Meeting Willow

Gabriela was so anxious and nervous about us going to the hospital. We told her the baby probably wouldn't arrive until sometime Tuesday afternoon or evening, so she was shocked when I answered her 7am FaceTime call with a baby in my arms. Poor sweetheart. The first thing she asked me was, "is she alive????" How grateful I was to tearfully answer yes. Easton couldn't wait to get on our call to squeal and say, "hi, Baby!!" over and over again. 

The kids couldn't wait to come visit. They brought us lunch and a birthday cake they baked that morning for Willow. Since she was so tiny, I asked them to bring our newborn sized clothes as well. 

Big brother and sister immediately surrounded their new baby. Easton absolutely squealed with delight. I mean, sounds of supreme cuteness that I had never heard him make before; he was so delighted by his baby sister in all her tiny cuteness. 

Gabriela just needed to hold her sister. She chose a new outfit for Willow, helped dress her and observed a diaper change. We all sang Happy Birthday and enjoyed cake together. 

Easton did not want anyone helping him hold his sister. He was grown up enough to do it himself. 

Gabriela intentionally wore her rainbow shirt to meet our rainbow baby at the hospital. 

Cynthia told me later that Gabriela was having trouble going to sleep the night before. She said she was excited to tell her friends. But that they wouldn't understand. They don't know how scary it is to wait for your new baby when your last baby died. Oh, that girl. She is so invested in this baby sister. She wants to hold her constantly, can't bear to be separated from her, and is extremely protective. She's got a lot of healing to do and I think that Willow is really helping to make that happen. 

Auntie Cynthia somehow snuck in some snuggles between all the big brother and sister love 

After they left, Auntie Liss and Beau came to meet Willow.

Beau, that sweet boy, said Willow is the best and he would always be there for her. 

Uncle Matthew even snuck in a visit, but unfortunately I didn't snag a picture of them together. 

Daddy got his special Willow time too. 

We hurried home as soon as we could. After all, we had a big brother and sister waiting at home for us. 

As we expected, she was not a fan of the ride home. But once we arrived, she was happy to be here, crying much less frequently than at the hospital. 

Gabriela was so excited when Daddy helped her do this:

It eased some of the disappointment at the fact that she was not actually allowed to walk through the house holding the baby. 

Willow Virginia

We had such a difficult time coming up with Willow's name. We didn't actually decide on her name for sure until the morning after she was born. On the one hand, naming each subsequent child seemed to be harder than the last. On the other, I felt like not deciding on a name was a coping mechanism for us. We were so nervous about everything turning out right this time. 

There I was, nearly 40 weeks pregnant, and Lane and I hadn't made any progress on choosing a name. I didn't feel that the names he suggested were the right fit, and he didn't like the ones I suggested. Finally about a week before her due date, we started making individual lists and Willow was on both our lists. We still didn't decide then, but at least we'd made some progress!

I just love the name, but I started to look up the meaning at the hospital to see if that might help us. Willow means slender and graceful. And then I looked up the symbolism of the Willow tree. Here's where I knew we'd found just the right name. 

"The willow tree gives us hope, a sense of belonging, safety and the ability to let go of the pain and suffering we have experienced and grow new, strong and bold. The image of the willow tree is our path to stability, hope and healing."

And then there is this baby's middle name, Virginia. We knew that would be her middle name. Lane's grandma Virginia Chaney died just in August. She was so happy to know we were expecting another baby. She would tell us how she'd prayed for twins, and just couldn't wait for everything to turn out right for us. Grandma Chaney always told us the story of how she cared for her little Laney when he was a baby and no one could get him to eat except her. We always looked forward to hearings her retell this story, and she never failed us. It felt right to honor Grandma Chaney like this. 

So Virginia is Willow's great grandmother's name. It's also the middle name of her other great grandmother, my dad's mom who died years before I was ever born. Auntie Cynthia and Willow share the middle name, Virginia, and it's where Lane and I lived some of our most fun years on the East Coast. So many reasons this middle name is just right for our littlest girl. 

She really is our little girl, smallest of all our babies at 7lbs, 14 oz but just as long as all the rest at 21 1/2 inches. Willow came with a full head of hair, just as we suspected she might. She is the most delicate, slender peanut of them all. Our hearts can take a sigh of relief now that she is home safely in our arms. We love you, Willow Virginia. 

Willow's Birth Story

We left our hospital testing on Monday morning with plans to induce labor that night. Baby Girl's fluid levels were 5.28 cm, and the nurses recommend induction at 5.0 and lower. The ultrasound technician first measured the fluid at 4 something and then retried for the 5.28 reading. We decided it was too close, we didn't want to take any chances and so we'd return that night. 

It was strange because I had been thinking all along the 26th would be the day. It was the night of the full moon, Simone's half birthday, and I woke up that morning full of energy and plans to bake and cook and clean all day long. 

Instead, I went to the grocery store, prepared some snacks for labor, made sure Lane and Cynthia knew when to come home and packed last minute things. 

Gabriela, our little sweetheart, was in tears when we left. She was so scared. I felt awful and Lane and I both cried as we drove away. I tried talking with her before about how this might be a difficult experience, waiting again for the baby to be born at the hospital. But she didn't seem phased in our conversation and I didn't want her to walk away feeling like she was supposed to be worried or nervous. So we just left it at that. 

6:15: 

we were admitted to our labor room. Lane and I set up the room with our decorations, I got out our special blankets, my labor supplies, snacks. 

