Vignettes

Between settling in and learning to breastfeed and pump and returning to the hospital for another night’s stay and welcoming visitors and learning to hold two babies at once, and figuring out weight watcher points for new mommies, I have been WRITING!  What I ended up with was a bunch of “scraps” of blog posts that somewhat relate.  I’m calling them Vignettes, which only my English teacher friends will appreciate. (A vignette is a “brief description, account, or episode that can be read alone or as a part of a collection for additional meaning") 

Baby A

When we first got Baby A, I wasn’t sure how her mother would feel about my sharing her story.  I knew a lot of fancy/famous bloggers used pseudonyms for their own children, so I thought it best if I used one for her, too.  We called her Baby A a lot when we first got her.  Now she’s got about a million nicknames.  We call her “little bit” and Layla “tiny bit.”  I call her “Mo-Mo” and “girlfriend” a lot while Skip usually sticks to “precious” and “princess.”  More and more everyday, she’s becoming less of a baby and more of a big girl.  When I sat down to write after bringing our newest baby home from the hospital, I realized that as much as she’s learning and changing everyday, and since she is now a big sister, I should probably stop referring to her as Baby A and start calling her by her real name, Amoura. 

Just like That

This morning, I was changing Layla’s diaper and I could hear Skip upstairs through the monitor getting Amoura out of the crib and talking silly with her and telling her how loved she is, and the thought ran through my mind, “we’ve got it all.”  A beautiful, healthy baby girl who has my nose and her daddy’s everything else.  A toddler who gets funnier and smarter every day who ended up saving us in our darkest hour while simultaneously making us look like her heroes.  And just like that, the face of a tiny baby boy popped into my mind and my eyes filled with tears.  Because the truth is had Levi not died, we would’ve “had it all” last September.  What we wouldn’t have is Layla or Amoura.  It’s impossible to reconcile these two facts, and yet they’re my reality.  Had I not been pregnant with Levi last summer, I would’ve never met Amoura’s mom and had he not died, I probably never would’ve met this girl that calls me ma-ma and filled my broken heart with joy.  As much as I would love to have all three of my babies here with me, I will be forever grateful to my first baby, a boy, my Levi, for giving me the gifts of these two precious girls.

Vomit

We’ve never been lazy Saturday morning people.  We are I am a routine person and our Saturday routine involves eating out for breakfast and then running errands until midafternoon.  Since Layla is so new, yesterday was supposed to be a lazy Saturday, like the ones I see glorified in Face.book statuses every weekend.  I got up before Skip and the girls and cooked breakfast and got some cleaning done.  After breakfast, I was snuggling with both girls in the recliner and realized that I hadn’t had my picture made with both of them since we got home.  I asked Skip to take the picture below and before I could even send that beauty out to the masses, Amoura started silently vomiting ALL OVER both of us.  Somehow, Layla managed to avoid getting retched on even though she was tucked in my arms.  Skip hopped up and took Layla, put her in the swing and came back to finish watching the show.  I’ve never seen so much puke in all my life much less coming out of something so small.  She never cried, just looked confused and wanted to snuggle.  I tried to sit still and just let her finish since I had already become the receptacle.  I peeled her clothes off and then mine and started using the wet towels and washcloths Skip fetched us to clean us both off a bit.  I was soaked down to my underpants and smelled terrible, but it was past new girl’s feeding time, so I made do with a “spit bath” and came back to scrub down my recliner and feed her.  Skip held Amoura for an unscheduled morning nap, and by the time she woke up, she was good as new.  What was not good as new was my recliner.  It still smelled strongly of puke.   Before we had a chance to rescrub, we had visitors, so the smell lingered.  When they were gone, Skip took over the cleaning and scrubbed with 409, then vinegar, and we thought the smell was gone.  But after sitting in it for a while longer, Skip decided it was not and I had to agree.  He went to cleaning and digging deeper in the crevices once more and then we decided the smell was really gone that time. Long story a bit shorter, I am sitting in said recliner right now and the smell is not gone and short of throwing the darn thing out, I don’t know what it’s gonna take for it to smell clean again!

Is this your first?

I’ve read a lot about how painful and awkward this question can be for baby loss moms, and although I didn’t get asked too often during my pregnancy, my stay at the hospital is a whole other story.  Before the hospital, the question didn’t really bother me.  Depending on the person asking, I would explain the complicated answer.  At the hospital, however, it struck a nerve every time a new person would ask.  And I felt compelled to explain the last year and a half of our lives to them.  As much as sometimes “yes” would’ve been the easiest answer, I could not silently disregard Levi’s existence anymore than I can Amoura’s.  So, my answer became, “well it’s not my first, it’s kinda actually my third, but hopefully, she’ll be the first living child I’ve given birth to.” Because that is not at all confusing.  I told Skip after one person asked that I had to come up with a better response, but he assured me that the truth, which is what my long, drawn out answer was, was perfect.

