In my limited experience, (my) grief is difficult & unpredictable.
No one can tell me how I will feel and when because I do not know
when
my grief will be triggered.
No one can tell me what will spark memories or what could have been, and let me tell you, they are everywhere, sometimes in the most inconspicuous places.
In my first outing after Elias, one of the teachers in this play class introduced herself. Her name was my top choice for a girl name. What were the chances? It suddenly took my breath away, and I nearly lost my composure.
Nancy Guthrie is a prolific Christian writer, speaker, and teacher. She has also lost 2 infant children. I found her description to be on point in those first weeks.
She described her grief like a boulder on her chest. It took her breath away with its weight, constantly squeezing tears out that were ever close to the surface.
Thursday, November 30, 2017
Flashbacks: 1 Week After Elias' Birth/Death
I remember the first few times I ventured out to the Real World.
I and everything felt dreamlike, surreal.
I wanted to tell everyone, esp. strangers, that I had just had a baby 20 weeks too early and that he died.
I remember staring at the girl explaining the escape room rules, unable to focus on what she was actually saying. I so desired to stop her and tell her about Elias.
I scrutinized myself in the mirror, in recent photos, if I looked like someone who had just lost her baby.
Did I look more aged? Sad? Stressed?
What would grief and my new life look like?
I and everything felt dreamlike, surreal.
I wanted to tell everyone, esp. strangers, that I had just had a baby 20 weeks too early and that he died.
I remember staring at the girl explaining the escape room rules, unable to focus on what she was actually saying. I so desired to stop her and tell her about Elias.
I scrutinized myself in the mirror, in recent photos, if I looked like someone who had just lost her baby.
Did I look more aged? Sad? Stressed?
What would grief and my new life look like?
Friday, November 24, 2017
His Reports
My OB told me we should receive Baby's pathology (placenta and karyotype) reports 2-3 weeks after the fact.
5 weeks later, we still had not received any information on the reports.
I followed up with my OB, who told me the reports had been sent to the high-risk OB. Ugh. He then summarized the reports: The placenta and karyotype came back as normal. Baby had all 46 chromosomes, ie Baby did not have a chromosomal abnormality as the doctors had suspected.
"We don't know what happened. I am so sorry."
The hand of God kept running through my mind with a lump in my throat.
Somehow I asked for a copy of the reports (not normally sent to patients).
My OB assured me he would mail them first thing the next morning.
------------------
In the meantime, Derrick and I discussed the surprising results.
I had felt prepared for results that were a chromosomal abnormality or inconclusive... but normal? Our baby was anything but normal. Derrick had to remind me that even people with 23 healthy pairs of chromosomes get very sick and die. I even had a few moments of panic, wondering if we should have terminated.
In the end, we concluded that this was again God's grace: this would not significantly affect future children, and God was marvelously displaying His might and sovereignty. The doctors (and we) would never know what happened during Baby's development, but God did. I quite liked this "ending". We trusted and submitted ourselves to Him, even when we did not understand.
------------------
The reports got lost for another week.
I reached into our mailbox every day to instead find more (hefty) hospital bills for labor/delivery, labs, and extra scans/procedures due to Baby's condition. Such insult to injury...
I followed up again, and was advised to physically pick up the reports. There was just 1 remaining receptionist, obviously unhappy that she was staying over her shift. I thanked her and grasping the envelope to my heart, I explained that our baby had died at 20 weeks and the reports would explain what happened to her. The receptionist's countenance immediately shifted and softened. "I am sorry... for your loss." I nodded and gave a small smile, then shuffled away with the reports burning in my hands.
I ducked into a quiet waiting area, and attentively read through every word of the detailed reports. I could not restrain the (flooding) tears as I read about our baby described as a specimen arriving to the laboratory in saline, minimized to measurements of body parts, that part of Baby's head had split open by the time of examination, and then I read that Baby had XY chromosomes.
We had a boy and not a girl.
My head was spinning, and I texted Derrick immediately. He could not believe it, either. He was rational and by the end of the night, said it did not change things much for him.
But for me, it did tremendously. And it was intensely painful and sad.
------------------
It felt like we had grieved the wrong baby. It was also an acute reminder that I was grieving this person I never knew, and now was even more a stranger. It felt like 2 additional losses: loss of a daughter we had so desired but now needed to stop grieving midway, and loss of a son I wished I could grieve when he was with us.
I withdrew a bit. I remember texting my sister: "I just feel like I keep losing and losing."
I removed every remembrance of Odelia in our home. She was really, dead. Good thing I was only halfway through her (his?) birth photobook?
The children were confused even more by this news, as they had not fully grasped the initial news.