7:15: I got cervadil to ripen my cervix. My midwife explained that this would be a boring night, the cervadil gel would be placed by my cervix and left there until the morning. The nurse rolled in a cot for Lane so he could sleep, I brought books and games to keep us busy. My midwife left an order for medication to help me sleep, if I wanted. She said occasionally, some people go into labor with cervadil, but it was very rare. She told me I could eat whatever I wanted two hours after the medication was placed. In the morning, I could shower, eat a nice breakfast, and then we would determine if my body was ready for a dose of pitocin. So she placed the medication, noting that I was only a "fingertip" dilated, not even one centimeter. Later, I was shocked when my nurse said inductions can take two to three days sometimes. What were we getting ourselves into??

8:15 About an hour after getting my cervadil, Lane started massaging my legs and pressure points with clary sage essential oil. I started noticing some mild contractions, but they were only slightly uncomfortable.

9:30: Lane left to pick up some dinner from Whole Foods. I was totally fine just hanging out without him, still having very mild but noticeable contractions. 

He returned with dinner and a beer. I took pictures of him with his feet up, enjoying his beer. We talked and ate dinner. But then I started wondering if my contractions were actual labor,  maybe I shouldn't be eating a full meal. 

I was under the impression that this would be a very long process. I didn't even want to start using up my labor tricks because it was so early. I was nervous about how I would handle things once labor actually got going. And that wasn't supposed to be until the next day. 

10:45:  By this time, I was fairly certain I could call what I was experiencing labor. The contractions were coming more frequently and getting stronger. Laying in bed was not going to help my labor progress, so I got up and onto the birthing ball. This was such a relief on my lower back and hips. 

My contractions got even more intense and I started wondering if we should tell Lindy, my midwife. The whole time though, I rolled around on that ball, practiced very deep breathing, reminding myself of all the birth affirmations I had been practicing in preparation for this experience. All the while, I was focused on my rainbow banner, sure to keep my hands and mouth relaxed to encourage the rest of my body to do the same. 

11:30: My contractions intensified even more. I vomitted up my dinner.  My nurse notified my midwife that my contractions were coming one on top of another and were getting even more painful. I had gone from breathing very deeply through contractions to low vocalization, sometimes needing reminders from Lane to slow down my breathing and keep my intonation low. 

11:50: My midwife ordered the nurse to remove the cervadil now, instead of in the morning. My contractions were overworking my uterus, and I needed a break. So the cervadil came out and my nurse informed me that it should take thirty minutes or so for the medication to wear off, that I should notice a decrease in the contractions, that they should start coming less frequently. I was so happy to hear this. I needed a break. There was just no way I'd make it through a long labor at this pace. I waited and waited for those contractions to slow down, but they never did. After she removed the cervadil, I felt like my water was slowly breaking and told the nurse. She didn't think that was it, said it was probably all the gel coming out. It seemed about right to me, after all, I still had a long, long way to go. 

12:20. I decided I needed to get in the water; laboring in water has been really relieving for me in the past, so Lane started drawing me a bath. Suddenly, I felt like I just couldn't do it anymore. I needed to change positions, but I couldn't stand, I couldn't sit, laying down was out of the question, the birth ball would never work.  My legs started shaking, and I felt my body starting to fight the contractions for the first time, instead of welcoming them and working with them as I'd managed to do before. For the first time, I wanted to cry. I told the nurse I needed pain medication. Forget this natural birth business. So she left the room to discuss with the midwife.  As soon as she left, I felt like I had to push, which seemed incredibly ridiculous to me, because here I was, waiting for these contractions to stop. Before I knew it, I was on my hands and knees on the edge of the bed. Lane ran out of the room to tell to the nurses that I felt like pushing. Everyone just looked at him, too, in disbelief. My midwife hung up the phone and raced the hospital. She only lives a few miles away. 

12:30: By the time Lane returned, the baby's head was already out. I remember thinking, oh yes, this is why they call it the ring of fire. Without anyone there to help me, I just tried to slowly birth that baby's head, so as not to tear. 

12:35: The nurse was trying to get her gloves on, but before she could finish, the baby's whole body practically flew out of mine. No one was even there yet to catch her. Thank goodness she landed safely on the bed. 

And my midwife arrived in the room, only moments after our sweet Willow was born. She told me at least she could help me birth the placenta, since I birthed the baby on my own. 

Everyone was shocked by how quickly my labor went, the nurses, my midwife, and definitely Lane and me both. They said they'd never seen anything progress like that before. When my nurse removed the cervadil at 11:50. She said the baby was still very high, and didn't feel at all as though she might be close to arriving, but given how quickly this happened, that probably was my water breaking. 

She also said that at no point during all those back to back crazy, forceful contractions did Willow's heart rate ever go outside of a normal perfect range. This was very uncommon, especially given how rapidly she arrived. Thank you, baby girl, for not giving us extra reason to worry. 

We wonder if the cervadil was that powerful, or if my labor would have started that night anyway, or if the clary sage oil had something to do with it. It's supposed to be very powerful and to make contractions more efficient. 

When she was passed to me, I was immediately struck by how tiny she seemed. 7lbs, 14oz. Our tiniest baby yet! She looks so much like Gabriela, but also has some very Grover features, like her mouth and chin. She has a full head of beautifully long and silky hair. No wonder they could see it on the ultrasounds. 

She immediately started making sucking motions after being placed on my chest and she latched on right away, nursing like a champ. 

It was strange to be back in the hospital on Simone's half birthday, to be laboring again 18 months later to the very day. But we are glad our rainbow baby got her own special day, and so incredibly relieved to have her here safely in our arms.

We can't even express the relief we feel knowing that our baby girl has arrived safely, healthy, and alive. We all just love her to pieces. 

October 25th - 40 weeks today.

Well folks, my due date came and went. I wasn't expecting to have a baby on my due date, to the disappointment of my dad who would have liked to share his birthday with this rainbow baby. 

