The Three Roberts

Isaac and Nathaniel

2012-01-17T13:31:00.000-08:00

During our time at home this Christmas, we took Nathaniel to visit Isaac's grave for the first time. CJay and I don't go to his grave often when we're in Tennessee. It's a long drive, but mostly, we don't need to go. I wanted to take Nathaniel, especially because as he's gets older, CJay and I will talk more about Isaac and his brief time on this earth. It was, surprisingly, an overwhelming experience. I hadn't given much thought to how I would feel, but seeing Nathaniel touching Isaac's headstone, standing where his brother lies, "meeting" him for the first time was, well, painful.

Nathaniel has healed us. Not completely. That's not possible. But he's given CJay and me a reason to smile and laugh. All the things Isaac should have given us, could have given us, if he only would have had the chance.

I don't claim to know much about Taoism or Chinese philosophy*, but I've read about yin and yang and what it represents. Isaac and Nathaniel are like our yin and yang: complementary opposites. No, not good and evil, but forces that wouldn't exist without the other. I've always believed that Nathaniel would not be here without Isaac. Isaac's death taught us about Nathaniel's life. Long before CJay and I knew Nathaniel. Long before we even considered another child. Isaac taught us how to cherish life. If Isaac hadn't died, Nathaniel wouldn't have been created. Maybe I sound crazy, but my children are connected just like other siblings. The only difference is that we have to leave our heart and soul open to see the connection.

What I usually feel when I stand over my son's grave is regret and anger. I feel the need to apologize. As if I let him down. What I felt standing next to Nathaniel as he touched Isaac's grave was gratitude and a renewed promise to do my best for both my sons. It's the only way I know how to continue Isaac's legacy, to make his life mean something more.

* No, I'm not converting to another religion; yin and yang is a fascinating concept.

Santa

2011-12-23T08:25:00.000-08:00

Nathaniel stays at an in-home day care near our house. His sitter is wonderful and planned crafts for the month of December and a party with a visit from Santa. Nathaniel did great with Santa. I was sure he would be scared and cry, but he didn't mind at all. We couldn't get him to smile for the camera, but I was just happy he wasn't screaming!

CJay says the darndest things: Take 2

2011-12-06T11:36:00.001-08:00

CJay has a way with words; I have a great memory. What a perfect combination! I have no disclaimer this time because well, he doesn't know I'm posting these. Like last time, I'm sure he'll ask in disbelief, "Did I really say that stuff?" Yes, dear. You did.

Don't rush me. It's important that my avatar is accurate.

Oh, like having a baby is such a big deal.

Look at all those gray hairs!

Your cookies are pretty good, but they could be better.

No, I do like this. I'm just stunned by how delicious it is.

I stepped in dog poop again. Why do bad things keep happening to me?

I have to do everything around here!

How did you even pass kindergarten?

Aren't you supposed to be my secretary?

And my personal favorite:

We should rent our son out to single men.

You've come a long way, baby!

2011-11-28T18:51:00.001-08:00

One year ago today, Nathaniel came into this world. What a year it's been! He's walking, talking, and becoming a little person. It's exciting and a little scary. We've had so much fun this year getting to know this amazing little guy. What a joy and a gift he's been to all of us, and I know I speak for all of the family when I say I can't wait to see what this next year brings!

November 28, 2010

Always smiling!

Bad Blogger

2011-11-08T17:34:00.000-08:00

Yes, I've been a bad blogger. I'm not sure how so many months have passed since I updated the blog. I'd like to blame it on my classes. Now that I have a break, I'm going to keep this blog up to date. Well, I'm going to try my best. :)Nathaniel has been walking since he turned 10 months. He moves fast now. Too fast. His vocabulary is growing. My favorite word is "nigh nigh". I love the way he smiles up at me when I put him in bed and he says "nigh nigh." It's so sweet! He's such an affectionate kid. He hugs and kisses us all the time. Even with a snotty nose, a kiss from that boy will melt your heart. No matter what kind of day I've had, coming home to Nathaniel always makes me happy. I'm so happy to have him around.

He loves bath time.

Great Grandpa, Uncle Devin, and Nathaniel

A trip up the mountain to get fresh apples.

Playing with his John Deere.

Saturday afternoon in the pool.

Nathaniel at 6 Months

2011-06-02T19:02:00.000-07:00

Nathaniel turned 6 months old on May 28. It's amazing how much a baby changes in just 6 short months! He has his first tooth. He eats solid food. He's crawling. He's sitting. He's smiling and laughing. He's such a social person too. He loves when new people acknowledge him. He's incredibly laid back about almost everything, yet he seems to have his opinions. He loves our animals. When he does fuss, which is rare, I'll have Cocoa come over and wag her tail. Nathaniel will become so fascinated that he forgets that he was mad about something. He's drinking from a cup already and squeals for carrots! He's trying to pull up too. We tote him everywhere and he rarely complains. Everyone comments about how happy he is and most people ask if he's always like that. Yes, he's almost always happy and smiling. He wakes up smiling in the morning and coos himself to sleep in the evening. He is so much fun to have around!

Here are the stats from his 6-month check up:

Weight: 18 lbs 10 oz (73%)
Height: 26.1 inches (45%)
Head Circumference: 16.9 inches (33%)

First day of life

1 Month

2 Months

3 Months

4 Months

5 Months

6 Months

Mother's Day

2011-05-11T17:36:00.000-07:00

I've been a mother for three Mother's Days. Three. This was the first Mother's Day that I've had the privilege to celebrate with a child. It's so much better that way. It doesn't change the fact that I missed Isaac, but I'm so grateful for Nathaniel.

It's true that anything your child makes for you is the most wonderful thing you've ever seen. Funny how that works.

Thanks to Vicky for helping Nathaniel make his first Mother's Day presents. I love them!

Happy Easter

2011-04-24T19:57:00.001-07:00

What is today?

2011-03-24T17:41:00.000-07:00

The milk carton in the fridge says March 24. I've been looking at it for a few days and wondering why March 24 gave me that feeling. You know the one: there's something I'm supposed to remember about March 24. March 24. What is it about March 24? Today, I was running it around my head again. What is it about today? Finally I remembered. March 24 was Isaac's due date. I was sad that I didn't remember that detail about something so important. I find it upsetting because I've always wanted to remember everything I could about Isaac, and to know that it wasn't the first thing on my mind worries me. I know there are other things taking my attention these days, but I still want hold on to the small things about my experience with Isaac.

I read Stacy Delisle's post about her Isaac and Eliana. I've thought so much about how we'll be able to keep Isaac a part of our lives and teach Nathaniel about his brother when his life was short. Her post was encouraging. It is possible that Nathaniel will understand he's a little brother. My only struggle now is being able to talk with him about it. Any time I've tried, I've been close to tears. It's nearly impossible to speak over the lump in my throat. I hope I'll be able to do what Stacy has done and help Nathaniel know how important his brother was and still is to us, even if I don't always remember all the tiny details.

Laughing Baby

2011-03-09T17:41:00.000-08:00

Nathaniel started laughing last week, but it was nearly impossible to get video evidence. He's too mesmerized by the camera! I was finally able to get him on video. CJay had just gotten home from work and was only talking to Nathaniel, but I guess that was enough!

Happy Birthday

2011-03-05T07:33:00.000-08:00

Isaac would be 2 today. I imagine that we would have traveled to Tennessee this weekend to be with our families. There would have been balloons and cake. Grandparents would have been snapping pictures and enjoying their little energetic grandchild.

I really don't let myself explore the "what ifs" and the "could have beens". It's a road that leads nowhere and really only makes me sadder. The truth is that this weekend is hard. We miss our first born. CJay and I have to talk about what was happening this time 2 years ago and remember the agony of letting go of our son. It's part of the process, I know. So many parents have done this too.

Losing Isaac was the hardest thing I've ever experienced, but I'm so thankful for what Isaac's life gave us. I miss him everyday and would give almost anything to see his sweet face again.

Happy Birthday, Isaac Liam. You are missed!

Baby Samuel

2011-02-24T12:04:00.000-08:00

Amid my list of blessings infinite,
Stands this the foremost, “That my heart has bled.”
- Edward Young

I think I'm fairly optimistic. I want to be positive and hope for the best. I try to count my blessings and remember how fortunate I am. Food on the table. A warm home. A healthy son.

But there are days, days like today, when I remember only one thing: my heart has bled. It bled for my son and it bleeds again today for baby Samuel Wyatt Rice. It bleeds for his mom and dad whose lives are forever changed. It bleeds for a family that will always miss their grandson, nephew, and maybe one day, brother. The loss is immeasurable. The pain is unreal.

I hope you'll take a few minutes and send all your thoughts, prayers, love, and hugs to the Rice family as they struggle with what they've been through these past few days and as they face what lies ahead.

3 month update

2011-02-23T12:46:00.001-08:00

All is going well with Nathaniel. He's a very happy little guy, content with looking around and watching the dogs play. He loves going out in the Baby Bjorn, and when we've had some warmer days, I've taken him outside to play with the dogs in the evenings. He's been sleeping up to 9 hours - not every night but several in a row - and I'm actually starting to feel like a human again. I've been back to work for a month, and we've been so fortunate to have a great sitter who keeps him during the day. She even sends me texts and pictures while I'm at work!

Other little tidbits on Nathaniel:
- He's hot natured like his parents.
- Almost everyday he gives a morning and evening dissertation that includes loud cooing at his mobile. He takes his speeches very seriously, complete with high-pitched noises and a furrowed brow.
- He enjoys being "punched" by his dad.
- He likes being held upside down (by his father, of course). Our Jack Russell, however, does not like this and gets very agitated until the baby is back to a full upright position.
- He likes sitting in the bumbo while I work in the kitchen. The only downside is that I get distracted by his cuteness and do things like leave the refrigerator door open or leave the water running. Whoops.
- He doesn't like tummy time but will tolerate it more now than he did a few weeks ago. We're working on it!
- He's advanced and very strong for his age, according to the doctor.
- His hair is growing in quickly, and even though we thought it was going to be dark like CJay's, it actually has red in it like mine.
- He moves a lot in his sleep. Really. I've provided a picture for proof. He starts in his little wedge that's supposed to keep him still, and ends up at the bottom of the crib. And no, moving him closer to the bottom didn't help.

Here are a few other 3-month-old pictures.

What I wish...

2011-01-28T10:10:00.000-08:00

I wish this was my second time with an 8.5 week old.

I wish we were rummaging through infant clothes that we had packed away when Isaac outgrew them.

I wish we were propping Nathaniel in Isaac's lap for pictures.

I wish we could marvel at both our boys.

I wish Isaac could love Nathaniel.

I wish we were chasing an almost 2 year old around the house.