And I felt more left behind Derrick in grief. At least when we thought Baby was a girl, we could feel and process together. This was no longer the case. I even grew angry with Derrick when he referred to his feelings as "we".
"You mean 'I'. You can't use 'we' anymore, because we we are not the same anymore," I snapped.
I felt majorly set back in my process with grief, as I had labored through a considerable portion of it. I did not know where to start again, or if I should.
I had never felt so alone.
------------------
Yet God was showing us again His might and sovereignty. We were not in control of Baby's outcome even if chromosomes looked perfect, nor were we in control of Baby's gender, nor were we in control of our grieving, even.
So once more, this time with more profound conviction and humility, we entrusted our family and lives unto our loving God.
Hear my cry, O God,
listen to my prayer;
from the end of the earth I call to You
when my heart is faint.
Lead me to the rock
that is higher than I,
for You have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the enemy.
- Psalm 61:1-3
5 weeks later, we still had not received any information on the reports.
I followed up with my OB, who told me the reports had been sent to the high-risk OB. Ugh. He then summarized the reports: The placenta and karyotype came back as normal. Baby had all 46 chromosomes, ie Baby did not have a chromosomal abnormality as the doctors had suspected.
"We don't know what happened. I am so sorry."
The hand of God kept running through my mind with a lump in my throat.
Somehow I asked for a copy of the reports (not normally sent to patients).
My OB assured me he would mail them first thing the next morning.
------------------
In the meantime, Derrick and I discussed the surprising results.
I had felt prepared for results that were a chromosomal abnormality or inconclusive... but normal? Our baby was anything but normal. Derrick had to remind me that even people with 23 healthy pairs of chromosomes get very sick and die. I even had a few moments of panic, wondering if we should have terminated.
In the end, we concluded that this was again God's grace: this would not significantly affect future children, and God was marvelously displaying His might and sovereignty. The doctors (and we) would never know what happened during Baby's development, but God did. I quite liked this "ending". We trusted and submitted ourselves to Him, even when we did not understand.
------------------
The reports got lost for another week.
I reached into our mailbox every day to instead find more (hefty) hospital bills for labor/delivery, labs, and extra scans/procedures due to Baby's condition. Such insult to injury...
I followed up again, and was advised to physically pick up the reports. There was just 1 remaining receptionist, obviously unhappy that she was staying over her shift. I thanked her and grasping the envelope to my heart, I explained that our baby had died at 20 weeks and the reports would explain what happened to her. The receptionist's countenance immediately shifted and softened. "I am sorry... for your loss." I nodded and gave a small smile, then shuffled away with the reports burning in my hands.
I ducked into a quiet waiting area, and attentively read through every word of the detailed reports. I could not restrain the (flooding) tears as I read about our baby described as a specimen arriving to the laboratory in saline, minimized to measurements of body parts, that part of Baby's head had split open by the time of examination, and then I read that Baby had XY chromosomes.
We had a boy and not a girl.
My head was spinning, and I texted Derrick immediately. He could not believe it, either. He was rational and by the end of the night, said it did not change things much for him.
But for me, it did tremendously. And it was intensely painful and sad.
------------------
It felt like we had grieved the wrong baby. It was also an acute reminder that I was grieving this person I never knew, and now was even more a stranger. It felt like 2 additional losses: loss of a daughter we had so desired but now needed to stop grieving midway, and loss of a son I wished I could grieve when he was with us.
I withdrew a bit. I remember texting my sister: "I just feel like I keep losing and losing."
I removed every remembrance of Odelia in our home. She was really, dead. Good thing I was only halfway through her (his?) birth photobook?
The children were confused even more by this news, as they had not fully grasped the initial news.
And I felt more left behind Derrick in grief. At least when we thought Baby was a girl, we could feel and process together. This was no longer the case. I even grew angry with Derrick when he referred to his feelings as "we".
"You mean 'I'. You can't use 'we' anymore, because we we are not the same anymore," I snapped.
I felt majorly set back in my process with grief, as I had labored through a considerable portion of it. I did not know where to start again, or if I should.
I had never felt so alone.
------------------
Yet God was showing us again His might and sovereignty. We were not in control of Baby's outcome even if chromosomes looked perfect, nor were we in control of Baby's gender, nor were we in control of our grieving, even.
So once more, this time with more profound conviction and humility, we entrusted our family and lives unto our loving God.
Hear my cry, O God,
listen to my prayer;
from the end of the earth I call to You
when my heart is faint.
Lead me to the rock
that is higher than I,
for You have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the enemy.
- Psalm 61:1-3
His Name
Please welcome to your hearts our sweet son, Elias Abel.
Elias is Hebrew for Jehovah is God.