While Easton was born on his due date, both my girls were about a week late. So I have been expecting something similar this time around. However, I noticed that there is a full moon this week, so maybe baby will come earlier than later. My bets have been on the 26th. But that's today, so we will see. 

Last Wednesday, I had normal hospital testing and my midwife advised that I had a soft cervix, but wasn't dilated yet. I had been hoping to have my membranes stripped at that appointment to help jump start labor, since we are all nervous as each day goes by. 

Saturday was more hospital testing. My fluid level has been going down, but it is normal to decrease, and is still within the normal range. 

The plan is to return to the hospital for more testing on Monday, see the midwife on Tuesday, and go back for more hospital testing on Wednesday. 

My midwife understands our anxiety and has said she will induce me at any time if I decide that's what I want. Although, I am still hoping to go into labor on my own. We will see how long I feel this way. 

I spent my due date cleaning out and organizing my bedroom, since I will likely be living there exclusively for several weeks after the baby is born. After all that work, I was so tired I just napped and rested in my room for the afternoon. It was just what I needed, except that my dear children were making a mess in all the other rooms of the house while I rested. Oh well. 

Now it's 4:30 in the morning. I can't sleep and I am just contemplating at what hour is it reasonable to start cleaning up the kitchen so I can make soup and bake cookies. 

I think this nesting business is kicking in. 

Capture Your Grief - Day 17. Secondary Losses

When your child dies, there are a series of secondary losses that follow. They are different for everyone. The loss of relationships, the loss of innocence, the loss of employment etc. Share about something else that you lost when your child died. This is the perfect way for us to shine a light on the grief experience.

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After Simone was born it was so hard for me to see pregnant ladies. Not just because they were still carrying their living babies, but I was so upset at their happiness and overwhelming joy. Of course I never did, but I wanted to make sure they knew. "Why are you so happy?! Just because you are pregnant, just because you do everything right, doesn't mean you get to bring your baby home!" I wanted to blurt out at them. 

It wasn't just my own loss of innocence, but my sweet Gabriela's as well. I lived naively for 35 years thinking when you get pregnant, you have a baby, and you go home blissfully with that little bundle of joy swaddled in your arms. Gabriela lost that innocence in kindergarten. Not a lesson I was planning on her learning. Ever. 

When my sister gave birth three days after Simone's birth, Gabriela's first question was whether or not her baby lived. Because in our reality, babies don't always live. 

She has informed me that she's never having a baby because you can go through all that hard work being pregnant and preparing and then your baby could DIE?!? No thank you. She says she is adopting, at least that way she would know her baby would be alive. 

When tragedy hits, you really discover who you want at your side, who can't handle being there, and who you don't want to be there. 

Some lovely friends have really shown themselves to be exactly what we need, stepping up at the time we need them most. Others have run away completely from our reality. They don't mention Simone, won't talk about her, and fine by me, have kind of fizzled away. Someone who can't even acknowledge our daughter's existence even when I bring it up in regular conversation is not someone I want or need in my life. 

Gabriela took an art class with one of her cousin's friends and so this 11 or 12 year old boy didn't know us, but he knew what had happened to our family. He came up to me one day, out of nowhere, and said, "I'm really sorry about your baby. That's so sad." What a sweet, kindhearted boy. Gabriela and I had a talk about how much that meant to me, how it's not easy to bring up. And how it's so hard, that some grown ups can't bear to bring themselves to do what this young man had the courage to do. 

Capture Your Grief - Day 16. Creative Grief

There is such a deep-rooted yearning that we feel when our beloved children die. This yearning hurts so bad and yet it also inspires us to get creative to do something beautiful in memory of our children. Have you done anything in memory of your child? Maybe it is something your created for them. A tattoo or a piece of jewellery or artwork. Did you create a garden? Maybe you created an organization or a charity benefit. Maybe you took up a new practice. A new hobby. Writing, painting, dancing, reading. Whatever it is share your mementos.

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Days after Simone died my sister-in-law told me she wanted to get me a necklace with Simone's name and asked me to choose one. I love this one with the heart and laurel leaves. 

Lane got me this bracelet. It's called Beauty in Brokenness. To remind me that, somehow, we will heal from this. We won't ever be the same, but grief comes from love and there is something beautiful about that. 

We planted a cherry tree for Simone days after returning home from the hospital. It waits and waited to bloom this year. Lane and I were beginning to wonder if something was wrong, since it seemed ever other cherry tree was in full bloom. But, sure enough, it bloomed as soon as April began, and the very last blossom of Simone's tree blew away with the wind on her actual birthday. 

And here is a little something I made. Simone's Christmas stocking all the way on the right. She won't ever be able to pull goodies from it or dump it out in wonder on Christmas morning. And I knew this, having sewn it after her death. But it was so important for me to see five stockings hanging up, because even in her absence, we were still a family of five. 

Capture Your Grief - Day 15. Wave of Light

As a wave of light makes its way around the world today, we take some time out to honour and remember our children. It is a day of sacred remembrance and a day of awareness. What does this community mean to you? Where would you be without it? What would you like to see happen in the future for this community? Share your candles of light and hope.

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Lighting some candles tonight in honor of our babies and all the other babies gone too soon, sorely missed, and deeply loved. 

Capture Your Grief - Day 14. Express Your Heart

This is the day in month where you can say whatever it is on your heart that you would like. Is there anything that you were hoping would be in this month of subjects that wasn’t? I am sure there is a bunch of things! This is your chance to share it. Find your voice. What is it that you want to express. If you are lost for words a subject that you could write about is grief myths. What does grief look like for you?

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This month, especially, I need to find balance in my grief and creating space to safely welcome a new baby into our lives and hearts. How to separate the two. It seems nearly impossible. 

How can I return to the same hospital where Simone was born and not be preoccupied by the way our lives so drastically changed that day? How can I give this baby and myself an entirely different birthing experience without separating myself from Simone's birth? 

