It's Late and I'm Overcome...

...with emotion.

This will be short as it is late, and I need to go to bed. But, my heart is heavy right now, and I just need to share. Maybe it will feel a little lighter if I do.

Matthew is having a hard time settling tonight. I think his tummy hurts. I just went to his room and he needed more than just his paci. He needed some cuddling. Apparently, I did, too.

As I was rocking him, I was overcome with emotion. The wonderful weight of him on my chest. The fullness of his sweet self in my arms. The tears welled up in my eyes.

This was not always the case. I sat many nights in his room in that same rocking chair, rocking and longing for my Baby Grady. Missing his weight and breath on me. Arms empty and aching for him.

Tonight, I am so thankful for the gift of Matthew's life. For the joy and healing he has brought to my heart. For a God who created him, fearfully and wonderfully, to be part of our earthly family.

But, even among the happiness and love I feel for him, I can't help but remember the times when things were different. I still miss my first born boy. Even though he was still, he was still born. He was a person. His life mattered, even though he didn't live outside of me. He left a hole in my heart that belongs to him and him alone.

I don't take these moments with Matthew for granted. Not for one second.

But, my heart is heavy, for I know there are too many moms rocking in rocking chairs tonight with empty, aching arms. Tears streaming down their face.

And it simply breaks my heart.

I was that mom. And the pain of such loss still stings. And it never goes away. And I never forget. And I never want to...

Love,
Tonya

Tiny Angels

For my angel mommy friends. In honor of our babies, our "Tiny Angels", who we love and carry in our hearts forever.

Tiny Angels

Tiny Angels rest your wings
sit with me for awhile.

How I long to hold your hand,
And see your tender smile.

Tiny Angel, look at me,
I want this image clear....
That I will forget your precious face
Is my biggest fear.

Tiny Angel can you tell me,
Why you have gone away?
You weren't here for very long....
Why is it, you couldn't stay?

Tiny Angel shook his head,
"These things I do not know....
But I do know that you love me,
And that I love you so".

Author Unknown

18 months

18 months.

A year and a half.

18 months since the words, "I don't see a heartbeat either" changed my life forever.

18 months since I held this precious boy for the first time.



It's hard for me to believe that 18 months have passed. Time is a weird thing. On one hand, it seems like only yesterday...on the other, it seems like an eternity.

What does grief look like for me 18 months later?

Let me assure you it is still ever-present in my life.

Every.Single.Day.

It has gotten better. Time has definitely healed my heart to a certain degree. But there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about and miss Grady. There will always be a hole in my heart...the piece of my heart that belongs only to him. That longs for my baby boy who isn't here with me and will never be this side of heaven.

I have found lately that grief strikes when I least expect it, even 18 months later. I might be in church, the grocery store, at work...it doesn't matter. Something can be said or I can see something that takes me right back to that deep, dark lonely place of grief that I experienced for so long.

But it is better. And for that I'm thankful.

I don't cry for Grady everyday like I used to. I wish he was here everyday. And I will get teary-eyed at times. But the tears haven't flowed uncontrollably in a while.

My heart still feels heavy at times, but it isn't the crushing, suffocating feeling that used to be there on a continuous, daily basis.

There are days when I can hardly think of anything but him. Days where I relive the events of November 12, 2008 vividly in my mind. Those are bad days for me. I feel scattered and overwhelmed. Those are the days where I wish I could just sleep the day away, knowing Jessica and Emma Grace are cared for and safe. These days are not as frequent as they were in the beginning. And that's a blessing for sure!

I still have a hard time seeing newborn baby boys. And I still have a hard time hearing a newborn cry. That might be putting it mildly if you read this post.

And I still have a very hard time seeing little boys who are the age that Grady would be. Seeing them and how they are developing, hearing them talk, etc. automatically takes me to thoughts of Grady...wondering if he would be about the same or different.

I don't journal as often as I did in my Grady journal. I feel a bit guilty about that, but I think it shows progress and healing. I think it's a positive thing for sure.

I still have his beautiful blue blanket on my bed with me every night (the one he is swaddled in in the picture above). However, I don't clutch it tightly to my chest all the time. It mostly stays on my pillow above my head when I'm sleeping, and it lives under the pillows when the bed is made. But the past couple of weeks, I've found myself needing to hold it tight again. It still helps me feel close to him since that is what he was swaddled in and the blanket I used when I kangaroo-ed him in the hospital.

His room is still just as it was. I never had the heart to take it down and put his things away. His clothes are still neatly folded in his drawers and hung in his closet. The diaper bag is hanging on the closet door.

I still find myself dealing with insensitive people who think I should be "over it". I expect this to be an on-going battle. It is still a challenge 18 months later to be polite and explain that when your child dies, you don't just "get over it". It's frustrating, but unfortunately, I've come to expect it.

I still struggle with regrets, but don't dwell on them. I would still give anything to have pictures of me and our family with Grady and not just pictures of him alone. I wish I had given my girls the opportunity and choice to see their baby brother in person, not just in pictures. I wish I had a mold of his hand and foot. I think about these things and more. My heart pangs and hurts. But I have to move on. What else can I do? I have to remember I was in shock and did the best I could under the circumstances with the direction I was given. The past can't be changed. But I can help change the future for someone else going through the same thing...I haven't given up on that mission to be at the bedside of grieving mothers. I believe with every ounce of my being that it is my calling in life. I just have to be patient and wait on God's timing and His opening of the right doors.

We still talk about Grady on a regular basis in our home. At least once a day, either myself or the girls will bring him up. Occasionally Gib does, too. I love it because it keeps his spirit alive outwardly, just as it is alive in our hearts. It makes me sad at times, but mostly it warms my heart.



I love you sweet boy! Sending you love, hugs and kisses to heaven! You will forever be alive in my heart! Until we meet one day... Mommy

I Remember...

*Warning: This is not a happy, funny, or feel-good kind of post. It's a pretty transparent account of my feelings and my life in the first few weeks following Grady's death. And it turned out to be long.*

I know there are hurting people each and every day, for many different reasons. I know there are mothers every day who are grieving the loss of their child(ren). I know this and think about it literally every day of my life.

Because I AM one of those mothers.

But my friend Rachael is SO heavy on my heart. Knowing what she's going through. Knowing the uphill battle she now faces. Knowing how difficult the days ahead are going to be for her.

And it has brought back a flood of emotions for me. It has brought me back, emotionally, to the time right after Grady went to heaven. I don't write this for you to feel sorry for me. I'm in a much, much better place now 15 months later than I was then. Time does have a way of healing. But it never goes away completely. And, today, I just need to write out these thoughts and feelings.

For me.

And maybe you, too.

When I walked out of the hospital without Grady in my arms, I felt sad and empty. And MAD. I was, no doubt, in shock. But I was clear-headed and determined enough to know that if I wasn't leaving with a baby in my arms, I was walking. NOT riding in a wheelchair.

I remember as I got into the van, I said, "This is the second *%!#@?^ time I've left this hospital without a baby in my arms, and this time there's no chance that he's ever coming home with us." I don't often curse. But I did then. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

The drive home was somber. Quiet. Not many words were spoken between me and Gib. What do you say at a time like that? What do you talk about? I knew that we weren't long behind Chad from the funeral home who had come to get Grady. I wished he was with us. It may sound crazy, but knowing what I know now...people leave the hospital with their baby and take them to the funeral home themselves. I remember thinking, at the time, how that would have been nice. Just to spend a little more time with him. To hold him a little longer... If only I'd known that was an option...

Then we had the fiasco at our pharmacy. We went through the drive-thru to fill my Percocet prescription because I'd had a c-section. There were three prescriptions total to be filled, but that was the only one I really needed then. The lady at the window told us, sorry, they closed at 9pm (this was at 7pm) and they were already 3 hours behind. WHAT?! Are you kidding me!? First, I asked if my friend was working - nope - because I knew if she was, she would fill it. Then I said yelled, "My baby just died and I just had a c-section, can't you just fill that one?!?!?". Would you believe she said no and told us to go their competitor about 7 miles away??? Unbelievable! I said a few more bad words and was furious. Gib had to go back for something later and spoke with the manager. Shoot, my next door neighbor was so mad, HE called the manager, too! We received several calls apologizing, but I'll NEVER forget that woman's rudeness and insensitivity.

Then it was home to my sweet girls. They were so glad to see me, as I was them. My friend, Amy Ellen, had made dinner for us that night and she and my other friend Nicole had straightened my house. What a blessing. I walked into Grady's room and found the most beautiful basket on Grady's changer. My friends, Robin and Lori, had gone in together and gotten it for me. It was filled with angel items, chocolates and bath salts. Their thoughtfulness meant so much to me.

I don't remember if I cried when I first walked in Grady's room or not. I think I did, but it's terrible that I don't know for sure. I just remember feeling lost and in a daze.

After we ate dinner, and I pretty much sat watching them eat, my girls wanted to watch a movie. I was so tired but obliged. I pretty much slept on the sofa while they watched the movie. But we were all together and that's what mattered. They hadn't seen me in three days.

I really don't remember much about that weekend. I know all I really wanted to do was sleep because when I was sleeping, my heart didn't feel like it was ripping out of my chest. I religiously took my Percocet and Xanax just to get me through. Think of me what you want, but I needed my medication during that time. A few things about the weekend stand out...

