Two Weeks

It's been 2 weeks since our little angel was born. Time is a very funny thing. On one hand, it feels like I was just holding her in my arms, on the other, it feels like an eternity since I have looked upon her or touched her. The pain of losing her isn't as raw as it was at first, it has become deeper, something that is always there, always hurting, but at times we can be genuinely happy about other things. It is still an emotional rollercoaster with the good being better than before, but the bad being harder than before. It seems as the more time that goes by, the harder it is to deal with her dying. I think it's because of how long it's been since I've seen her, in person, and I know that I will never be able to see her in person ever again. That's a long time. I miss her. I miss being pregnant with her. I miss feeling and watching her move. I miss my hopes for her future. I miss her.

I remember when I first saw her. Right when she was born, Ken asked me if I wanted to see her. I didn't want to yet. Not because I didn't want to, I wanted to more than anything, but because I knew that the placenta still needed to come out and that it would hurt, and I was already getting so tired, and I was afraid that I would drop her. But, I looked over at the bassinet and although I couldn't see her, I could see Ken looking at her and the nurses looking at her and I knew that she was beautiful and I knew it would be heartbreaking to see her. When I finally got to see her 3 hours after she was born, I knew I had already lost a lot of time with her. The nurse brought her over to me and gently placed her in my arms. I was so happy to finally see her after waiting months to do so. I remember the weight of her in my arms and I was surprised at that because she looked so tiny, but she had substance! I was worried that if I moved I would hurt her, so I held as still as possible. I stared into her tiny face and noticed her little mouth right away. It looked just like Bella's. Then I looked at her eyes and saw her beautiful long dark eyelashes. Her little features were so tiny but so perfect. Her hands and fingers were perfect, and she had the tiniest fingernails. I touched her hand and her fingers were so soft and little. I only could hold her for a short time because I started feeling sick because of the medicine from the surgery, and after that I was so drugged up that my remaining time with her is blurry. I remember the photographer getting there and taking pictures of her. I remember the kids coming in with Terri and Sarah. Clara was in the bassinet and as I waved and said hi to them, they could see my precious baby. Nathan and Isabel went right to her and oooh'd and aaah'd. I remember her getting baptized and Nathan pouring the water into the little shell and the pastor reciting the dialogue that we picked for her. I remember holding her again and the photographer taking pictures of our whole family, all 5 of us. The only pictures we will ever have of the 5 of us. I remember when it was time to finally say good-bye. The nurse put her in the bassinet to take her away and I asked to see her one more time. The nurse handed her to me again and I held her and tried to memorize everything about her. I finally gave her back to the nurse and watched her place Clara in the bassinet and wheel her out. I got 2 1/2 hours with my daughter. She was born at 5:04 pm, I saw her at 8:00 pm, and I let her go at 10:30 pm.

Holding Clara for the 1st time

These are My Footprints

I saw this poem online in a group for other late-term losses and thought it was just so perfect, so I wanted to share it.

"These are my footprints, so perfect and so small.
These tiny footprints, never touched the ground at all.

Not one tiny footprint, for now I have my wings.
These tiny footprints were meant for other things.

You will hear my tiny footprints, in the patter of the rain.
Gentle drops like angels tears, of joy and not from pain.

You will see my tiny footprints, in each butterflies' lazy dance.
I'll let you know I'm with you, if you give me just a chance.

You will see my tiny footprints, in the rustle of the leaves.
I will whisper names into the wind, and call each one that grieves.

Most of all, these tiny footprints, are found in mommy's heart,
cause even though I'm gone now, we'll never truly part."

Amnio Results

We got Clara's amnio results in yesterday and she was perfect. Nothing was wrong with her, no down syndrome, no Trisomy 18, and no Trisomy 13. All of her chromosomes were just perfect and she should have been healthy. It was a very weird feeling to know that your baby should have been fine, but she is not. The tech from the perinatologist's office that called sounded very happy to report that our little girl was just perfect! Too bad she's dead.

