Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Their Story: How Many?!

I want to tell their story. In a few years when we (by God's grace) have more children, and our lives are crazy (crazier?) I don't want to forget a single detail of their precious lives. I want to remember everything about them, every second we had with them. This is their story, our story, His Story.

Everything was going well. Well, aside from crippling morning sickness. I had seen my midwife and she had done the necessary lab work. I was taking it relatively easy. All was well. Until July 2nd.

It was just about nap time (around 1:00) at our house. I was sitting on the couch with Wiggles, who was being silly, when my midwife called. Hey how you feelin's were asked and answered. Then she told me that she had gotten my labs back *small pause*. Anyone who's been pregnant knows when the sentence starts with "I got your _____ back," and then has a *small pause* that it's going to be, at the very least, interesting and probably bordering on scary. She explained to me that my HGC levels were higher than normal and I needed to get in for an ultrasound as soon as possible. 

I did a lot of phone nodding as she told me which clinic to call and how to make an appointment. Then I asked the question I was terrified to ask. "So what, I mean, how could, *pause*, what could it be?" Well, there were three possible explanations for high HGC levels. First, and most likely, we were wrong about our conception date. This seemed likely since we weren't really positive about that part of things anyway. Second, twins (or more I guess). This seemed unlikely to me. I know several of you might be thinking, "but Jillian, isn't your husband a twin?" Yes, yes, but you see, before I agreed to marry my husband I did my research. I wanted to know what I was getting myself into. You see, my husband is an identical twin. Identical twins are not genetic. It's merely a fluke on a cellular level (or the hand of God, if you see things the way I do). Our chances of having twins was no greater than anyone else's. The third possibility was a molar pregnancy. I had to look this up. Basically it means that the way the sperm and egg met never made a baby, it just turned into a tumor in the uterus. The reason your hormone levels are so high is because your body is trying very hard to turn this tumor into a baby. It's totally treatable, but it involves surgery and it can turn cancerous. Scary right?

I must have sounded worried because the midwife told me to hang on a second while she made a phone call and by the time she called back she had us scheduled for an appointment less than an hour later. I quickly put Wiggle's down for a nap, dressed (yes, I was still in my pajamas. Morning sickness, remember?), and left my mother-in-law in charge. Pat and I were out the door within 20 minutes.

I remember feeling sick to my stomach in the car, in the elevator, in the waiting room. I remember praying. A lot. I remember the nurse calling my name.

And I will never forget the moment the nurse put the ultrasound wand on my stomach and announced without pausing for effect or preparing us at all, "Oh, there's two in there," as if she were discussing a particularly bad rainy season.

Pat had to sit down. It was sit down or fall down. Our world changed in an instant.

I love them.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Their Story: More

I want to tell their story. In a few years when we (by God's grace) have more children, and our lives are crazy (crazier?) I don't want to forget a single detail of their precious lives. I want to remember everything about them, every second we had with them. This is their story, our story, His Story.

"I really feel like we are ready to have another baby," Pat said to me one day in late March. 

We were driving to Portland to visit my parents (who had no house of their own) from Pat's parent's house (we also had no house of our own) and it was probably the middle of the week (because Pat didn't have a job). You could have pushed me over with a feather.

When we decided to get pregnant the first time it was completely my idea. I wanted to have a baby so badly. It took us almost a year to get pregnant with Wiggles and Pat has since told me it wasn't until the month I was actually pregnant that he felt like he would have been truly disappointed at not being pregnant. So the fact that he was suggesting that we not only have another baby, but that we have one in the middle of all this... mess... was astonishing. I quickly agreed to the plan for more children (to be completely honest, Pat is going to be the one to say "no mas" 'cause I'd have as many as he'd let me, so this was not a difficult decision on my part).

The idea was that we would start trying now and hopefully we would be pregnant within the year, thinking that by then maybe life would make a little more sense. Ha! God has a sense of humor I guess. We were pregnant by the beginning of May, after less than two cycles of trying. 

I found out we were pregnant the day after my Birthday. I remember stopping at the dollar store on the way home from church more than a week after I was supposed to get "the visit". I remember waiting to see if the lines formed in the window of the test and was shocked that they appeared within seconds (I now know it was because my body was freaking out with double the pregnancy hormones, so the test reacted twice as fast). I remember calling Pat into Wiggles room and ripping the bandaid off. "We're pregnant" I told him. You know, for a man who wanted to have another baby he was pretty shocked. I don't think either one of us was expecting to get pregnant quite so soon.

Man, was I sick those first few weeks. With Wiggles I would wake up, throw up, and the feel (relatively) fine the rest of the day. With this pregnancy I didn't throw up, but I felt like I had a terrible stomach flu all day, peaking in the evening, just in time for me to spend some time with my husband. And by "spend some time with" I mean "pass out next to." I thought we must be having a boy or something. I had no idea we were in for a much bigger surprise than a new gender in our family.