We were trying to decide on cremation or burial for Grady. I decided to do a little research on cremation. First mistake. I then decided to find out how to talk to your children about cremation. Second mistake. "In order to talk to your children about cremation, you first need to understand the process yourself" is what the article said. I read it. Through my sobs, I told Gib, "I'm done for the day". It was only 12:00. I didn't come back out of my room until dinner time.

I also remember that Sunday my brother, sister-in-law and my stepdad came over for a visit. I was still a zombie. We sat in the family room, talking about stuff, all the while avoiding the "elephant" in the room. I remember either myself or my sister-in-law brought up Grady, and my brother said something like, "Okay, let's talk about something else." I knew it was hard for him and probably uncomfortable. I wasn't mad at all, but I remember thinking, "I don't want to talk about anything else...I want to talk about Grady."

Gib stayed home with me for the first three days of the next week. We made final arrangements for Grady, but other than that, I think I spent most of that time in the bed. The first day Gib went back to work was terrible for me. After the girls went to school, I was lost. I spent most of that time in bed. Not sleeping. Just lying there. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Reliving every moment that had happened.

I had wonderful people who were taking the girls to school for me, but I would stay in bed until the last possible second before I had to get Jessica up for school. I would get her ready and go back to bed until I had to get Emma Grace up for school. I would get her ready and go back to bed.

Yes. I spent a lot of time in the bed. Again, not sleeping. Just holding Grady's blanket close to my chest. But I had no energy for anything else.

Had it not been for people bringing us meals, I would not have showered. I would have stayed in my pj's all day. And that's exactly what I did on the days we didn't get a new meal. I just didn't care.

But on the days when I dressed, it literally took me about two hours. Something that normally takes me 40 minutes, shower and all. I would shower. Get back in bed. Do a little make-up. Get back in bed. Dry my hair. Get back in bed. Get my clothes on. Get back in bed. Flat-iron my hair. And by then, it was time for someone to be bringing Emma Grace home from preschool. We would snuggle, read, watch tv, etc until Jessica got home. Gib usually wasn't too far behind Jessica in those early days which was a blessing.

I remember a week after coming home, going in the nursery to read a book I had been given by the social worker at the hospital. It was called, "When Hello Means Goodbye". She gave it to me the day I was discharged and told me to read it at some point. I found a little comfort in the book, but mostly I was furious that no one had given it to me when I first arrived at the hospital. It talked about making memories with your baby in the short time you had with them. It would have been nice to have that part of the book highlighted and the suggestion made to read it before delivery. And if we weren't able to read it ourselves, maybe someone could have read it to us.

I remember feeling like I had lead in my legs. It was hard to walk. It felt like I had a ton of bricks on my chest. It was hard to breathe. It physically hurt to breathe. I remember feeling sick to my stomach all the time. I wasn't eating like I should have been. But why should I? I wasn't nursing a baby who needed nourishment, so who cared? I lost 30 pounds in two weeks.

I would go in Grady's room, sit in the rocker, and just cry. I cried myself to sleep one night in the rocker which resulted in a terrible crick in my neck. Gib came in one day and asked me what he could do to help me. I know he felt helpless when it came to me. I said, "I just need you to love me". He said, "I think I can do that".

I journaled to Grady frequently which helped. Just to pour my thoughts and feelings out to him felt good. And during that time, I wasn't speaking to God, so I started a journal to God which has turned into my prayer journal. I didn't want to talk directly to Him, so I thought I would write out my feelings instead. It was a tremendous help...at least until I had my first breakthrough.

I remember wandering through my house thinking, "I should have a baby in my arms", not knowing what to do with myself.

I remember the mailbox being full of sympathy cards every day. I would open each one, read it and put it in a pile. I still have them. I was so grateful that people were taking the time to reach out to me. But I remember thinking how I wished I was getting Congratulations cards instead. And how "not right" it all was. I got mad about it one day. But what could I do? Nothing. It was what it was, and it wasn't going to change.

I remember not answering the phone for at least a month. Even with caller-id. The only times I answered was when I thought it might pertain to Jessica or Emma Grace. I did answer Gib's calls, but other than that, I just let voicemail pick it up. I didn't really care to talk to anyone and if they really cared about me, they would just leave a message. Which most people did.

I remember the first time I went to a public function. It was Emma Grace's Thanksgiving feast/celebration at preschool. I wanted to be there for her, but I hated going. I walked in and felt like I wore a huge sign on my head that said, "Yes. My baby died". Whether it was true or not, I felt like people were talking about me, saying, "See that woman over there, the one in the black shirt, her baby just died". I hated that feeling, but it was worth enduring to see Emma Grace sing in her little Indian outfit.

I remember the first trip I made to the grocery store. I intentionally made a list and thankfully did not forget it. I was in the back of the store and felt like I was going to have an anxiety attack. My face became flushed. My heart started beating really fast. And my ears started ringing. I took some deep breaths, leaned harder into my shopping cart to hold myself up, focused on my list and somehow made it out of there. Luckily there were only three more items that I needed.

I remember the first time someone saw me who did not know what happened to Grady. It was at the preschool where I thought everyone knew...I felt safe there. But after Emma Grace's Christmas party, I was walking out the door and the woman behind me said, "I see you had the baby! How's he doing?" Not only was I caught off guard, but I just flat out didn't know how to answer her. I told her that he died and she felt awful. And I'll be darn if it didn't happen again later on that same day at Jessica's school. Except, instead of crumbling into tears like the first lady and me comforting her, this woman, while holding her baby, stomped her foot on the ground and said, "D--n it, I hate that. I hate that for you". I actually liked her response better.

I remember picking up "The Good Grief Club" by Monica Novak for the first time. I remember that I couldn't put it down because I was reading the words of someone else who was describing exactly what I had been feeling. Finally, I felt like I wasn't alone. Someone else knew what I was going through. Even if it was an author of a book and not someone in real life.

I remember sitting at the computer one evening after dinner. The dishwasher was going, the tv was on and the girls were running around playing. Loudly. I literally felt as if I was going to jump out of my skin! I thought, "What is wrong with me?!" I told the girls to turn off the tv if they weren't watching it and to please lower their voices. I then googled "symptoms of grief" and to my great surprise and sense of relief, "sensory overload" was on the list. It felt good that it was "normal" and that I wasn't going crazy. Even the sounds in the grocery store or in a large function with lots of people talking would just about put me over the edge. Eventually this subsided, but oh how I thought I had really lost it!

While I was completely consumed physically, emotionally, and mentally with my grief for Grady, I'm so thankful I had Jessica and Emma Grace. I honestly don't know what I would have done without them. I snuggled them and loved on them so much in those days that I'm pretty sure I suffocated them to an extent. I know they got tired of it, but they appeased me. Thanks sweet girls! It was hard to put a smile on my face at times, but I did. I know they were hurting and dealing with our loss in their own way. They knew how hard it was for me because they saw me acting differently than they had ever seen me before. I have cards they made me during that time that I will treasure forever.

After Grady went to heaven, I'll be the first to tell you that, YES I was depressed. I'm not one bit ashamed to admit that to you or anyone else. I think I was entitled to it, as is anyone going through such a significant time of loss. I had never known such depression before, and it was debilitating at times. Praise God, Dr. Joe asked me before I left the hospital if I wanted to go ahead and start on some medication. I agreed because my miscarriage in 2005 sent me into postpartum depression, which I didn't know could happen. I started Lexapro the day I came home from the hospital, and within three weeks some of the heaviness lifted. The gray cloud was still there but the fog had lifted some. I stayed on it until March of 2009 when I felt like it was starting to mask my feelings. It's terrible to feel the need to cry but you're just not able. And for the record, I didn't stay on the Percocet and Xanax very long. I traded the Percocet for Ibuprofen and the Xanax for some Unisom to help me sleep...worked fine and is not addicting...exactly what I needed.

I don't want pity for this post. That's not why I wrote it. I wrote this for myself because the memories hung heavily over me today. And I also wrote this for others who may be going through this very same thing right now. Maybe what I felt will make someone else feel a little less alone. I remember thinking, "I know I'm not the only one who's going through this right now". And I wasn't. Oh, how I wish I'd had my blog then...

If you're still reading...thanks for hanging on 'till the end! It has only taken me about four hours to get it done!

Love,
Tonya

Great Advice

I read some great advice recently that I want to share with you.

Not long after Grady died, my friend Amy brought us dinner. As we were talking, I learned that she had visited Molly Piper's blog to learn more about stillbirth and the grief that goes along with it. Not only did she visit her blog, she forwarded it to some of our other friends as well. This touched me that she would take the time to dig a little deeper into my loss, but I had honestly never heard of Molly Piper. Amy sent me the link, and I checked it out.

It was the first blog I visited after lGrady died. She had great information for friends but also for grieving mommies. It made me feel less alone, which is exactly what I needed. A couple of months later, through Molly's blog, I met my now "real life friend", Ebe. It's amazing what a small world we live in and how such loss can bring people strangers together.

Molly visited my blog the other day when I wrote this post about "A Nagging Feeling". I can't tell you how much it means to have other people relate to and validate what I'm feeling. She referred to what I was experiencing as "subconscious grieving". This couldn't be more true.