Ken and I of course didn't want something wrong with her, but it would make us feel just a tiny bit better knowing that if she did have a chromosome issue, at least she didn't spend her life suffering. It just reopened any amount of healing we had done and made it that much more senseless.

My Dr. called today and was so very sweet. She again said that she was so very sorry and asked how we were holding up. She said that Clara's chromosomes were all normal and that she too was hoping that something would show up in the amnio to explain why Clara had died. About 1/2 of stillbirths are caused by unknown origins. That's a whole lot! My Dr. said that with the cord so tight around her neck, that could have definitely caused her death, but she's not positive. Something happened, we just don't know what. Nothing so far explains why she was so small, she could have also had a placental issue along with her cord issues. We also got the pathology report back from the placenta and they didn't find anything there which is what my Dr. said usually happens. But we did find out that she really did have a 3 vessel cord so the mystery as to why she was so small is bigger. So, we have a part of an answer why our healthy baby died. Her stupid cord completely ripped her off. My Dr. had gone over Clara's ultrasounds again, and said they did see the heartrate decels from our bad ultrasound and the low fluid, so something was definitely up with Clara. My Dr. also believes that something was going on with her, we just will never know what. We just made the best decision based on the facts we had that she would be better off in me, but with close supervision. It just didn't end up ok.

I asked my Dr. if Ken and I should worry about having more children, and she said that as horrible as it sounds, and she didn't have a medical term for it, but we've just had really crappy luck our last two pregnancies and our odds are good at having a healthy baby. Just as good as before. She said that with a 3rd trimester loss like ours with Clara, any future pregnancies would be watched very carefully for anything that might go wrong starting at 6 weeks with ultrasounds. Of course this doesn't guarantee us a healthy baby at the end, but hopefully that would be the case! We don't know what we want at this time. We are terrified at the thought of losing another baby. I have my follow-up appointment next week with my Dr. so we can ask any additional questions we may have at that point, but for now, we are just focusing on recovering, healing, and moving forward.

Black

The first thing that I thought about when I woke up this morning was the song, "Paint it Black" by the Rolling Stones. It seemed to fit my mood and what I was thinking perfectly. I wasn't going to post today because I didn't see the point. I'm not in a very positive mood or even very willing to look on the bright side right now. There is no bright side. I think that everything would look much better black today. I decided to post for 2 reasons. First, this process isn't uplifting or full of hope and sunshine. It's mainly horribly sad and heartbreaking, filled with brief moments of almost normal living, but I realized that even if I didn't have anything positive to say, the negative should not be ignored. Second, Ken said this afternoon that we should listen to the song, "Paint it Black". Ha! I did have to laugh at that because we were both thinking the same thing, and after he said that I knew I had to post even in my black mood.

Yesterday was a very hard day. I was missing my little butterfly so very much. The REAL realization that I would never see her again in this lifetime hit me really hard. I have barely made it through this week, so how am I supposed to make it through my life? Sometimes I still forget that I am not pregnant with her anymore. I think I feel her little kicks, I put my hand on my stomach, I avoid certain foods that aren't safe while pregnant, then I remember. And every time I remember it just rips open the pain of her loss. I KNOW it gets better. I know this, but it doesn't help at this moment.

Ken and I went on a walk today and were talking about Clara. We talked about how although we are incredibly thankful for Taters and Bella, it doesn't mitigate the loss of Clara. We know we are fortunate to have 2 healthy children and thank God every day for them, we still wanted our Clara too, and to not have her here with us breaks our hearts. One does not negate the other. We also talked about how people say that everything happens for a reason, and well, maybe it does. But maybe it doesn't too. Things would make a lot more sense if nothing happened for a reason and that would sure explain why babies die and why children suffer.