I feel so guilty and sad, like I am trying to push away the feelings and experience surrounding Simone's birth. Of course I don't want this experience to be anything like the last. But that makes me feel like I am somehow ashamed of my daughter's birth, like I am dishonoring her and her memory. 

My dear brother in law told me I'm not pushing her away. I'm just tucking her in for a little bit, like putting her down for a nap, and I'll be back. I really liked how he described it. 

I need to give myself emotional space  not only to accept this birth, but to welcome it with open heart and arms, visualizing my healthy, strong baby alive in my arms. I need to permit myself to believe that this much loved and anticipated baby will in fact come home with us, swaddled in our arms. That I will enjoy the bonding skin to skin contact and actually nurse my baby girl with the milk my body will make, no matter what the outcome. 

It's so scary to let myself go there because I know how swiftly all those things can be so violently snatched away. I want to believe it will all be okay like everyone says it will. But how can they say that? They don't know. 

So, my heart struggles with finding the right space for both these baby girls right now. I need to protect myself and this new baby from something I have been trying so hard these last eighteen months to own without shame, to honor as my story. It's a tricky, tricky balance. 

Baby Grover 4.0, week 38

So this is it. Baby could come any time. I can't believe it. I truly feel like I am somewhat in denial still. I love this baby, I'm so obviously pregnant, I feel her moving constantly, but my brain just can't comprehend that she will be here in my arms any day. 

I noticed a definite increase in Braxton hicks contractions Sunday and Monday. Tuesday I woke up to some very minor contractions. They were a notch up from Braxton hicks. Just enough to be achy and crampy and wonder if they would increase in intensity. I got up and had a snack, drank a lot of water and just relaxed until I fell asleep again. The tightness in my belly continued all day. I know enough from past experience to realize this phase could continue for weeks, really. But it's encouraging to know that my body is gearing up for his birth. Monday night I really felt like I had to start making space in my heart to welcome this birth so that my labor isn't inhibited by my fears surrounding it. I just have to open myself to the love and wonder and power of my body, trust myself and this baby to enter safely into this world. It's interesting that I noticed a difference in activity the very next morning. My belly contracts and then before releasing, contracts even more and just stays that way. 

My Wednesday ultrasound showed, for the first time, the baby in the same position twice in a row. Head down! It certainly feels like she still is in that position. 

I have been working on our banner this week as new bits of fabric and notes of encouragement continue to arrive in the mail. Kristie also sent me a beautiful rainbow quilt she sewed and and my friend Vicki made us the coziest swaddling blankie. It's fun to get these bits of handmade goodness for our baby girl. 

I've finally decided to encapsulate my placenta and have made arrangements for that. I have also been finding birth affirmations and pregnancy after loss birth affirmations. I'm rereading Ina Mae's

Guide to Childbirth for the fourth time around as well. It feels good to finally be facing this birth, and in a positive way at that. 

Lane and I have been so worried about this baby's safe arrival that we still are trying to decide on a name for her. It's serious business, naming a person. Maybe it will all be clear when she is here safely in our arms. 

My job this weekend is to relax. Maybe do some cooking too, but my midwife and my sister are both out of town so I want to make sure I just take it easy. 

My Saturday testing showed baby to still be head down. Three times in a row, I think she's staying there!

Capture Your Grief - Day 13. Regrets and Triggers

What are some regrets that you have about your experience with grief so far? Do you believe there is a way to heal that regret? Do you have any grief triggers? Maybe it is the pregnant woman in the store or a scent that reminds you of that time in your life. Perhaps it is a sound, song, season etc. Share what pulls on your heart strings.

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Regrets. I wish we had professional photos of our very brief time with Simone. I never knew about Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep or other services. Perhaps they mentioned it to us in the hospital, maybe they didn't. It's hard to say, everything was such a blur. The very few cell phone photos we have show Simone's delicate skin tearing, the discolor, and don't capture our family. The one photo we have of Lane holding his baby girl is blurry. I regret that we don't have more high quality photos of the few hours we had with our baby girl. 

I wondered if I would regret not having Easton come to the hospital to meet Simone. On some level, I wish we could have had a photo of us all with her, that he could have seen her. But on another, I think it just would have been confusing for him. He would probably have been running around the hospital room, possibly unaware of the severity of the situation. Or may be he would have just gotten it. After we met some babies born very close to Simone, Easton would ask if those babies were Simone. He still messes up his pronouns with his cousin Isaac, born three days after Simone. It's the only boy he refers to as she or her.  So I do wonder how things might have been different, but I feel like we did the right age appropriate thing for Easton. 

Triggers. I never know when a new wave of grief will sneak up and crash down over me. Sometimes it's a song like You Are My Sunshine, which Gabriela always sang to my belly in hopes that her sister would recognize her voice after being born. Other times it's a song like Let it Be. It's not always the same. 

It's sad to admit, but my nephew is a trigger. He was born three days after my Simone. Everytime I see him, I see exactly what my baby girl would be doing. How she'd be toddling around, saying mama. It's been 18 months and it hasn't really gotten much easier. I am afraid he will forever be that marker. And I can't help it. 

I'm scared I will discover new triggers when I return to the hospital to birth this rainbow baby of mine. I have already discovered that the soap at the hospital transports me right back to those first few days, fresh with grief. I packed our own  soap, although being at the hospital a few times a week is helping to normalize that scent, making it less traumatic. 

Weekend of Fun

We are so lucky to have friends who are willing to go out of their way to care for us and help us out. I am forever grateful to our homeschooling mamas group. Despite running around taking their kids to classes, teaching them, feeding and caring for their families, they have managed to bring dinners to my family. 