Molly's most recent post was about how a friend, an unmarried man, gave her a book. He didn't just give her the book. He read the book first! This made her feel loved beyond just the gift. He read it to understand more of what she was going through. Her point was that giving books is a great idea, but take the time to read it yourself before handing it over. You may feel like you're giving your friend or loved one something great, but if you haven't checked it out first, you might think twice. I believe you should take this approach with any life situation/struggle someone is dealing with, not just stillbirth/grief. What a great way to really show love to others!

Thanks for the great advice Molly! I'm definitely going to take this to heart!

I hope you will, too.

Love,
Tonya

Why Is It So Hard?

I choose the worst times to blog. But, that's when the urge hits me.

Gib is working late, and the girls are outside playing. I should be starting dinner.

Instead, I'm posting.

And it will be short.

So many times, more than I can count, I've been told, "I just can't relate to what you're going through".

WHY?

Why is it so hard to grasp just a little of it?

I don't expect anyone to truly understand what it's like to lose a child unless they've walked those shoes.

But, in my opinion, and that's all it is, my opinion, if a woman has ever been pregnant, she should be able to grasp a little of what it might be like.

If you've ever been pregnant, you know the love and bond that forms with your unborn child.

You connect with that baby long before his/her birth.

You know the dreams you have for him/her. You already know and have planned how this little person will fit into your lives...from the room he/she will have, where his/her car seat will be in your car, where you will put the swing, where you will put the bassinet in your room, where his/her high chair will rest, where he/she will sit at the dinner table, how you will grocery shop, how different trips/vacations will be, the excitement of holidays, etc.

You get my point.

So, why is it so hard for people (mothers especially!) to relate to this loss? They're the ones who have said they can't.

Maybe it's just me, but I don't understand....

Love,
Tonya

Ten Months and Tiny Toes

Today is 10 months.

It's hard to believe that it has only been that long when it seems like an eternity in my heart.

I saw a quote somewhere (actually it might be the name of a blog, I'm not sure). I'm also not 100% sure exactly how it was worded, but the meaning struck me.

It was something like, "Born still, but still born". Or it might have been "Stillborn, but born still".

Nonetheless, it means the same both ways...

Just because Grady was still when he was born doesn't take away from the value of his life. He was still born, just as every other baby. I have a scar to show where and how he was born. My milk came in to nourish him as if he were still alive. (I wish God could find a way to prevent this - it really is a cruel joke when your baby has died!) He was born with a completely beautiful baby body. From his head full of dark hair all the way down to these perfect toes on his big, long feet.



This was originally the only picture of his feet that I had. Back in April, I emailed the NILMDTS photographer to ask if he had any pictures of the tops of Grady's toes. I couldn't remember what they looked like. I wanted and needed to know if they looked like his sisters.

To my shock and surprise, he emailed this to me.



He questioned himself as to why it wasn't included on my DVD. I'm not sure, but I know that at the time, I needed something else of Grady. This picture was truly a gift. I realized that I had never shared it on my blog, and thought today would be as good a time as any.

And his toes did indeed look like his sisters!

I'm so thankful for all of you who read my blog. But, today, I'm especially thankful for those of you who know my pain. It is indescribable. It seems like everywhere I turn, people minimize my loss. They minimize the impact that losing Grady has had on me. They expect me just to pick up and move on as if it never happened.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again...

I will never be the same person I was before Grady lived his short life and died inside of me. If any of you are reading this, and expect that to happen, I can tell you right now that it won't.

God has allowed this pain and heartache in my life for a reason. I accept that. I'm still learning to live with this grief because it can be crushing, still, at times. I know and trust that He has great plans for me to use this experience in a mighty way to reach out to others. I will rejoice in every day that I'm given here on earth with my family and friends. But I do long for the day that I join my baby, parents, and the others who wait for me in heaven. I long for the day where I only feel joy and there is no more pain, hurt and sadness.

God has carried me, and I'm trusting Him to continue doing just that.

Because days like these aren't easy.

Today is a day there are only one set of footprints in the sand.

Dear Lord,

Thank you for the privilege to know and carry Grady for the short time that I did. I wouldn't trade it for anything. Thank you for choosing me to carry one of your angels here on earth. Thank you also, Lord, for carrying me through each day of this journey. I don't know where I would be without your love and comfort. Your ways are not my ways, and I trust that yours are better. You never said it would be easy, but, Lord, it is hard.

Thank you for my beautiful children I have here with me, but Lord, I do long for the one who is not. Please scoop him up and tell him how much his Mommy loves him. Please tell him "Happy 10 month Birthday" for me. Give him a hug and a kiss from me right on his chubby little cheek (if they are still chubby now). Please let him know that I can't wait to hold him in my arms again. But until then, I'll forever hold him in my heart.

Amen

I love and miss you Baby Grady!

Love,
Mommy

I'm So Glad It Wasn't Me...

Do you ever feel that way?

When you hear terrible news, do you ever think, "Whew, I'm so glad that's not me/my family/my child."

I have.

And I'm not one bit proud of it.

But, I can't say that I think that way anymore. My perspective has changed. Now I think, "That so easily could be me/my family/my child."

We are not immune to tragedy, hurt and heartache. No one. Not even Christians. Everyone will have a "cross to bear", a burden or trial at some point, or several points, in their lives. I just pray that when your time comes, you have the cross and know the One who died on it for us, so that you can lean on Him and the hope He gives to carry us through.

I seriously don't know where I would be today without my faith and trust in my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!

Moving on...

There are advantages and disadvantages to living in a small town. I am by NO means "popular". But, I've met a lot of people since moving here 3 1/2 years ago.

If I've ever wanted people to gossip, it was after Grady died. I know that sounds crazy. I know people have way better and much more interesting things to talk about than me. But I wanted to avoid the oh-so-painful question of "How's the baby?"

I know people were talking. And I'm glad because I know I would have been asked much more than I was. I remember each person who asked... Where I was... How I answered...

Everyone knew I was pregnant. Everyone was anxiously awaiting Grady's birth, just like us. Even the employees at Kroger...

For the longest time, I felt like I wore a sign on my head or my back that said, "My Baby Died".

Like the first time I went to Emma Grace's school after Grady died. It was for her Thanksgiving Feast. I walked in and felt all eyes turn to me. My sweet friend Nicole had gone with me so I wouldn't be alone. But, I tried not to make eye contact with anyone because I was fighting back tears. People either avoided me or tackled the topic outright. One sweet friend just came to me and said, "Can I just give you a hug?" Yes. Hugs are always great. Thank you, Rhonda.

Last week at Muffins For Mom, especially on Friday when it was 5th grade morning (Jessica's grade), I felt like I was wearing the "My Baby Died" sign and people were talking again. Probably not. But I had that feeling.

Everywhere I turned, there was either a newborn, an older baby, or someone who had recently had a baby. I felt like they were thinking, "I'm so glad that what happened to her didn't happen to me." "I'm so glad my baby lived and didn't die like hers did." I also felt like others were sitting at their tables saying, "Yeah. See the lady at the drink table in the pink shirt. Her baby died."

Again, let me be clear. I'm NOT trying to say, in any way, that people sit around and talk about me. I'm sure some have and maybe some still do.

So be it.

But I KNOW there are better things to talk about than me.

However, my mind was going crazy. Maybe it was insecurity. Maybe it was paranoia.

Maybe it's just utter grief that I'm still working through.

Wishing it wasn't me.

Wishing babies didn't have to die and none would again.

Ever.

But that's not reality.

We live in a fallen world. A world of sin and hurt.

Somewhere tonight, right now, someone has probably just been told their baby has no heartbeat.

Stillborn...

Have I told you how I hate that word?

I wish I was there to hold their hand.

Just to be there.

And stress how important and short the time is with their baby.

Instead, I'll just pray for them. And ask God to comfort them in ways that only He can. I'll ask Him to guide them and bring wonderfully compassionate and caring people in their path to help them along the most painful time of their life.

Love,
Tonya

Walking With You - Waiting

I'm not sure how often I'll participate in this, but I think it has potential to be very therapeutic for me. Did you know that it helps someone who is grieving to tell their story? Multiple times. Once, twice, as many times as they need to! Even though it is already a reality we live with, each time we tell it is another way we can keep our memories alive. To remember the one(s) we've lost. Each time we tell it there is the potential for an "aha" moment. This is true for me, at least. I can't speak for anyone else...

An amazing woman named Kelly, at The Beauty of Sufficient Grace, came up with a new kind of walk. This takes those of us experiencing grief down a "walk" with others who have lost someone, particularly a child. Each week there is a different theme. I encourage you to click on the button at the top of this post to learn more and to read Kelly's story.

This week we are to share about our time of "Waiting". From the moment we received our life-changing news until the birth/death of our babies.

Here goes...

My actual time of waiting was fairly short but seemed like an eternity. I found out Grady had officially died around 10am on Nov. 12, 2008. He was born via c-section at 6:14 pm that same day. (For those of you who have not read his story, you can click on his picture on my left sidebar)

However, I knew the night before that he was gone. He was always an active little fella. I last felt him kick around 4:30-5pm the day before, Nov. 11, 2008. I thought he might be sleeping and was only moderately concerned when he didn't kick after dinner. I became a little more concerned when he didn't respond to his big sister's voice and poking on my tummy before she went to bed. The thought was in the back of my mind...but it was only a thought..."Surely he's fine. He's going to be born 3 days from now. He's just sleeping."

