Anxious...

Not sure if anxious is the right word for what I'm feeling at this moment but I'm laying here in bed typing this on my phone because I can't sleep. I can't believe this moment is here again for us. I'm not sure how I feel honestly. Happy? Sad? Guilty? Excited?  Scared? The only word that that seems to sum it all up is anxious. Can we just fast forward to 12:30 tomorrow?! But then again I don't want it to be here because I'm terrified of what I might hear. Terrified that I could actually be letting myself get excited about having this baby and then have it all be ripped away again. Since I haven't really announced it yet, yes I'm pregnant.  I am due February 24th. I haven't posted in a while because I wanted to get to this appointment first. But as I lay here with complete insomnia I can't help but write. I could wake up Chad who is always ready to listen to me on the days I just sob and blubber on about Christian. I could write an email to the girls who were in my support group, but they are going through their own struggles and I feel guilty that I became pregnant again so easy. This baby, the one I can already feel rolling around inside me, is such a blessing. Actually conceived the week Christian was due. I take that as a true sign from up above.  I keep staring at Christian's memory box wondering how tomorrow will go. I will be 18 weeks on Sunday so they are doing my 20 week anatomy scan now to detect any issues early on.  We will be headed down to Charlotte to the same doctor and ultrasound techs that were with us when we learned of my baby boy's sickness and when we delivered him. I say "we" because Chad was the strongest man I knew that day. I tear up just remembering how close this whole experience and Christian have brought us.  Tomorrow will be an emotional day. And now I'm glad I have written and shared the fact that I'm pregnant again and that even though I'm wide awake at 3am feeling anxious, I can honestly say that deep down somewhere I know that every thing's going to be okay.

Keeping Busy...

Mother's day has finally passed and I had a little bit of an emotional weekend.  Claire and Chad made it wonderful by waking me up with presents and working on things around the house that have been on my "honey do" list FOREVER.   I cried, laughed and then cried some more.  Being a mom is the greatest thing I have ever done but this Mother's day was bittersweet.  I loved on Claire all day and prayed to Christian every chance I got.  That morning I let out all my emotions the best way I know how…I went for a long run.  I stopped down by our boat and sat on the dock.  Looking out over the water I probably raised the lake level with my tears.  It's still hard to believe.  Hard to believe I lost my baby and that his ashes are out on the lake.  Hard to believe that I got through something like this.  Hard to believe that I'm actually doing okay.  My family has been so wonderful and without them I'd probably still be in that dark place I was after this happened.  I have a handful of friends that have been SO supportive and reach out to me on a weekly basis…just to check in.  I love you all.  I know that I have friends that haven't reached out because maybe they don't know what to say and that's okay too.  I understand.  We were in Raleigh over Easter Weekend with Chad's family and when we got home I noticed that there was a new tree in our yard and a beautiful bird bath.  Our families pitched in and bought this beautiful dogwood tree to memorialize Christian.  I am truly blessed to have the family I do.  Tomorrow we leave for Disney.  Chad is on his way home now and Claire is already asleep.  Although I can't understand how she can go to sleep so easily knowing we are about to meet her idol tomorrow….Cinderella.  Can we just say obsessed?  This vacation is much needed.  I'm trying hard not to be sad about going.  See, we were going to plan a Disney trip in September and in my head I had saw us doing this with two children.  So again it's just another reminder of what I lost.  However, I am going to be strong and do my best to appreciate being there with Claire and Chad.  I might not be able to sleep tonight I'm so excited.  When we get back next week we are having a 3rd birthday party for Claire.  A Fairy Party.  I will post pictures because all I have been doing lately is making things for the party.  It's a way for me to stay busy so I don't think too much.  My due date is June 7th so that will be another hard week, but I'll get through it.  I've survived so far.  <3