I wish Isaac was here now.

Having another baby in the house doesn't mean I've been too busy to think about my first. It's amazing how much more I wonder what he would have been like at Nathaniel's age. Would he have been this easy going? Would he have smiled like Nathaniel smiles? I tried not to think about the what if's after we lost Isaac, but it's nearly impossible not to now that there's a healthy little boy in our house.

What's truly amazing is how much CJay and I value Nathaniel's life and health. Before Nathaniel came we promised each other to keep our perspective. We didn't know how tired we would be or how irritated sleep deprivation could make us, but we've tried our hardest to remember that none of that matters. There were times when other new parents made comments about being so tired and longing for sleep. Like other parents without their babies, CJay and I have talked about how much we wanted to be up at night, if that's what it took to hold Isaac again. What matters is that every hour of sleep lost is worth it. We wouldn't trade it. Of course, it's hard, but Nathaniel is such a worthy little investment of our time and we're so incredibly thankful for what we have now and for what we've lost.

Ain't he cute?

2011-01-11T18:07:00.000-08:00

CJay says the darndest things

2010-12-15T14:13:00.000-08:00

I came up with this blog idea while I was pregnant. I actually thought of it on Saturday after Thanksgiving and planned to write it on Sunday, but instead I was at the hospital!

Sometimes, CJay really does say the darnedest things, and he's fortunate enough to have a wife with an incredible memory (and a wonderful sense of humor and lovely hair and awesome baking skills ... but I digress). Ha! I decided it would be funny to share some of the comments he made while I was pregnant. I do have his approval for this, but only if I include a disclaimer: "CJay is not a terrible husband and none of these comments made me mad." At least half of that statement is true. :)

(After I got home from class one night at 10:30 and took off my shoes.)
Your feet would only look worse if they were bloody stumps.

Yeah, your nose does look a little bigger.

Have you always had that big freckle on your stomach?

You would not believe how tired I am right now!

Whoa, your hands are really huge!

What are we gonna do if this kid acts like you?

Are you having a contraction? Is this the big one?

I forgot what you looked like when you weren't pregnant.

Can't you just punch yourself in the stomach and get this thing started?
And last but not least...
(When I was ~5 hours into labor)
I'm having terrible heartburn, if that makes you feel any better.

------------------------------------------------

Just because I'm sharing things about CJay...

While I was sitting in the OR waiting for the doctor to stick a giant needle in my spine, the nurse/surgical tech/whoever she was asked me how I thought my husband was doing in the other room and if I thought he was really nervous. I said, "CJay's probably fine." Later that night I was looking through the pictures CJay had taken when Nathaniel was first born, and there was a picture of him. A picture of him in the other room waiting while I was getting a giant needle stuck in my spine and the lady was asking if he was okay. This is the picture...

As it turns out, CJay was doing just fine.

Two weeks already

2010-12-13T14:01:00.000-08:00

It's hard to believe that 2 weeks have passed since Nathaniel first made his grand appearance. I'd say we've been adjusting pretty well to his presence. My mom stayed with us for several days and that made such a difference. She is particularly good at decoding baby language, and CJay and I felt like she shortened our learning curve by miles. I'm recovering better this time around. The doctors assured me it would be an easier surgery because it wasn't emergent, and thankfully, they were right. I've been able to move around and do much more without assistance. I even took my finals last week, and I managed to make an A in my class!

Without further ado, some pictures of Nathaniel.

Nathaniel Is Here!

2010-11-29T19:59:00.000-08:00

Nathaniel Christopher is here and he's perfectly healthy! He was born via c-section at 2:41 pm on Sunday. I went into labor around 1:30 am Sunday morning, but my contractions weren't close enough together to head to the hospital until 8 am. It was a long wait! Unfortunately, my labor slowed dramatically around 1 pm and the doctor was concerned that Nathaniel was no longer getting enough oxygen from the placenta. I had really hoped for a VBAC this time around, but the doctor said he had a nagging feeling that Nathaniel wasn't going to do well if my labor continued so slowly. I wasn't happy about the c-section, but of course, there was no question that the baby's well-being came first.
We're all doing well right now. I'm sore, but this time around has been nothing like the first. I'm moving around much better and feeling like I might actually heal sooner. Hopefully, we'll be taking the little guy home on Wednesday. I'll post more pictures soon.

Nathaniel's first moment on earth.

Looking a little like Mr. Magoo!

38 weeks!

2010-11-12T15:49:00.000-08:00

I'm doing well and things seem to be progressing normally with the little guy. The doctor says she thinks he won't be a very large baby, maybe 7.5 pounds. I'm okay with that as long as he's healthy! I know she could also be wrong with her estimate, but we'll find out soon enough. I'm feeling all the normal aches and pains, and I'm extremely swollen. But those are really my only complaints! I'm almost finished with this semester too. Part of me hopes Nathaniel will hold out until I'm done. Unfortunately, that means he would have to wait until Dec. 7, and for some reason, I don't see that happening.

I had to post this picture just because Risi is in the background.

Faux Thanksgiving

2010-11-12T15:42:00.001-08:00

CJay and I decided to have Thanksgiving last weekend. I was saying that we might not have turkey and dressing this year for obvious reasons, and I was really going to miss the feast. CJay suggested we go ahead with the dinner. I cooked all day and couldn't walk by 7:30, but we had fun pigging out at our faux Thanksgiving.

Pictures

2010-10-25T17:12:00.001-07:00

I don't like having my picture taken on a good day, which makes pregnancy pictures even less exciting for me. But for the sake of posterity, or something like that, I have been taking belly pictures. (I'm refraining from posting the ones where I'm making faces, but I do have a lot of those.) I hope you all really, really appreciate these!

30 weeks

32 weeks

35.5 weeks

Courage

2010-10-05T12:41:00.000-07:00

Courage is a first step, but simply to bear the blow bravely is not enough. Stoicism is courageous, but it is only a halfway house on the long road. It is a shield, permissible for a short time only. In the end, one has to discard shields and remain open and vulnerable. Otherwise, scar tissue will seal off the wound and no growth will follow. To grow, to be reborn, one must remain vulnerable - open to love but also hideously open to the possibility of more suffering.

- Anne Morrow Lindbergh from Hour of Gold, Hour of Lead

When I told people I was pregnant again, someone called me courageous. Courageous. I remember thanking her but thinking "courage will only get me so far." I suppose courage really is the first step. It took courage to decide to try for another baby, but courage isn't enough. As the days pass and Nathaniel's arrival draws nearer, I struggle with what I know now: life's last breath in your arms, death of a newborn, profound grief.

Immediately after Isaac's birth and death, I knew I wanted another child, but that certainty waned as the grief grew. The first days afterwards aren't the worst. You might think they are, but as the days pass, your brain begins to comprehend the magnitude of what's happened. And you're hit again and again and again with the pain. I considered the possibility of never having another child because of the pain. I couldn't imagine being pregnant again and facing life's harshest reality. That burden would surely be too big to bear. At times I still think I'm crazy. Crazy to be pregnant again and know life has no guarantees—that living through a tragedy doesn't stop tragedy from finding us again. And yet here we are 7 weeks away from Nathaniel's due date.

I suppose all this is why I'm so drawn to Lindbergh's words. I had my shield up for some time and now I'm vulnerable and hideously open to the possibility of more suffering. But I'm ready. More ready than I thought I would be. Whatever the outcome and as much as I want a perfectly healthy child, I'm ready.

27.5 weeks

2010-08-29T14:51:00.000-07:00

We had another ultrasound on Monday and all is still well with the little guy. This pregnancy seems to be going much faster than the last, but I'm assuming it's because we're not living under the same strain. I've been carrying pretty small, even though the baby is measuring in the 71st percentile for weight. That's about 2 weeks ahead. We'll see if that means he comes 2 weeks early! (I'm not sure how I feel about that just yet!)

Here's a shot from the last ultrasound in July. The baby is 21.5 weeks.

These are from Monday's photo shoot. 26.5 weeks. The top photo is the baby's nose and mouth. I hope you can see it!

And finally, the belly shot. I know I'm not smiling but it's the best CJay got before I lost patience. What can I say? Pregnancy, weight gain, hormones - who wants pictures taken??

** The painting of Isaac above my head was my Mother's Day gift from my mom, who has maintained a tight lip on her exceptional artistic abilities. She painted Isaac's portrait after almost 30 years without picking up a paintbrush. (I'm still shocked by that. 30 years!?) As you can see, it's an awesome painting and the picture doesn't even do it justice!

6 months (and feelings)

2010-08-09T17:26:00.001-07:00

All is going well with baby Nathaniel. We had another ultrasound at 22 weeks and the doctor once again assured us that everything looked perfect. I know it's good news (wonderful news), but I don't believe it. Ok, I don't intend to sound like Negative Nancy here, but I just can't fully believe that this child is healthy. That he'll come home with us. That he'll even be "normal." People say they understand that I don't want to get attached. It's a way to protect myself. Tell me how a mother isn't automatically attached to the child growing inside her? Maybe there's a way, but I sure don't know it. The truth is that I'm not trying to stay unattached. I'm trying to deal with this world's harsh reality: babies die. My baby died. I have to brace myself.

To even consider getting pregnant again was a leap of faith. I'm sure anyone who's lost a child would agree with that. You're actually signing up with the understanding that it could happen again. And this time, you know how much it's gonna hurt. That's really where CJay and I are now. We dance around the idea of having a son to bring home, but we quickly withdraw our excitement. I'd like to save it all. Save it all for when Nathaniel is born and he's pink and healthy and screaming. Then I'll exhale.

I'm not saying I'm expecting something bad to happen with this pregnancy or that I think this child will be sick or die. On the contrary, there are times when I think he's going to be fine. He's going to grow up and drive us nuts. Of course that's what I hope and pray for every minute, but I want to hold on tight right now and not forget where I've been. Babies die. Babies live. We don't get to chose.

I don't want you to think I'm down or unhappy. I'm not. I'm incredibly thankful to be pregnant again, and I've enjoyed all the little kicks and punches so far. It's just impossible to ignore the grief that sneaks in through the happy moments. I miss Isaac, and this pregnancy reminds me even more so of his absence. I'm trying to remember everyday to be thankful for this son and remember one of the important lessons that Isaac taught me: he's worth whatever lies ahead.