When I woke up around 1am to use the restroom and got back into bed, his quietness triggered another level of alarm in me. After an hour of praying and pleading, I got up to get my stethoscope and listen for his heartbeat. I found mine, but not his.

Nothing.

Still no movement.

Nothing.

I waited.

All night.

Alone.

Wondering...Call the doctor? Don't call the doctor?

Rationalizing in my nurse brain all the while..."If he's dead, it's too late". No reason to wake Gib, find someone to watch the girls in the middle of the night, disturb Dr. Joe. He was dead at 2am, and he would still be dead in the morning. Nothing could bring him back at this point. He'd been still for too long...

I knew all night he was gone. I hung onto, clung to, the hope that maybe I was wrong.

But I knew...

My baby had died.

I prayed that I was wrong. I prayed for movement. I prayed that God would intervene and do something. Gib prayed with me before leaving for work (I told him once he was up).

Nothing.

Once my suspicions were confirmed by Dr. Joe the next morning, he asked me when I wanted to have him. I would have walked over to the hospital right then, but it wasn't possible. I was given the choice to labor or deliver by c-section. Since I had a classical incision from my second, a c-section was mandatory for Grady's birth...as long as he was alive. But since he had died and we didn't have to worry about oxygen supply to him if my uterus were to rupture, I had the option of delivering vaginally. I opted for the c-section because I had two beautiful girls at home who needed me to be okay. I couldn't risk my uterus rupturing during labor, losing massive amounts of blood and so forth. Dr. Joe agreed, but had to give me my options.

The c-section was scheduled for 5:30pm that day.

So what did we do until then?

I so wish that I could tell you that I was on my knees, praying, seeking the Lord and His comfort. But I wasn't. I turned away from God. I was completely and totally angry with Him. I didn't want people around me. I only called a couple of people, close family members, to tell them the news.

In our time of waiting, we drove all the way back home. I folded two loads of laundry. My neighbor brought Emma Grace home from school, and Gib checked Jessica out of school. And we told them the devastating news. I consoled Emma Grace, who was beside herself heartbroken, got the girls with packed bags to the neighbors house and drove the 45 minute drive back to the hospital.

Oh, we did have to stop at Kroger to get gas and some cash on the way. Which is where I saw one of my friends in the parking lot who kindly, innocently stopped and happily said hi. To which she was met by a wandering woman in shock walking to meet her husband to drive her to the hospital to deliver this dead baby she was carrying.

What a nightmare!

It actually was a blessing that I saw her because she called lots of local people and got the word out so everyone started praying for me. I was so thankful because I couldn't pray for myself!

I remember at the hospital, I was given these "wipes" to clean myself. My WHOLE body! Arms, legs, chest, etc. It was awful! They smelled and felt sticky. I was so mad that I had to do all of this with no reward at the end. I looked at Gib and said, "WE ARE DONE! We are never doing this again!" (Isn't it funny how time heals...I'm not completely healed by any means, but I've come such a long way. I'm open to having another if it's God's will for our lives).

I was surprised that I was given the choice of general anesthesia for my c-section. Just another situation where the baby was not a concern...I felt there was so little that I could do, I could at least be awake and somewhat be a part of his birth, even though it would be silent.

If I'm totally honest, the whole time I was being prepped, and even as I was on the operating table, I was hoping they were wrong. I knew that wasn't the case. I had seen the stillness of Grady's heart on the ultrasound. But there was part of me that couldn't help but HOPE that he was still alive.

The silence in that c-section room was deafening... No cry to be heard when the nurse anesthetist told me that Dr. Joe had the baby out.

My worst fear had come true...my baby boy that I had worked SOOO hard to keep safe and in my womb was gone...

That's my story of "waiting"...

Love,
Tonya

A Stranger

That's what I am.

A stranger.

I've changed. And not all for the good. That became very apparent to me today.

I spent the morning with two of my very bestest (I know that's not a real word, but I like to use it!), closest friends, Shannon and Shana. These two have been there for me like no others through losing Grady. They brought me numerous meals. Shannon even sent paper goods with Shana once because she thought I wouldn't be up to doing dishes. They called me, even when I didn't want to talk, knowing that I wouldn't answer the phone, just to leave me messages of love and concern, putting NO pressure on me whatsoever to call them back. They've sent me emails just to tell me they love me. Just to tell me they remember Grady. I have more cards from Shana than I do anyone else. She spent a fortune in postage just to let me know she loves me.

What better friends can I ask for?

(I love you both!!!)

I preface with that because they are two people with whom I can be completely and totally real. I don't have to put my fake-face on...and even if I did, they would see straight through it!

Shannon was generous enough to share a gift certificate with us to get our nails/toes done and then we went to brunch. I enjoyed my morning with them...

But I realized what a stranger I've become...even to myself.

I am not the same person.

I am different.

I've changed...not all for the better.

I don't like it!

I didn't recognize myself today.

Actually, I did...

But, I didn't like me.

It is so very hard for me to explain.

I truly don't think you will understand unless you've experienced a stillbirth yourself.

Of course Grady's death has changed me. I would be worried if it hadn't. But, I'm not even close to the person I used to be.

I learned today that another friend of ours is pregnant. The old me would jump for joy over this news...but not now.

Now I feel sad. Left behind...wondering why it's so easy for everyone else and not for me. Knowing and hoping and praying that they will take their babies home, but I didn't get to. Wondering...why me, Lord?

The old me would be the first one to want to talk about babies, childbirth, breastfeeding, and anything pertaining to taking care of little ones...but not now.

The old me couldn't wait to get a glimpse of a newborn...now I run the other way.

The old me couldn't wait to hold a newborn...but not now. I only feel betrayal to Baby Grady when I think of holding another that is not my own...

...he was the last baby that I held.

Shannon and Shana wanted to talk about Grady today. You would think that I would jump at that opportunity because few people even bring him up.

But I didn't want to...

I had nothing new to say to them. I feel like a broken record. I know that I sound like a broken record, even on this blog.

I don't want to be defined by his death. But the cold, hard truth is. . .

...I am!

He was my baby boy.

He died.

I'm a different person.

He took a part of me with him.

I'm a stranger...even to myself.

Love,
Tonya

REALLY?!?!

Has it REALLY been six days since I've posted? I can't believe it! We've been busy this week...spent LOTS of time at the pool...had lots of errands to run...leaving not much blogging time for me. But that's okay. Summer is here, my girls and hubby are all home, so enjoy we will!

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REALLY?!?!

That word has been prevalent in my life lately, in many different and unexpected areas.

First of all, I've talked to several people lately who have sincerely asked how I'm doing...some close friends, some mere acquaintances. When I've expressed that I'm still struggling with Grady's loss, that's the response I've gotten...REALLY?!?!

Yes, really.

Why is it so hard to understand that I'm grieving my child who died? (more to come on that soon...)

And people wonder why it's so easy to put on the fake-face and act like I'm just fine!

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REALLY?!?!

I never, ever expected to get the reaction and responses that I did from my post about regrets. Not just comments on my blog, but emails too. They were all sent with the best of intentions, and I read every one of them. And, I admit...maybe I was a little too hard on myself. I shouldn't have used the word "stupid". That was just how I was feeling the day I wrote the post. And I ALWAYS try to be honest with you about my feelings. I had a friend even go so far as to look up the definitions of "stupid" and "shock" and send me a long email. After reading what she wrote (she works with bereaved parents all the time - it's her full-time job, in fact!), she was absolutely right. I was in shock. It's just that simple. When I was writing that post, I felt very stupid because some things were very clear to me while others were lost somewhere in the muddy-muck of my grief, sorrow and despair over my precious, beautiful, still son. I cannot go back and do it over. And this friend is right...she suggested not to give my regrets so much power...to accept them, be thankful for the good decisions I made and move on. I'm trying each day my friend! Thank you!

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REALLY?!?!

That was my reaction when Gib came to tell me that one of my friends called from her parents' house in IL to offer us their Disney Club vacation points that were going to be wasted. How amazingly thoughtful was that!?!? We picked some dates to try the Hilton Head Disney Resort, but unfortunately, everything was booked. We are on a waiting list...maybe it will work out, maybe it won't. But I was blown away by the fact that she thought of us out of all of the people she could have offered the points to. I know she reads my blog, so, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! Your thoughtfulness means SOOO much to us!!!

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REALLY?!?!

That was my reaction to one of my neighbors at the pool last week. She came over to sit with me on the side of the pool while the kids were swimming. She sincerely asked how I was doing. She did NOT respond with a "REALLY?!?!?" when I told her I was still having a hard time...good days mixed with bad. She, in fact, told me how beautiful she thought Grady was and that she STILL has his announcement on her refrigerator. I would have NEVER expected that!

I tell you...nothing surprises me anymore. With the exception of a very few, the people I thought would have been there, and stayed close through the grief, seem to have drifted far, far away. The people I wasn't that close to and didn't think would give me and my situation much thought have been the ones to say and do the most touching things. I don't know if this person reads my blog, but if you do...Thank you so much! You touched my heart in a very special way!