Spring

With Easter next week and the arrival of Spring I feel that I am healing more and more every day. I am smiling again and waking up without reaching for my stomach expecting all of this to be a bad dream. Acceptance is something I am still working on but it is getting easier. Claire and I have been making bird feeders out of pinecones and peanut butter and hanging them in the trees in our backyard. Breakfast each morning has been fun because we have so many cardinals that come around now. We gave up on the pinecones because the squirrels were knocking them down so we bought a beautiful bird feeder. The cardinals make me smile. I have never seen this many in or backyard before. I take it as a sign. A sign from my baby that he is okay and watching over us. Our counselors in group asked us about the arrival of Spring and how we were feeling. After a few awkward minutes of silence I spoke up. The days are warm, the sun is shining, there is new growth. Growth for all of us. I feel like Spring has brought with it a time to heal. Watching Claire take part in our neighborhood's Easter Egg Hunt yesterday was so beautiful. There she was running around getting so many eggs that her basket was overflowing. I can't believe how much she is growing and changing every day. Claire is like Spring. You can't help but smile when she comes around. Below is something that was shared in group and I want to have it on my blog so that I may share it with you and keep it for myself. Maybe next Spring I will revisit this post and remember the place I was in and how much I have grown.

  

  A TIME TO GRIEVE….A TIME TO HEAL 

  Have you ever noticed the many mixed-up 

Emotions involved in grieving? 

On the one hand you feel restless. 

On the other hand, you feel like 

You don't want to move at all. 

You feel desperately alone, 

And yet you don't want anyone around. 

You feel scatterbrained, forgetful, 

And yet, frantically meticulous. 

You feel like crying at nothing.

 And sometimes laughing at anything. 

Being in a crowd of people is fine 

As long as they don't talk to you 

And yet, if they don't talk to you 

You feel as if nobody cares. 

You want so desperately for someone 

To mention you baby, 

To remember the life that was. 

Grief settles over you like a hot blanket. 

You're as cold as the winter snow. 

Grief presses on you like a steam roller. 

You're floating in a bubble above yourself. 

Grief boxes you in on four sides and introduces you 

To a pain no one should have to know. 

But then, once again, you begin to feel compassion. 

You relate to other parents who have had 

An experience similar to your own. 

And eventually, with a light as sharp as a sunburst, 

You hear yourself saying your baby's name 

With an unfamiliar smile on your face. 

You remember some of the funny times, 

And feel laughter building in your throat. 

One morning you notice the sun is shining, 

The flowers are bursting with the colors of spring. 

Three seasons have passed unnoticed…

And, somehow, you are still here

Even though your baby is still there.

You feel your heart swell with a love

You never even knew could exist.

And you find a place in your life

For something called,

Peace.

I just came out of Lowes after buying some beautiful flowers and soil to plant in all my planters that have been waiting anxiously to be admired again. With this beautiful weather I can't help but want to be outside and stay busy. It helps keep the emotions at bay. I am sitting in my car writing this post because I just had another encounter with a stranger that knows nothing of my situation. Let me rewind quick. Claire and I were in Lowes a couple of weeks ago and I donated money to support children with muscular dystrophy. I let Claire sign her name, which she can spell out loud perfectly, but writing it on paper it's toddler scribble. As we just checked out today Claire looked up and asked to write her name again. I explained to the clerk that she wants to sign another shamrock. We laughed at how cute she was and then the clerk said, "Your mommy is a lucky lady that your so perfect and she doesn't have to deal with a sick child like those children." I immediately felt defensive but understood what she meant. Of course I am so appreciative of Claire and how smooth my pregnancy had been with her and how the biggest thing we had to deal with has been strep throat a year ago. So I am a lucky mommy in that aspect. But I also wanted to let her know that I was on the other side. Even it was for a short time. My child wasn't healthy. I wanted to tell her, my child died and I DO appreciate my daughter now more than I ever did. I left with tears in my eyes and had to vent to someone. I figured where else better to vent than my blog. Sometimes I feel silly writing and posting on here but I have so many wonderful people say thank you for writing what I've been writing. Because of this blog I have connected with a few different people, two being complete strangers,who have gone through similar situations. I feel blessed to have so much support. We have our support group tomorrow night an I am looking forward to it. Last week I felt good during our meeting. I hadn't cried the whole session until the very end, someone had mentioned Mother's Day. What? I hadn't even thought of dealing with that day. I am constantly thinking of how I will deal with my due date in June, the day in September when I took the pregnancy test, the year anniversary of Christian's death, but not Mother's Day! I lost it at the end of the meeting and cried in Chad's arms in the parking lot. Chad had mentioned maybe taking a trip out to Napa around Christian's due date. That could be a good distraction. We will see what the future holds. But it just seems like every time I turn around there is another "test" dealt to me. It's up to me if I sit, cry and dwell on it or power through it, reminding myself that I am a changed person for the better because of Christian.