I actually ventured out by myself today. I went to the gas station and to Subway to pick up lunch. I am having a really hard time functioning in normal society which is very not me. I am and always have been a very social creature, but now I have horrid social anxiety. At the gas station, I didn't have to talk to anybody, but I just stared at the pump for about 2 minutes. I didn't think maybe I should be doing something, or maybe I shouldn't just be standing here, I just stood there staring at the pump. Finally my brain kicked in and I realized I needed to actually DO something to get gas in my car. When I got to Subway, I dreaded going in and I just wanted it over with. I did go in and told the guy what I wanted. He was really nice, but he probably thought I was a very weird person. He would ask me a question and I would stare at him for a moment and then answer, and half of what I said to him didn't make any sense at all. Amazingly, I did walk out of there with 4 sandwiches that were what we had wanted! When I was driving back home, I had a minor panic attack from having to deal with a person. It's very disorienting to not know what is happening most of the time. Everything is so confusing. I don't want to be around anyone but my kids and Ken. At least we all know how we are all dealing with Clara's death, at least we don't have to put on a brave face for anyone while we are at home.

So, this is obviously not a happy post at all, but it is still an honest post. One more step in this whole "process".

Nightmare

I had this horrible nightmare last night that my daughter died. I woke up holding my stomach and thinking, "how horrible if that had really happened!" Then I remembered. I am living my nightmare. I hate that I couldn't do anything to save her. I had this completely irrational thought the moment she was born. I thought, well, she's out now, maybe they can still save her.

I hate that all of the pictures I have of her after she's born are of her already gone. I hate that it was normal for us to talk about her with words such as death, morgue, mortuary, casket, funeral. The people that took care of her all had to do with death. The nurses, the funeral director. They were all compassionate and caring and talked about her like a real person, which I am thankful for. It's just so opposite of what it should be.

We have 3 folders that we keep close from our time with Clara. One is from the hospital with different papers going over how to cope after losing your baby. One is from pastoral care that goes over different support groups and ways to handle grief. One is from the funeral home with her information in it. Why we keep these folders so close I'm not exactly sure. It's not like they are happy memories. It is all we have of her though and we are desperate to hold onto anything related to her. We have her memory box, folders, and a few pictures. We need to find a good place to keep these, but we haven't done that yet. Putting these things away seems like a step I'm not ready to make yet.

We got a call from the mortuary a couple of days ago. They were just checking to make sure we were happy with her service and to see when we wanted to come in to pick out her headstone. What was funny was I had a moment of panic when I saw who had called because I was worried something had happened to Clara. But no, everything was just fine. This whole process is so weird! I really have no other word for it.

It feels like someone jumped in front of me, ripped out my heart, tore it up, and stuffed it back in my chest. Now I have to figure out how to mend it and determine which piece goes where. It will never be whole again, but it will be functional.

I have always been intrigued by death and it never has held much fear for me. Now, even less. I was telling Ken yesterday that although I don't remember having to get surgery after Clara was born, and even though I can't say that I fought to live during it, I am glad that I lived and if I had known, I would have fought to stay with him and Nathan and Isabel. I think that whole experience really freaked both of us out, and Ken says that he now understands how mothers can die during childbirth. It just takes a simple thing going wrong. I have no desire to die now or anytime soon, and I do look forward to seeing Clara again someday and to hold her in my arms. But for now, I have 3 people that need me so very much and who I need as well.

Anger and Fear

Anger is the emotion that I feel the most today. It has come and gone in the past week, but today I am the most angry. I am angry that it was my baby that died. I am angry that my daughter doesn't even get the chance to live her life. I am angry for Nathan and Isabel that they don't get to hold their sister and grow up with her. I am angry for Ken and I that we have to carry her in our hearts and not in our arms.

Ken and I are awesome parents and would have given her so much and it's not fair. Oh, I know that life is not fair, it's a fact I have to repeatedly remind my children of, but damnit, life is really not fair. We had so many plans for her already, and had visions of how Nathan, Isabel, and Clara would grow up together. The thought of how Taters and Bella would make her laugh and smile, and laugh at her in return. We had packed away Bella's old clothes to save for Clara, and her many many Princess items that Clara would love when she got big enough. We had registered for her baby shower the Sunday before she died, picking out binkies, bedding, washclothes, and all the necessities that babies need. I was excited at the thought of having my little boy and my two little girls. It seemed that everything was going to be just perfect.