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REALLY?!?!

That was the reaction I had when I got a call from Dr. Joe's (my OB) office Monday morning. I was told he had a "gift basket" for me.

I knew immediately what it was.

The night after Grady was born, Dr. Joe came in and sat on my bed with me for over an hour. He held Grady, told me how beautiful he was, told me how we shouldn't have lost him, and somehow, during that long conversation, gardens got brought up. Don't ask me how...I think it was because I told him I did everything I could to have a healthy baby, including eating as many organic foods as I could afford.

Right there on that bed, November 13, 2008, Dr. Joe promised me the first tomato out of his garden. I know he's an honest man, but hear me when I say, I NEVER expected to get any vegetables from him!

I drove to his office late Monday morning to get this beautiful vegetable basket!



I was blown away at his thoughtfulness and truth to his word! By the way, Emma Grace has given him a new nickname in our house, "Good Ole Dr. Farmer Joe"! Too cute!

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REALLY?!?!

That's how I feel right now. It has been seven months to the day that I first held my baby boy in my arms! On one hand, and on most days, it seems like an eternity. On the other, it seems like only yesterday!

Dear Grady,
I miss you my sweet boy! I send love and hugs to you in heaven every day, but especially on this, your seven month "angelversary/heavenly birthday". There's not a day that goes by, sometimes not a minute, that I don't think about you. I've been thinking a lot lately, with our new summer routine, about what we would be doing differently and how we would incorporate you into our fun. We all are missing you, wishing you were here with us, but happy for you and rejoicing that you are with your heavenly father who loves you even more than I/we can. That's so hard to imagine, but it's true.

Emma Grace and I were just talking tonight about the fact that you will NEVER get a boo-boo. Emma Grace said, "If he got one, God could just heal it". And that's true...but we talked about the fact that you will never hurt or cry or know what pain is. Jessica brought you up at dinner, too, asking me where I would take you to get your hair cut (they got their hair cut today). I told her you probably wouldn't have enough hair to need one yet.

I love how your sisters make you a part of our lives, keeping you alive in their hearts and in our home through conversation. You will NEVER be forgotten! I love you and miss you more with each day that passes! But, I also know that each day that passes brings me one day closer to seeing you again...alive and happy!
XOXO,
Mommy

Love,
Tonya

Regrets

We all have regrets, right? Maybe you don't. But I do...

I don't have too many pertaining to the normal parts of my life. But I have some related to my time with Grady. I'm having a hard time grappling with this lately. I'm trying to "let it go" but my heart aches. And it aches deeply. Let me explain.

I've blogged about my two NICU friends from Emma Grace's 4-month long visit there. Lori is an RN, and Suzanne is a Nurse Practitioner. These two beautiful, loving, caring women had planned to be at Grady's scheduled c-section with me on Nov. 14, even though they weren't officially scheduled to work. When we found out Grady had died on Nov. 12, Suzanne was already working at the hospital, but Lori came in that evening to be with me at my c-section. What a precious gift of her time! (Many thanks to you!)

When I got to the hospital at 3:30, Suzanne came out to the waiting area with a Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep brochure. The brochure was a bit overwhelming to me, and I immediately said no to having pictures taken. We had our camera and planned on taking a few pictures with it, and at that moment, that's all I wanted. She didn't pressure me at all.

Closer to the time of my c-section, she and Lori came in to my pre-op room. Suzanne had the brochure again. She was very gentle yet firm, got in my face and straight-up told me that this was my only chance....I wouldn't get this time back....I never had to look at the pictures if I didn't want to, but I would have them if I decided to. That's what it took. Hearing it was my "only chance"..."I wouldn't get that time back"....I agreed to have NILMDTS pictures taken, but ONLY of him....

REGRET #1

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Here's the deal. It felt "morbid" (if I may use that word) to take pictures of my dead baby. We don't usually take pictures of dead people! I felt disrespectful to Grady and thought how simply "wrong" it would be to smile at a camera with me holding him.

Have I mentioned the word "STUPID" lately?

I would give my right arm (and I'm right handed!) to have a picture of me holding my baby. I didn't have to smile at the camera. I could have just looked at him. What was I thinking? That's just it....I wasn't!

I held him for two days in the hospital. All I have is the memory in my head. At least I have that, but it isn't enough. But it has to be... I can't go back... I have nothing to look at to prove that I held him. That I cuddled him on my chest under a blanket just like any other alive baby. Nothing. How nice would it be to have pictures of Gib holding him? Pictures of our hands with his? A picture of me and Gib with him? Maybe even pictures of the girls with him? A picture of all five of us? Imagine that. But, I can't get that time back and do it over...

BIG sigh...

Why didn't I have Gib leave the camera with me at the hospital? I could have taken 100 pictures of him, capturing every inch of his beautiful little self.

REGRET #2

I was alone at the hospital a good bit of the time. Just me and Grady. Gib was in and out as he chose to be (he's NOT one to sit at the hospital!) I asked for no visitors, even though a few did come. I wanted it that way. It was a very private, intimate, alone-feeling experience. But why didn't I take more pictures?!?!

STUPID!

The nurse asked me if we were going to bring the girls to the hospital to see their brother. Mine and Gib's immediate answer/reaction was "No!" She left the room, and we talked about it. It was SO hard for us to grasp the situation. Seeing this perfectly beautiful newborn still, not moving, not breathing...I didn't want them to have that image in their head forever. I thought, at the time, that it would be enough for them to see pictures of him and form their own images in their head. That seemed okay until three weeks after I was home, and Jessica (my oldest) said "I wish I could see Baby Grady." I told her that she could see the pictures and DVD from NILMDTS any time she wanted to. She said, "No, I mean see him in person."

REGRET #3

My heart sank, and I began to cry. I explained that her daddy and I were trying to protect their little hearts but that maybe we had made the wrong decision. I told her how hard it was to see him not alive, but that maybe we should have asked them instead of deciding for them. I was heartbroken. I didn't know what else to tell her, but I asked her if she thought she might ever be able to forgive me? Sweet girl said yes. That lifted a little of the pain, but very little.

I robbed them of their ONLY chance to see their baby brother this side of heaven!

STUPID!

So there you have it. My BIGGEST regrets in life to this point.

I needed someone to explain things to me. I needed someone, like Suzanne, to be blunt and tell me this was the ONLY chance. To put it in perspective for me. You would think that I realized this after her telling me about my only chance to take pictures. But I didn't. It's SO hard when you're in that moment. I was simply trying to process and accept that my baby had died. The baby I worked SO hard at trying to keep safe and healthy had somehow slipped away from me. I was going home with empty arms. It was a lot to digest...

Regrets....maybe someday I'll be able to move forward and accept my STUPID decisions. (Maybe the title of this post should have been STUPID!)

Love,
Tonya

My Grief & A Ball of Yarn

What could those two things have in common???

A LOT!

Today has been one of those days where I've had a lump at the base of my throat all day. The tears wanted to come, but I wouldn't let them. Although, for some reason, I almost fell apart at Kroger tonight. No trigger. Nothing. Just almost started crying. But I composed myself. I fought it hard. The tears didn't come.

I haven't had a good cry in a long time. I let the tears well-up in my eyes and then blink them away. I keep swallowing until the lump doesn't feel quite so big. I keep taking very deep breaths so that I can get some air to help me not feel like I'm suffocating so much. It just takes soooo much energy to grieve. It takes soooo much energy to have the kind of cries that the love and hurt and lost memories of Grady bring about. There are times that I just don't have it in me to let go. And there are times when I don't feel "safe" to let it out.

You see, what I've found with this grief, is that it is somewhat of a personal thing. Yes, it is great to share my feelings with those who love and care for me. Yes, it is great to share my feelings with those who have walked a similar road. No, it is not good for me to keep it in. But the truth is this.....the ugly cries that really need to come to work through something like this are best done in private. Not just so no one sees how truly ugly I am while crying but for me to get the maximum benefit, or release, out of that sob session. And for me, that's literally what it is.

I think for many people they don't grasp the depth of the pain of losing an unborn baby. People say things like, "At least you didn't get to know him", "Something might have been seriously wrong with him", "At least you have two other children", "There's a reason". I don't know why, but one of the things I hated MOST to hear after Grady died was, "Well, you look good!" To me, that implied that I must be doing good if I looked good. Sure, the fact that I dropped 30 pounds in two weeks probably had something to do with it, but PLEASE! That is not the kind of weight loss regime that one desires! Anyway, I got so tired of it, that one night, when some poor soul (and I honestly can't remember who it was and if it was you and you're reading this, I do sincerely apologize!) brought a hot meal to our house, that person made the mistake of saying, "Well, you look good!" I know everyone who said this desperately just needed something positive to say to me and they were trying to make me feel better. But to this unfortunate person I replied, "Well that's a good thing because if the outside matched the inside, I'd look like sh--!"

So, what do my grief and a ball of yarn have in common?