How nursing chose me

2010-07-07T17:18:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, my mom was a home health nurse. There were times when she had no choice but to take my brothers and me with her to visit a patient. Most of the time we stayed in the car and waited on her, but on occasion she would say a particular patient wouldn't mind if we came inside. I have vivid memories of those homes. We lived in a small mountain town, and my mom visited people who lived, literally, on the side of the mountain. I remember dirty trailers, scrawny dogs, dirty dishes, and bugs. But most of all, I remember the first time I watched my mom clean someone's tracheostomy. The time I saw her clean someone who had an "accident." The first time I saw her help someone out of a wheelchair and even when I helped her brush a lady's long hair. You might think this is why I'd like to be a nurse now, but in fact, these are the very reasons why I decided not to go into nursing in college. (In all fairness, the number of chemistry classes turned me off to the idea just as much!) Honestly, I said I would never be okay with cleaning up vomit and poop or touching infected pussy wounds. No thanks! What is that old cliche? Right, never say never.

Finding my calling wasn't so easy. Finding my calling meant I had to survive my son's death. As excruciating as losing Isaac was, it brought me here. I believe the reason I came to this decision and can see it so clearly now is due to my time spent with my counselor. Don't ask me how because it was a process. A long, long process. But when I started thinking that I'd like to do something else with my life, I knew rather quickly that nursing was calling. When I began looking at programs and classes, the pieces fit.

I've always respected nurses, and I've always spoken highly of them. I'm always proud to say that my mother's a nurse. The truth was that it took losing my son to realize what it meant to be a nurse. When I recounted the story with my counselor (in the way only a counselor can make you pull out details and thread them together one by one), one thing always stood out: the nurses. The NICU nurses. My labor and delivery nurse. The nurse who cried as I spoke of Isaac. My neighbor, who has been a NICU nurse for more than 20 years, came to the hospital when she was supposed to be on vacation simply because I asked that she be there to take out Isaac's breathing tube. She didn't have to be there, but she was. My L&D nurse came to my room the day after Isaac's birth and told me she couldn't sleep thinking about us and Isaac. She cried with us.

I have so many stories of those nurses who cared for Isaac. They mourned with us and made us feel as if our child, our situation, was just as difficult for them as it was for us. They were patient and sincere. These experiences completed the picture that began with my mother so many years ago. The part I couldn't grasp as a child, I can understand now. My mother was first and foremost caring for people. Her priority was always their well-being. Spending the most difficult time of my life with so many wonderful nurses made it clear. A nurse will clean up vomit. She will bathe smelly people and wipe poop. But that isn't what completes the nurse. The real nurse is there for you, for your mom, your brother, or your child when your emotions are overwhelming. When you're not even sure if you'll breath again, a nurse will show you how. A nurse can hold your hand and cry for you and give you strength you didn't know you had. What an honorable profession. What an amazing way to change someone's life.

In the midst of all my pain, this is how nursing chose me. I just didn't know it until now.

A Tiny Announcement

2010-06-25T08:31:00.000-07:00

We're expecting another baby boy this November. Nathaniel Christopher is due on Thanksgiving Day (Nov. 25), which means I'm 18 weeks along. The doctor told us everything looks perfectly healthy so far.

Here's the baby at 17.5 weeks.

I'm 16 weeks here and not very big yet, although I'm definitely bigger than I was last time!

Recap

2010-06-15T07:30:00.000-07:00

Maybe you're all wondering how I've been feeling lately. I know I haven't said. I didn't write anything about Isaac's first birthday or describe how CJay and I felt. Truthfully, I didn't want to. Truthfully, I've felt good. The funny thing about writing that (or even saying it) is it makes me feel a little guilty. I'm not sure why someone's death makes you feel as if you shouldn't keep living. Perhaps a wiser person could explain that to me.

I dreaded March 5, but it wasn't March 5 that got me. It was March 4. For months after Isaac died, CJay thought the 4th was his birthday. We had gone to see the specialist on March 4 at 4 p.m. for another ultrasound, and by 6 p.m. we were admitted to the hospital. We didn't sleep that night; Isaac was born at 1:31 a.m., and we waited until almost 8 a.m. to see him in the NICU. All of this to say ... all day on March 4 of this year, I was sad. Reliving the moments leading up to that appointment, to that moment when the doctor told us we had a choice: go home and he won't live or have a c-section soon. That moment started the avalanche.

And so, for CJay and me we watched the clock on March 4. We did play-by-play, remembering so many of the details and the emotions. We sat on the couch that evening picking through those hours leading up to Isaac's birth. We recalled waiting for my mom and feeling sick with worry. We talked about the surgery and hearing Isaac's two little cries. He was surprisingly loud and strong to have been so ill. We watched Isaac's video and looked at the pictures. And we cried.

On March 5, we celebrated. We talked about what Isaac gave us. We listed the ways in which we'd changed. We bought a cake and champagne and we toasted a strong-spirited child who gave every ounce of what he had. And we smiled.

A long time comin'

2010-06-08T12:26:00.000-07:00

I certainly didn't intend to go so long between posts. We've been busy! I decided before Christmas last year that I wanted to go back to school - nursing school to be specific. That means that in January, I started taking a prerequisite class and preparing for the GRE. In the mean time CJay was taking classes to prep for yet another CPA exam and trying to survive tax season. If you've never lived with an accountant during tax season, try it. It's tough. Just as we came to the end of my semester, the end of tax season, and one day past my taking the GRE, CJay sprained both his ankles. Yes, both of them. Of course you want to know how he sprained both of them. Everyone asks that. Well, I didn't see it happen, but apparently, he fell on some of our landscaping rocks in the back yard. The rest is history. I spent almost a month taking care of him as he slowly started being able to walk and drive. Whew! That was a tough job! He's still not back to normal and will be in an ankle brace for another month, but at least he's mobile. Things have just been hectic since January and even more so since March.

I hope you'll forgive my absence. I started another class a couple weeks ago, and now I'm volunteering at a health clinic in town. All for my application to nursing school at UVA. I'll apply sometime in October but won't know the outcome until January. I think the story of why I want to attend nursing school is another post entirely. And I promise I'll write it. I want to share how I got to this decision, and why I'm so determined to do it. Until then, pray I survive the busy weeks ahead!

Isaac

2010-03-04T15:32:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to repost Isaac's slideshow in honor of his birthday.

Getting closer

2010-02-27T09:16:00.000-08:00

CJay and I are doing okay as March 5 draws near. I feel a sense of regression — back to some of the grieving I was doing months ago. There's no getting around it though. We have to get to March 5 and 6, and we have to trample through the memories and the pain. I've been studying Isaac's pictures a lot lately. I haven't done that in a while, but I'm glad I can take the time now to retrace his small features and marvel at his hair, his fingers, and his funny feet. I'm thankful that grief changes as time goes on. It was incredibly difficult for me to imagine a life without the extreme pain, no agony, of losing Isaac. Unfortunately but expectantly, that sensation has surfaced again with his upcoming birthday. It's amazing what humans can endure, isn't it? Only 6 months ago, I would have told you I wouldn't survive this. I didn't care if I did. This road has been rough, and I would have never picked it (who would), but it's our road to travel. And I'll forever be thankful that we met Isaac traveling down this road.

The Pit and the Pendulum: Part I

2010-02-16T07:46:00.000-08:00

Edgar Allan Poe isn't one of my favorite authors, but I've always marveled at his ability to tap into the dark recess of human emotions. His writing is somber yet intimate. When I was younger, say high school, I didn't understand many of the feelings Poe described — for example, in The Tell-Tale Heart, the narrator is paranoid, insane, murderous. I never fully appreciated how someone could be insane or murderous, but I understood those feelings were real.

As we creep toward March 5, I've had Poe's works floating around in my mind. I'm not sure why. Maybe because he was a sad man who experienced a great deal of loss and pain. Maybe because now I understand some of the dark moods Poe evoked in his stories and poems. His writing reflects his fascination with death, and honestly, these past couple weeks and the weeks to come, I too will be focusing on death — how it changed us, how it leaves a hole, it's ability to redefine whomever it touches.

The Pit and the Pendulum is one of my favorite stories. For some reason, this story, with its prisoner who continues to hope in the face of certain death, reminds me of what CJay and I went through during Isaac's poor prognosis both before and after his birth. I hope I'll be able to convey what has been circulating in my brain these past few days. If not, at least I can stop thinking about it.

The narrator is a prisoner sentenced to death and being held in a dimly lit dungeon. After investigating his surroundings and discovering the room contains a deep pit, the prisoner falls asleep. He awakens to find he's been strapped to a wooden board. Above him hangs a pendulum, shaped like a crescent and razor sharp. The pendulum swings back and forth progressing slowly toward the prisoner's heart.

While I gazed directly upward at it (for its position was immediately over my own) I fancied that I saw it in motion. In an instant afterward the fancy was confirmed. Its sweep was brief, and of course slow. I watched it for some minutes, somewhat in fear, but more in wonder.

What boots it to tell of the long, long hours of horror more than mortal, during which I counted the rushing vibrations of the steel! Inch by inch — line by line — with a descent only appreciable at intervals that seemed ages — down and still down it came! Days passed — it might have been that many days passed — ere it swept so closely over me as to fan me with its acrid breath. The odor of the sharp steel forced itself into my nostrils. I prayed — I wearied heaven with my prayer for its more speedy descent. I grew frantically mad, and struggled to force myself upward against the sweep of the fearful scimitar. And then I fell suddenly calm, and lay smiling at the glittering death, as a child at some rare bauble.

There was another interval of utter insensibility; it was brief; for, upon again lapsing into life there had been no perceptible descent in the pendulum. But it might have been long; for I knew there were demons who took note of my swoon, and who could have arrested the vibration at pleasure. Upon my recovery, too, I felt very — oh, inexpressibly sick and weak, as if through long inanition. Even amid the agonies of that period, the human nature craved food. With painful effort I outstretched my left arm as far as my bonds permitted, and took possession of the small remnant which had been spared me by the rats. As I put a portion of it within my lips, there rushed to my mind a half formed thought of joy — of hope. Yet what business had I with hope? It was, as I say, a half formed thought — man has many such which are never completed. I felt that it was of joy — of hope; but felt also that it had perished in its formation. In vain I struggled to perfect — to regain it. Long suffering had nearly annihilated all my ordinary powers of mind. I was an imbecile — an idiot.

Our pregnancy with Isaac was like this. We waited for the pendulum to fall. We hoped. We chided ourselves for hoping. Some days I prayed for it to end quickly, for the pendulum to descend.

The prisoner doesn't die. The rats in the dungeon chew through the strap holding him to the wooden board and he is free — in one sense of the word. Much like Isaac's birth set us free. We were free from watching the swing of the pendulum (the ups and downs of our many doctor appointments). We were free from our hope that felt in vain. We weren't freed from what lay ahead — the agony of grief.

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This post was going to be too long, so I'll post the second half later. I hope I didn't bore you readers with my English lesson. :)

No need for words

2010-01-27T17:56:00.001-08:00

What I'm thankful for in '09*

2010-01-05T09:44:00.000-08:00

My family has a tradition at Thanksgiving. After dinner we sit around the table and say one thing that we're thankful for. I didn't want to do that this year. I wasn't ready, but now I am.