I have an angry song that I listen to, it's by Adele and called Set Fire to the Rain. Although I'm not even a fan of Adele, I really like this song. The beat, rhythm, words. It makes me feel better. Nathan and I have a great time listening to this song.

The crushing waves of sadness still come, but I am starting to believe that it really will be ok. We can laugh, and although it shocks me when I laugh, it's good to know I still can. I left my brain somewhere along this sad road, I can't remember or focus on anything, but I think I will find it again. Everything is so unsettled and it's hard to find my way sometimes, but I also think once I figure out how I fit into this new world, life will make more sense.

Nathan and Isabel seem to be doing so much better. They went back to school on Wednesday and although they both seemed apprehensive to go, Nathan being especially moody the night before and that morning, they both seemed relieved and happy when they came home from school. Ken and I got them some books on death, and one that we both really like is called Water Bugs and Dragonflies. It's a little story about water bugs watching their companions climb up the lily pad, but they never come back and the water bugs wonder where they went and why they didn't come back. One day, one of the water bugs finds himself climbing up the lily pad and falls asleep when he reaches the top. He wakes up and is now a dragonfly. He tries to go back into the water to tell his friends what happened, but finds that he cannot because he is now a dragonfly and not a water bug. He is happy and tells himself that he will share in the happiness with his friends when it is their time to become dragonflies. It's a very nice story about death, bodily change, and why people that die can't come back. We also got them each an activity book called What to do When Someone Special Dies. They were VERY excited about these. We have always had them do activity books and we talk a lot about feelings, so this was just perfect for them! They started working on their books right away and were so excited about them. I think that the books helped them tremendously. It gave them something solid to look through and helped to validate their feelings.

Nathan doesn't bring up Clara often, but that is Nathan's way. He has a picture of her little feet in his room and he set 3 pencil sharpeners around it and said that they were Clara's guards. He doesn't seem as angry as he has seemed, and that makes me feel better. Isabel asks to see my stomach sometimes, and gets sad when she sees how small it is. Hey, it makes me sad too! I'm not sure why she keeps asking to see my stomach, but I think she's making sure or reminding herself that Clara really isn't here anymore. Ken is doing well. It's hard on him still and he keeps his happy penguin with him. He put his other penguin in Clara's casket with her. He loves his little girl and misses her so very much. It's important for people to know that I'm not the only one that lost a daughter, Ken did every bit as much as me. Even though he didn't carry her in his body that was still his baby and he mourns her every bit as much as I do. He's such an amazing person. He has made me do day to day things and although I've gotten frustrated with him at times for forcing me to function, I'm glad that he has because it does make it easier. He is dealing with Clara's death as well as he can.

Fear also comes creeping up at different times. I have always been a worrier, but in some ways that has become worse. I worry more about Nathan and Isabel and their safety. I know that chances are good that they will be just fine and I still have to let them grow, but it scares me now more than ever that something will happen to one of them. I don't know how I could handle that.

I also fear that people will forget about Clara. I know as time goes on, people will put her to the back of their minds, and that's normal. I am just so afraid that she won't matter in people's thoughts and she deserves to be remembered and to matter. Her life was short but she had a life. I fear not feeling so sad anymore because right now, that sadness is how I know I love my daughter. I fear the day when I might not feel sad on that day at all, or even think of her. What does that mean? How could I not feel sad about my daughter dying? I hear that there comes a time when you can think about your child and not feel the sting of pain and I know that I will get there someday, but right now, that thought scares me. I know that Ken and I will never forget her.

I have stared and stared at her pictures that I do have to find who she looks like and which features I recognize. She had Bella's mouth, Nathan's nose, Ken's slant to her eyes, my hands and feet. It's good to have an idea who she looked like. I would have loved to watch her grow up and see how beautiful she became inside and out. When I think of her, I don't always think of her as a baby. What I see a lot is a little girl around 3 or 4 years old, with dark hair and fair skin. She just smiles and smiles and laughs a completely joyous laugh. It makes me smile to think of her so happy like that.

