 139:16 says, "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

Through four losses, I read that last verse with sadness - thinking that our babies' days were not to be.  But I was so wrong.  They are living out their days, but not on earth.  They are in glory, doing the job that was ordained for them.

And no, I don't understand that.  I supposed one day I will - when I get there.  Does the Bible say anywhere that those who die have jobs to do in heaven?  Not to my knowledge, but I do know that God speaks through dreams and He gives us understanding of the scripture.  I'm certainly not going to get up in church Sunday and preach this as doctrine.  But I do know that God has done a work in my heart, and he has healed me and set me free.

-I am so honored to be the vessel that carried Jonathan Michael for 14 weeks - his appointed time.
(Jonathan means "God gives" and Michael means "One who is like God".)
 - I am so honored to be the vessel that carried Katie Faith for 16 weeks - her appointed time.
(Katherine means Pure - her name means "Pure Faith".)
   - I am so honored to be the vessel that carried Sean Emmanuel for 9 short weeks - his appointed time.
(Sean means "God is gracious" and Emmanuel means "God is with us".)
     - I am so honored to be the vessel that carried Melissa Joy, whose unformed body remained unformed, but who is living in a glorified body today - for 9 weeks, until her appointed time.
(Melissa means "honey" - one who is sweet and Joy means "Joy" - Sweet Joy.)
       - I am so honored to be the vessel that carried Andrew Stephen's unformed body and to have been trusted with being in his presence for a few short moments while he taught me more than I learned on my own in twelve years...
(Andrew means "Strong" and Stephen means "Crown". It was his strength that carried me through.)

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. - James 1:2-4

Today, in the midst of my loss, as my body still heals and recovers from the physical rigors of a miscarriage, I am at peace in my spirit.  I will see my children one day.  I am blessed by every one of my blessings.  Those who live with me here - the ones who are almost adults - who have become my friends as much as my children, are a blessing to me.  Those we are still molding and shaping into the men and women God wants them to be - whose laughter and grace fill our home are special blessings.  Those whose days are still filled with play and imagination, who are not too old to greet me with hugs and kisses - they are gifts from God. Our babies who giggle and laugh and openly express their love while they play - bring joy to our hearts. Going home will be like Christmas - we will get to open the gifts that have been under the tree with our name on them for so long.  Heaven is sounding sweeter all the time.

Another loss... the story of our miscarriages

     People blog for a number of reasons.  I guess one of them is probably therapy.  I am writing this for myself as much as for anyone else.  It is something I need to write.  Please bear with me...

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     I have written a little bit in the past about our miscarriages.  We have nine living children, but God saw fit, for one reason or another, to birth five more into heaven.  I've just experienced the fifth one this week, so I've been spending a lot more time thinking about this than I normally would.

Jesus snuggling Infant by Jean Keaton.  We have purchased several of her prints for our home.  You may purchase Jean's art at Jean Keaton Inspired Art.

Our First Loss - Unexpected Trauma

     First, let me tell you about my very first miscarriage.  It happened in 2001.  We already had four children, and we had just been convicted to trust God with the size of our family.  God had shown us that the very words "Birth Control" meant that we were taking control of whether or not to birth and we were convicted that God gives life (Job 10:12,  1 Samuel 2:6, Psalm 139:13-16) and that children are a blessing (Psalm 127:3-5) and that He alone has the authority to decide when or if a life should begin. (This is a personal conviction and something that God has convicted us about. We believe that this is something we each need to pray about and wrestle with.)
     I didn't know anyone personally that had gone through a miscarriage.  It wasn't something I thought about very often.  I had four healthy children, and it wasn't very likely that I would lose one.  I had no history and there was none that I knew of in my family.
     Then, we rejoiced when we found out that #5 was on the way.  Excitement mounted as we picked out names and got out maternity clothes.  We talked about whether it would be a boy or girl as we now had two of each.  Then, one day at 14 weeks, I started spotting.  I called the midwife and she said it could be a number of things and just keep an eye on it.  It could be the beginning of a miscarriage, or something that would just clear up and everything might be fine.  But it wasn't.  The bleeding increased and the cramps started.  I was in denial.  A miscarriage could not happen to me.  It had to be something else.  But when it was obvious that it was a miscarriage and that we were losing our precious little baby, I had no idea what to expect.
     When I had heard about people having a miscarriage before, I just assumed that they just weren't pregnant anymore. I never really thought about what happened to the baby or where it went.  Maybe they weren't even pregnant to begin with? No one told me that you are a mother, even if you lose the baby.  You go into labor, you have contractions, the baby is birthed, along with the amniotic sac and placenta and all of the other "products of conception".  No one told me about the back pain and the pain that radiates through your abdomen and thighs. No one told me about the nausea and hemmorrhaging that were possible.  It all came as a major and disappointing shock.  Why hadn't someone told me?
     I find it very frustrating that miscarriage is a taboo topic in our society.  No one wants to talk about it.  When it happens to women who have not ever experienced it before, they feel like they've been sucker punched.  There's not even much information on the internet about how to get through one naturally.  I've had emails from women who have found my website about miscarriage and asked me what to expect.  We don't like it, so we ignore it.  When a woman goes to the doctor or hospital and finds out she's lost her baby, the first thing they suggest is a D and C.  Let's do surgery and just get rid of everything - then you won't have to deal with it at home.  I thank God that He created our bodies to deal with this loss.  As our bodies prepare to give birth, our mind has time to adjust and heal. It's part of the plan.
     As the news got out that we had miscarried and lost the baby, we were met with mixed reactions. Women who had had miscarriages truly understood and as their eyes met mine, they knew.  And they passed their strength and understanding to me through that one look.  Others, who were as clueless as I had been, said they were sorry.  Some even said it was "for the best".  Others voiced their opinion that we already had enough children and God must not want us to have any more.  And then there was the comment, "Well, at least you have other children."  That cut to the heart.  It is the equivalent to walking up to a widow at her husband's funeral and saying, "Forget about your husband. You can always get married again."
     As time passed and I tried to make sense of everything, I understood that it happened for a reason, but I didn't know what that reason was. I mourned for a very long time.  I cried myself to sleep many nights, for a long time.
     We felt like the baby was a boy, and we named him Jonathan Michael.  It was Feb. 22nd and every year on that day, we celebrate his short life.
     Finally, I figured out that God was testing us.  When we said we trusted Him with the size of our family, did we mean just when He was adding to it -- or did we trust Him when He was subtracting?  That must be it.  And for a long time, something inside my mind nagged at me.  It told me that "God took my baby". I felt like I was being punished for something.
     The next year, we got pregnant again, and we had a healthy baby girl as the snow gently fell one December evening.  It was a rough delivery though.  I had not healed emotionally, and I could not let go of the nagging thought that God had taken one baby, what if He takes this one?