Struck by Lightning

It’s been a little over a month since I held my baby boy in my arms. I still can’t believe that a month has come and passed. For me it feels like I can still feel him kicking and I’ve heard that’s a normal thing to feel. These phantom kicks are yet again another reminder of what I’ve lost; what I was never going to have. I had my second “empty arms” support group session this past Thursday. I’m not really sure how I feel about going yet. All I do know is that the first meeting was awful. Sharing my story, hearing other’s stories, it was all very emotional and brought me back to the warm waters of my nightmare. Afterwards I felt some relief because I had found others. Others who have gone through such terrible losses and are living with the same pain we are feeling. I cried the whole drive home feeling mentally exhausted. That weekend was a rough one. I just felt so angry and sad all at the same time and I couldn’t hide any of it. Everything annoyed me, everyone annoyed me, I cried for a few days and then the days got better. I was anxious, in a good way, to get back to the second meeting that following Thursday. I never thought I would be a “group” person, but when I feel so alone in my misery, it’s nice to physically see that my emotions are validated because others are feeling the same way. To make things a little harder, Claire has been non stop talking about the new baby in my belly. She came into our bedroom the other morning wanting to talk to my belly. She said “hi baby, I’m your big sister Claire.” It crushed me. Completely crushed me. Chad quickly swept in to distract her by making a tent with the covers and they pretended to go camping while I cried into my pillow. My heart is broken and the only hope I feel now is that time will make it all easier. That’s what everyone says, so I just have to trust in it. Claire and I took our car to the Infiniti dealership a few days ago for a standard oil change and state inspection so we prepared ourselves to spend the day in the waiting room of the service area. The receptionist took a liking to Claire since she could relate having a three year old at home and a little boy who was turning one the following day. She told me, “Uh oh someone is gonna need a little brother or sister soon. Are you going to have more?” Ugh. I instantly felt the tug on my heart and the knot in my throat. I was fighting that second personality of grief back down. Not now. Don’t do this now. I fought back the tears and told her, “yes we are thinking about trying real soon.” I walked with Claire towards the children’s room thinking ‘lady if only you knew what I just went through and what we lost.’ But she didn’t know. She’ll never know. As Claire played with a broken box of Candy Land pieces, I couldn’t stop wondering, had I ever been that receptionist? What I mean is, had I ever said anything to another woman about having more children, or asking “is this your only one?” I sincerely hope I haven’t. Now I know how much it hurts. How empty I felt when she asked me that. It was like I wanted to tell her because I do have another child. He was real, he was alive and he was mine. And even though I was never going to have Christian outside of the womb, I still had another child. But how do you say that? Do you say that? I would never want to make someone uncomfortable and that’s why I chose to respond the way I did. We received a call from the genetic counselor down in Charlotte a few days ago. The tests confirmed 100 percent that Christian had Thanatophoric Dysplasia Type I. It’s a lethal form. Christian was never going to survive this. If I would have carried him to term and he survived that, he wouldn’t survive more than a couple of minutes, an hour at most, in my arms. His ribs would be too underdeveloped and he wouldn’t be able to breathe. The thought of him going through that kills me. The feelings of guilt have now vanished. I know it wasn’t anything I did or didn’t do to cause this. She told us once again we were struck my lighting and that this could happen to ANYONE. The chances of lighting striking us twice are pretty rare, but I will never consider myself free and clear again. This past Monday I had to go to my OBGYN for my afterbirth checkup. It was yet another reminder, causing the heartache to intensify. I had to see my empty uterus on the ultrasound screen. Christian was just in there and now he’s gone. I felt numb. The only thing that reminded me that I was alive and awake was that suffocating feeling of helpless desperation that comes from a completely broken heart and soul. I have cried through all of the daily reminders of Christian dying and reminders of the hope that I had for him as a healthy little kid. There have been a couple of things this week that made me actually smile. I still teared up, but there was a smile I promise. This past week being Dr. Seuss’ birthday I kept reading the quote “A persons a person no matter how small.” Being a kindergarten teacher I have always loved that quote, but it has now taken on new meaning. From the Faces of Loss Faces of Hope website (where my story is also shared) they sent out a beautiful fact that I think will make all mommies, especially those that have lost a child, feel warm inside. When I’m feeling my worst I keep going back to remind myself that he is always with me. "During pregnancy, cells sneak across the placenta. The fetus's cells enter the mother and the mother's cells enter the baby --and stay there for life. In mothers, fetal cells often take residence in her lungs, spinal cord, skin, thyroid gland, liver, intestine, cervix, gallbladder, spleen, lymph nodes, and blood vessels. The baby's cells may also live a lifetime in Mom's heart and brain. Implicated in health and disease, fetal cells may also leave behind some of the mind-shifts that happen in motherhood." ♥ Our babies are always with us...literally♥