The What If's

Although I know that nothing will change what happened to Clara, the what if's still come. Do I actually think that something I did or didn't do killed my daughter? No. Do I worry that something I did or didn't do contributed to her death? Sometimes. I know her movements slowed and became weaker in the last 5 weeks of her life. I knew that could mean something was wrong, but I felt her just enough to not call my Dr. I was just hoping that she was turned weird in my stomach. At my 24 week appointment, things seemed to be on track. Her heartbeat was strong and I was measuring fine. She was still young and small. It wasn't unheard of to not feel her move all of the time. But, I knew that for HER, those movements were not as strong as they had been or as frequent. I used to be able to feel her all of the time with my hand and watch my stomach move. But, I hadn't been able to feel those movements or see them for weeks. So, the what if's. What if I had been more worried about her movements. What if I had talked to my Dr. more about my concerns or pushed for more tests. Would they have been able to save her? When we found out Clara was gone, my Dr. even said, "what if we had delivered her that last week? Would that have changed the outcome? We don't know". I think my Dr. feels bad, but I know that from how Clara looked on the ultrasound that day, she looked fine. From all we could tell, she would do better off in me. Looking at the last ultrasound picture we have of Clara, I can see the cord around her neck. And, I'm sure the Dr.'s knew it was there, but the blood flow looked good. I had brought up being worried about the cord to my Dr. before and she said, very rarely do cord accidents happen. Babies are born all the time with the cords around their necks, or even with knots. It usually means nothing. But sometimes it does happen. It happened to my baby at almost 28 weeks.

What if.

I have thought about everything I did and didn't do during my pregnancy with Clara. I was so very careful about what I ate, and what I touched. How I slept. I NEVER smoked with her. I quit before I was even pregnant. I was more careful with her then I was with Nathan or Isabel. But, what if I wasn't careful enough. I know her cord was around her neck, but she was so small. Something happened around the 23rd week. That's when she stopped growing, that's when her movements changed.

What if.

Stress. They know that the amount of cortisol in the mother's blood matches that in the amniotic fluid and that the mother's stress causes the baby to become stressed and that can definitely have negative impacts on the baby. I was so incredibly stressed for the majority of my pregnancy. It was one hit after another. I tried to make my body relax. I tried to eliminate anything that stressed me out. Obviously that wasn't enough.

What if.

What if we can't have more babies. We haven't really considered it yet. It's much too early for that, and besides, when we have talked about it, it's not another baby we want, but Clara. But, the fear is in both Ken and I. What if something is wrong with us and we CAN'T have more babies. We've lost 2 in a little over a year. One early and one late. And although our early loss really hurt, Clara's loss was so much worse.We both really thought that we would get to keep Clara.

So, what if.

One thing that I don't regret. I always loved Clara. I wanted her so much before she was ever conceived. I told Ken that if/when I found out I was pregnant, I would love that baby the moment I knew and would be excited for her. I knew I was pregnant with Clara before the test told me. I know when she was conceived. I know when her little egg implanted. I have known Clara from the beginning. I have loved her and wanted her every moment of her life. She spent her entire existence being loved and wanted, and not just by me. Her daddy, her brother, her sister. They all loved and love her too.

One thing Bella said a few days ago. She was thinking of her sister and she said, "Maybe God decided we were the wrong family for Clara and that's why she died". I knelt down and told her, "No Bella, God knew that Clara would only be here for a short time and knew that we would love her every moment. So, God gave Clara to us knowing that we would be the perfect family for her".

We love you baby girl!

Before and After

Before Clara died, the idea of losing her or Nathan or Isabel was unbearable. After Clara died, I learned that I could live through it even though it hurts more than anything.
Before Clara died, I never knew just how much a person could handle at once. After Clara died, I realized that we are all so much stronger than we would ever believe.

It's been 6 days since we found out our very much wanted daughter was gone. It feels like a blink of an eye. Time seems to be on fast forward and is taking me farther from my memories of her, and farther from the last time I held her in my arms or touched her little face. I just want to hold her forever and my arms ache in the emptiness that she left.