My dear friend Kiera offered to take the kids for the day on Saturday. They gave my kids such a fun and memorable day that I, at 38 weeks pregnant would never have had the stamina for. 

I loved getting all the photo updates. 

Here are some of them. 

They went to the Oakland Zoo, they went on the rides. That would have been enough to send me down for a nap.

After the zoo, they went to Alameda to go for a ride on Gibby's boat. They caught the end of the Blue Angels show from the water and sailed out to the bay

And then we met them for dinner at a delicious Cuban restaurant. Lane and I took Easton home after that, but Gabriela's fun wasn't ending. They went out for pie and ice cream and then she spent the night too. 

Such a treat for my kiddos, and I spent some time organizing and stocking on our last pre-baby Costco run. 

Thankful for our loving group of friends and family. 

Capture Your Grief - Day 12. Normalizing Grief

Often while grieving we have feelings of isolation because we fear judgement that what we are feeling isn’t normal. But it is amazing to see just how many people feel the same way. When others stand up and express how they feel through sharing their experiences, it allows us to say “Hey, I feel that way too!”. Connecting with and communicating our experiences we are able to normalize our grief for ourselves and others. So share something about your grief journey that you might feel is strange or not common. It might be something you do to remember your children or maybe it is something you fear. By sharing these parts of our stories we can educate others on the grief experience. 

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I feel this inordinate amount of pressure that it is my job to keep my family safe. I saw my husband grieving before, and I can't bear the thought of him going through that again. I worry about our kids more, I know awful things can happen no matter what. No matter how well you take care of your people, bad shit happens and sometimes there's nothing you can do to see it coming or to stop it. 

With Simone, I had acupuncture to help get labor going on a Friday afternoon and woke up in labor just shortly after midnight. I sometimes wonder if that acupuncture session brought my labor on more forcefully than it would have begun on its own. Maybe my water wouldn't have broken just where it did, at the blood vessels of Simone's cord. I know it's crazy. I'm sure whatever I might have done that day would have me wondering how differently things would have been if only.  

And now, I feel so strange, being less than two weeks from my due date with this rainbow baby. People keep telling me how excited they are and how they can't wait to hold the baby or see me with the baby and I just don't share in that excitement. I can't. I want and love this baby so badly. They say everything will be just fine this time.  But I know how terribly wrong  everything can go at the last moment. I know nobody can prose that. I'm scared to let myself feel that excitement; it's completely overshadowed by extreme worry. I suppose it's my way of coping, of surviving through this anxious time. 

Capture Your Grief - Day 11. Glow In The Woods

Today I want to honour the beautiful writers at Glow In The Woods, past and present. This was the first place I found on the internet where I could read about other parents experiences with grief. They were literally my light in the darkness. When we become bereaved, in the beginning, many of us look outwards for help. We set out in the darkness of night with a blanket and a lantern in search of others like us. Along the road we usually find someone or something and it is with that discovery that we can walk this road with understanding company and with that, we watch the sun begin to rise over our worlds again. Who was your glow in the woods? Share some resources that have aided you in your healing journey. It may be a website, charity, organization, a person/teacher/therapist/new friend etc. Whatever it is, share what is so wonderful about that resource and how it has helped you. Please feel welcome to share links so that others can benefit.

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When Simone died, of course I was broken. I was so completely blind sighted. Who did this even happen to? Full term health babies didn't just die. I couldn't believe it. 

But then the stories started coming in. No one ever talks about it before. I realized there was comfort in hearing others' stories, what happened to other parents and their babies, all the emotional responses, the frustrating things people said to them, how could people act like this never even happened, things that other people who haven't experienced this kind of loss just don't get.  

I started reading books - collections of baby loss stories. Always Within, Three Minus One. I filled up my Facebook feed with articles from Still Standing Magazine, A Bed For My Heart, Pregnancy After Loss Support, Return To Zero, Carly Marie. It all helped me understand I was not alone, gave me hope regarding how I would survive through this loss, that the feelings I had were completely normal and that there were people out there who truly understood. 

Capture Your Grief - Day 10. Words

Writing is a wonderful tool for healing. When you put your pen to paper you may have no idea where you are going or where you will end up and that is the beauty of it. It is your own adventure. Find some time today to write by hand. You can write about whatever is on your heart right now. It gives you the chance to write down anything that you need to release. Do you have a poem inside you or a short story that is waiting to come out? Maybe it is just one word, that needs to be written over and over and over. Whatever it is, write as little or as much as you need to. If you cannot find the words today, you can always share something from someone else, like a quote or poem, just be sure to credit the author.

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Capture Your Grief - Day 9. Family

 What does your family look like today? Who is your family to you? What do they mean to you? 

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My family. I treasure these people so dearly. 

My ever loving, sensitive husband. I was terrified when I saw him in the depths of his grief, but I adore that he wears his heart on his sleeve and isn't afraid to feel his sadness. He supports me fully, especially on those days where I just can't keep it together, which are thankfully fewer and farther between. He works so hard to support our family so I can stay home with our children. He loves us all fiercely, worries about being a good daddy, makes our kids laugh like I never could, and always, always takes the very best care of me. 

My tender hearted seven year old, Gabriela. This girl is amazing. She has shown herself to be so brave, to handle with such beauty grief that no child should have to bear. I notice her doodling her sister's name here and there, writing stories and songs about Simone. She honors her sister's memory always, sure to remind others that she has a baby sister, and not just the one growing in my belly. And on the days when it's just so hard, she gives herself permission to voice it, to let out her sadness and anger, to ask for help in staying afloat when a new wave of grief hits. I am so very proud of my big girl and how she's managed through horrors I desperately wish she could have gone her whole life without ever experiencing. 