Beautiful words...

I just got off the phone with a friend of mine who Chad and I met when first moving down to North Carolina. She and her husband have always been very gracious and friendly to us. This woman is such an inspiration. I knew of her story through a mutual friend. She and her husband lost a child after knowing and loving him for four months. When I had first learned this a few years back my heart broke for them. We attended parties and backyard barbecues and both her and her husband seemed to be the happiest ones there. I couldn’t help but wonder, “Where does she find the strength to go on after going through such an ordeal?” Well, what a beautiful conversation we just had. I have learned more about this woman in the past few minutes than I have in the past few years. She let me know that grief would be around for a while and that not everyone “gets it”. She also told me to think of myself as having split personalities. On one side is the cheery, happy girl I always am and on the other side I have this grief stricken person I will now be carrying with me for the rest of my life. There will be times when grief wants to come out, but it’s up to my cheery side to say, “back off right now” and put that person in it’s place. When it’s the appropriate time and place then I can let this grief persona make it’s appearance. I can then cry, scream, and feel what I am feeling and that’s okay. She also told me that when she was getting through the roughest part after losing her baby, she would divide her heart up into little rooms. She would put all that grief and guilt she felt into one of those tiny rooms and shut the door. “Every now and then,” she said, “you will go and visit in that room for a little while and remember, cry and feel.” Then she told me that I would have to shut that door again and go on with my life. I would never forget but laughing and smiling were not things that should make me feel guilty. She said, “I know right now it’s not easy to hear that, but eventually you will get there.” Ah she gives me hope. Hope for the day that this gets easier. The place that I am in right now are days filled with guilt. I feel guilty when I laugh, smile, dance with Claire, etc. I find myself stopping suddenly or realizing the next day that I had way too much fun and that my baby would think I forgot about him or didn’t care. It’s an awful, terrible, dark place to be in and I want out! I want to smile again and not feel shame for doing so. I am going to take the advice of my friend and build those rooms in my heart and start working on shutting the door every now and then. Tomorrow I meet with a support group called “Empty Arms”. It’s a group for couples that have had stillbirths or deaths of a baby shortly after birth. Chad is unable to go and I know he feels awful for not being there to support me. I wasn’t going to go but this morning I woke up and thought...”either I show courage and go by myself or I don’t go at all.” Hmmmm...what to do? Well, I know me. I know that in a month from now, or two months from now, or when June comes and I have to be surrounded by all the new babies my friends are having and Christian’s own due date on June 7th, I will regret not going. It’s my opportunity to share my story and hear other’s stories. To feel a connection with other couples that have recently been in the same dark turmoil we had just gone through. So I am going. I am fighting this anxiety and going to endure the hurt and pain of others and let them know that I understand. Hopefully I find yet another support system to help me through this as well as become a support system for other mommies too.