This was taken at the park after the car ride where we decided to start trying again. Two pinecones. Prophetic, no?

Monday, October 21, 2013

So, This is Real Friendship.

I feel like writing. I have a lot to say lately, but I'm trying to sort out what I'm ready to say. Until I decide what that is, here's a picture of what a few friends have made me feel like. You have crawled in there with me. Listened to me. Prayed with me. Prayed for me. Said nothing with me. Thanks guys. I had no idea how wonderful real friends could be. It's hard to imagine feeling anything good after such loss. But I feel blessed because of you.

Jillian



Saturday, October 19, 2013

What to Say (and Consequently What NOT to Say) to Grieving Moms and Dads

Just because it's pretty
I have put my foot in my mouth more times that I'd like to count. I'm good at it. It's a gift. I remember talking with a friend's sister and finding out she had separated from her husband. I don't remember what I said, but it was the wrong thing for sure and everyone knew it. I meant well. I wasn't trying to be mean, but I'm pretty sure I hurt some feelings. So this post is in no way meant to condemn people who love us who have also said stupid things. It is more aimed at helping people know how to better understand what we are dealing with so that they can be sensitive to us and others who are grieving.

1. Should Say: I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you must be feeling. (Should not say: "I know exactly how you feel! I lost my second cousin twice removed that I only see every other year at Easter"). This is true: Unless you have experienced something comparable to losing a child you really aren't able to fully understand. Not that your help is invalid or that we can't talk about it, but even people who have also experienced similar losses grieve totally differently. The truth is, I don't even know what I'm feeling half the time so how could you know what I'm feeling?

2. Should say: I'm going to do _______ for you at ________ time, does that work for you? (Should not say: let me know what you need). Especially when a loss first happens it is hard to know what you need or want. In fact, the only thing you can even think to ask for is a time machine so you can go back and undo your loss. I had many lovely people ask me if there was anything they could do for me. It was encouraging to know that people cared, but the truth was, I had no idea what I needed. It wasn't that I didn't need anything, it's that I couldn't think of anything beyond this blinding loss. So when I read an article saying that you should just tell a grieving person what you were going to do to help, I found myself nodding at the screen.

3. If you have experienced something similar, I might actually want to know, especially if we are friends (strangers, not so much) but it should be done like this: "I just wanted you to know that we went through something similar. If you ever need to talk just let me know. I can talk any time." Notice that the friend did not explain their situation in great detail. I might not be ready to grieve with you yet or have the ability to comfort you at that time. They also did not tell some horrifying story from some far off relative who lost three babies in a row (you can't make this stuff up people, it happened a few days ago. You want to be truly cruel?Imply something this awful could happen more than once).

4. When in doubt, say nothing. In the first few days after The World Ended the people who completely disarmed me into a crying puddle were the ones who just looked at me with this intense compassion I can't even describe. It was like they got it and no words were necessary. This rule also goes for when you really don't know what to say. It is so much better to hug me and say nothing than to say something that, however unintentional, is hurtful.

5. I'm still praying for you. I was talking with a friend who also lost a baby several years ago and she said something that I am unfortunately finding to be true. People will give you about a month to be well on your way to recovery. May I first tell you this is absurd. Secondly, I understand why people think this way. After a month the wound isn't raw and gaping. People grieve with you at first and they grieve as long as they can. Most friends grieve with you strongly in the beginning. But the truth is, just like I have a family I need to care for so I put on a brave face, so too they have a life that is mostly separate from mine. I understand that they have moved on, even if I may never really get to that stage. What I'm saying is, not that you should live in sadness with the grieving person all the time, but when you are talking, let them know you understand that their suffering isn't over yet and you will be praying for them as they struggle through. Don't imply that they should be further along in the grieving process than they are. "No being depressed now!" Said with a finger wave and a smirk is not helpful (again, you can't make this stuff up).

6. Validate the father. People understand that mothers grieve. They allow for it and make necessary adjustments in their conversation and activities. People forget about the father. They grieve too only they are the backbone of the family and are required by society to quickly swallow and move on. People forget that fathers have experienced the same level of loss as the mother. Fathers need people to ask how they are doing (and mean it). Fathers need people to call them and invite them for coffee or a guy's night. Fathers need prayer and compassion. Fathers need a shoulder to cry on and an ear to hear their sorrows and help them heal.

Conclusion? The best thing to keep in mind is compassion. Are you saying something to love them or are you trying to fix them? Because there is no "fixing" someone who has lost a child (or in our case, two). Unless you have a time machine. Do you have one? Can I borrow it?

Jillian

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Puzzle Pieces

I have never had a problem letting God do what He wants in my life. I have felt frustrated about not understanding what He's up to, but I always felt that once it was all said and done whatever he was up to would make sense.