My Easton will proudly inform anyone he is three-and-three-quarters and is "into" Star Wars. My little guy was only two when his sister was born and he never met or saw Simone. I thought he was too young to understand. But I was wrong. Easton took on the role of official comforter and master hug giver after Simone's death. This little toddler would literally throw aside his toys, stop whatever he was doing to give the biggest, most heartfelt snuggles and hugs when he saw us breaking down, which was often. He asked why the tears came down, and after a while would answer his own question, because our baby died. He and his big sister have kept Simone close to their hearts often asking what she would be doing if she were alive. It makes Lane and me consider little things like how she might be doing baby signs or kicking her legs in excitement, or grabbing at our dinner plates and just picturing Simone doing normal baby things. 

And now, there is another baby girl, only a few short weeks until we meet her. She has given me hope again. This little life that wiggles and squirms inside of me. Maybe she can sense how much love we already carry in our hearts for her, how terribly anxious I am to hold her in my arms, to hear her strong cry, and watch her little chest rise and fall with every breath she takes on her own. 

I truly cannot fathom how I would have been able to navigate through these last nearly eighteen months without these wonderful, loving people by my side. It feels strange to say, but despite living through my daughter's death, I feel so very fortunate. 

Capture Your Grief - Day 8. Wish List

 What are your wishes for this grief journey? What do you need from others? It might be that you want your child to always be remembered. You may wish to educate others on grief and healing. Maybe your wish is to turn this tragedy into something beautiful. Spend some time thinking about what it is that you hope to be able to do, learn or gain from this experience.

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Big brother and sister checking out one of the butterflies we released on Simone's floral birthday cake

I wish for balance. Balance as I continue to grieve for the loss of Simone, as I care for my other children, my husband, and myself ... as I prepare to bring another child into this world in only a few short weeks. 

I wish for Simone to always be remembered. For others not to be afraid to remember Simone along with us. 

I wish that my heartache and grief, that my experience can somehow bring hope to others who have tragically walked the same path I have. That some good may come from this horrific loss. 

I wish for my living children to always remember their sister with love, into adulthood. That as they get older, they understand how hard I have tried to mother them through my grief and theirs. 

Baby Grover 4.0, week 37

It was a let down to hear that the baby was no longer head down on Saturday.  What a wiggle worm I've got! Sunday I was totally exhausted but decided I needed to help this baby get back where she's supposed to be. So we loaded everyone up and headed to the park where I walked and walked and walked. 

Monday my midwife checked my belly and she says baby is definitely head down. She helped me feel for myself so I would know what to look for as I check my belly in the days ahead. Lindy seems confident that baby is fairly engaged and that as she continues to grow, it will be more difficult to change out of her head down position. I certainly feel more pressure and discomfort, which is a good thing.

At my nonstress test on Saturday, in talking with my nurse, I discovered she's been at Alta Bates for 40 years. She worked with both Beah and Lindy, my former and current midwives as they were training. She also worked with Peggy Vincent, a midwife in the Bay Area who wrote Baby Catcher, a book I recently reread. I was excited to hear Bonnie share that Peggy has written another book of birth stories.  I immediately bought it, and reading it is helping me to envision myself giving birth again.    

My Wenesday test wasn't so non-stressful. Even though the nurse commented that baby passed the test early in the allotted timeframe, they had to monitor her for the full 20 minutes   At the very end, for some unexplained reason, her heart rate decreased from the normal range. And then, in my ultrasound, we found out that the baby is no longer head down, but oblique. Oblique is halfway between transverse and head down. Because of my history and the baby's heart rate, we proceeded to the next step: a bio physical profile, which is a 30 minute ultrasound in which they check for baby's movement, the tone of movement, the fluid, and whether or not baby  is practicing breathing. 

Even though she was super active during the nonstress monitoring, baby went into a sleep cycle the moment the ultrasound started, it seemed. She did her movement all toward the end, her heart was fine, but she never practiced those breathing movements. 

So, the perinatalogist was called for advice. They requested that I come back the very next day for additional monitoring. We returned to perfectly normal test results, and are scheduled to return on Saturday. I appreciate the extra thoroughness and caution with monitoring this baby, but it certainly has me on edge. 

My midwife isn't too worried about the baby's position. She says oblique is better than transverse and as the baby gets heavier and larger, gravity will pull her to the right position, and there just won't be space anymore for these antics!  My regular ultrasounds will help us be aware of baby's position. 

I had another one on Saturday. The tech quickly announced that baby is head down. I had some trouble believing her, but I saw it myself and am hoping for the best in my following appointments. 

Lane and I took a last Costco run before baby comes, sticking up on everything. I have also started organizing the homeschool room and kitchen cabinets which the baby won't care about at all, but I suppose this means some sort of nesting is kicking in, even though most of my house is a giant mess still. 

Last night, just for a very brief moment, I saw myself holding our baby girl in our home. It was just a tiny vision, but it happened. All this time, my heart and my brain have been too terrified to picture life after this baby arrives and it has been impossible to envision. We just want her so badly...what if something terribly wrong happens again. So this was a big deal for me. 

Capture Your Grief - Day 7. Memory

Share a memory of your child. It doesn’t have to be a positive or negative memory. Just share whatever it is that you want or feel drawn to sharing. You are the story teller here.

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 I've decided to reshare my birth story here. A big giant memory. My first night home from the hospital one of the many times I awoke in tears was out of fear and panic that I would forget the details of the most tragic story of my life. I so desperately wanted to remember and hold onto every last detail. I knew this was the only time I had with Simone, I understood the emotional fog I was living in, and I couldn't bear the idea of losing or forgetting the only time I had with my baby girl. So I wrote it all down the very next day. It tore me apart, yet it was so satisfying to examine the events, the emotions, so soon afterwards. It is an awful, yet beautiful story, but it's mine, it belongs to our family. I felt this immediate, urgent need to preserve it, and I am so thankful that I did. 