Our Second Loss - Letting Go

     The next year, we found that we were expecting. I breathed a sigh of relief as we passed the 14 week mark.  I felt like we were "home free".  Then at 16 weeks, there was that pink tinge on the toilet paper.  The pink tinge turned to spotting and then bleeding and I knew that God was about to take another one.   I didn't want to let go.  The spotting continued for a week.  I would not give in to the fact that I was going to lose my baby and was in major denial.  Finally, on the 7th night of bleeding, I went to bed and slept sound.  I had a dream.  I saw a baby girl.  She was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't understand her.  I kept asking her to repeat it.  Finally, about the third time, I heard her.  She was saying, "Say good-bye Mommy".  "Say good-bye.  You have to say good-bye."  I knew I was holding onto something that wasn't meant to be. I told her I was sorry and I told her good-bye and I would see her again.  The next day, the miscarriage completed.  It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving, 2003.  We named her Katie Faith, and we put an ornament for her on the Christmas tree.
     My faith actually increased through the losses.  I learned to trust God, but at the same time, in the back of my mind, I didn't trust Him.  Just when I thought I could trust Him, he pulled the rug out from under me. Each time, I came to terms with the loss and grew closer to God and was comforted that HE knew all things and that He was the potter and I was the clay.  He loved me and mourned with me.  But how could I know that He wouldn't do this to me again?
     When I got pregnant again, we went to a fertility specialist.  He told me that my miscarriages were most likely chromosomal.  Something in the baby had not developed properly and it couldn't survive.  I had a healthy baby after my first loss, so it was not something that was likely to repeat.  It "just happens".  In fact, 10-15% of pregnancies end in miscarriage.  It's not that rare.  But so far with that pregnancy, everything looked good.
     And it was.  We had a healthy little boy followed by a healthy little girl the next year.  We now had 7 children on this side of heaven - and 2 on the other side.

Our Third Loss - Earlier than before

     Our baby had just turned one and we had a positive pregnancy test. Then, again, the Saturday before Thanksgiving 2007, we had an early miscarriage at just 9 weeks.  We placed the perfectly formed, 1" long body of our baby in a silver heart shaped box and buried Sean Emmanuel in the flower garden amongst the Forget me Nots.  Five days later, as the Nation bowed to give thanks, we gave thanks for the new treasure we had stored up in heaven.

Our Fourth Loss - Did we lose a baby?

     The following year, we got pregnant again.  As we were planning a trip to Connecticut for my niece's wedding, the spotting started.  We didn't want to miss the wedding.  Three of the kids were to be in it and we really felt like we should go.  A sonogram showed a "blighted ovum".  This is when a fertilized egg implants in the uterus, and the sac and placenta develop, but the baby doesn't.  You would think that a miscarriage with no baby would be easier, physically, but for me, it wasn't. The bleeding increased as we drove to the coast and dressed for the wedding.  I spent much of the reception in the Ladies' Room.
     The next morning, we took the kids to the Atlantic Ocean.  I stood and looked out at the endless water and thought about the babies we had lost, and about the God who created them. My pregnant belly, just beginning to "show" was a constant reminder that a tiny placenta and an empty sack still lay within me. My salty tears dropped into the salty ocean.  The ocean was powerful, but the God who made it was even more powerful.  And I was His child.  And He loved me more than I could possibly imagine.
     As I sat there staring at the waves washing up on the shore, and my children marveling at the vastness of it all, I pondered what this "blighted ovum" meant.  Did we lose a baby if the baby didn't form? If there was no baby, was I even pregnant?  Then the answer came that I knew all along.  We believe life begins at conception.  The moment the egg was fertilized, life began.  I imagine that is also when a person's spirit is born. Psalm 139:16 says, "Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."  God saw the unformed body of that little one and ordained her days.  They were not to be on earth, but in heaven. She will have a body in heaven - a glorious one. We left the beach and headed for home. With each stop, the miscarriage progressed.  Finally, in a rest area on Rt. 80, it completed.  My hopes and dreams for this child were now gone. I flushed what was left of my pregnancy down a public toilet.  I cried the rest of the way home. And I prayed that God would never let me go through that pain again.      I had had a dream about the baby weeks before, and when I awoke, I knew that her name was Melissa Joy.  That's what we named her, and her ornament joined the others on the tree that Christmas. On the second anniversary of the loss of Melissa, I was pregnant with what would hopefully be our 8th living child. I was out of the country at 14 weeks and woke every morning wondering if I would lose the baby before I got home.  I didn't.  She was born in December.  Almost two years later, just after my 44th birthday, our 9th was born. 