Thank You

I want to thank everyone for the prayers and friendships which you have all blessed us with. I was nervous to have shared my first post with everyone, but the warm and caring responses I’ve received in the past few days have been overwhelming and I am so fortunate to know all of you. You have provided me with a sense of strength and you’ll never know how much it means to me. Thank you. As many of you might know we have been waiting for the results back from the amnio combined with the x-rays and tests done on Christian. These results will determine exactly the type of Skeletal Dysplasia he had. As I explained in my original post, the team of doctors and geneticists are pretty confident the results will read positive for Thanatophoric Dysplasia. This is the most common type of lethal dysplasia. I need this diagnosis. I need it to be lethal. I know that may sound terrible but I am still holding onto the feelings of doubt that anything was wrong. That Christian was healthy and he would have caught up in growth and the doctors would have seen it in a future ultrasound and said, “Wow he’s a little miracle.” Then I wouldn’t still be kicking myself for not taking my prenatal vitamins enough, or maybe I was running too long and too hard, or maybe it’s because I was taking Zofran for my morning sickness...ugh...I could go on forever. I can hear Chad telling me right now, “Meg the doctors said YOU DIDN’T CAUSE THIS!” Deep down I know it wasn’t me, but I need to get rid of these guilty feelings. If the diagnosis comes back lethal then I will finally accept that it was nothing I did or didn’t do to cause Christian’s fate. They say that Skeletal Dysplasia happens in 1 in 50,000 pregnancies. Crazy! We still shake our heads in disbelief. The geneticist told us “it’s like getting hit by lightning.” This is nothing that Chad or I carry a gene for. It can happen to anyone. The amnio results come back next week so the waiting game is almost over. They will also talk with us about what this means for future pregnancies. I can honestly say that pregnancy for me is most likely ruined forever. There won’t be any jumping up and down in the bathroom after getting two pink lines. There won’t be that excitement of walking into our 20 week ultrasound. I will be a nervous mess! I know I won’t relax until I have that baby in my arms at the end of 9 months. Then maybe I will take a deep breath. Claire has swimming lessons on Saturday mornings down at the YMCA. I feel like I was just shopping for a new bathing suit that would cover the bump. I had been going with her every Saturday up until that weekend we found out there was a problem at our 20 week ultrasound. Chad had been taking her while I physically recovered. This morning was my first time back in the water with Claire since that awful first weekend. Walking into the pool area, Claire and her little friends were starting their normal conversations when out of the blue she started saying, “my new baby is going to be a boy,” “my new baby is gonna swim with me in Nana’s pool.” She hasn’t mentioned the baby in a while and it hurts so much when she does. We haven’t discussed anything that has happened in front of her. As far as she knows she still thinks I am having a baby. I feel sorry for her. She has no concept of time, so she doesn’t know that a baby comes in 9 months. This is why we haven’t told her about Christian. It’ll be like Christmas. We talked about Christmas for months before it came and she still doesn’t understand that it happened and now we have to wait another year before it comes again. Getting into the water brought with it a flood of emotions. Last time I was in this pool I was swimming with both of my babies. As I fought back tears during Miss Jackie’s “Wheels on the Bus” song, Claire turned around and splashed me right in the face and giggled that beautiful little giggle she has. A giggle that has always snapped me out of whatever mood I’m in. Maybe it was Christian telling his big sister to splash me. I’m laughing now at the thought of it. Like they are working as a team to keep my spirits high. Immediately the lump in my throat went away and I found myself singing about the babies on the bus saying “whaaa whaaa whaaa”, Claire’s favorite part of the song. Except for that moment in the pool, I haven’t cried today. Could today be the first day that I don’t cry? Maybe. The day isn’t over yet but when I am feeling down I will re-read the prayers and comforting words from all my family and friends. The comments on my blog, the facebook posts and private messages have made us feel so loved. Despite our 1 in 50,000 statistic, we are one lucky family. Thank you again.