I'm thankful for ...

Isaac - His 2 days of life taught me more than my 27 years. I've been living better since he left us. What a sweet child.

CJay - I desperately love CJay. In my weakest moment, he gave me strength. He kept me focused when we had to make the toughest decisions about our child's life. He makes me laugh and laughs at me. He's always kind and sensitive, even when he's exhausted. Not only is he extremely intelligent, but he's also practical, rational, and patient. There's no way I could have made it through 2009 without him.

My parents - Loyal. Thoughtful. Loving. Godly. Are they the perfect? No. But they gave me the skills to wade through this difficult year. They taught me what is most important in life, and when I held Isaac in my arms, I was thankful they had warned me just how much I would love him. I know they miss him too.

Seth (my older brother) - He confided in me about how excited he was to meet Isaac. He was there with us when Isaac died, making us laugh, playing music for Isaac on the iPhone, and keeping us all sane (or insane?). He stepped up and made decisions about the memorial service, the casket, the flowers, and much more. He took pictures of my postpartum butt, and he pointed and laughed when my hospital gown wasn't closed. He lives up to his big brother role quite well.

Devin (my younger bro) - I wrote an essay in college about Devin called "The Gentle Giant." I still think of him that way. He's so tenderhearted. He would have made an exceptional uncle to Isaac. I remember last Christmas when Devin put his mouth close to my pregnant belly and made animal noises for Isaac just so he would kick. I know Isaac would have loved Devin like I do.

CJay's parents - Bill and Connie are two of the most generous and sensitive people I know. CJay and I both wanted to protect them from the pain of losing Isaac. We worried about what it might do to them. They gave so much of their time to Isaac before he was born. Painting and hanging curtains and ironing and washing and assembling. They did and would still do anything we asked. I feel fortunate to have such caring and kind in-laws.

Those who cried with us - It meant so much to know that we had friends who were grieving with us. Thanks for keeping us close in your thoughts and prayers. Thanks for loving Isaac even if you didn't know him.

* In no particular order.

Awakening

2009-12-16T12:04:00.000-08:00

“The years that are gone seem like dreams—if one might go on sleeping and dreaming—but to wake up and find—oh! well! Perhaps it is better to wake up after all, even to suffer, rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one’s life.”
- Edna, The Awakening

I remembered something today.

I remember when the nurse came in my room on Saturday all those months ago. I remember being ready to leave, moving slowly, deliberately, so as not to jar my incision. I remember standing near the window in my room. The nurse was shorter than me and her hair was dark. She, like all the other nurses, exuded sympathy when she entered my room. Of course they knew. I remember the nurse saying she was sorry. Sorry about my baby. She meant it; I could tell.

I spoke as deliberately as I moved: "Thank you. He was worth it. It's really important to me that people know. He was worth it."
She began to cry and left the room.

It is as easy for me to forget that Isaac was worth it as it is for me to remember that moment and that feeling. Maybe it sounds odd, but the pain can be debilitating. Sometimes I don't want to go there. Most of the time I struggle with knowing that these feelings are just part of who I am. But so is Isaac. His short life and death awakened in me something that I may never fully understand. I think it's strength and determination and maybe some grace. It's been so hard, and Christmas has made this month even harder, but I'm so thankful.

Perhaps it IS better to wake up after all, even to suffer, rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one’s life. After all, my life is richer and more meaningful now.

A Letter to Kay Jewelers

2009-12-09T11:21:00.000-08:00

To Whom It May Concern:

I saw your latest Christmas commercial again last night. You know, the one where the mom is rocking her infant next to the Christmas tree. Her husband walks in and she says, "You're up? It's 2 a.m." He replies, "It's not just 2 a.m. It's 2 a.m. Christmas morning. Our first Christmas together as a family."

I know the powers that be are just tugging at the heart strings to make some sales. I know you think it's sweet and so many Americans can relate to that special first Christmas as a family. But there are those of us who are trying to forget that this SHOULD have been their first Christmas as a family. There are those of us who are buying gifts, trimming the tree, and watching movies in a vain attempt to forget that this year SHOULD have been sweet and memorable, but it's really not.

I'm not asking you to take the commercial off the air, but maybe give us a warning: "The commercial you're about to see is graphic, and viewer discretion is advised."

Thanks,
Whitney

P.S. I might feel better if you send diamonds or maybe gold.

Prayers for a friend

2009-12-01T13:23:00.000-08:00

My friend, Kimberly, is in need of prayers. Her son, Hudson, was born still at 30 weeks back in January, and she's now 10 weeks along with another child. She's seeing a specialist tomorrow because her doctor is concerned about something he saw on the ultrasound. I'm including the link to her blog, so you can read her latest post.

Happily Henninger

Rambling

2009-10-27T07:37:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about the upcoming 8-month date. Eight months already! I don't know how I feel about it. There's so much guilt involved with feeling better. I'm sure everyone goes through that when they lose a friend or family member. Is it okay to be happy? Is it okay to smile? Is it okay to think about the future? I know it is. I know I'm supposed to do that, but it's hard. It's hard because I can't quite figure out how to move forward with life and still hold on to Isaac. I have been moving ahead, feeling better and more like myself. I've enjoyed that, but in some ways it seems so unfair to Isaac.

Don't get me wrong, things have been going well. I didn't know if there would come a time when I could say that. Things are good and calm. I had forgotten what it was like to be free from the stress of the pregnancy. Not many people really knew what CJay and I were dealing with every week. Every appointment was a new discovery that left us sick with worry and dread. That went on for so long, and now, it's like we're humans again. And therein lies the problem. Being this way - better - is the opposite of how we felt with Isaac. Maybe I think I have to be like I was because that's the only way I can keep him close to me.

We still miss Isaac. We still talk about him and wonder where we'll go from here. More children? Maybe. After Isaac was born, I thought I should have as many children as possible. He was amazing and that feeling was overwhelming. As time has passed and we've begun to experience all the feelings that we couldn't process before (I'm talking about all those weeks of the unknown and the appointments and ultrasounds and doctors.), CJay and I have wondered if we'll ever want to have more children. It's a complicated feeling. I know I'll always want Isaac, but will I want someone else as well? I don't know. And I know that each person, each couple has to make that choice when the time comes.*

*I'm not sure where I was going with this post, but thanks for letting me ramble a bit. I usually don't let myself do that on the blog.

Wave of Light

2009-10-14T07:20:00.000-07:00

I know now how important it is to remember those who've passed on. My best friend lost her dad when we were in college, and we talked so much about her grief and pain. I cried for her because I knew how much she was hurting. However, I never really understood the grief she was living with until Isaac died. We all want our family and friends remembered, whether they lived 2 days or 60 years. October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month. The truth is that if I hadn't been touched by infant loss this year, I wouldn't think much about an awareness month. But suffering makes us so much more cognizant of others and our surroundings. Of course, you would agree that we all should be sensitive without the tragedies, but that is not really the point. So, tomorrow light a candle if you've lost a child. Light a candle if you know someone who's lost a child. Or just light a candle because maybe, just maybe, what CJay and I have been through has made you more aware.

In 1988, the month of October was named national Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. October 15th has further been recognized as the international day of awareness.

Organizations across the globe ask that you take part in the "Wave of Light" by lighting a candle at 7 p.m. in your local time zone. Please take a moment on this day for reflection and remembering our lost children by lighting a candle at home, in groups and gatherings, attending a mass, or calling someone close to you who has experienced this loss. No matter how recent or how long ago, every parent would love to know that someone is remembering their angel child.

Successive Approximation (or 7 months later)

2009-10-06T06:53:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite psychology classes was behavior modification, and one of my favorite topics was successive approximation. I had seen the technique used before and I had used it myself, but it was fascinating to find out that the technique had a name. It's a fairly simple conditioning tool: If I want my new puppy Cocoa (yes, we got a puppy) to come when I say "come," I offer her a reward for every step she takes toward me. So, I say "Cocoa, come." She looks at me as if to say "huh?" and then takes a step in my direction. I reward her with praise and a treat for that one step. With every additional step, she gets another reward. She doesn't have to come all the way to me on the first try. I just want her to move in my direction. I am reinforcing approximations of the behavior I desire from Cocoa. It won't be long before she comes when I call.

All of this came to mind yesterday when I was thinking back on these past 7 months. I remember thinking that I might not make it 3 months, much less 7. Those first few days after Isaac died, I had to remind myself to breath. I didn't sleep well. I didn't eat much. With each passing week, breathing became easier. I stopped reliving every moment of his short life. I started sleeping better.

At first, the grief was an intruder into our lives. As time passes, grief is a common companion. He's woven into every day and I accept it. I've stopped resisting. I've started enjoying the little things about life again. And each day I breath and work and eat and sleep reinforces the approximation of living. It won't be long before I feel like I really am living again. I'm finally looking forward to it.

Tree of Life

2009-09-29T13:41:00.000-07:00

On Sept 26, CJay and I attended a memorial service for families who had lost children at the UVA Children's Hospital. When we received the invitation in the mail a few weeks ago, I was a little excited. Yes, excited. I know it's odd, but as time passes, people move on. As normal as that is, and as much as we expect that to happen, it's still heart warming when someone acknowledges what we've been through and, most importantly, our son.

As the day of the service approached I became anxious about what we would have to endure (tears? stories? questions?), but the service was a wonderful way to recognize those of us who have suffered this tragedy. There were tears and stories and questions, but the organizers handled the service with such care and tenderness.

A few parents stood to tell their stories, and then each child's name was read. When your child's name was called, you walked to the front of the auditorium and placed a carnation on the Tree of Life in memory of your child.

There were so many names. Too many. It was hard to look at those other parents so overwhelmed with their grief. It was hard to know that we're just like them. In some ways, it's reassuring to see so many people struggling with this loss. I hate it, but it makes me feel better knowing we're not alone. I suppose it makes me more confident that CJay and I will survive.

Looking back

2009-09-08T19:13:00.000-07:00

I didn't intend to go so long between posts, but we've been busy. It's been nice to have things occupying us these past few weeks. CJay is taking courses in preparation for his CPA exam, we went on vacation, and I've traveled for work.

I wanted to write something on September 5. Something that said where we've been, where we're going, how we're feeling. But I didn't. Instead I've been thinking about a different anniversary. We're quickly approaching the 1-year anniversary of that fateful 12-week ultrasound - the day we first heard "cystic hygroma." It was September 18.