Abel is Hebrew for breath, vapor, mourning.
We love and miss him.
Elias is Hebrew for Jehovah is God.
Abel is Hebrew for breath, vapor, mourning.
We love and miss him.
Monday, November 20, 2017
I Will Glory In My Redeemer by Sovereign Grace
I will glory in my Redeemer
Who waits for me at gates of gold
And when He calls me, it will be paradise
His face forever to behold
His face forever to behold
Who waits for me at gates of gold
And when He calls me, it will be paradise
His face forever to behold
His face forever to behold
Sunday, November 12, 2017
Split Screen of Sadness
Up until Odelia's death, Derrick and I were emotionally congruous: feeling the same emotions together, processing the same feelings together, etc.
There was something unifying and comforting about it...
until I realized a father's experience of infant loss is understandably disparate but brief.
Honestly, I am amazed that a father can even feel sorrowful over a child he never knew or felt. That is love.
I had intimately cared for and nurtured our baby's life for 5 months. Every day for those 5
months, I observed my body painfully stretching and growing to make room for her. I made
diet and lifestyle changes to benefit her developing organs and systems. My heart extended
capacity to love her. The last 2 months were notably unpleasant due to her condition and size
but I endured because I knew it would be worthwhile.
.......
When his tears ceased,
mine still freely flowed.
That was difficult in an unfamiliar way:
I felt alone for the first time, and I felt left behind in Grief.
Please don't ever think for one moment that Derrick has not been kind, patient, and supportive because he has been and more.
.......
A father and mother's experience of the same infant loss can be so discrepant, another new thing I am learning.
Unpredictable should be the synonym to loss and grief.
There was something unifying and comforting about it...
until I realized a father's experience of infant loss is understandably disparate but brief.
Honestly, I am amazed that a father can even feel sorrowful over a child he never knew or felt. That is love.
I had intimately cared for and nurtured our baby's life for 5 months. Every day for those 5
months, I observed my body painfully stretching and growing to make room for her. I made
diet and lifestyle changes to benefit her developing organs and systems. My heart extended
capacity to love her. The last 2 months were notably unpleasant due to her condition and size
but I endured because I knew it would be worthwhile.
.......
When his tears ceased,
mine still freely flowed.
That was difficult in an unfamiliar way:
I felt alone for the first time, and I felt left behind in Grief.
Please don't ever think for one moment that Derrick has not been kind, patient, and supportive because he has been and more.
.......
A father and mother's experience of the same infant loss can be so discrepant, another new thing I am learning.
Unpredictable should be the synonym to loss and grief.
Saturday, November 11, 2017
Remembrance
I have never been a sentimental person with birthdays or anniversaries.
Somehow, they have been significant with Odelia.
I think it has something to do with remembering our experience and her, both static and invisible to the present that continuously speeds forward.
1 week out was hard, and today's 1 month out was hard.
Thank you to those friends who remembered, and reminded me you are standing with me.
There are (mostly) days where I feel like I have finished mourning, can bear the grief as one part of my life, and keep on. And then there are days like today, where I am brought back to the all-consuming grief and sadness, and cannot. keep. on.
Blessed be the Lord!
For He has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.
The Lord is my Strength and my Shield;
in Him my heart trusts, and I am helped;
my heart exults,
and with my song I give thanks to Him.
The Lord is the strength of His people;
He is the saving refuge of His anointed.
- Psalm 28:6-8
...........
One of my favorite hymns, The King of Love My Shepherd Is:
The King of love my Shepherd is,
Whose goodness faileth never:
I nothing lack if I am His
And He is mine forever.
Where streams of living water flow
My ransomed soul He leadeth,
And where the verdant pastures grow,
With food celestial feedeth.
In death’s dark vale I fear no ill
With Thee, dear Lord, beside me;
Thy rod and staff my comfort still,
Thy cross before to guide me.
Thou spread’st a table in my sight;
Thy unction grace bestoweth;
And, oh, what transport of delight
From Thy pure chalice floweth!
And so through all the length of days
Thy goodness faileth never;
Good Shepherd, may I sing Thy praise
Within Thy house forever.
Somehow, they have been significant with Odelia.
I think it has something to do with remembering our experience and her, both static and invisible to the present that continuously speeds forward.
1 week out was hard, and today's 1 month out was hard.
Thank you to those friends who remembered, and reminded me you are standing with me.
There are (mostly) days where I feel like I have finished mourning, can bear the grief as one part of my life, and keep on. And then there are days like today, where I am brought back to the all-consuming grief and sadness, and cannot. keep. on.
Blessed be the Lord!
For He has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.