By the time she was weaned, I was feeling like we were done.  Of course, it was up to God, but I no longer had the urge to have another baby.  Our oldest was now in college, I was caring for my parents and my husband's mother.  We were in the next stage of life.  My doctor asked me at a check up if we were done and I told her it seemed to be that way.  At my next appointment, I was pregnant.

     Two days before I was 10 weeks pregnant, (At age 45 and 1 week) there it was again.  I got out of bed last Wednesday morning, went to the bathroom - pink on the toilet paper.  NO! Not THIS again! I started to cry.  I knew the odds of having a baby at 45 were low.  I knew the risk of miscarriage was high.  But I had not felt that dread I know so well - that something isn't right. I had peace that things were going to be OK.  Little did I know it was -- but not in the way I expected.
     I asked for prayer.  Friends started telling me they had spotting and had a healthy baby.  I know it happens - but it had never happened to me.  I had never had spotting that didn't end in miscarriage.  I knew. Right then, I knew.
     I took a walk up the hill and ended up in my prayer circle in the woods.  I stood in the circle sobbing and yelling at God.  "What are you doing to me?  What could I possibly learn that I haven't already learned in FOUR miscarriages?  WHY are you taking my baby? Again?  I want to see the baby.  I want to know if it is a boy or girl.  I want to know what the baby's name would have been." I cried until I had no more tears. The late afternoon sun shone through the tree tops and illuminated the spot where I was standing.  I lifted my face to the sun and felt the warmth on my face.  Then, I turned to go home. I told God if He had anything to say to me, I was listening.
     It was the first night of our Awana Program.  I knew we needed to be there, but I also knew I couldn't be there.  I needed to stay home. The bleeding had picked up and the cramps had started.  I was so tired, so I went to bed in a quiet house, all alone, while the rest of the family went to church.
     Then while I slept, I had a dream.   I was walking through a field. The grass was knee high and blowing in the breeze. I looked up and saw an old church. There was a stone step in front of the church, and there was a baby boy sitting on it. He was probably about 9 months old. He had blonde hair and big blue eyes. He was laughing, cooing and smiling. Then he started waving at me. As I approached and started to bend down to pick him up, I looked at the church again and I knew it. It was the old Fairview Church on the hill at Porter Creek in Kentucky. The church where my great great great grandfather, Andrew Porter, an old fashioned Methodist Circuit Riding Minister, had worshipped. His son, Stephen, had built the church and was its first Pastor. It was Andrew and Stephen Porter's church. That's why he was there he communicated to me... So I would know his name. Andrew Stephen. He said he had to go to heaven because Jesus had a special job for him to do. He said he knew I didn't understand right now, but I would some day. He waved again and said bye bye. I told him it was ok for him to go. We wanted to hold him and watch him grow up, but if Jesus needed him, we would see him again when we get there.
I awoke and I was at peace. God had answered every question I had asked. I saw my baby. He was a boy. His name was Andrew Stephen. What did I have to learn that I had not learned in four previous losses? I knew that too. (See my next post - What it took me five miscarriages to learn)
     The next morning, I just felt like I needed to know what we were facing.  The spotting had gone from pink to brown to watery red and back to brown.  Then it stopped.  Then it started again.  I had never seen this pattern before.  I just needed to know.
     I called and got an appointment with an OB practice,  I explained what was happening and they said they could see me when I got there.  When we walked in the office, the receptionist told me they had canceled my appointment and wanted me to go across the street to the Women's Hospital and they would see me there.
     We went in and registered and were taken back to triage.  It was a few minutes after 11 am.  They gave me a gown and said they'd be back.  It seemed like forever as we sat watching the clock.  I already knew the baby was gone.  I just needed to know what to expect.
     Forty minutes later someone came in.  They needed bloodwork to see what my hcg level was.  After trying two different veins unsuccessfully, they called the lab.  Another wait.
     Finally a guy came in from lab and tried a different vein and drew 3 tubes of blood.  After a couple of jokes, he was gone.  We went back to watching the clock.  I wished we had stayed home.
     A while later, a woman came in and said she was there to do a sonogram.  She wheeled my bed down the hall and into the sonogram room.  Mike followed and stood by the door.  She said she wasn't allowed to tell me anything.  I told her I knew I was miscarrying.  I watched her face for any sign.  There were none. She clicked and measured and rolled the wand across my belly.  Mike watched from behind her. It seemed like an eternity - poked and prodded - and in the dark.
     When we were back in triage, I asked Mike what he saw.  He saw nothing.  (A father who has seen no less than 20 sonograms in 14 pregnancies - and who had worked on imaging software at a previous job - is pretty skilled in knowing what is on the screen.)  No heart beat, no baby.  She measured the sack and ovaries.  Checked my kidneys. That was all.
     "Blighted ovum".  Again.  They said it was rare.  They said I would probably never have another one.  I am always one to defy the odds...
     Sometime after 2:00 pm, a doctor came in.  I had never seen her before.  She asked me questions to ease the blow.  When did the spotting start?  What did it look like.  Then she told me that the sonogram showed an empty sack.  Before she could say the words, I said them.  "Blighted Ovum".  She looked surprised.  Most people don't know what that is.  I did. I knew it very well.  She said the sack measured 6 weeks gestation.  At 6 weeks my body realized there was no baby, and stopped growing.  It took 4 more weeks before the process began to expel what was left of the pregnancy.  Did I want a D and C or did I want to pass it on my own?  A week, maybe two.  If the miscarriage wasn't complete, call them.  Watch for high fever, heavy bleeding - all the routine warnings.  I've heard them before.  I've lived them before.  I knew what to watch for.
     I was released.  You may go - call us if you need us.
     By the time we got home, the pink and the brown turned to red.  It was like my body was given the go ahead to do what it had to do.  Cramps started and stopped.  A dull ache spread across my lower back. Pain radiated through my thighs and abdomen.  I was exhausted.  I slept.
    Friday morning I woke, hoping to just get things going and get it done.  I sat on the couch with my feet up and taught school.  I pretended like nothing was going on.  I read the story of Caesar Augustus. We talked about the senses in Science.  I checked English worksheets and told the kids we'd save Spelling Tests until Monday.  Surely this will be over by Monday?
     Saturday was a rare day with nothing on the calendar.  Nowhere to go.  Nothing to do.  This would be a perfect day to complete a miscarriage. I wrapped up in a warm flannel gown, put on a soft robe and slippers and sipped coffee while I typed out notes for my Sunday School class in case I wouldn't be able to go to church the next day.  The cramps continued, the bleeding increased.  The day came and went - I went to bed.
     Again, the family went to church.  I stayed home - with my youngest little one - not yet 2 - and Jehovah Rophi - the God who heals.
     I had a rare break from the cramps, so I got us dressed and we went for a walk - across the stream, up the hill, around the pond and into the woods - to my prayer circle.  The very circle I had stood in Wednesday afternoon, sobbing and questioning God.  This time, my heart was filled with gratitude.  For I had learned the lesson He had been trying to teach me for twelve years.  How could I have been so blind? How could I have blamed God?  How could I have been so arrogant to think it was all about me?  Now I knew.  Now, I had a thankful heart.  Two of my babies had gone to heaven at Thanksgiving time - and I didn't even see the connection.  Oh how He loves me...
     Cassie and I spent a lazy day at home.  I made us salmon and quinoa and green beans for lunch.  We lay in the hammock on the porch.  I read a book and waited.  Inside, my body worked at the job it had to do. But I was at peace.
     This morning (Monday) we got up, had breakfast and family prayer.  We talked about mutual respect for one another.  We read Ephesians 5:21 - Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.  Then we did morning chores and started school.  We got through spelling tests with a couple bathroom breaks.  I started to pass tissue.  I went back to teach Science.  Smelling and Tasting were the senses on today's agenda.  The kids worked on their worksheets.  My first grader cut her paper wrong.  I stood up to get the book to make another copy, and as I did, I felt my placenta detach from the wall of my uterus.  I ran to the bathroom - and the miscarriage completed.
     I had asked God after every loss - and at every positive pregnancy test - not to let me go through another loss.  Having just completed my fifth loss today, I can say that I serve a loving God and I am so thankful that I finally "get it".  Keep reading to find out what it took me five miscarriages to learn...