Our Story

It’s hard to even believe what has happened in the past few weeks but I’ve been told it could be therapeutic to share my story. Since this nightmare began I have found myself constantly on the internet searching and reading the stories of families who have lost babies, and it's the stories of those strong women that are helping me to understand and begin to accept that I am now on a journey to find peace, so here it goes. It was a typical early Tuesday morning in September of 2011, my husband, Chad, kissed me goodbye as he travels out of state on a weekly basis for work. We had been trying to conceive for a few months with no luck. Every test I took came back negative and I was getting frustrated. That morning, after he left, I was expecting my period and I thought to myself, I’m going to take the last test in the box and if it was negative I was done stressing. I realized that when it’s meant to be it will be. A few minutes later the test read positive and I was over joyed. There I was standing in my bathroom all by myself just giggling at the thought of now having another little munchkin to run around the house. I didn’t want to tell Chad over the phone so I decided to wait until Thursday night when he got home. My two year old, Claire and I would plan a special way to tell him. I remember walking around that day with a permanent smile on my face. Claire and I went and got a “big sister” shirt for her to wear and we waited until Thursday. When Claire ran out with the shirt on I video taped my husband’s reaction and I thought it was so wonderful that I could capture that moment and save it forever. This new baby would grow up and watch how excited his or her father was at the thought of adding to our already perfect family. How I wish I could still feel the excitement of that day. A few weeks passed and the dreaded morning sickness made it’s arrival. I endured round the clock nausea for the next 3 1/2 months. It was just coming to an end right before our exciting 20 week ultrasound and I felt so proud of myself that I had gotten through what is, for me, the worst part of being pregnant. I had just sent out an email to my mother in law the day before letting her know I was half way through and I couldn't believe it was going so fast. I was living each day dreaming of what June would bring. Claire's birthday is at the end of May and she has a dance recital right around the baby's due date. I was stressing about how I was going to have a bunch of family in town for both events and have a baby on top of all the excitement. I look back now and can't believe I took for granted having a healthy pregnancy the first time around. Little did I know that planning a birthday party and making sure I didn't miss a dance recital were the least of my problems. So here we were, just the three of us, walking into the ultrasound room so excited to see our new little addition and to show Claire her brother or sister. We wanted to keep the gender of the baby a secret and the techs promised to do so. Halfway through the ultrasound, which we thought was going great, one of the techs left the room and walked back in with a doctor. Immediately I knew something wasn’t right. She sat down and told us that everything looked great except the baby’s long bones were measuring about four weeks behind. I instantly lost it. I started crying and my husband asked her what that even meant. She said she honestly didn’t know and we were referred to a high risk specialist. Now this appointment was on a Friday and we couldn’t get an appointment with the high risk doctor until Monday. First lesson we learned was never to schedule an ultrasound on a Friday. That weekend was awful for us. The second lesson we learned was that Google could be a nightmare when you get news regarding the health of your baby. We tortured ourselves with terms such as dwarfism, down syndrome, etc. Monday finally arrived and we headed to our appointment with the hopes that the OBGYN and the ultrasound techs were wrong. The doctor spent a long time looking at the ultrasound and finally told us with almost 100 percent certainty that the baby would have a form of Skeletal Displasia. Now there are over 200 types of Skeletal Displasias, some even being lethal. The doctor thought it looked like the non-lethal Achondroplasia, the most common type of dwarfism. Our worst nightmare was coming true. I was a mess and couldn’t even speak. Chad became my rock and asked questions, took notes and tried to calm me down. I just couldn’t imagine that the baby I had visualized