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I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for quite a while, and they seemed to be increasing in intensity, though were still very mild. I knew labor would be coming soon, but it was so hard to know just when.

And then I started trying all the things that seem like Old Wives' Tales when you aren't very pregnant, but suddenly sound totally logical when you are just so ready to have a baby.  We ate the "world famous" Preggo Pizza from Skipolini's, ate fresh pineapple, spicy foods, I had acupuncture, we went for long walks, I bounced and swayed on my birth ball, and walked up and down lots of stairs. 

It got to the point where I was no longer wondered how our birth would go, nor was I worried about how we would adjust to life after the baby was born, she just needed to come out.  I was so done being pregnant, and ready for the next stage.  On Friday I had a second round of acupuncture.  I could feel Simone moving around all afternoon.  Two days before, I had my membranes stripped, and I was 40 weeks and 6 days pregnant. I felt different, like something was going to happen.  Just to make sure, I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the wooden floors.  I showered and started some soup in the crock pot so everyone would have food to eat. I baked some bread, and felt ready to meet our baby girl.  That evening, Gabriela and Easton both read stories to their sister in my belly. It was so precious.

Just after midnight, I woke up to a stronger than normal contraction.  I felt like this was labor starting, but I needed to relax. And all of a sudden I felt wetness between my legs and it started increasing. I got up to go use the bathroom and was shocked to see my underwear full of blood. Blood was in the toilet, and it just kept coming out. It didn't feel like I was peeing.  My water had broken and it was full of blood. I was scared, worried, and surprised. Of course, Easton woke up crying for Mama right then, so Lane was busy comforting him back to sleep.

Immediately I called the midwives and let them know what had happened.  They were on their way over. I asked Cynthia to come over to watch the sleepy kids.  Karen arrived first.  She got my IV ready for the penicillin drip I would need, and tried to listen for the baby's heartbeat with the doppler.  I wasn't even worried at all when she couldn't detect the heart beat.  I figured the baby was just in a weird position.  But then Beah, my other midwife, couldn't find the heartbeat either. It was time to go to the hospital. I didn't know until much later that while we were still at the house, Beah told Lane that she thought we had already lost the baby.  Lane was so worried, hurrying around trying to get us out the door and in the car. I told him I didn't want to waste any energy being worried unless I knew we had a reason to worry.

Our midwives both work at Alta Bates Hospital. Karen is a labor and delivery nurse there.  Beah has so many connections. She made phone calls on the way.  We walked right in, they told us which room to go to, and Karen advised the nurse that she would clock in and take over my care, for which I am so very grateful.

They still couldn't detect the baby's heartbeat with the hospital-grade machines, and ordered a sonogram, so that they could at least see the heartbeat.  Soon the sonographer came in with the equipment. I was unable to see the screen, but I saw Beah and Karen's faces.  The worried look in their eyes, I saw them holding each other.  Lane and I burst into tears before they confirmed what we already knew.  Our baby's heart had stopped beating.  She was gone.  I never could have imagined that this would happen.  Never.

Through this all, my contractions starting getting stronger and coming more frequently.  I decided that I had enough to sort out emotionally, that I no longer wanted the natural childbirth I had been planning.  I got an epidural and pitocin, and then we had a number of other decisions to make while we were still in shock, in an incredible emotional fog.  We had to tell Cynthia what was going on, but were nervous about her feeling overwhelmed, especially since she was taking care of Gabriela and Easton. We decided to call Meliss to tell her what was going on, since she was originally going to be at our birth and help with Gabriela.  Lane tried to tell her, but how do you say those words out loud, when you can hardly believe that they are true?  Beah, who was at Meliss's home birth, took over the call and told  Meliss what had happened and asked her to be with Cynthia.  Then she called Cynthia to tell her.  We needed them both to be strong for our kids.  I was so nervous about Gabriela getting up and being excited to meet her sister, only to find out that she was gone.

We told our parents and spent much of my labor in tears, holding each other, unable to believe that this was our reality - that we would not be bringing home the baby girl whose arrival we had so eagerly anticipated.  Karen gave me some pain medication that would help me to rest, and Lane had some Benadryll to help him rest.  We slept together for a short while in the hospital bed before I woke up feeling like it was about time to push.

Over the next 30 minutes, I pushed out Simone.  Apparently, I lost a lot of blood in the process.  They placed her on my chest immediately, and I held her and cried and cried.  My sweet baby girl, so beautiful but lifeless in my arms.

We originally had a different middle name chosen for her, but after learning of her fate, changed her middle name to Esperanza, which means hope.  It is a beautiful name, and a reminder to us that we will make it through this difficult time.  Before my Nana was born, her mother had two stillborn babies, both of whom she had named Esperanza.  It seemed a fitting, beautiful name for our precious daughter.

The hospital staff were all very tender and helpful.  They let us know what had happened.  Simone's cord had been pinched at her shoulder.  As she started to descend down, the cord pinched, stopping her blood flow and oxygen, and then her heart.  Not only this, her cord was positioned at the very edge of the placenta, rather than firmly in the middle.  This made it easier for the bloodflow in the cord to pinch.  The doctor compared it to a garden hose.  She said if it is on securely and on full blast, it's much harder to pinch or bend, and that wasn't the case in this situation.  Also, another problem was of course, the amount of blood I lost when my water broke.  This suggests that a blood vessel could have ruptured, stopping blood flow to the umbilical cord.  She was very sweet and honest and was sure to inform us that there was nothing we did wrong, no choice we made that could have influenced or prevented this from happening.  If we had planned a medicated hospital birth, this still would have been the outcome.  There is strange comfort that comes from knowing that no matter what, Simone did not have a chance at life.