When I went to my RTS Bereavement Training in March, we did an eye-opening exercise. We stood in a group of 6-7 people holding a ball of yarn. We were instructed to hold a piece of yarn in one hand and throw the ball itself randomly around the circle. Each time you threw the ball of yarn, you held onto a piece of it and you had to name how a mother (and/or father) bonds with the baby before that baby is ever born. So, our ball of yarn got thrown around the circle several times. Some ways mentioned that bonding occurs were hearing the baby's heartbeat, seeing the baby on ultrasound, feeling the baby move and kick, feeling baby's hiccups, preparing the nursery, naming the baby, baby showers, buying clothes/diapers, imagining life/holidays/vacations with the baby, etc. You get the idea.

All at once the leaders told us to stop. We then raised our arms over our heads and held up this "web" of yarn. It looked pretty cool from the bottom looking upward at the intertwined pieces of yarn. Then they told us to drop our yarn in front of us. It didn't look so cool anymore. In the middle of us was A BIG MESS! It was then explained to us that this is what grieving parents, who have suffered a loss, EVEN BEFORE BIRTH, have to unravel. As we were trying to "wind up" the yarn back into a neat ball, we kept encountering knots where the yarn would have to be more carefully worked with.

This is much like the grief that I have been, and still am, working through. From the viewpoint of an outsider, it shouldn't be that hard to lose a baby before he was born. After all, "I didn't get to know him". But nothing could be farther from the truth. I knew Grady very well. I knew him better than anyone else. And I knew him for 36 weeks and 5 days.

And I'm trying to clean up that mess and unravel the tangled yarn internally. You see, that tangled yarn is a good depiction of how my insides feel. It tells the story very well that my heart is broken. That even if I can work through some of the heartache, I will encounter bumps or "knots" along the way that may take longer to straighten out. That yarn is the clean-up that I'm trying to tackle every day. That mess of yarn represents the memories that I have of Grady, the memories that I won't get to make with Grady, the deep love that I will always have in my heart for Grady.

He's my son. My baby boy.

And I will never forget him!


And I will never let anyone else forget him, either.

And although I can't physically carry him here in my arms...

I will always carry him in my heart, forever and ever!

Love,
Tonya

Trapped!

I can't believe it's 10:30, and I'm just starting this post! It may be early for some of you, but it's already past my bedtime. Gib's clock goes off at 4am. I don't get up with him, but good sleep escapes me after that (if it ever came before!).

Just to let you know, there may not be a Wednesday's Walk for me tomorrow. The fourth part of Grady's service might come next week. We'll see how I'm feeling when tomorrow comes...

Anyway, I wish that I was writing from a better "emotional place" tonight, but the truth is, I'm not. I'm still not doing so great. In fact, I feel like I'm drowning in my anger and resentment and grief. Now, I just plain feel "trapped"!

There are very few people in my real life (I say in my real life, compared to my "blog life" because unfortunately, there are many in my "blog life" who DO know this journey and are on it with me right now!) who really understand what this journey is like. For that, I am SOOO thankful because I wouldn't wish this pain and heartache on my worst enemy. (And by now, I may have a few. No really, I'm serious!)

I have tried really hard the last few days to "snap out of it". But who am I kidding? Myself obviously! I can't just snap out of it! I want to, though, because the grief is unbearable at times. The grief feels like a ton of bricks on my chest, making it hard to breathe. The grief isn't just going to "go away" like I would like for it to or like others think it should. Grief is HARD work and I know it! But I'm ready for it to get a little easier and instead, I feel like it's getting harder! Its been almost six months since Grady died, but it's not getting easier!

I had a great morning with Ebe. After enjoying the morning outside over coffee, we went to pick up a necklace and charm that I ordered with Grady's name engraved on it. It turned out to be beautiful! I will try to take a picture of it and post it soon. My day went downhill from there...

I really can't share all of my day, but I did have a phone conversation that was hard. I had received a postcard in the mail to call and update my alumni information from nursing school. I was tired of looking at it, so I called. As we were going over children, I had to include Grady. He IS my child! The feeling of betrayal is far worse than any "uncomfortableness" (is that even a word?) brought on by talking about him. He IS my child! She said, "Well, we can just put his name and put deceased by it."

GULP!

DOUBLE GULP!

That was hard to swallow. Real hard.

I know my baby is dead. But hearing someone say that she can record his name with deceased next to it, just made it......I don't know. I really don't know what it made it. It's already real, so I can't say it made it real. It didn't even make it final. For once, I'm at a loss of words to describe how that moment felt...

Then I go to the grocery store and see people not even dressing their babies to go to the store, nothing but a diaper! Seriously! Maybe at home on a hot day, but to the store...into the store??? (Sorry to offend anyone who may have done this, but I think we all should wear clothes in a public place, except the pool of course and then a swim diaper is appropriate!)

Gimme A Break!

Having said all of that, I do feel trapped. Let me try to explain...

I feel...

...trapped, inside of a mind, my mind, that won't stop thinking about the "Why's?" and "What if's?" That can't stop thinking about Grady.

...trapped inside of a body, my body, that aches, physically and literally, for my baby boy. My body, that aches with grief. My body, that feels like it will explode at any second. My body, that always has tears right behind my eyes and a big lump in my throat. My body, that is exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally.

...trapped inside of a world that has NO CLUE what it is like to lose a baby.

...trapped inside of a world with insensitive people who know what you've been through, yet make insensitive comments nonetheless.

...trapped inside of a world where people still ask "What's wrong?" "Why are you sad?"

...trapped inside of a house where everyone knows I'm hurting but no one really wants to "go there" because of the tears that come along with it. After all, no one likes to see "Mommy" or "T" cry.

...trapped in a web of Satan's lies and stronghold on me.

...trapped inside of a real-life nightmare that I just can't wake up from, no matter how hard I try!

I know that God is here. He is closer than I think. It's just so hard to feel Him and find Him lately! I've said it before, and I'll say it again, HE'S ALL I HAVE TO HOLD ONTO! HE GIVES ME HOPE! I Accept. I Trust. In spite of the fact that I don't like it!

Love,
Tonya (It is now 11:40 - I'm crazy - good night!)

Beat Down

That's how I feel tonight. Beat down. Run down. Emotionally exhausted.

It's been a hard day, friends.

I had a family get-together today with my extended family to celebrate my Uncle Thomas's 80th birthday! He looks great to be 80 and can still play the piano like a young stud! We LOVE for him to come to our house and play because our piano doesn't get used at all (except for the occasional banging!). The girls love it so much that they open the back windows in hopes that the neighbors can hear, too!

We love you, Uncle Thomas!!!

It was a great time of celebration for him and I'm so thankful I went to honor him. But, it was the first time that I've been with my whole family since my mom died. Almost two years ago. The reasons are long and personal. The purpose of this blog isn't to hurt anyone, family or friends. But it is for me to share what's on my mind and heart with those who care to read and know. We'll just suffice it to say that there is a lot of hurt in my heart that has built over the past two years, including Grady dying.

I knew that today would be hard for me. So hard, in fact, that I called my dear friend Amy Ellen to pray for me this morning. Hard not just to see my family, but also because there was going to be a baby there. Not just a baby.

A baby boy.

I'm not exactly sure when he was born, but I think it was September or October. Very close in age to what Grady should be. I sat in the parking lot for a long time before I ever went in. Praying. Gathering every bit of strength and courage I could muster...

I managed to hold myself together until I was getting ready to leave. One of my cousins had the courage to actually mention Grady to me. To just say, "I'm sorry for what happened to you. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I don't know what else to say." I can't tell you how much that meant to me! Most everyone avoids any mention of him wherever I go. It's the "elephant in the room". If you are reading this and have experienced a stillbirth, you know exactly what I'm talking about. People don't say anything at all because they don't know what to say. When, in reality, the silence is worse because it's as if the baby never existed. In defense of others, it's not an easy subject to talk about. It's not comfortable. But there's nothing comfortable about a baby dying. PERIOD! Especially for the parents and siblings who have lived through it. (And before I get a lot of comments about this, NO, I did NOT expect or want to receive doting and attention today. Today was about Uncle Thomas!) I was just extremely touched at my cousin's courage and follow-through.

I was so emotionally drained when I got home, I went to bed. I NEVER go to bed in the middle of the afternoon! I just couldn't deal with anything else. I got in the bed, hugged my Baby Grady blanket and went to sleep.

I took the girls outside after dinner to ride their bikes before it got dark. If my day wasn't already hard enough, my next door neighbor came out with her baby. Not only did she come out, she walked over to my drive! She has NEVER come over before. Outside, yes. Over, no. Of all days!!! At least she has a baby girl (girls are a little easier for me than boys). But still. This baby is only two months older than Grady would be.

I know you're thinking, "Girl, you've gotta get a grip! There are babies everywhere!" Believe me - I KNOW!!!! If there's a baby in a 10 mile radius, I'm gonna see it first! Sad thing for me is that I love babies.

And I especially love my Baby Grady.

It's just going to take time, prayer and LOTS of healing.

Thanks for listening to me tonight...

Love,
Tonya

3 - 2 - 1 BLASTOFF!