A History and Comparison of our Births

I had originally named this post, "A Brief History and Comparison of our Births", but as I wrote and wrote (and wrote), I realized it was not brief after all, so I took that word out. :)  Each story is relatively brief, but there are several stories in this one blog post, so combined, it makes for a very long post.  I hope you will humor me, as writing this all out was not just for boring my blog readers :-), but it is my "therapy" as I prepare for my next birth (any day now).  Sometime in the middle of the night last night, as I lay in bed wishing I was sleeping, I decided that I needed to write a history of my births, comparing my hospital births and homebirths as a "Part 2" to "Why we Choose to Birth at Home".

I hope, if you actually read through this epistle, that you will see what a HUGE difference there is and that there is just no comparison.  You can come to your own conclusion, but this is what works FOR US.

So without any further adieu... Here are the kinda, sorta short stories of the births of our children...

1993:  Our First Birth

Contractions began at 1:30 am and we called the doctor at 3:00 am.  She told us to go to the hospital.  When we arrived, the interventions began.  I was given morphine for pain, prostaglandin gel was inserted on my cervix, and they started a pitocin IV to get things moving quicker.  It wasn't until noon that they determined I was dilated 4 cm. and could have an epidural.  The anesthesiologist came in and sent my husband out of the room.  On his first try, his needle missed the mark.  He pulled it out to try again.  The second try also went astray, but when he pulled the needle back out, spinal fluid came with it and ran down my back.  Now, we had a problem.  He couldn't give me a full dose because he didn't know what the result would be.  He explained that it could numb my whole body - not just from the waist down.  I got half the normal dose, and he would become a pretty close companion over the next 24 hours, waking me every hour in the night to see if I had a spinal headache which would mean a lawsuit, in his mind.

After over an hour, Mike was allowed back in the room.  The drugs continued, I was only allowed to have ice chips and I was starving.  I wasn't allowed to eat in case I would have to have a cesarean.  They gave me an enema, shaved my perineum and kept an automatic blood pressure cuff and monitor on me at all times.  This meant I had to stay in the bed on my back.  Finally, they came in and screwed an electronic fetal monitor (electrode) into the baby's head to get a better read on her heart rate.  They never told me that they were concerned that she was posterior, and wasn't turning to a preferred anterior position, so about 3:00 pm they told me that they were going to prep me for a cesarean and we would be going to the operating room.

Mike "gowned up" and I was wheeled down the hall into a cold operating room.  The doctor came in and said I was "complete" and that we were going to attempt a vaginal delivery one time before he started the surgery.  I was bound and determined not to have a cesarean, so I decided then and there that this baby was coming out, no matter what.

When they told me to push, I pushed with all my might.  A nurse on either side pushed down on my abdomen while I pushed.  The blood pressure cuff on my arm continued to fill with air and release and when it was over, my arm was black and blue with bruises.  The doctor attached a vacuum extractor to the baby's head to help pull her out while I pushed.  In order to make her birth "easier", he did a medio lateral episiotomy.  The expulsion effort was so strong, I tore beyond the episiotomy and required several stitches.  It would be three weeks before I could sit comfortably and was given narcotics for pain relief when I left the hospital.