We had a very hard time deciding whether or not we wanted our family to see us in the hospital. In the end, we decided to give our parents, Simone's grandparents, the option to come in and see her at the hospital.  As soon as we let our families know, they started coming.  We couldn't have kept them away if we had tried.  And, honestly, it was very therapeutic and comforting to have them there to hug, and cry to and love us in our time of complete devastation and despair.  It was truly the worst day of our lives, yet so touching and beautiful at the same time.

I felt so terrible, but Lane had to leave to go tell Gabriela in person that her baby sister did not live through the birth. I didn't want him to have to do that alone, but what choice did I have? We decided to give her the option of coming to the hospital to see her.  We talked and he wrote down notes while we thought of how and what to say to our daughter, who has done nothing but talk and think and be excited about the arrival of her baby sister.

After he left, Karen gave Simone a bath and cleaned her up so she looked nice for Gabriela.  It was then that she also weighed her and I was surprised to see Simone was 9 lbs, 14 oz., 21 1/2 inches long.  I had no idea she would be such a big baby!  I was even more amazed after learning of her size that I didn't tear at all from her birth, I was hardly swollen and not sore. I think my body knew that I could only handle so much pain and spared me the physical pain of recovering from childbirth.

When Lane got home, he walked inside to see a huge smile on Gabriela's face quickly disappear.  He told her what had happened and she cried. She said, "I thought you were just going to tell me something bad happened, not that my sister died!" He was crushed. They cried together, picked out an outfit and hat for Simone to wear. And Gabriela wrote her a note that said, "I have so, so much love for you". And at the house, she asked him if we could celebrate Simone's birthday every year.

She came to the hospital to meet her baby sister.  There were moments when she was her normal happy self, curious questioning moments, and very tender heartbreaking moments as well.  She wanted to see Simone's whole body. She marveled at her soft skin, tiny but long fingernails, itty bitty toes. She asked why Simone's lips were so dark red, why her skin was peeling, and what would happen to her body.  Gabriela asked why we couldn't take her home with us, she held Simone, caressed her little cheeks, hugged her, cried, and said goodbye.  She cried and asked what about her crib, and all her diapers and all the clothes she would never wear, and why Simone would never meet her big brother, Easton.  It. tore. us. apart.

Simone's Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Nate and Auntie Liss, Nana and Papa, Auntie Banu and Uncle Matthew, Auntie Cynthia and Uncle Dan, Auntie Kristie, and Uncle Tim, big sister Gabriela and Mommy and Daddy all had the chance to hold her, look at her, and say goodbye.  So much love for our baby girl.

My mom said over and over again how much Simone looked like me when I was a newborn.  She had the same little nose that Gabriela and Easton have, dainty little lips, and the softest head of hair.

Lane brilliantly asked his parents to go to Michael's to get supplies so we could make baby hand and footprints for Simone.  They turned out perfectly. I know we will treasure them always.  The hospital took photos of her as well, and sent us home with them.  And now I appreciate my belly cast more than ever.

Lane and I stayed overnight in the hospital. We weren't sure if we would at first, but the kids were happy to sleep overnight with their cousins.  The hospital staff said we could spend as much time with Simone as we wanted.  But around 12:30 in the morning, we decided it was time to ask them to take her away.  It was a very difficult thing to do, but we had already noticed her body change so much in less than 12 hours.  Truthfully, we weren't sure we could handle what she might look like in the morning, and wanted to remember her the way she was.  We told her how much we loved her, how we would have taken such good care of her, how she would always be our baby, and how terribly sorry we were that this had happened to her, to our family.  But how hard it was to ask someone to take her little body away.  No one should ever have to do that.

Lane and I spent the night cuddled up together in that tiny hospital bed, crying. It was helpful to take the time to grieve for her, just the two of us.  We are surrounded by so much love in each other, our beautiful perfect children, an amazing selfless and giving family, and wonderfully supportive friends. We have to focus on these blessings in our lives and put everything into perspective.  We know that this will help us to love each other more, to be more patient with our children and to truly appreciate every moment we have with them.

It's like this is our gift from Simone.  

Capture Your Grief - Day 6. Books

 So many of us turn to reading in the wake of the death of our children. We take solace in other people’s words, stories, journeys and wisdom. Have you read any books that have helped in this journey of healing after loss? They don’t have to be specifically about the death of a child, just anything that helped you. Share about how they helped you and what you loved about them. You can share books that help grieving children too. Please feel welcome to share links.

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You Are The Mother of All Mothers: a message of hope for the grieving heart. 

This book is so beautiful and profound. It speaks to the heartache, the guilt in a way only a grieving mama can describe. I only wish I had discovered it right away. The copies I have are extra special, since Simone's name is in them. 

For our children, Something Happened: A Book for Children and Parents Who Have Experienced Child Loss was absolutely perfect. There are no religious references, no confusing language (we didn't "lose" the baby; she died). It's written from an older sibling's point of view, beautiful, direct, and nearly mirrors our own family's situation, down to planting a tree in memory of the baby.

Why Did You Die?: Activities to Help Children Cope with Grief and Loss.  This book incorporates short lessons about different feelings of grief, truths of life and death, remembering and honoring your loved one.  For example, it's okay to not feel sad all the time, that every living thing dies, or that nothing we can say or think could ever cause someone to die. These are shown to kids through a short story about another child experiencing a death in their family. There are accompanying writings. drawing, and coloring exercises along with a set of questions for each. We pull this book out on days that are extra hard on my seven year old. Focusing some time and energy on her sister helps her to feel better. I'm so glad she recognizes this too. We have had really bad behavior days sometimes, and she will appear out of nowhere with this book in hand, telling me she wants to talk about Simone. We drop everything and pick an activity together.