People tell me that they don't know how I can do this, that they could never go through it, that I must be strong, and although I might be strong, I could only do it because there was no other choice. As I told my sister, I found out my daughter had died, I delivered her without an epideral, had a placenta torn out of me, had emergency surgery, left my precious baby at the hospital, planned her funeral, buried her. Yeah, I can freaking do anything now! I also had a huge support system surrounding me every step of the way. My family, friends, wonderful nurses, and my wonderful husband. My husband was there through everything and in some ways, dealt with more than I had to. He lost his baby, and then had to go through the fear of possibly losing his wife. He had to take emotional control of so much. He had to be my emotional support while dealing with his own grief and fear. He was my guard, Clara's guard, Nathan and Isabel's guard. While I was physically unable to hold my baby or even look at her, he made sure that she was ok. He made sure that the nurses and anyone who interacted with her were gentle and careful, and they were. Everytime he left the hospital room, he was met with happy and proud new dads, taking their new babies to get their first baths. He smiled back at them while inside he was heartbroken because his daughter lay silent and still in her room. He took care of so much. I appreciate everything that he did, but I am not surprised. That is my husband.

People ask how we're doing, and I don't really know how to answer that. In some ways we are doing ok, and in others, we are not, but we will be someday. We are all dealing with our grief, and it comes in waves. Sometimes we feel almost normal and other times it feels like the pain of losing Clara will engulf everything and the thought of living on without her is unimaginable. I keep feeling panicked that I lost something or forgot something, and then remember what I lost. I hate waking up in the morning. It just means one more day without Clara. I don't want to do anything but I go through the motions because I know I need to and I know that my family needs me. Ken is heartbroken and is missing his little dragon like crazy. He got to spend the most time with her after she was born and I know that means so much to him. He carried her little casket to her gravesite with Nathan walking beside them, and told me that, "you carried her into this world, and I got to carry her out". Nathan is having a really hard time and I worry about him. He is a very internal person and already tries to carry everyone else's problems, and I know he has tried to protect everyone that he sees hurting while really hurting himself. He seems very angry and won't talk about it hardly at all. Every once in awhile, he will say something about missing Clara, but not often. We are encouraging him to talk about it while trying not to pester him. We got him a book that will hopefully help him deal with his grief. He seems very distant and then very clingy. We're just trying to spend quality time with him when he is willing. Little things upset him and bring on tears that he tries to hide. It's hard for him. He had plans on how he was going to take care of his baby sister that were suddenly stolen from him. Isabel seems to be dealing with her grief ok. She misses her sister. She was so looking forward to being a big sister and could not wait for Clara to be born and I think she feels a little lost that that was suddenly taken from her. She is very adamant that she IS a big sister and we tell her that she definitely is. We found her "I'm a big brother" book (she never had an I'm a Big Sister book) on the couch yesterday with a couple of used tissues. She had been looking at the book and crying, poor babe. I am going to make her a special I'm a Big Sister book. That way she can read HER book about HER sister. She's acted out a little and has thrown a couple of tantrums, which is VERY unlike Bella EVER, and will talk baby talk sometimes. She is dealing with it well overall though.

Physically I am getting better. I get frustrated at the slow pace at times however. I get tired really easy and can't venture too far yet, but I am getting stronger. I can now walk up the stairs without my heart pounding all of the time. My legs still burn when I go up the stairs or walk too much, but I think that will end soon. It's hard to lift things and although I've never been really strong in my arms, I am a weakling at the moment. My throat is only a tiny bit sore from being intubated, and I've had a little cough since then that I think is probably from irritation, but that's getting better too. My muscles aren't sore anymore, so that is good. Apparently, they aren't soft with you when they need to get you fixed up in a hurry! But I would rather have some residual aches and pains and be here then have had something really bad happen.

I created this blog to talk about how we are coping with Clara's loss. I'm hoping it will be beneficial to our healing and I hope that someday we will look back and see how far we've come. I also want to share Clara and have a place to talk about her no matter what those feelings might be. I love my beautiful butterfly and miss her so very much.