At 3:39 pm, our baby girl made her arrival into the hands of a stranger.  She was immediately handed off to a nurse who placed her on a table in the corner of the room to begin her assessment.  I had to lay still for the next 20 minutes while the doctor stitched up the tears and episiotomy and listen to everyone talk about my baby.  It wasn't until I was taken to recovery that I was allowed to touch her.  By then, she was swaddled in a blanket and the only exposed skin was her face.

Soon, they said that she had to go to the nursery for bloodwork, shots and more assessment.  They allowed Mike to go with her and I was left with a nurse in recovery who sat and told me that she was struggling with infertility and how lucky I was to have a baby.  She cried as she told me her story in depth and somehow it felt as if she took her pain out on me.  She forced me to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom and told me I was not allowed to come out until I had urinated.

After what seemed like an eternity, I was finally taken to my hospital room.  They brought the baby back in and I was finally allowed to spend some time getting to know her.  It was then that the photo (above) was taken.  We weren't allowed to have cameras in the operating room, so this was the first opportunity we had to record the "miracle of birth".

That night, I got a phone call in my room from the hospital accounting office saying that my OB's office had not submitted a referral for the birth to the insurance company, and they refused to pay for my hospital stay, so I would be released in the morning as soon as they did more bloodwork on our daughter.  We arrived home the next morning, with much healing ahead of us, but at least we had a beautiful, healthy baby!

1996: Our Second Birth

Not really knowing that there were other options, when we found out we were expecting our second child, we went to the same OB practice we had been going to for my prenatal care.  We were excited to find out we were having a boy this time and planned his birth at the same hospital.  The only snag was - we were moving.  When I was 8 months pregnant, we moved to a small farm 45 minutes away from the hospital.

A week before my due date, we drove down to the OB's office for a prenatal appointment, leaving our daughter, now 2 1/2, with her grandmother.  The OB determined that I was only dilated a centimeter, but I was having contractions that were coming about 11 minutes apart.  He was afraid for me to go home in case labor kicked in and we would be rushing to get back to the hospital, so he said to go and "hang out" at the hospital for awhile and see what they could do to get things going.

We went to the hospital, and the nurses encouraged me to walk around the halls to see if anything changed.  They inserted prostaglandin gel on my cervix again to try to get it to dilate quicker.  The contractions continued to get closer and closer, but my cervix wasn't dilating.  They kept me overnight, but when they checked me in the morning at shift change, there wasn't enough progress to keep me any longer, and they sent me home.

We drove back to Grandma's to get our daughter, and started the drive home.  About half way, as I was lying in the back seat, sick to my stomach and still having regular contractions, I started throwing up.  At the same time, there was a pop, and my water broke.  Mike called the doctor's office and they told us to go back to the hospital.

We took our daughter back to Grandma's and went back to the hospital.  I got gowned and was placed in the same bed I had just vacated.  An internal exam showed that I was now dilated to 4 cm. so they came in to give me an epidural.  I had bad memories of the epidural in my first birth, but they insisted that it would make the "worst part" so much better.  There were no problems this time, so I continued to labor quietly for the next four hours until they said I was completely dilated and the doctor would be in shortly.  They prepped me to start the pushing stage.  There was no discussion of the baby's position and I wondered if he, too, were posterior.

The doctor came in and took his place at the end of the bed while I lay flat on my back with my feet up in stirrups.  He asked the nurse for the vacuum extractor and slipped it onto the baby's head.  As the baby descended, the doctor commented that the baby was attempting to turn to a posterior position, so he was holding that vacuum extractor tightly to keep him from turning!  As my 9 lb. 4 oz. baby was born, the doctor commented that he was in fact posterior and he "must have been trying to turn anterior - oh, well!"  He then said that having a posterior baby was like adding an extra pound to their birth weight, and if I could birth a 9 lb. 4 oz. baby in a posterior position, I would have no problem birthing an 11 pounder next time.  I was not amused.

They whisked the baby off to a table to wash and swaddle him and poke and prod him and then they finally brought the little wiggly cocoon and laid him on my chest while I lay still on my back in the same position waiting for the stitching to be completed as I had torn along the scar tissue from my previous birth wounds.
Finally, I was able to nurse him and when the nurse felt he was "done", she said he had to go to the nursery for his thorough exam and testing.

There was much less "trauma" in this birth and while I had been drugged and numbed and cut, I felt that it was a great improvement over my first birth.  We went home the next day to our new home with another healthy baby.  What a blessing!


1998: Our Third Birth: A Change in Plans

If something is working, you stick with it, so we went to the same OB practice for baby #3.  Then something changed.  A new OB joined the practice, and I was assigned to her.  She had a very elitist attitude and let me know immediately that she was the expert, and my opinions didn't matter.  I left the office in tears after several appointments and told Mike that there was NO WAY I wanted her delivering our baby!  I asked if they could assure me that someone else would deliver and they said that I would get whoever was on call when I happened to go into labor.  That risk was not acceptable to me, so we began to pray for wisdom.

About that time, we began looking for a family cow.  (Yes, I said cow. lol)  Friends of ours had friends who were dairy farmers, and we invited them over to talk cows.  It "just so happened" that the wife was a midwife. ;) While the men were in the barn, we had a "birth chat" over coffee and pie.  When I saw her level of knowledge on birth, I started asking her opinion about the things I had butted heads with the OB over.  She began to lay out for me a very different picture of what birth could be like.  I gave her my birth history and said, "but, at least we got two healthy babies, and that's the important thing."  She replied, "Is it?"  I told her the OB had told me that if I had already had two posterior babies, they would all be posterior and there was nothing I could do about it.  She said that wasn't necessarily so.  She gave me some advise on how to respond to the OB and invited me to call her if I had any more questions.