to be so perfect was now being diagnosed with Skeletal Displasia. A genetic counselor gave us the option of having an amnio done in order to narrow down what type of Displasia we might be looking at and whether or not it was a lethal one. We agreed and the next day we would return to have an amnio done. The weather had been nasty since our original ultrasound that past Friday. It didn't fail to remain gloomy on this day either. I kept hoping I would wake up and this would all be a nightmare. I remember showering that night and crying so hard that it hurt from the deepest part of my stomach. I talked to the baby and asked him to grow. Please grow. Please grow, catch up. The doctors are wrong. Somewhere in the midst of all that hurt I wouldn't believe it was true. I know myself, Chad and Claire. We are all stubborn, strong and determined. I felt as though this child would be no different. He or she would prove these doctors wrong. The next day brought the same gloomy weather, fitting the mood perfectly. We arrived at the doctor's office and they brought us back and prepared for the amnio. The baby's heart rate was 153 bpm. I squeezed Chad's hand and looked into his eyes. I had googled so much about amnio's the night before that once again I tortured myself with horror stories. Chad kept telling me "You got this, you can do this." As the doctor removed the amnio needle from my stomach the baby’s heart rate dropped significantly. Those few minutes felt like an eternity as the doctor monitored my baby’s heart beat. He made me roll on my left side to see if that would bring it back. Finally it had returned to normal and the doctor himself was a bit shocked that it had dropped so low. He searched and searched for the reasoning behind the low heart rate. Finally he noticed that where the needle had entered my stomach there was a little bleeding and the blood had dripped on top of the umbilical cord and while it was clotting it had stopped the blood flow to the baby. It seemed everything was okay and we were then presented with our options. We could wait four weeks for the amnio and continue the pregnancy regardless of the results or we could terminate the pregnancy either before or after the results of the amnio. I felt such defeat. What had I done wrong? What lesson was God trying to teach me? Typing this I am still asking myself these questions. The doctors have all assured me that there is nothing I did or could have done to change this. This “new mutation” of a gene caused this and I had to accept that. I had to accept that the doctors, nurses, ultrasound techs and genetic counselors were all giving me almost 100 percent certainties that this baby was not healthy. On the drive home I held my stomach tight. The baby was very calm and I remember saying to Chad there was very little movement. We figured he or she had been through a lot and was resting. That night I still hadn’t felt the baby kick and the next morning, still no normal movements. We went to my OBGYN just to be sure. On the drive there I just knew in my heart that God had already taken this baby to heaven. As the ultrasound proved, I was right. Chad and I walked out of that office, both crying and holding each other. Since that previous Friday we had felt that each day brought more heartache and rain. Except this day. This day was different. We opened the doors and walked outside and the sun was shining so bright and so warm. Right away Chad said "Meg look at this weather. It's the first day since all of this began that the weather has been nice." He was at peace. I felt happy for him but sad for me. I knew Chad was heartbroken especially because we had learned it was a little boy that we lost. I will admit, that day I did feel some peace, but I couldn't believe that my life had changed so dramatically in just a few days and even though I am still trying to accept that all of this really did happen and I’m not going to wake up from the worst nightmare of my life, I am trying to look at the positive side of things. I now have a beautiful little boy, who we have named Christian, in heaven watching and protecting us every day. We headed down to Charlotte and I was admitted to the hospital at 7:30 am. Checking in downstairs, a woman at the desk heard my husband say "Labor and Delivery" and she immediately said "Oh how exciting, is this your first child?" I was at a loss for words. Chad instantly snapped and said, "no it's a miscarriage." The woman was embarrassed and I calmed Chad down and told the woman it was okay. It was an honest mistake. Walking