That’s how I feel my life has been this week. Taking off VERY fast. Taking off in directions that I wasn’t expecting. At least not so soon. Let’s hit the brakes and back up…

In the first few weeks after Grady died, I was searching incessantly for a support group to attend. I read lots of stories online, but I so badly needed to be face-to-face with other moms who had lost their babies. Most of the groups were general grief groups or groups where people experience the loss of a child at any age. This just wasn’t what I was looking for. In my anger, it came to my mind that I should start a group. That I needed to be the agent of change for moms like me.

I feel that I need to give you a tiny bit of background about me. Because after all, what would qualify me to lead such a group?

First of all, I’ve personally experienced a lot of loss in my life. I think I explored this in previous posts, but if you missed it, I’ll tell you again. My dad died when I was 13. My grandparents died one by one between 1996-2003. We almost lost Emma Grace in 2003. I had a miscarriage in 2005. My mom died in 2007. Grady died in 2008.

Professionally, if you don’t know, I am a registered nurse. I have not worked in the hospital since 1998 and even then, I have only a short time of experience in the adult ICU. When Jessica was one, I became a Certified Childbirth Educator. For the past nine years, I have taught childbirth, breastfeeding, and infant safety/cpr classes. I also led a support group for new moms called Motherlore. I loved it. I was very sad to leave, but I just can't talk and teach about babies all the time now.

Now back to the present. The thought of starting a group remained in the back of my head. In January, as I drove across town to the only support group I could find that suited my needs, I met a wonderful woman who runs that group. I was talking to her and shared my desires and interest in starting a group. She agreed that there was a huge need in our area for an infant loss group. To make a very long story short, after emailing back and forth, her organization sponsored me to take an RTS Bereavement Training Course (hence my trip out of town last week). One point of important clarification: I did not ask for this training. She offered it. It literally fell in my lap. I knew it was from God and an opportunity that I couldn't pass up. I know it is very soon after Grady’s death, but it was the only training this year that was in driving distance, and I didn’t want to wait until next year.

RTS is a very credible and reputable organization in hospital-based bereavement programs. Dr. Joe (my OB) agrees that there needs to be some kind of group at the hospital to serve moms/families like us. Not just a stillbirth, but any perinatal loss – miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, death from prematurity, stillbirth, and death shortly after birth. This works in my favor as he is the Chief of OB! Can I just tell you once again what a wonderful person he is! He, too, is one of those God-sends in my life!

****Here’s where I feel like the space ship is taking off, and I’m standing in the trail of smoke left behind saying, “Wait for me!”

I had my yearly appointment with Dr. Joe on Monday. We talked some in his office and over lunch, and he feels it would be important and valuable if I would speak at an upcoming Performance Improvement meeting to present my ideas. Immediately my anxiety rose to levels far beyond the roof! I don’t like speaking in front of a bunch of people, especially a bunch of doctors. Don’t get me wrong. I want to do it! I’m just very anxious and nervous, and the meeting isn’t until April 15th!

Tuesday morning I emailed two of my friends at the hospital to ask some questions. I received a text that morning AND a call from Dr. Joe’s office telling me that there was a bereavement meeting that day at 2pm. Was I available? After scrambling for childcare, I WAS able to go. I was immediately put at ease as I saw some familiar faces from our 4 months in the NICU with Emma Grace. I thought I was just going to observe, listen and learn at this meeting. Nope. I am now a part of this committee and have been assigned to a sub-committee. This bereavement committee has been in place for the NICU for a very short time with some very big and much-needed goals. They are trying to expand it to reach Labor and Delivery at the hospital because that is where most fetal deaths occur. I really hope that I can be a voice for other moms who lose their babies!

Don’t ask God to use you if you’re not really ready for Him to! On my way to the training I asked the Lord to help me be attentive and learn as much as I could to reach out and help grieved families. On the way home, I prayed for Him to use me in such a way that would help people and bring Him glory. I’m seeing answers to these prayers already. It’s powerful but overwhelming!

This is MY NEW MISSION that I’ve referred to in previous posts. I KNOW that God has called me to this particular ministry. There is NO doubt in my mind. I rest in that. I have peace with that. However, I’m having a very hard time with how fast things are moving. BUT, I know God doesn’t make mistakes. I just didn’t expect to see Him working so soon and opening so many doors at once. I’m going to have to be careful with what I take on as I am still very much grieving my Baby Grady.

Speaking of him, I found out today one year ago that I was pregnant with him. It’s been a hard day.

I have had a hard time lately anyway. I feel myself starting to struggle much more emotionally than I was before. I was never OK. A better way to describe me was that I was better. But, I’m more sad and maybe even a little depressed. I think I’m entitled to that, though, don’t you think?

I think it’s a combination of the training and the mix of emotions in this new mission of mine. I have read that 4-6 months is particularly hard because the shock is wearing off and reality is setting in. Unfortunately, I’m finding this to be true.

I am SO excited about the opportunities in front of me. But the life I REALLY want is a life that I just can’t have. My new reality IS becoming evident and it becomes more and more real every day. I want my new reality and my new normal to be as I had imagined before that life-changing, awful, earth-shattering day of November 12th, 2008.

I really just want my Baby Grady here in my arms.

Love,
Tonya

Missing My Boy......

This is not what I planned to write in today's post, but its where my heart is this morning, so I'm going to share. Honestly, as always...

I am missing my sweet Grady with every ounce of my being. I have good days, and I have bad days. The good days are, fortunately, starting to outnumber the bad ones. But even on the good days, as I try to make the best of my days and time with my family, a part of me is missing. Empty. It's very hard to describe, but a piece of my heart feels constantly squeezed with sadness. Not crushing or suffocating like it did in the beginning, but it's always there.

A constant reminder of what I don't have...

I haven't been able to cry for Grady in a long time. I cried a little at his service the end of January, but even then, not too many tears came. For me, at that time, it was something positive to honor him. Even though there was some finality in saying 'goodbye', it felt so good to do something for him.

I'm not sure what it was about last night, but the tears came in a flood. I'm thankful, but it has carried into today. Which doesn't surprise me at all.

As I went to bed, I was hugging his blue blanket (just like any other night), and the flood gates opened. I was sad, mad, frustrated and so confused.

I was sad because he wasn't here.

I was mad because I was holding a blanket instead of him.

I was frustrated because I did everything possible to keep him safe in my womb, but it didn't work, it wasn't enough.

I was confused as to why I wasn't allowed to keep him here with me. Instead I had to give him back to his maker, and in doing that, give up all hopes and dreams I had for him as part of our family.

His room is still the way it was the day he died. When I check on the girls before I go to bed and when I check on the girls in the middle of the night, I pass his room. The thought always comes that "I should have a baby in that room to check on, too". Some would say that I should take the room down. However, it will always be Grady's room, even if it is a room with another purpose.

I'm not ready to put his things away yet...

I feel at times that very well-meaning people try to minimize my grief for him. "Well, at least you still have two beautiful children". And THANK GOD for my two beautiful children. They are what helped pull me through those first very dark weeks after Grady died. They were my reason for literally pulling myself out of bed every day.

But what people need to understand, is that even though Grady was a baby who didn't live outside my womb, he was his own person. He lived vibrantly inside of me. Did I mention that he was his own person? The girls cannot take his place, just like Grady could never take their place.

My grief is for him. For what he meant to me. For what he represented in our family. For what we don't get to experience with him. For my little boy who became an angel before I got to play with him.

My grief is for Emma Grace, who so badly wanted to be a big sister to a real live baby.

My grief is for Jessica, who wanted to help play mommy with me.

My grief is for Gib that he doesn't have a little football player to coach.

My grief is that a member of our family will forever be missing......

Thanks for listening to my heart today.

Love,
Tonya

Glory Baby Grady

It was just three months ago today that I delivered my Glory Baby Grady. On one hand it seems like an eternity since I held him in my arms, on another it seems like just yesterday. It is amazing how your life can be changed by knowing someone for such a short time. How such a tiny person can be taken away and your life change in an instant, literally. I want to share a few pictures of our beautiful boy and share his story, in detail, with you.

I call him our Glory Baby because of a beautiful song written by Watermark. If you've never heard it, please scroll to the bottom of the page and click on song number 2. It is such a perfect song to describe our situation.

First, let me introduce you to his beautiful baby self:



It was Tuesday, November 11, 2008. I was 36 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I had been put on bedrest because my blood pressure was up a little. Not high, but high for me. My blood work came back negative for preeclampsia, so I was taking it easy, monitoring it at home and it was fine. No swelling, headaches or anything. My wonderful friend and neighbor, Nicole, came over that afternoon to help me finish the nursery. We put all the baby clothes away, opened the diapers, packed the diaper bag and everything was set for Grady to arrive that Friday, November 14th. The bassinett was already in our room, and his car seat in the van. I was scheduled for a c-section at 37 weeks because I have the old fashioned kind of scar on my uterus. For those who might not know, Emma Grace was born VERY early at 25 weeks and VERY emergently as my cord had prolapsed (if you don't know what that is, all you really need to know is that its life threatening for the baby and baby has to be delivered super ASAP). Because of this classical incision, I was at higher risk of a uterine rupture, and my doctor (we'll call him Dr. Joe - WONDERFUL MAN!) and I agreed that we didn't want to take a chance with that happening.