To make a long story short (you can read the full birth story here, if you're interested),  we ended up firing our OB at 7 months along in the pregnancy and hiring our new friend as our midwife.

Because I had undergone two births where I had no control over any of the details, I needed some coaching to get through our first homebirth, and our midwife did a great job "reading" the situation and providing the support that we needed.

Our son was born in our bed, 3 days after his due date. His sister and MomMom watched from the side of the bed while his Dad supported me through the labor and the midwife sat on the end of the bed, waiting to catch him.  His 2 1/2 year old brother stayed downstairs with the midwife's daughter who helped to keep him occupied while everyone else was busy.  He had been posterior, but as he descended, he turned anterior for the birth. (Imagine that!)

I had no drugs, no IV's, no episiotomy and no interventions.  The midwife used counterpressure as his head crowned to prevent tearing, and I had only a small skin split on my scar tissue that didn't even warrant stitching.

After the birth, I got into my own shower and then went back to my own bed, which the midwife had changed while I was in the bathroom.  Our new son lay between my husband and me that night and nursed on demand.  He wasn't poked or prodded, just gently assessed by the midwife while we held him.

Recovery was much quicker, and I felt like the blinders had come off and I could finally see what birth was supposed to be like.  It was an amazing experience!!

2000: Our Fourth Birth - A New Technique

Our third son was only 9 months old when the next child was conceived.  We didn't even realize that I was pregnant until I was already into my 4th month and getting more and more frustrated that my clothes didn't fit!  (Again, you can read the full birth story here, if you are interested.)  On Christmas morning, after feeling a baby kicking the night before, I took a pregnancy test which, of course, was VERY positive!  What a wonderful gift!

We knew that homebirth was our only option and we would never go back to the hospital unless an emergency warranted it.  We called our midwife and started prenatal appointments.  By this time, I was pretty much a homebirth junkie and had read everything I could find about homebirth.  I had several friends online who also homebirthed, and a few of us started an email list for homebirthers to share ideas and support each other in our pregnancies and births.

I kept hearing about waterbirths and was intrigued by the whole process.  It just made sense and seemed so natural and a perfect transition for the baby, not to mention the benefits to the mother.  We talked to our midwife about the possibility of having a home waterbirth.  She had read much about it, too, but had never attended a waterbirth.  We set out to learn together and began planning a waterbirth.  We purchased a portable hot tub and as the due date approached, we set it up in our mud room.  Of course, since I had missed my first trimester, the baby decided she would allow me to experience pregnancy a little longer and waited 15 days past her due date to decide it was her birth day!

My water broke that morning, and I went about the day in a normal way, picking raspberries, making a cake, putting a roast in the oven for dinner, etc.  I had a few contractions off and on throughout the day, but nothing that would indicate labor was beginning.  Our midwife noticed that while the baby was head down, she appeared to be leaning out instead of being vertical, which was not allowing her head to come into direct contact with my cervix to cause dilation.  We had also read about a tummy lift technique that would get the baby in that vertical position, so with the next contraction, I tried it.

Immediately, the hard contractions started coming.  After a few contractions, I felt it was time to get into the hot tub.  One hour from that first contraction, I was holding my baby, who had been born in the water, into her Daddy's hands, while the midwife, my Mom and the two oldest kids watched.  (Our youngest son was napping.)  If our first homebirth was amazing, our first waterbirth was incredible!  The pain had been so much less and the birth had gone so fast, I wondered if I had dreamed the whole birth!  What a difference from our hospital births!!!

2001: Our First Loss

The following year, we found we were expecting again, and couldn't wait for our next homebirth. At 14 weeks, I started spotting, which was a new experience for me.  I didn't know anyone who had had a miscarriage and it just wasn't something that I even considered.  Our midwife prescribed herbs to help stop the bleeding and supported us through our time of unknowing, but the spotting continued and ended in the loss of our precious baby.  A doctor friend did a sonogram and confirmed that our child was not to be.  We named him Jonathan Michael, and handed him to the Lord to watch for us until we are reunited.  We had been thrown into a new experience, and it took many months to come to grips with our loss.  We had a page on our website dedicated to our babies who are with the Lord, but it is outdated and the link isn't working.  When we get our new website up, I will come back and post the link here.

2002: Our Fifth Birth - Unforeseen Changes

The following March, we discovered that we had been blessed again.  Fear gripped me as I pondered whether this pregnancy would end with a baby or another loss.  We had begun looking for a new home as our farm had grown and we were outgrowing our land.

We found a farm 2 hours North of us, in NW PA, just South of the New York border.  We moved in on Memorial Day, and our baby was due in December.

We were now almost two hours from our midwife, but she agreed to travel to us for our appointments and birth.  We now lived in the snow belt where snow storms come fast and furious, so we discussed the possibility that she might not be able to make it to our house in time for the birth.

In early December she came for an appointment and decided to stay as it looked like things were getting close.  She stayed for several days, but we finally released her to go home, telling her we would call her when something happened.  (You can read the full birth story here.)

As the midwife backed out of the driveway, a strong contraction gripped me, but I hesitated to call her back, as we had had many false alarms, and we had come to realize that my normal labor pattern was one of weeks of prodromal labor, ending in a short birth.

The contractions continued as the snow fell outside, and I got into the hot tub to relax.  Our baby was born into her Daddy's hands just as our midwife pulled into her driveway two hours away.  It was our first "Unplanned Unassisted" waterbirth.  By now, I had become comfortable enough with the birth process that I didn't need coaching, and needed to spend time laboring alone, listening to my body.  Also, my labor pattern made it difficult to know when the prodromal labor ended and the "real" labor began, so it wasn't until I was pushing that I realized the baby was going to be born that day.  There was a little excitement after the birth which turned into something of a comedy of errors, but in the end all was well and we had had another beautiful home waterbirth in our new home.