When I was in college I liked this guy for a long time. He was a nice guy (a change for me) a christian nice guy and I couldn't understand for the life of me why God was saying no. It even appeared to me to be mutual (although looking back, probably not, I've seen He's Just Not That Into You as many times as the next girl: "if a guy likes you, he will make it happen"). Then I met Pat. He was perfect for me. I knew within a few months that we would get married (I was right, we dated less than a year before getting engaged). And I remember thinking all those long months *cough* years *cough*, while I had spent my wishing I was with someone else, God had a plan. Pat was the missing piece that I couldn't see. God hadn't shown him to me yet, but he had been part of the plan all along.

You see, I have always been comforted by the idea that He had a plan that was bigger than what I could see. I have always felt like no matter what happened someday I would understand. Until four years ago when Pat started to have serious health problems, and we moved out of our apartment, and had a kid (who is WONDERFUL by the way, no regrets, it just didn't make a whole lot of sense) and spent all our money on doctors and filed bankruptcy and Pat's father started having major life-threatening health issues (which are still going on by the way) and Pat didn't get a job we felt was a sure thing. And suddenly I felt lost.

I was talking with Pat a few months ago, before The Day the World Ended, and I was explaining to him about always feeling like I would get it some day. All through this difficult time I felt like someday I would get it. But as time went on I started to feel like nothing would ever make all this heart ache feel like it made sense. It was to complicated for that. I felt like I was trying to solve a giant cosmic jigsaw puzzle, only I wasn't given all the pieces yet. God was quietly handing me one at a time as I was ready to use them and one day, He would give me the piece that finished the puzzle (or at least a decent sized portion of it). But, I told Pat, I felt like no piece of the puzzle could ever tie up all of these pieces. There was no one (or even twelve) puzzle pieces that would make all of this trial make sense. I wanted to stop looking for the answer. I wasn't giving up on God. I wasn't even mad at Him, I just was tired of trying to find something that obviously wasn't going to be given to me. Don't misunderstand me, it's not that I didn't think there was a reason for all of the things we were going through, it's that I was just not going to be allowed to see it.

Then The World Ended. We have buried children. Two actually. There's no puzzle piece big enough of important enough to make that make any kind of sense.

We were reading  Wiggles her bible story at bedtime a few days ago from this wonderful children's bible called The Jesus Storybook Bible. We read it in a loop, meaning we read a story a night until it's done and then we start over. We read the prologue a few nights ago and there were a few sentences that halted the story because tears were obstructing my view of the page:

"[Jesus] is like the missing puzzle piece that makes all other pieces fit together, and suddenly you see a beautiful picture."

Now, I am not saying that now that I saw that sentence I am over the loss of our twins. I will never be over our loss. From what I understand you just learn to live with it. We still have a long road to whatever recovery can look like. But I will say that this children's bible was used by the Lord to speak to me. To tell me the missing piece was not an event or a person, (well, not an earthly person). It is Him and nothing less. That He doesn't just have the answers, He is the answer.

Limpingly,
Jillian

Monday, October 7, 2013

Happy Birthday

I decided to hijack my wife's blog today. The last thing she posted was the announcement of our two little twins, Evangeline Olivia and John Craig. Since then much has happened, and I didn't want the first thing she saw upon revisiting her blog to be the reminder of the happy news. The knife went straight into my heart as I looked at her last post. You see, our beautiful babies have gone to be with Jesus.
This is without a question the hardest thing I've had to write. We knew them as well as any parent. We loved them as we held them in our arms. They were perfect. How wonderful to have had the moments we did. Nevertheless, it is difficult to go on with two little holes in each of our hearts. We have three children, and though I know Jillian doesn't use our first born's name (she goes instead by the name wiggles), our little ones are now in the safe arms of our Savior thereby not needing the disguise of a nickname to keep them protected.
Evangeline and John were fully used by the Lord. His purpose for their lives, all be it short, was realized for the hour they spent with us on this earth. His grace shown in each breath they took, and the sweetness of Christ in their tiny faces as they rested without fear or worry on mommy's tummy.
We are forever changed having known them. What a good mommy she was to them as she held them. The caring and comforting voice of one so sweet and so filled with the faith of the Lord. It was a shock to learn that they would come just a little too early, and there was not much time to prepare for that day our world ended. But even through the valley of the shadow of death, she did not fear evil, but drew close to the Lord's promise that we will one day see them again, soon.
I love and admire the mommy of our three little babies. She has taught me to love so deep and so strong. I will love Wiggles, Evangeline and John forever; and I will love their mommy, if possible, even longer.

Evangeline Olivia
and 
John Craig

Born Sept. 16th 2013

Happy three week birthday my little babies.