onto the labor and delivery floor I felt so confused. Here I was about to have a baby but I couldn't take him home. Our first nurse Alison set us up in a beautiful room that had a white rose on the door to let those entering know that our story did not have a happy ending. I was induced that morning and we found ourselves waiting and waiting. The team of nurses and our doctor were unbelievable. So caring and so committed to making us comfortable. I think about them every day. The nurse that had been on duty with us through this whole ordeal was Julia. She is a beautiful soul. I felt her compassion just by the way she looked at us. I plan to write her a letter and explain to her how much she meant to us that night and how much she will mean to us forever. She has found her calling in life and anyone that comes in contact with her should consider themselves truly blessed. I feel as though God gave us Julia to help us through this ordeal. The doctor told me I could get an epidural at any time. That night the contractions started and I chose not to get the epidural right away. Some may say I was crazy for wanting to have labor pains and not receive a prize at the end. I had already accepted there was no prize. With Claire, I only got to three centimeters and had to have a c-section. Up until that Friday before I had been reading and researching about having a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean) with this baby. I was determined to still have my VBAC. Even though it wasn't the ideal labor and delivery I had expected, I was going to prove to myself that I could get past three centimeters. The contractions got intense and Chad was my hero. He stood next to my bed for four straight hours as I battled through. I would sit up, vomit, and then get ready for the next one. Finally the doctor had told me I was at 6 centimeters and I felt proud. I decided then to get the epidural. I had proven to myself that I could do it. Plus I wanted to have that moment in this pregnancy where I fought to deliver this baby. Like I said, I know it might sound crazy but I don't regret any of it. That morning, at 3:47 a.m. I delivered Christian. Holding him was so bittersweet. His arms and legs were short but so cute and little. In my eyes he was perfect. So small, yet so developed. He was the cutest thing I had ever seen. They brought him to us in a beautiful crochet blanket and a little blue hat. How could I not know something was wrong these past four and half months?! That next morning we were discharged and instead of leaving with Christian I left with a small purple box filled with his blanket, little blue hat, pictures, a cast of his little feet, and a tape measure they marked with his measurements. Christian was 9 1/2 inches long and weighed 1 lb 1 oz. I cried as the nurse pushed my wheelchair past rooms with crying babies and other soon to be moms in labor. Another sad moment came as we were winding through the halls of the hospital making our way to the exit. A woman security guard saw the nurse about to push me through two big double doors, she came running over and said "Is this a white rose?" The nurse nodded and she redirected us out another way. A white rose. That's who I was. Who I am. What was behind those doors? I'm glad I didn't see, but I've been envious of what was there. How can I be envious of something I didn't know about? I picture a room filled with the scent of new babies and proud mommies and daddies. I felt all alone. Yes I had Chad and he's been more than I could ever ask for in a husband and best friend. But I still felt alone. I still feel as though no one understands. Yes they are sad and grieving however, I can't help but feel as though my pain is worse. A radiologist and a pediatric geneticist took x-rays of Christian and they believe that the Skeletal Displasia Christian had was Thanatophoric Displasia, the most common lethal Skeletal Displasia. Christian wasn’t surviving this. Even though the doctor isn’t really sure how it happened, Christian died because of complications with the amnio. That is what it says on his death certificate. However, my husband and I have put our complete faith in the fact that Christian wasn’t healthy and God decided to take him early. We are coping, some days better than others. My sweet Claire is the best medicine. She gets me through the days I wake up and feel as though I can’t breathe. Our family will always be one beautiful smile short but we know he’s always with us and he will forever be a part of who I am. I love you my sweet little boy.