2003: Another Loss


The following year, we conceived again and were excited to be expecting our sixth baby.  Of course, once you have experienced a loss, those fears remain with you and you never breathe easy until you have passed the point in gestation where you feel "safe".  Our first loss had been at 14 weeks, so at the end of my 14th week, I began to breathe a little easier.  Two weeks later, however, I awoke to find spotting again.  I now knew the signs and I faced the reality of what was happening.  Our midwife and my homebirth friends tried to reassure me that spotting can occur for many reasons and it doesn't necessarily mean a miscarriage, but I had felt uneasy throughout the whole pregnancy and had never had peace about it.  One night I had a dream about the baby.  I couldn't see her, but I heard a little voice saying, "Say Goodbye, Mommy."  I told her I didn't want to say goodbye.  She told me I had to let her go, so after much prayer and counsel with my husband, we said goodbye and let her go.  We were at peace that she was with the Lord and that we would see her and her brother again some day.  I know for sure that experience does not make some situations easier.  This loss was just as hard as our first, but I have had many opportunities to help other women who were going through miscarriages and I felt like I understood their suffering and could help them work through the pain.  We named our baby Katherine Faith and we know that Katie and Jonathan are playing on  heaven's playground.

2005: Our Sixth Birth - A Healing Birth

When we discovered we were expecting again, we decided to go to a high risk OB who specialized in pregnancy loss to make sure that there was nothing genetic that was causing our losses.  After several tests, he determined that our previous losses were the result of something going wrong with the pregnancy and the baby just didn't develop correctly.  Because of the timing of the losses, it didn't indicate low progesterone, which is a common cause in early miscarriage.

Armed with this knowledge and trusting the Lord, we began planning our next home waterbirth.  Our midwife was not allowed to practice while a lawsuit was pending, so we had to decide what to do.  While our previous birth had been unassisted, we didn't feel ready to go that route again, so we hired a local midwife and her apprentice.

I had the same prodromal labor pattern as I always had, and on the evening of my due date, I got into the hot tub just to relax and spend some time with the jets massaging my lower back.  This was the first baby who was in an anterior position, so it was a bit different than what I was used to.  I was having contractions, but nothing consistent and certainly not getting closer together or stronger.  I was planning to get out, dress and go to bed for the night, but I was stopped by the urge to bear down!

My oldest daughter came in and I told her to ask her Dad to get his swimsuit on and get in the hot tub if he was going to catch the baby, and to call the midwife and let her know I was pushing. No one could believe that I was about to have a baby (including myself!)  The midwife was a half hour away and still had to load her equipment into the car, but she said she and her apprentice would be here as soon as possible.

In 10 minutes, I was holding our son.  He was born at 10:45 pm in the water in our sunroom, with only a lamp on.  Soft praise music played in the background, the snow fell softly outside and the birth was so quiet and peaceful with labor lasting a total of 45 minutes from when I realized I was in active labor!  All of his brothers and sisters stood around the tub in awe as he was born. We could feel the presence of God in the room, and as his Dad lifted him out of the water and into my arms, he lifted his arms as if in praise to God.  This was the most incredible, peaceful, awe inspiring birth I had yet experienced and was SO thankful that God was in the details! (You can read all of the details of his birth story here.)

2006:  Our Seventh Birth - Facing the Unknown

On our son's first birthday, I had a positive pregnancy test.  I was eager to repeat the same experience I had gone through a year previous on the day of his birth.  It had been such a beautiful birth, I was eager to do it again!

Since our two previous births had been unassisted, though not planned that way, we felt at peace with planning another unassisted birth.

The baby stayed posterior throughout the pregnancy and at 35 weeks the contractions started and my prodromal labor started.  It continued for five weeks and on my due date, the contractions really picked up and I got into the hot tub about 1:00 pm waiting to see if they would peter out or continue.  They continued, and I anticipated a quick, peaceful birth like the last one - but that was a dream that wasn't to come true!

The labor progressed, but very slowly.  I thought I knew just about everything there was to know about childbirth at this point.  I had a whole bookcase filled with childbirth books which I had read many times.  I was now hosting a homebirth email list that had grown to over 200 members.  I felt that I was an expert on the topic, but yet I had no idea what was going on and why labor was taking so long.

Finally, I knew I was complete and the baby was moving into the birth canal.  I breathed a sign of relief thinking that all I had do was push her out and the hard work would be over pretty quickly.  Little did I know that I would not see her for another three hours!  I spent a lot of that time alone in the hot tub with God, praying for wisdom and peace.  At one point, I got out of the tub to go to the bathroom and Mike and I discussed whether or not to go to the hospital as I was wondering if the cord was around her neck or that we would be facing an emergency.  Mike prayed for me and the baby and for wisdom to know what to do. God gave me the verse, "Trust the Lord with all your heart and lean NOT on your OWN understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your path."  I then realized that I was leaning on my own understanding of birth and had left God out of the equation.  I asked for forgiveness for my arrogance and prayed for God to direct my path.  Mike and I both felt at peace with continuing on at home.  I got back into the hot tub and in a few minutes, I was bearing down and preparing to meet our daughter - finally!  When she was born, the mystery of the slow labor was revealed.  She had her hands on her ears, and  her elbows were sticking out, just as they had been during the sonogram.  Midwives refer to this as nuchal hands.  The baby's head is usually the largest part and once the head is through the birth canal, the rest of the body slips through effortlessly.  This time, the largest part was her chest with an upper arm and lower arm's width on each side to push through the birth canal.  (Put your hands on your ears and see how wide you now are at the shoulders!)  To make matters worse, she was still in an intact sack (She was "born in the caul").  My water never broke, so the sack held her tightly in that position.  A midwife friend of mine later told me that if my water had broken, she would not have been cushioned for her trip through the birth canal, and we may have had a very different result, so that was all part of God's plan for the birth!

