I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord
Psalm 27: 13-14

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

What was, what was dreamed, what will never be...

October 17, 2012
Transfer Day
Such excitement and hope...

Our first photo of Faith...day of transfer.  A hatched blastocyte.
Our second photo of Faith...November 19, 2012.  Our precious baby and her precious beating heart of 100 bmp.
And yes...the test AFTER I knew from my blood test that I was pregnant.

As I went through old keepsakes, I found this pink hoodie and onesie and I remembered...

Today is a day I just wanted to run from.
My baby's remains were being picked up from the pathology lab by the funeral home so that Faith's remains can be cremated.
My baby was cremated today.

I should be 9 weeks pregnant tomorrow.
But I'm not any more.

I should still be excited about my clothes getting tighter.
But instead I went and bought smaller jeans today.
And I hated it.
I hate that my belly will not be growing with my baby.

And then this afternoon, my puppy, Nash, reminded me how life can literally feel like walking through fresh crap.
As I tried to choke down tears of the reality of life right now so Evan didn't see tears in my eyes...I stepped right in to a fresh pile of my dogs crap on my carpet.
In my bare feet.
I just stood there...stunned, and disgusted.
Very much like how I feel with having lost Faith...stunned, and disgusted with the cruetly of it all.
And while I washed my foot off in the tub...I started to laugh...and cry.
What else can you do?! 
I thought this accident very fitting for the current events of our life and the knowledge my baby is now in an urn.

I look at the above pictures, and it feels like forever ago.
October 17th...transfer day.
I was realistic.  Prepared for yet another negative result.
But I had this renewed feeling of hope that I hadn't felt in so long.  I felt hope.

I love that first picture of Faith.  This is what your baby looks like prior to nestling in to your endometrial lining and growing for what seems to be such ease for so many people.  How lucky, and how blessed you are.
But how cool hey!? 
Look at your child right now, and see this picture of Faith...and realize this is how your baby began.
It's crazy!
Tell me there isn't a God who knits these precious little beings to life.
How intricate and delicate and fragile.

Then look at that second, and final picture we have of Faith.  November 19th.
There she is.  Growing, living...precious heart beating 100 beats per minute.
Life.  Precious life.
The first and final time we would ever see that beautiful flickering heart.  The first and last time we would see Faith growing inside of me.

I have to explain the hoodie and onesie.
The hoodie was going to be a baby gift for someone 10 years ago.  And I decided I loved it so much I just had to keep it.  I dreamed of a day I would get to put it on my daughter.  And it has sat in a bag ever since in my closet.
The onesie was something one of my sister-in-laws bought when I was pregnant with Evan and Zac...just in case one of them turned out to be a girl.
I had actually forgotten about that onesie until I took down the bag with the hoodie in it and found the box containing the onesie.

I've never had dreams about ME being pregnant.  I know I've said this before.  I know instantly when a friend is pregnant.  I've called it every time before it's even announced.  But me?  Nope, never.
Only after getting pregnant with Evan and Zac did I dream of two car seats covered by two white knit blankets.  I didn't even know I was pregnant with twins at that time.

And just over a year ago...I had a dream.
Brett and I in the delivery room.  Our baby being born.
I could hear her.  I could smell the room.  I felt the tears as they placed her on my chest.
A head of jet black hair like her daddy.  Steel blue eyes, like her daddy.
We held her and wept.

The week before I learned we lost Faith I was at church.  During worship it was like I could see a moment of our future.  One of the pastor's (who did Zac's funeral and then dedicated Evan) was holding up our daughter, facing her to the crowd, and sharing the miracle of her life.
It felt SO real.  I truly believed God was showing me that this baby was going to be ok.

But she's gone.
And though I know she is whole in heaven with her brothers...I am the one who is not ok.
We are faced walking this ugly, familiar path of grief and loss once again.
And it just feels so cruel and evil.
It's not fair.
Ya ya...life isn't fair, blah blah blah. 
Don't I know it.  I don't need to be reminded.  Every day holds pieces of reminders.

I'm tired.
I can't sleep.
My heart hurts.

Yes, Evan is my constant source of joy and love and healing and laughter and hope.  He is definitely keeping me together.

My husband is once again my rock in a storm.
We had just hoped so badly that we could have enjoyed this pregnancy, and enjoyed just ONE TIME a complication free and full term and LIVE birth of our child.
We are confused.
We are stunned.

I'm trying.
I'm trying to remember that God has not done this to "get me".  I'm trying to stay grounded in my faith.  I'm trying not to yell at Him too much.
I know He gets it.
I know He's big enough to handle my screaming and questions.

I'm just tired of these questions.



  1. *big hugs* My heart hurts for you today

  2. Oh how my heart breaks and aches for and with you. I wish I could take the pain and carry it for you for a while. And in my heart, I do. Know that you are loved and praying for you.