I remember how I felt that day. I remember wondering what was taking the doctor so long. She must be busy with another patient, right? I remember Dr. O saying "it's a cystic hygroma." She had just been to a conference where the leading researcher on this topic had been discussing her study results. She gave us the power point presentation with her notes scribbled on the printed slides. Dr. O said the majority of babies with cystic hygromas are born with Turner's syndrome. I knew we weren't having a girl. I knew that all along. (Turner's is a monosomy X chromosomal disorder, meaning it only occurs in girls.) I asked Dr. O a hundred questions. CJay sat quietly most of the time. I think he was in shock at the news.

The anniversary of the beginning of our twisted adventure seems more monumental to me than a 6-month birthday for Isaac. It seems more important to note that we're approaching 1 year since we changed forever. It has been a gradual process. One where we felt mostly like puppets on a stage. It was a process that robbed us of our innocence. No matter how naive that may sound, I believe death does that to its victims. Mostly, it's the only way I know to describe how different I feel and have felt for almost a year.

We've learned many lessons this year, cried a million tears, and marveled over the miracle that lived only 2 days. I'm convinced I'll never know why we went through this, but 1 year later, I know that I would do it all again for those 2 days with Isaac.

Isaac's scrapbook

2009-07-28T17:54:00.000-07:00

I've never done any scrapbooking, which is probably good for my rage (Don't ever ask about the time I learned to crochet. Can you say homicidal?). I just get...so...irritated when everything isn't perfect the first time. I do better with something more physical like sports. Fortunately, my sister-in-law loves scrapbooking and, to my knowledge, hasn't turned homicidal in the process.

Julie offered to take our photos and numerous ultrasound pictures of Isaac and make us a scrapbook. At first, I wasn't sure I would like a scrapbook. They seem like such happy things. It's not that we weren't happy about Isaac, but there was so much stress involved in the pregnancy. When I look at those ultrasound images, I can remember each appointment and the bad news that followed. I didn't know if putting those memories in a scrapbook would really be what I wanted. But what do I know? The scrapbook is amazing! Julie did a great job! I'm glad she could see the potential when I couldn't.

These pictures just don't do the book justice, but I wanted to share some of the pages anyway.

Blogging

2009-07-20T09:38:00.000-07:00

I really don't enjoy blogging. At first it was difficult for me to write anything at all. I didn't want to expose the struggles of the pregnancy or give minute details about how we were coping. The truth is I don't really want to share all my feelings with everyone. That's why there are long gaps between posts sometimes. I just don't have anything positive to say. I refrain from these posts: "Here are 100 reasons why life sucks now." Or maybe: "I almost pushed someone in front of a car today." Or how about: "I can't stop crying this week and my face will probably always be this puffy."

The truth is that grief has its way with you. I'm up and down and angry and sad. I'm talking zero to 60 in milliseconds. I've had many sleepless nights, and I was having a hard time believing it had anything to do with my grieving. But who am I kidding? Grief leaves its residue on everything. I look in the mirror and see someone different, but people don't treat me that way. It's not like I want them to. Or maybe I do. I don't make decisions as well as I used to. I don't care as much about other people's problems. I don't want to ask about your day. I don't want to hear happy stories.

It's not like that every day. I never see it coming. Some days, the mornings are great and the afternoons are miserable. Some days I want to scream and some days seem completely normal. And I can't find any rhythm to it. Most of the time, I just want to be alone with my agony.

It hasn't helped that I fractured my foot only 2 weeks after I was cleared to begin exercising. I spent 6 weeks in a boot and I'm still restricted (at least for another 2 weeks). I haven't been able to exercise as much as I wanted or lose as much baby weight as I'd hoped. I had planned to be in a 4 miler at the first of September, and I was so excited to begin the training program. Six weeks before the race, I'm still not able to do any jogging - doctor's orders. All of that has heaped frustration upon grief, and there's just no getting around it. I have to live through it. What choice do I have?

I know everyone deals differently with their grief, and here I am. Four and a half months have passed since we lost Isaac, but the stress started last September when we heard "cystic hygroma". I've been trying to cope since then. It just seems like it's been a long road already and I see no signs of relief ahead.

July 4th

2009-07-13T19:35:00.000-07:00

We went to DC this year for the Fourth of July. My brother and sister-in-law live in Leesburg, just west of DC. My little brother and his girlfriend drove up from Tennessee, and we all decided to brave the crowds in downtown DC to see the annual fireworks. It was hectic and extremely crowded, but it was so much fun. Watching the fireworks explode over the Washington Monument was breathtaking!

My older brother, Seth, is in the Air Force, and my mom served in the Army. Though neither one of them has fought in a war, they still sacrificed for our country. Our American lives are lavish: grocery stores on every corner, shopping malls, restaurants, clean water, and air conditioning. So many people all over the world don't know where their next meal will come from. Many live in fear. Americans are quick to forget. Men have died. Sons have died. Fathers and mothers have died. Why do we wait until July 4th to remember these sacrifices?

I'd been to the Vietnam Memorial before. I was in 8th grade. I stood at the Wall and watched as one of my teachers located her brother's name. She ran her fingers across his name as she lifted a white piece of paper to the Wall. With some effort she took a pencil and slowly colored back and forth. In just seconds she began crying. She sobbed and could barely breath. Another teacher helped her move away from the wall so that yet another teacher could finish the pencil rubbing. I was only 13 at the time, but I remember wondering why she was crying so hard. It didn't make sense to me that she could be so sad after so many years. I had never experienced that kind of pain and loss. When I was standing at the Wall this July 4th running my fingers across the names, I kept thinking, "whose son are you?" It was all too clear at that moment: my son's name is etched into a memorial too. People will come across his name on the Trisomy 18 foundation site or see his headstone at the cemetery, and they'll ask, "whose son are you?" Now I understand why my teacher sobbed for her brother. It's no way to keep your loved one - only etched in stone, only a memory.

Every American should spend time remembering these sacrifices. Every mother wants their son remembered, whether he died in a battle or in a hospital.

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I actually wasn't trying to be profound. I was going to say we had fun and post pics and leave it at that. Oh well. We did have fun! And here are some pics of the trip.

His name in writing

2009-06-09T10:12:00.000-07:00

We were at home over the weekend for CJay's 10-year high school reunion. It was fun, but in the midst of the festivities, we had to stop by the funeral home to pick out a marker for Isaac's grave. We haven't been home since the graveside service, so this was our first opportunity to meet with someone from the funeral home. Picking out the marker wasn't hard. It was strange but not difficult. I kept thinking about how we picked Isaac's name, and like so many other parents, we had practiced saying it and wondered how he might grow into it. And yet there we were, staring at his name on paper, confirming the spelling, explaining the meaning of Liam, and picking out fonts for his grave's marker. I'm sure this falls high on the list of things a person should never have to do.

On the way home, we stopped by the cemetery. It's a small family cemetery high above Watauga Lake. It's beautiful there. The oak trees are old, the grass a little too long. The breeze from the lake carries the voices of the people down below sitting in the sand. For some reason, the sounds of the children playing were musical. I loved looking down at them knowing they were living when my child couldn't. I felt vindicated, not envious. Children do live. They laugh and smile and enjoy life. I look forward to the day when l hear my children doing the same.

Moving along, thanks to my fathers

2009-05-28T07:57:00.000-07:00

I've been back at work for 6 weeks now, and with each week I've found it easier to be back to "normal." At first I was tormented at work because I had to put on a face and move forward. There was no time to cry or be angry. While I was at home, I had the luxury of feeling whatever emotions came at me. I really didn't know if I would be able to continue pretending to be fine, but the truth is that I have been able to. The truth is I'm fine. I know it sounds impossible: "I'm fine?! My baby died 12 weeks ago. It's not possible to be fine!"

Don't get me wrong, I miss Isaac. I look at his pictures and study his face. I wonder why we couldn't keep him. I allow myself to be sad when necessary, but I'm fine. I may be an atypical type of woman. I'm driven by rationale, logic, thought. I don't want my feelings to guide my decisions or my actions. It does happen, because well, I'm a woman, but when it comes to dealing with these heavy issues, I seek reason and truth. I have my father to thank for that.

My dad is an amazing teacher. He was a teacher by trade for a short time, but he was one of those rare teachers: he was a natural; he was good. He doesn't teach professionally anymore, but that doesn't mean he isn't teaching us at all times. It was actually irritating as a child:
"Look at this plant..."
"After the Civil War..."
"Europeans' doors swing in, not out like Americans'..."

During my high school years, Dad taught the high school Sunday school class at church. He continually stressed how important it was, as a Christian, not to rely on your feelings. God doesn't tell us to praise him when we feel like it. He doesn't say we can do the right thing when we feel like it. You must do it; the feelings will follow.

What an important lesson he taught me. Each time the doctor would find another problem with Isaac - his heart had a defect or his feet seemed rounded - I would be hopeful, angry, devastated. I would tell God that I could not handle losing this child. I couldn't. He was wrong. I wouldn't be content. I wouldn't praise him. I wouldn't. I felt no peace. I felt no joy. I felt no happiness. But I am human and feelings are fickle.

Three months later, I have peace about what we went through. I have peace about God's choice, and I can thank God for giving us Isaac and taking him away. Yes, I said it: I can thank God for taking away my son. I don't rely on my feelings because my feelings would have me screaming at God, bitter with his choice, angry at his audacity. My son? My son? You have nothing better to do than take away my son? That would be easier, I think, than telling God that I'm thankful for this agony. But I've done what my teacher said, and he was right. You must do it; the feelings will follow.

"You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in You."
Isaiah 26:3

"How are you doing?"

2009-05-06T20:29:00.000-07:00

Honestly, I don't think folks understand the magnitude of what they've been asking for these past two months. Sure, it's an everyday type of question that usually comes with an unconscious response... "I'm fine. How are you?" But this isn't a normal "how are you?" There's nothing normal about this simple question now.

It's so difficult to put into words, but I'll try to paint a basic picture for you. You've just been through the most tragic and painful experience you can imagine. The life you once enjoyed has stopped, and the surreality of the experience is still strong. Your mind struggles to determine where your life is now. None of this feels real.

What is real is you are alive. But you're just going through the motions of living while nothingness (all the feelings you can't describe) weighs down your heart. All you want to do is lie down somewhere alone and die, but you gotta pick up and get back to living, all the while trying desperately to look as if you're holding it together. Then someone asks, "How are you doing?" It hits you like a ton of bricks. You have to make a choice. Do you tell this poor soul how your heart is broken and aching with every beat, that your mind never stops playing this bad dream over and over, and that you wish you were dead because you just can't understand why you're still alive? Or do you say unconvincingly, "I'm doing okay"?