I wasn't feeling great that day, but not bad. Just uncomfortable, end of pregnancy feelings. Grady was hiccuping and moving around while we were working in the nursery (well, I was actually in the rocker and Nicole was doing the work!). Around 4:30 - 5:00 that afternoon, I was in the recliner that Nicole's family had insisted I borrow while on bedrest (Thanks again!). I was on the phone with another wonderful friend and neighbor down the street. Grady gave me a really BIG kick. So big that I could feel his foot and called the girls over to feel too. They were amazed, saying "Wow, that's cool!". Little did I know that would be the last time I would feel him. I often wonder, which foot kicked me, the one with the curled toes or the one with straight toes?



I noticed that I didn't feel him kick at dinner so after, I relaxed on the bed for a few minutes. Still no movement. I was a little concerned, but not overly, as he had been "quiet" before. We got the girls ready for bed, and I was helping Jessica study for a test. I was propped up on her bed and poking my tummy. She asked what I was doing and I told her I wished he would move. She tried talking to him, but still nothing. I was a little more concerned, but again, just thought he was being "quiet". I fell asleep with her and got up around 1:30am. After going to the restroom, I still didn't feel movement so I got out my stethoscope and tried listening for his heartbeat. I had not tried this with him before, but I had with Jessica. I found my heartbeat, but not his. I think at that moment, deep inside, I knew he was gone. But, again, I justified that maybe he wasn't big enough for me to hear him because I was only 36 weeks and 5 days at that point. I stayed awake the rest of the night and knew he was gone. I contemplated waking Gib and calling Dr. Joe. Being a nurse, though, I knew the outcome would be the same if it was 3am or 9am. I didn't want to have to wake someone to come stay with the girls, so I just decided to wait until morning.

When Gib kissed me goodbye, I told him that he needed to pray that Grady would move. (He prays every morning in the car before going to work). He sat down on the bed and prayed right then. His prayer ended with, "But Lord let your will be done". He left for work, and I got up and showered. I knew even if everything happened to be okay with Grady that Dr. Joe would want to go ahead and deliver that day. Nicole had taken Jessica to school, and I was getting Emma Grace ready when the garage door opened. Gib had left work and come home. For my husband, that's HUGE! I think he knew, deep inside, that we weren't going to get good news. He took Emma Grace to school, and I called the doctor. They, of course, said to come right in.

I remember the sick feeling driving to the doctor. It was a beautiful fall day. The leaves were at the peak of their color change. Gib and I didn't talk about much on the drive, but we both commented on how beautiful the leaves were. They will always remind me of that day...

When we arrived they took me right past the waiting room full of people. The nurse, Nanci, took me to do a non-stress test. Only problem was she couldn't find a heartbeat. I looked at Gib and shook my head. Grady had never been known for hiding before. Nanci told me not to panic, that this happened a lot and we would have Dr. Joe do an ultrasound. I told her I appreciated her optimism, but I wasn't encouraged. Thankfully, Dr. Joe came in soon after I got into the room. He looked very concerned and asked when I last felt movement. When I told him the previous afternoon, he looked more concerned. He always turned the ultrasound screen towards me, so I could see too, and this day was no different. As soon as he put the wand on my tummy, I could tell Grady wasn't moving. I recognized the heart and saw that it wasn't beating. I said, "Dr. P I don't see a heartbeat". The life sucked out of that precious man and he said "I don't see a heartbeat either". My world shattered and was changed in an instant. Those words haunt me to this day. Needless to say, I lost it. I just kept saying, "How can this happen?" "What did I do wrong" "This is a nightmare" "This has to be a nightmare". Unfortunately, it was a nightmare. A real live one that I'm still living today.

Dr. Joe stayed in the room with us for a while, trying to control his emotion but not very well. He was clearly upset. He was, and is, one of the most compassionate doctors I've ever met. I am so blessed to have gone through this with someone like him. He had a waiting room full of patients to see, so he left us for a while and checked on us a couple of times. I remember that I couldn't move. I was paralyzed on that table. I layed there for almost an hour. Finally, something inside of me snapped. I sat up and told Gib that I was ready to move to the next step. I knew I was going to deliver a dead baby.

We scheduled a c-section for that day, November 12, at 5:30pm. We made the long drive back home and checked Jessica out of school so we could tell the girls together. I dreaded that so much. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. They both knew something was wrong. I told them that sometimes things happen in life that we just don't understand. That I had gone to the doctor and Grady's heart was not beating anymore. Jessica looked at me and said, "He died?" When I said yes, Emma Grace immediately started crying, saying "I didn't want Baby Grady to die". I just scooped her up in my arms and said that I didn't want that either. The next thing out of her mouth was, "Baby Grady can just be Granny's baby in heaven". That really made me cry. Granny is my mom who died in April, 2007 from lung cancer. Jessica didn't show much emotion at the time, but Emma Grace let it all out. Once I was able to get Emma Grace settled down, we took the girls next door and headed to the hospital. The sick feeling I had felt earlier, on the same drive, was magnified by 1000. I was numb. In shock. Still wishing I would wake up from this horrible nightmare.

I have two wonderful friends at the hospital who took exceptional care of Emma Grace in the NICU. One of them is a nurse practitioner, Suzanne, and the other is a nurse, Lori. They had planned to come in for my c-section that Friday. God love them, they came that afternoon for his delivery. I don't know what I would have done without them. Without Suzanne, we would not have these beautiful pictures of Grady. She approached me about Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep photographs. I had never heard of this organization, but I couldn't think of taking professional pictures of him. It just seemed wrong, for some reason. I initially said no, that we were just going to take pictures with our camera. She gently approached me again and told me that I wasn't going to get this chance again. If I never wanted to see the pictures I didn't have to, but I would have them if I did. I agreed, but only to pictures of him. Now, I'd give ANYTHING to go back and have pictures of me and Gib with him. But, when you're in that kind of situation, you do the best that you can do and you do what you think is right at that time. I do wish I had thought differently.

The silence in the operating room was deafening. No one said a word, only the sound of machines, sniffles and Dr. Joe asking for instruments. I had an intense urge to know when Grady was out. The sweet nurse anesthetist let me know. I think I was inwardly hoping that I would hear him cry. That everyone was wrong. That didn't happen. The silence grew even louder.

Gib and I agreed that we wouldn't see him until I was in the recovery room. Suzanne and Lori took him to bathe him and dress him for his pictures. When I got there, the photographer was almost done with his pictures. Suzanne told me he was beautiful. Gib held him for a few minutes and brought him to me. I remember seeing him for the first time. He was SO beautiful. He looked just like a sleeping angel. He was still warm from my body. His skin softer than the finest silk. Chubby cheeks. Dark hair like his sisters. LONG fingers and BIG feet! The only problem was that he wouldn't wake up. God I wish he would have..... He was big for his gestation. Dr. Joe said he was the size of an average 38 week baby. He weighed 6 lbs. 11oz. and was 20 1/2 inches long.

The obvious question is, "What caused his death?" We don't know the reason for his death. We chose not to do an autopsy because we were told that even if we did, most of the time a cause would not be found. All of my pregnancy blood work was great, five ultrasounds showed a healthy baby, and pathology reports on my placenta and umbilical cord came back normal.

I was fortunate enough to keep him in the room with me until I left that Friday evening. If you've never been through something like this, it might seem crazy and weird to hold a baby who has died and want him close. I didn't want to let him go. Alive or dead, he was my baby. The baby that had grown inside of me for 36 weeks and 5 days. I knew him like no one else. It was the shortest two days of my life, and I vividly remember my moments with him. I hope I don't ever forget. I don't remember some of the conversations I had with people, but I know that I remember every second with him. I snuggled him on my chest with a blanket over us, just like you would any normal baby. That's my favorite memory. It was a beautiful blue and white crochet blanket that someone made just for an angel baby like him. I still sleep with that blanket every night. It helps me feel close to him.

Saying goodbye was the hardest thing. The funeral home was wonderful. They came with a basket with a soft cushion to put him in. I live in a small town, and I knew the man who came to get him. He was so compassionate and respected Grady so much. The nurse gave us a regular hospital blanket to wrap him in, so I could keep the beautiful blue one. Gib and I swaddled him, kissed him, told him we loved him, and I placed him in the basket. I knew I would have to wait until heaven to see him again. Gib and I hugged and cried for what seemed like an eternity, but I'm sure it wasn't long.

I remember walking out the back of the hospital, angry and sad beyond belief. It was the second time I had left that hospital with empty arms. The first was when Emma Grace was born - at least she joined us 4 months later. But this time, I had empty arms for good. The ironic thing is that I said goodbye to him the very day that we were supposed to say hello. I couldn't stop thinking of what I should be doing rather than what I was doing.

We made the VERY difficult decision to cremate him. We have his ashes at home with us in his "memory box" as we call it. It is a wooden urn with baby blocks on top with his initials.



I'm not sure what, if anything, we will do with his ashes in the future, but for now, I'm happy having him here with us. We waited to have a service for him. We had a small one at our home on January 24, 2009. I will have a series of posts, telling about that amazingly wonderful day of honoring him.

I know this was a really long post. Thanks for reading about our Glory Baby Grady. He truly is our angel. I'll leave you with this......



"An angel in the book of life wrote down my baby's birth. Then she whispered as she closed the book, too beautiful for earth." Author unknown

Love,
Tonya