The Lord is my Strength and my Shield;
in Him my heart trusts, and I am helped;
my heart exults,
and with my song I give thanks to Him.
The Lord is the strength of His people;
He is the saving refuge of His anointed.
- Psalm 28:6-8
...........
One of my favorite hymns, The King of Love My Shepherd Is:
The King of love my Shepherd is,
Whose goodness faileth never:
I nothing lack if I am His
And He is mine forever.
Where streams of living water flow
My ransomed soul He leadeth,
And where the verdant pastures grow,
With food celestial feedeth.
In death’s dark vale I fear no ill
With Thee, dear Lord, beside me;
Thy rod and staff my comfort still,
Thy cross before to guide me.
Thou spread’st a table in my sight;
Thy unction grace bestoweth;
And, oh, what transport of delight
From Thy pure chalice floweth!
And so through all the length of days
Thy goodness faileth never;
Good Shepherd, may I sing Thy praise
Within Thy house forever.
1 Month
Dear Heavenly Father,
Hallowed by Your Name. You are exalted and reign on high, above sin, uncertainty, confusion, and turmoil. We praise You. And we still entrust our family to You.
Today is an especially pained day as we remember Odelia's passing 1 month ago. Our hearts ache for her so much. We confess that we do not understand or wish for this, so please help fix our eyes on You, and our thoughts on Christ.
We thank You for holding our girl in Your arms even now, and are caring for her with such perfect love. We are grateful for the promise to be reunited again one day. Thank You for Your gracious sustenance. Though we fall, we shall not be cast headlong for the Lord upholds our hand. We shall again praise Him, our salvation and our God.
In His precious Name we pray,
Amen
Hallowed by Your Name. You are exalted and reign on high, above sin, uncertainty, confusion, and turmoil. We praise You. And we still entrust our family to You.
Today is an especially pained day as we remember Odelia's passing 1 month ago. Our hearts ache for her so much. We confess that we do not understand or wish for this, so please help fix our eyes on You, and our thoughts on Christ.
We thank You for holding our girl in Your arms even now, and are caring for her with such perfect love. We are grateful for the promise to be reunited again one day. Thank You for Your gracious sustenance. Though we fall, we shall not be cast headlong for the Lord upholds our hand. We shall again praise Him, our salvation and our God.
In His precious Name we pray,
Amen
Thursday, November 9, 2017
Where Is Our Baby?
So many firsts in this new life without Odelia.
By the way, it is pronounced "oh-DELL-ee-uh".
This morning was my first time back at Costco. Nothing remarkable about that, except for the variety of people available to shop on a weekmorning!
When we passed by the infant girl clothing tables, both ZJ stated that those were clothes for Mui Mui. How do they know? I reminded them that Mui Mui was not healthy and died, and that we will not see her again until Heaven. All while a mother next to us readjusted her baby in the pram. Sigh. So many reminders.
Later, we caught sight of a father playing with his infant son. Holding hands, ZJ earnestly inquired, the first time with sadness:
"Mommy, where is our baby??
"Where is our baby Odelia? Where did she go?"
"Is she still in your tummy?"
"Why can't we play with her, like that Baba?"
"When can God give us another baby?"
"Where is our baby?"
I felt sad that they were still confused, had lost a sister they so loved, and were beginning to understand that our situation was not normative.
We are coming up on 1 month this Saturday. I wonder when the boys will stop talking about Mui Mui, drawing her in our family, making things for Baby Odelia, praying for her, and gifting flowers for me and her.
By the way, it is pronounced "oh-DELL-ee-uh".
This morning was my first time back at Costco. Nothing remarkable about that, except for the variety of people available to shop on a weekmorning!
When we passed by the infant girl clothing tables, both ZJ stated that those were clothes for Mui Mui. How do they know? I reminded them that Mui Mui was not healthy and died, and that we will not see her again until Heaven. All while a mother next to us readjusted her baby in the pram. Sigh. So many reminders.
Later, we caught sight of a father playing with his infant son. Holding hands, ZJ earnestly inquired, the first time with sadness:
"Mommy, where is our baby??
"Where is our baby Odelia? Where did she go?"
"Is she still in your tummy?"
"Why can't we play with her, like that Baba?"
"When can God give us another baby?"
"Where is our baby?"
I felt sad that they were still confused, had lost a sister they so loved, and were beginning to understand that our situation was not normative.
We are coming up on 1 month this Saturday. I wonder when the boys will stop talking about Mui Mui, drawing her in our family, making things for Baby Odelia, praying for her, and gifting flowers for me and her.
Wednesday, November 1, 2017
Blood Pressure
Doctor says my BP looks great, and I no longer need to monitor it.
Praise the Lord (:
Praise the Lord (:
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