Before Isaac, I never realized how much meaning a "small talk" question could have. This simple phrase invokes the heaviest feelings and emotions when I least expect it. At times it's been a struggle not to pour out the contents of my aching soul. Most of the time folks know about Isaac, but occasionally a person we haven't seen or talked to in a while asks the question we know is inevitable. Lately, I've felt distressed about telling these unsuspecting folks. It's so incredibly hard for them to hear. In a way the story becomes a tragic experience for them too.

So how are we after experiencing Isaac? What is left of us? It's grief. Pure, raw grief. In some attempt to gain an understanding of this new all-consuming state of being, I picked up a book that Whitney had purchased for herself, probably for the same reasons. The first line of C.S. Lewis' A Grief Observed could not be more true. Lewis says, "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear." The feeling of being afraid seems to control every aspect of life. Each decision and action seems to be derived unconsciously when fear is driving the senses. That is grief.

But grief even goes beyond fear. With fear you prefer to have someone to share it with. I've noticed there are times when I want to share my grief with Whitney or a close friend, and there are times when I want to be left alone and keep it all for myself, almost like a child being selfish with his toys. I don't want folks to know or experience my grief. It's mine, not yours, so don't pretend you know. To add to that layer, I want people to acknowledge Isaac, ask me how we are doing, drop a note or just simply say something, while still leaving me alone with my grief. How does that add up?

I also mentioned nothingness - all the feelings you can't describe. I believe this is a direct element of grief. While the grief is consuming you, the nothingness is just something you have to wade through. There are just simply too many emotions I can't express with words that I've felt since we lost Isaac. Whitney and I have had many conversations trying to sort through the nothingness we felt that day. We've gotten pretty good at talking about the nothingness, but there are never any conclusions.

And so tonight, in honor of Isaac, I grieve. My son lives in my dreams.

CJay

Who are we now?

2009-04-30T10:49:00.001-07:00

One of the many feelings CJay and I have been struggling with these past 8 weeks is how to know who we are now. It's so obvious that losing a child changes you, and that's what everyone says, but how are we supposed to know exactly who we are now? I know eventually we'll be able to look back and see where we've come from and how we've changed, but who are we now, right now?

We've been so scarred by losing Isaac that, of course, we will never be the same, but we can't seem to wrap our minds around exactly how we're different. We're sadder now. We're more thankful. We're somber at times. We're thoughtful and angry and a million other feelings that have no titles. There are times when I think this Isaac-shaped hole can never be filled. And I don't mean replaced, I mean filled. Filled with other children and happier moments. I believe the bible, so I believe God will do what he promises. But I find myself asking God how he intends to fill this hole in our hearts that's so perfectly shaped for that person? For Isaac.

CJay and I are logical people. We can tear away our at feelings in search of logic (and we do), but at the end of the day, grief defies logic. We're spinning on a merry-go-round and when that logic passes, we grab on tight. Eventually we lose our grip and slouch down while we spin around, only to realize we wanted nothing to do with logic anyway. What do we care about logic? We don't even know who we are now.

I know the logical answer - no one will ever take the place, nothing can ever fill that hole, even when you have other children you'll always remember. Yes, I know. I know. But I don't care. I want my Isaac-shaped hole filled with Isaac. I don't want it filled with any other tidbits of happiness. I don't want to sit like a child and force a triangle-shaped block into a square hole. I want it to fit just right.

I don't think there's really an answer for who we are. We're not who we were. We'll never be the same. I believe CJay and I will continue day by day to gracefully accept this trial and turmoil, and we'll turn around one day and look into our past and say, "That was bad, but at least now we know who were back then."

A few of my favorites

2009-04-26T20:44:00.001-07:00

We have so many good pictures of Isaac. It's hard to pick which ones I like the most because each time I look at them, I see something I didn't see before. I'm so thankful for all the pictures we have, and here are just a few of my favorites.

More of Isaac

2009-04-16T18:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we got the pictures and slideshow from Sheila, the Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photographer. I can't believe how wonderful the pictures are. And the slideshow...just get the tissues. I'm including some info about the song used in the slideshow, "Smallest Wingless." For those of us who just went through this and for those of you who've lost a child, this song will break your heart. Every word is true.

From Craig Cardiff's website:
The song 'Smallest Wingless' paints two parents welcoming a newborn into the world, only to be told that the child is sick, and will only survive a few hours. "The premise for this song came from a friend who is a photographer volunteering with the organization www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org and hearing her stories about what parents went through." Stark lyrics (sadness is just loved wasted, with no little heart to put it inside) are beautifully framed by piano and string quartet.

Tiny Feet

2009-04-09T12:10:00.001-07:00

CJay and I sent a copy of Isaac's foot prints to My Forever Child. They create custom jewelry and other keepsakes. I'm so glad we did it. The charm and keychain are beautiful.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

We all really loved Isaac's feet. They were so small, and his big toe was separated from his other toes. The separated big toe is actually a marker for many genetic conditions, but that didn't make it less adorable. And his feet were just so dang small!

This chapter

2009-04-06T12:09:00.000-07:00

It's not like I haven't been thinking about how to write this chapter of the story - the part after Isaac's birth. I have. I just don't know what to say. How can I describe how we felt when we finally knew the answer to 24.5 weeks of questions? How can I explain how our hearts broke when we had to see Isaac struggling to breathe? How do I say how hard it was to watch our family holding him knowing that was all they'd ever have? I don't think I can.

-------------------------

Thursday morning, I think it was around 5 a.m., the neonatologist who had been in the OR came into our room. He said he was certain Isaac had Trisomy 18. He hadn't seen it very much, but the condition has specific features: elfin ears, short neck, small facial features, clenched hands. CJay asked how long he thought Isaac might live. I don't remember the answer because at that same moment my mom asked me, "which one is that?" (Once we knew about the cystic hygroma, we'd all done our research - Turner's, Noonan's, Down's.) I didn't know which syndrome, but I knew one thing: it was lethal. We cried a little, but not as much as you might think. It was an answer. Not the one we wanted, but at least our months of limbo were over. At least we didn't have to wonder anymore.

It was a while before we got to see Isaac. Mom and CJay went down to the NICU before I did. I had to wait on Nurse Ratched to get a wheelchair and take her sweet time helping me up. Of course she tugged on my catheter and hit every threshold at mock speed on the way to the NICU. (Did I mention she pulled on my catheter?)

I could barely stand up to see Isaac in the incubator. I was in terrible pain, but of course I had to look at him. I had the same feeling I had when we first saw Isaac in the OR - is he mine? He was so small. The respirator was loud. Alarms were sounding. It was hot. And I could see more wires and tubes than skin. CJay said the nurse told them not to touch him. "He's mine! I'll touch him if I want!" I didn't mean to scream about it, but we should be able to touch him. We had waited like every other couple waits. We were shocked at his mere existence, and he wasn't even going to live. So I touched him. All three of us touched him.

I really don't remember many details of the rest of that day. After my dad arrived, CJay and my mom headed back to our house to shower and meet CJay's parents. I was glad Dad was with me when the doctor came to say that Isaac's lung were immature and he had crashed. We would have to decide when we wanted to take him off the respirator. I didn't know how to answer her questions or what I was supposed to ask. But Dad talked for me. He asked how long Isaac would live.
"Give us a number. Are we talking 50 days?"
"I don't think he'll live 50 minutes."
What do you say to that?

Dad didn't want me to call CJay right away. He told me to wait and let him sleep and shower so that he could handle what was getting ready to happen. He was right. It was better for CJay. The doctor came back a couple hours later to say the test results were back. Isaac had Trisomy 18. Like she had said before, it didn't change anything. Either way, his lungs couldn't support him. I wasn't afraid, just tired, angry, sore, and shocked. I couldn't figure out why it was taking CJay so long to get back to the hospital. In the meantime, Dad took me back to the NICU. I'll always be thankful that he and I had a chance to be alone with Isaac. We cried and stared at him and talked. My dad was stronger than I could be, and it was what I needed.

When CJay got back to the hospital, I told him the latest news. We went to the NICU together and were finally able to hold Isaac. I can never explain how such intense joy and sorrow can exist simultaneously. It makes no sense that we could know the outcome but still laugh and smile. Maybe some people can't, but we did.

We spent Friday holding Isaac. The NICU nurses brought him to our room and let us take turns holding him while a photographer from the organization Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep took pictures. It was bittersweet. After an hour or so, the nurses took Isaac back to the NICU. I wanted to take a break before we had to say goodbye.

It was almost 8:30 p.m. before we went to our private family room in the NICU. We took turns holding Isaac again. We took pictures and cried. Seth played music from his iPhone, and Isaac kicked and squirmed to the sound of the piano - what I had felt many times before. (CJay even told Isaac a dirty joke.) CJay and I changed his diaper and dressed him. It wasn't necessary, but it was special.

I had to be the one to say it was time to take him off the respirator. As his mother, I felt like I had to be the one to let him go. His color was getting darker, a sign that the carbon dioxide was building up in his system. Our NICU nurse and next door neighbor, Kitty, came in to take out Isaac's breathing tube. She had come to the hospital on her day off to be with us. I had asked her to be the one to take out the breathing tube. She was wonderful; I could go on and on about what she did for us.

Isaac didn't live long without the breathing tube. We were so sad, so tired, but Isaac was worth that. He was worth those 24.5 weeks of questions and worry and prayers and tears. I think people need to know that - he was really worth it.

It's CJay's Birthday!

2009-04-02T12:12:00.000-07:00

CJay turns 28 today. Just thought he deserved a shout out! He's been incredibly busy at work, and we'll both be happy when he's finished with tax season.

Shadowfeet

2009-03-27T11:57:00.000-07:00

I listened to this song so many times before Isaac was born. I wondered if no matter what happened I would truly feel that I was still standing in God's presence. It's hard to believe that when you're faced with losing something so precious. But this song looped through my head constantly after Isaac was born, and it's true. The world has fallen out from under us, and we're still standing in Him.

Shadowfeet by Brooke Fraser

Walking, stumbling on these shadowfeet
Toward home, a land that I've never seen
I am changing
Less and less asleep
Made of different stuff than when I began
And I have sensed it all along
Fast approaching is the day

When the world has fallen out from under me
I'll be found in you, still standing
When the sky rolls up and mountains fall on their knees
When time and space are through
I'll be found in you

There's distraction buzzing in my head
Saying in the shadows it's easier to stay
But I've heard rumours of true reality
Whispers of a well-lit way

When the world has fallen out from under me
I'll be found in you, still standing
When the sky rolls up and mountains fall on their knees
When time and space are through
I'll be found in you

You make all things new

When the world has fallen out from under me
I'll be found in you, still standing
When the sky rolls up and mountains fall on their knees
When time and space are through
I'll be found in you

When the world has fallen out from under me
I'll be found in you, still standing
Every fear and accusation under my feet
When time and space are through
I'll be found in you
When time and space are through
I'll be found in you
When time and space are through
I'll be found in you

Part 2

2009-03-24T10:37:00.000-07:00

When you look through a kaleidoscope, the clearest point is always the center. The edges are blurred. Twisting the kaleidoscope never makes the edges clear; it only makes the image in the center blur until it changes. When I think about Isaac's birth and short life, I feel as if I'm squinting through a kaleidoscope. I so desperately want every detail to be clear, but the more I twist the scope, the less it helps. For CJay and me it seems essential to recall the finer points. We don't want to forget, but there's so much we can't remember. It happened so fast. That's why I'm writing everything down now. I'm afraid my memory will fail and I won't remember how funny it was, even with all the tension, to hear Isaac kicking the fetal monitor. It was so loud that we jumped every time. Even the nurse jumped. I just don't want to forget those details.