I definitely learned the lesson that I will never know everything about anything and it's best just to trust the Lord and have total faith in him!


2007/2008: More Loss - More Faith - More Trust

In 2007, we had another "plus" on a pregnancy test and began planning for #7.  This time, the spotting started at 9 weeks and his little body was birthed into my hands on the Saturday following Thanksgiving.  We thanked God for his short life and buried him among the Forget Me Nots in our flower garden.  We gave him the name Sean Emanuel.  Sean means "God is Gracious" and Emanuel means "God is with us".   We now had six living children, and half as many in heaven.

The following year, I conceived again, and we were excited to be expecting another blessing.  Our niece was getting married several states away and three of our children were to be in the wedding.  A week before we were to leave, I started spotting again.  The pain and frustration I felt was indescribable!  We went to the hospital for a sonogram, and the report was that I had a blighted ovum.  The placenta and sack had developed, but there was no baby in it.  We were told that the miscarriage would progress and at some point in the next couple of weeks, I would spontaneously lose what was left of the pregnancy.  We prayed about what to do and felt at peace about going on with our plans to attend the wedding.  It was an emotional struggle.  My body still thought it was pregnant, and I was still dealing with morning sickness, a growing belly and other pregnancy symptoms, but I knew that before long, I would face the end of it all.

We got through the wedding and reception and the spotting became heavier as we prepared to start for home.  We spent a relaxing morning at the beach and I came to terms with my situation as I sat and looked at the Atlantic Ocean.  The waves seemed to take my pain out to sea and as they came back onto the beach, they brought hope for healing.

On the way home, the cramping got heavier and we stopped at a rest area.  It was there that the miscarriage was completed and I returned home feeling empty.  I struggled with the question of whether I had lost a baby or just the "products of conception" as the sonogram report had called it. My husband reminded me that life begins at conception, so yes, we had lost a life.  I had already dreamed about the baby and she had told me her name was Melissa Joy, so that is what we named her.

2009: Our Eighth Birth: Answered Prayer

After two losses in a row, I thought my childbearing days were coming to an end.  But God had other plans for us.  In March, I had another positive pregnancy test, but I wasn't excited about it.  In my mind, that meant that a few weeks down the road, I would just have another miscarriage.  I didn't even want to tell anyone.  As time went on, I began to feel the healing touch of God and was hopeful that as the waves of the ocean had come back to me, God's grace had come back to me and we would be having a baby in December.

As I got past 9 weeks, and then 14 weeks and then 16 weeks, I was feeling very positive about the pregnancy and looking forward to another homebirth.  Again, we decided to have an unassisted waterbirth.  Prodromal labor started at 35 weeks again, and I felt sure this one was going to be early.  My due date came, though, and she was still hanging out in there.

Four days after my due date, I started having panic attacks and felt oppression.  It was just like a cloud of depression was hanging over me and I had great fear.  I had dreamed that the baby died at birth and I even dreamed the details of her funeral and burial!!  My heart raced and my blood pressure went up and I thought I was dying!  After calling two friends, a doctor and a midwife, and talking with my sister on the phone for awhile, we came to the conclusion that what I was experiencing was spiritual warfare.  Mike and my sister and I prayed for victory over the enemy and for trust in the Lord.  The Bible says that God inhabits the praise of His people, and where God is, the devil has to flee, so I began just pacing the floor praising God and singing praises.  I walked and paced and felt strong contractions in the process.  The fear and panic left me and I was finally at peace.  We had chosen the name Arabella, which means Answer to Prayer, or Altar of God.  She was to be named after my great aunt who was a saint and prayer warrior.  God showed me that our Arabella would serve Him in a similar way and that He would use her for His glory.  As I went to bed that night, I told Mike and my sister that I was going to sleep and that my water would probably break in the morning and we would have a baby.

At 6 am, I awoke to a pop, and water trickling between my legs.  I woke Mike up and said, "My water broke."  I don't think he believed me at first since I had predicted it just before going to bed. ;)

We got up and made some phone calls to say that the baby was most likely going to be born today.  Contractions were not in an established pattern, so I waited awhile to get in the hot tub.  My water had broken in my fourth birth and it was 12 hours before labor started, so I figured it would be awhile.

Eventually, I decided to get into the hot tub and see if relaxing would help get things moving along.  I spent some time alone, listening to Christmas Carols and Songs of Praise, thinking about Jesus' birth.  Finally, I told Mike he could start thinking about getting in.  The kids played quietly upstairs and allowed me to labor in peace.  Finally, the baby moved down into the birth canal and in a short time, I could feel her head crowning.  Mike yelled for the kids to come down for the birth and they made it just in time to watch their sister being born.  It was 2:54 pm.  As I wasn't sure when active labor started, I really had no idea how long I was actually in labor, but it wasn't very long.

Arabella - our Answer to Prayer, was the newest member of our family.  She restored the hope I had lost after our miscarriages and she was such a joy, we named her Arabella Joy. :)

2011 - Our Ninth Birth - Yet to be Written

As I type this, I am 12 days away from my due date with #9.  Her birth story is still unwritten and we don't know how it will turn out.  She has been posterior throughout most of the pregnancy, but last week she turned anterior!  There are signs that her birth is getting closer, and I am praying for a short, peaceful labor and delivery like our youngest son's.  But that is a blog post that has yet to be written! :)

Thanks for bearing with me as I got this all out of my system. :)