The nurse walked me to the OR while CJay went to scrub. I looked up at the clock in the OR right before I got the spinal block. It was 1:24 a.m. As soon I was flat on the table, I focused in on what the doctors were saying. The baby's heart rate was dropping fast. It seemed like hours before CJay came in the room. The nurse was making him walk slowly - I could hear her talking to him - but I wanted to scream at CJay to run. There was urgency in the entire room and he should be running. When he finally sat down, he said my mom was there. Just in time. I felt better just knowing she was out there.

The doctor broke my water not long after CJay sat down. I had polyhydramnios (too much amniotic fluid), a common complication with babies who have genetic problems. It sounded like gallons of water hit the floor. I could only see CJay's eyes but they were huge, and it made me laugh.

Isaac was born at 1:31 a.m. He wasn't breathing, but at some point, he let out two cries and they were good, strong cries. CJay and I both teared up. We really were prepared for the worst and those little cries were so sweet. CJay had to watch while the neonatologist and nurses worked on Isaac. He didn't react, which had to be difficult, and he tried to keep me focused on him. CJay told me later that they were performing CPR and it was so odd to watch them work on such a tiny person.

Eventually, the neonatologist bent down beside us. "It looks like there's a genetic problem. His neck is short and broad, and he has elfin ears." A nurse popped around and held up this tiny little thing. I remember thinking that he couldn't be mine, could he? After the neonatologist walked away, CJay and I just looked at each other. I don't remember much after that. CJay left at some point and told me he would go tell my mom what the doctor said.

I remember being rolled back into my room. CJay and my mom walked in as the nurse was getting me settled. It was good to see my mom. I got to tell her the name we had chosen - Isaac Liam. Isaac for the laughter he would bring and because of the faith that God required from the first Isaac's parents - Abraham and Sarah, and Liam because it was short for William (CJay's dad's name) and meant "strong-willed warrior."

*I thought I could write this story in two parts. Obviously not.

CJay, Isaac, Bill, and Connie

Why God Doesn't Fully Explain Pain

2009-03-23T11:32:00.000-07:00

I found this post on John Piper's blog pretty interesting, and I wanted to share.

By: John Piper

One of the reasons God rarely gives micro reasons for his painful providences, but regularly gives magnificent macro reasons, is that there are too many micro reasons for us to manage, namely, millions and millions and millions and millions and millions.

God says things like:
These bad things happened to you because I intend to work it together for your good (Romans 8).
These happened so that you would rely more on God who raises the dead (2 Corinthians 1).
This happened so that the gold and silver of your faith would be refined (1 Peter 1).
This thorn is so that the power of Christ would be magnified in your weakness (2 Corinthians 12).

But we can always object that there are other easier ways for God to accomplish those things. We want to know more specifics: Why now? Why this much? Why this often? Why this way? Why these people?

The problem is, we would have to be God to grasp all that God is doing in our problems. In fact, pushing too hard for more detailed explanations from God is a kind of demand that we be God.

Think of this, you are a blacksmith making horseshoes. You are hammering on a white hot shoe and it ricochets off and hits you in the leg and burns you. In your haste to tend to your leg you let the shoe alone unfinished. You wonder why God let this happen. You were singing a hymn and doing his will.

Your helper, not knowing the horseshoe was unfinished gathered it up and put it with the others.

Later there was an invasion of your country by a hostile army with a powerful cavalry. They came through your town and demanded that you supply them with food and with shoes for their horses. You comply.

Their commander has his horse shoed by his own smith using the stolen horseshoes, and the unfinished shoe with the thin weak spot is put on the commander’s horse.

In the decisive battle against the loyal troops defending your homeland the enemy commander is leading the final charge. The weak shoe snaps and catches on a root and causes his horse to fall. He crashes to the ground and his own soldiers, galloping at full speed, trample him to death.

This causes such a confusion that the defenders are able to rout the enemy and the country is saved.

Now you might say, well, it would sure help me trust God if he informed me of these events so that I would know why the horseshoe ricocheted and burned my leg. Well maybe it would help you. Maybe not.

God cannot make plain all he is doing, because there are millions and millions and millions and millions of effects of every event in your life, the good and the bad. God guides them all. They all have micro purposes and macro purposes. He cannot tell you all of them because your brain can’t hold all of them.

Trust does not demand more than God has told us. And he has given us immeasurably precious promises that he is in control of all things and only does good to his children. And he has given us a very thick book where we can read story after story after story about how he rules for the good of his people.

Let’s trust him and not ask for what our brains cannot contain.

Where we were - Part 1

2009-03-15T17:10:00.000-07:00

It was 2 weeks ago today when we were dealing with the fact that Isaac wouldn't live long. It was about this time when one of the neonatologists came into my hospital room to tell me that he had crashed. He was okay, but his lungs hadn't grown much past 24 weeks. He couldn't breath on his own. Regardless of what the genetic test showed, he wouldn't be with us long. We had some decisions to make. CJay wasn't even there at the time. He had gone home to shower and meet his parents.

I should probably start from the beginning.

I walked to my ultrasound appointment Wednesday. I work about a block from the hospital. I was waiting on CJay to get there, so I stood in this little loft area overlooking the hospital's main waiting room. A man who appeared to be a doctor was playing the piano; he was good. I noticed that Isaac didn't move much in the 10 minutes I was standing there. I thought it was strange because there hadn't been a time during the entire pregnancy when he didn't move to the sound of piano music.

When CJay arrived we made the familiar trip up the elevator to the specialist's office. I didn't want another ultrasound. As a matter of fact, I never wanted to go back to that office. But there we were and that's where the story of Isaac's birth begins. Isaac didn't move much during the ultrasound. We could see that he'd grown lots of hair in the past month. And he was still breech. And after 40 minutes and even after I had some gum, he still didn't move much. The lady said they like to see their diaphragm move at least once, but Isaac never cooperated.

When Dr. Saller came to talk to us, he was concerned that Isaac was stressed. The next step was the fetal monitor down the hall in labor and delivery. Dr. Saller warned that we would most likely see the baby's heart rate dropping and would have to make a decision about a c-section. Down the hall we went. I don't remember much until we were in the room. I was hooked up to the monitor and surrounded by a couple doctors. They were explaining how fast this could progress. After only an hour, they came back. Isaac was distressed. His heart rate was dropping significantly with just mild contractions. "You have a couple options: we do a c-section tonight, we do one first thing in the morning around 8 am, or you go home and wait - but we don't recommend that." What?

Doctors rushed in every 20-30 minutes when Isaac's heart rate dropped and the alarm sounded on the monitor. At 9:30, the doctors said they didn't want me to eat because they were certain he would need to come out before the morning. (I remember the time because CJay had been gone for 30 minutes to make phone calls and get me some food. I hadn't eaten since 2 that afternoon! I was hungry.) It was close to midnight when the doctors came to say it was time for the c-section. I was actually pretty surprised because things had been calm for a while - no alarm. We would have to wait one hour for a full NICU staff, but that was as long as they thought Isaac could wait. He really wasn't doing well.

I know this is a long story, but I think it's therapeutic for me to write it all down. I'll post Part 2 soon.

CJay and Isaac

Isaac Liam - March 5, 2009

2009-03-12T08:01:00.000-07:00

Maybe one day I'll be able to write the entire story of how Isaac came into this world, but not today. Right now I think it's important that everyone knows how we're doing: CJay and I are okay. We're sad and thankful and many emotions in between. But we're okay.

Isaac was born with Edwards Syndrome or Trisomy 18. We knew it was a possibility. There were many possibilities, but we chose to trust God's plan for our child. There was nothing we could have done to change the outcome. Isaac was made this way at conception. I'll be able to give more details later. For now, please check out the page created for Isaac on behalf of his uncle, Seth.

http://www.trisomy18.org/goto/Isaac.Roberts

9 months - 36 weeks

2009-03-02T08:49:00.000-08:00

I didn't think I had grown that much in the past few weeks, but I really have! I'm still carrying small but measuring a week ahead. We'll see if that means the little guy will show up early. I still think he will.

Nursery In Progress

2009-03-02T07:42:00.000-08:00

We were fortunate enough to have both sets of grandparents-to-be come up in the past few weeks and help with the nursery. What else are grandparents for?

33.5 weeks - only 46 more days

2009-02-12T07:46:00.000-08:00

We were at home in Tennessee this past weekend for 2 baby showers. It was so much fun to see everyone and just be at home one more time before the baby. Because we don't know exactly when the baby will need surgery, it's hard for us to know when we'll be able to travel home with him. Under the circumstances, there are many things up in the air, like traveling and day care. We're learning to be patient and not stress because we can't plan ahead.

We had another echocardiogram on Tuesday. The doctor didn't see anything new or different with the baby's heart. He took a little more time to answer our questions and explain what this defect looks like. His best guess is still that the baby will need surgery within 3-4 months after he's born. Although we've complained about UVA's prenatal specialists, we have nothing but wonderful things to say about the cardiology department. They've all been kind and informative and extremely patient with us. We'll be meeting with a pediatric cardiovascular surgeon on Monday, and he should be able to tell us about the procedure and recovery time. We still have lots of questions, but like I said, we're learning to be patient.

I've definitely grown since this picture was taken last week (32.5 weeks). I think it's getting harder to get good pictures of me, but it's because I feel huge in many places. You should probably feel sorry for CJay because he's the one who has to take the pictures, and I might be a littler crazier than normal ... maybe.

The baby who never stops

2009-01-25T17:31:00.000-08:00

We really enjoyed the 3D ultrasound. It was amazing to see the baby's face and his feet and hands. The pictures aren't as clear as we'd hoped, but then again, we already knew we had an extremely squirmy child. His arms and legs were moving constantly. I wonder what our life is going to be like in 9 more weeks?

Week 30 updates

2009-01-21T06:53:00.000-08:00

Things are going well with us. We've officially moved all of our care to the specialists, so we'll no longer be seeing the regular OBs who have been like our therapists these past few months. Both the specialists and our regular OBs had suggested we do this since we first found out something was wrong, but I kept saying no. We needed to stay positive, and our regular doctors were sensitive and understanding. They let us talk and worry and cry.

At our last appointment with the cardiologist and the specialist, it was clear to CJay and me that it was time to make the transition; we know now that we have no choice where we'll deliver. We need to be at the University of Virginia hospital. Fortunately, we had the opportunity to meet with a neonatologist who answered all our questions as we walked the floors of the PICU, NICU, and labor and delivery. He mapped out possible scenarios and loaded us with information. It was just what we needed. In November, we left the hospital with little knowledge of what would happen after the baby was born - who would take him? would we see him? could we hold him? We still don't like some of the answers, but at least we have a better idea of what we'll be facing. CJay and I can handle it (with God's grace, of course).

In more "normal" baby news, we've registered at Target and Babies R Us. Our nursery furniture will be delivered tomorrow - boxed up in a million tiny pieces, just for CJay's enjoyment. We haven't painted the room yet, but it's on the ever-growing to-do list. (The clock is ticking and it's getting louder.) AND we have an appointment this Friday for a 3D ultrasound! We're hoping the baby cooperates so we can have some clear pictures of his face. I can't wait to see how much more hair he's grown in the past couple weeks. I think we counted 6 or 7 little sprigs at the last ultrasound. Very cute. I'll post the 3D pictures as soon as possible.

* For those of you who don't know, we have picked a name for Baby Roberts, but we're not telling. :)

What we know now

2009-01-08T17:51:00.000-08:00

We have a squirmy child. The people in the cardiology department remembered us from our last visit 2 months ago. We're the ones who have one of the most active babies they've ever seen. I'm not sure if we're supposed to be proud or embarrassed. Even though Baby Roberts was still extremely active this visit (including a bout of the hiccups), the cardiologist was able to identify his heart defect. It's called an atrioventricular canal defect. The doctor said it can be a complex defect, but fortunately, we're looking at something less complicated. In November, the cardiologist thought the baby had a chamber that was too small. That would mean he would need surgery to make his heart work with 3 chambers rather than 4. That was bad and complicated. He mentioned that it's rare to see a chamber get bigger over time. Once it's small, it stays small. But here we are 2 months later, and all 4 chambers are the right size. What will need to be repaired is the wall between the chambers. The wall isn't complete and that creates a large hole in the heart. This wall keeps oxygen-rich blood from mixing with the oxygen-poor blood. This type of defect must be repaired in the first year of life - usually before 6 months.

Right now the doctors can't tell us exactly when the baby will need surgery. The timing will depend on how well the baby eats and if he gains weight after he's born. (It's hard for babies with heart problems to eat because eating is a workout and it puts a strain on their hearts.) We still can't rule out a chromosomal abnormality, but the prenatal specialist didn't see any other problems during the ultrasound. Even though the AV canal defect is common in babies with Downs Syndrome, the doctors haven't identified any other markers that could indicate Downs.

We know now that the baby will be taken to the NICU right after he's born. From there, the doctors will monitor him and determine when he'll need surgery. The longer he can wait, the better.

We have another ultrasound scheduled for February 4. We'll also be having another echo sometime in February. The cardiologist said that things can change. I'm not sure how much can change or if anything will, but we're still praying for a perfectly formed little heart come March 30.

If you don't mind...

2009-01-05T11:20:00.000-08:00

We're going back to the specialist on Wednesday. We're having an ultrasound at 9:30 followed by another echocardiogram at 11:30. The cardiologist should be able to tell us more about what exactly is wrong with the baby's heart and what type of surgery he'll need. And we should be able to see if there are other "markers" for any genetic conditions.

CJay and I have really enjoyed these past 2 months without the visits to the specialist. It's been so nice to have what feels like a "normal" pregnancy - baby kicks, a growing belly, talks of cribs and diapers. I'm trying not to focus on what Wednesday will bring, but I have to prepare emotionally. It's like padding up for a football game. It's too risky not to be ready for that physical and emotional blow.

So if you don't mind... please pray for us and baby Roberts. We're gonna need it.

Baby Roberts

2008-12-21T19:19:00.001-08:00

Here's the baby at 20.5 weeks at our last ultrasound. We'll be having another one on January 7.

6 months and counting

2008-12-21T19:09:00.000-08:00

21 Weeks

2008-12-21T18:56:00.000-08:00

I'm a little behind, but here's a belly shot from 21 weeks. (I can't wear those clothes anymore!)

A heart as small as a quarter

2008-11-24T17:10:00.000-08:00

It always takes me a while to process information, which is why I've waited almost 2 weeks to post anything about our recent visit to the cardiologist. The doctor did see some problems with the baby's heart - 2 holes and a chamber that's too small. The cardiologist was pretty sure the heart could be repaired after the baby is born. What we don't know yet is if there are other issues with the heart. Apparently the little guy is a mini-gymnast, and after nearly 2 hours, the doctor and the 2 techs decided to give up trying to get better pictures of his heart. So, we'll go back in January to find out exactly what type of surgery will be needed and when. Hopefully, he won't need surgery right away.

The specialist was less than positive about the new information, but that group of doctors has been nothing more than downers for months. The specialist thinks the combination of the cystic hygroma and the heart defect points to a genetic abnormality. We're just not convinced. We've read enough to know that there are too many variables, and as the cardiologist said, "when it comes to things like this, 2 + 2 does not always equal 4."

Baby bump

2008-10-28T10:26:00.001-07:00

Here I am at 18 weeks. I've finally started showing!

Don't strike your mother!

2008-10-22T08:29:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling the little one kicking, and it's just getting harder every day! It's pretty amazing to feel the presence of a living, growing person inside me. Most days it's still so hard to believe that we're having a child. It's nice to be reminded that he's in there and he's considering soccer as a pastime. I prefer baseball, but we'll work on that after he gets here!

It's a ...

2008-10-18T08:52:00.001-07:00

We're having a boy! The appointment went really well. The doctor said the baby is growing as he should be and that's a really good sign. The cystic hygroma is still there, but it's not gotten any bigger over the past 4 weeks. We're scheduled to go for an echocardiogram to check the baby's heart on November 12. We'll have another ultrasound later that day.

We've decided to keep the name a secret until the baby is born. It's going to be hard, but it will be fun to surprise everyone. Here are a couple pictures of the little one.

The New Place

2008-10-16T17:04:00.001-07:00

Here are some pictures of the new house! It's still a work in progress but we've gotten a lot done in a month.

This is our den upstairs.
The dining room.
The kitchen.
This is the living room downstairs with our really comfortable new couch!

This Friday

2008-10-15T07:53:00.000-07:00

Things have been going well with baby Roberts. We went last week to our regular doctor for a check-up. The heartbeat is still strong -- 150 bpm. We met with a new doctor in the group, and he was so encouraging. He told us that he had seen these cystic hygromas before with some of his other patients. The hygroma resolved and the baby was perfectly healthy. His attitude was such a relief after spending the past month trying to overcome the specialist's negativity.

One of the good things about having a high-risk pregnancy is that we get to "check in" on the baby more often. Because of that, we'll be finding out the sex this Friday when we go for our next ultrasound. We're both very excited; I'm still convinced it's a boy. I think CJay is just waiting to see if I'm right. If it isn't a boy, we'll be working hard to find a girl's name we can agree on. (And I'll be asking friends and family to limit the amount of pink gifts.)

Right now, we'd like everyone to keep praying that this child is healthy when he or she arrives in March.

Cystic Hygro-what?

2008-10-01T07:01:00.000-07:00

I've delayed writing this for a while simply because I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. I've decided to stick with the facts and leave it at that for now. We went 2 weeks ago for a routine ultrasound and found out the baby has a cystic hygroma, which is basically increased fluid and cysts on the back of the neck. It can be an indicator of chromosomal abnormalities, most commonly Turner's syndrome. We met with a specialist last week who confirmed the diagnosis. Here's what we know: there's a 50% chance that this child could be born with a genetic syndrome. There's also a chance this baby could develop fluid around the heart and experience heart failure. There's a chance the baby might not make it to term. And there's a chance the baby will be fine.

We're pretty sure we won't be having an amniocentesis to check for genetic problems, so we'll just be monitoring the baby every 3-4 weeks with ultrasounds to check for fluid around the heart. Right now everything else appears to be fine and the baby's growth is on track. During the ultrasound last week, we watched the baby bounce around and even drink the amniotic fluid. We could see his/her little chin moving back and forth. Despite the grim statistics and negative information the specialist insisted on reiterating, this little baby is a gift from God and we're trusting him, regardless of the outcome.

Moving Day

2008-09-29T07:32:00.000-07:00

Moving day went well. It was so much work even with movers. Thankfully, Mom and Dad packed what I couldn't and what CJay didn't. In CJay's defense, he's taking 2 night classes and he doesn't believe in packing. It's against his religion, I think. But we survived and we love the new house! It's so much bigger than any house we've ever lived in, and we're already filling up the closets and empty corners. The animals have adjusted well too, especially to the new couch. I wish we could keep the pet hair contained to the old furniture, but I'm fighting a losing battle.

I'll post some pictures soon.

The Sweetest Sound

2008-09-12T17:08:00.000-07:00

I heard the most amazing sound yesterday -- a heartbeat. I went to doctor for a check up, not knowing what to expect this time. The doctor said, "okay, let's take a listen to the heart." I hopped up on the little table wondering why she wanted to listen to my heart. It's obviously working. She looked a little puzzled when I didn't lie down. I stretched out on the table but didn't even consider the importance of what was happening. I was overwhelmed when I heard that thump-thump -- our child's heartbeat (160 bpm). It was such a sweet sound.

Unfortunately, CJay didn't go with me. He's still pretty disappointed that he missed it, but we had no idea what this appointment would be like. I have a feeling he won't be missing any more doctor visits.

New House

2008-09-08T18:01:00.000-07:00

We went Saturday morning to pick up the keys to our new house. Everything looked perfect, and we even met one of our neighbors. We're pretty excited to finally be less than 2 weeks away from living in our own house. The house looks so big now that it's empty, but I'm sure we'll have it full of baby stuff before too long.

The third Roberts in the making

2008-08-28T13:50:00.001-07:00

Here is the first shot of the future little CJay. Scary, I know. This is at 8 weeks. We'll be going back to the doctor for the next baby viewing on Sept. 18.

No more renting!

2008-08-28T13:46:00.001-07:00

It's official! We're homeowners! It's pretty exciting, even though we aren't moving in until Sept. 20. We have a lot to do before then. Wish us luck or come pack for us. :)