There’s a song we sing at church “Christ in Me” that has the line “I would praise you with my life, let my story lift you high” and as I kept repeating our story of baby loss with Levi and baby found with Amoura and our newest little miracle, that line played over and over in my head and heart.  So, as touchy as “is this your first” can be, and as awkward as the people asking often feel when I’m done, I never want to miss the opportunity to say “you won’t believe what our last year has been like, but I’m gonna tell you anyway.”  The God we serve wrote a beautiful love story for our family and although it began with tragedy, He meant it for our good.  He gets the glory for our happiness in this chapter of our lives, and I hope we won’t fail to accept an opportunity to give it to Him.

My Vintage Pearl Necklace.  

Hormones

A few weeks before we had Layla, Megan asked me how I could listen to people talk about our loss and our faith and not cry a river every time.  She said, “What are you thinking about? Cupcakes? Laundry?” Honestly, I am not really sure.  I just know that I hate to cry in public and avoid it if at all possible.  I cannot count the times in the last year that I have cried all the way to work, dried my face in the school parking lot and cheerfully went on about my day.  I am a crier, but Skip is about the only person I don’t mind crying in front of, so I usually do my best to find a time and place when I am alone.  Many of my friends have told me about how weepy they were after they had their babies.  Layla will be two weeks old tomorrow and I can count on one finger how many times I’ve cried.  I was starting to think I was broken, and then last night at 11:30, Amoura started crying upstairs.  I was holding a sleeping newborn and Skip was trying to sleep off a terrible sinus headache.  I gave the baby to him and headed upstairs to calm my big girl. We rocked and I sang and put her back in the crib (which made her cry again) and I was rubbing her back when Skip texted me “Layla is hungry.”  Since I am literally the only one who can remedy this, I had to leave Amoura screaming, all alone in her crib, come back down stairs and feed Layla.  I asked Skip to go take Amoura some Motrin, but before he could get out of our room, I was bawling.  It was the first time I had to choose one girl over the other and it was devastating.  I know Layla NEEDED me and Amoura really just WANTED me, but it broke my heart.  I cried until my eyeballs hurt (they kind of still do) and thought of a thousand (irrational) ways to fix the situation (which was really not a situation at all, but a totally normal, easy to remedy fact of being a parent to more than one child).  I wanted to bring Amoura down to sleep with us.  I wanted to call my mom to come sleep with her.  I wanted to tote Layla up the stairs and hold both of them in the rocker all night.  Ultimately, I just cried and let Skip be the amazing daddy he is. 

After a few more tears from Amoura and a lot more from me, both girls were asleep.  I just lay there and thought about all the love in my heart that was coming out of my eyes.  When I was pregnant with Layla and falling more in love with Amoura each day, I remember thinking early on, “I wonder if I will love this new baby as much as I love this one.”  That probably sounds crazy, but it’s true.  My heart was so full with love for Amoura that I could not imagine loving another baby (especially one I wasn’t super convinced I’d ever take home) as much. As my pregnancy went on without a hitch, I started wondering if I would feel differently about Amoura once “my own” baby came along.  The answer is no.  I don’t.  As an only child, it has always been hard to imagine how parents’ love multiplies and they make room for all their babies in their hearts, and now I know, it just happens.  Ultimately, we know that Layla is our baby and we don’t have to drop her off for visitation or lose sleep at night over one day having to give her up, but my feelings for them are the same.  This parenthood thing is a trip, and I am so thankful are finally on it!

Distractions

It’s just before 7am and I’ve been awake for a while.  When I realized I was not going to be able to fall back asleep, I knew I had to get up and take advantage of a quiet moment to write.  I have really missed updating the blog the past month or so and really appreciate those of you who’ve asked me to write again.  Two ladies Skip didn’t know at a wedding a few weeks back actually came up and asked him when I was going to post again because they check everyday.   Ever since school started back, between teaching online, teaching with new technology in my high school classroom (one to one laptops, people!), planning my maternity leave, two-three times a week doctor visits, coordinating visitation and trying to keep Baby A’s birth mom happy, and soaking up what’s left of her only-childhood, I have gone to bed many nights promising myself I’d writing in the morning.  Lots of my distractions have also been my salvation leading up to Layla’s scheduled induction this Tuesday, so I wanted to share a little bit about a few things that have kept me hopping.

Teaching has always been my passion.  I knew in 9^th grade I wanted to be a teacher.  I knew then that even though I didn’t love reading like most of my English teachers did, I loved words themselves enough to make up for it.  Luckily, my love of literature kicked in in college and I basically love everything about my job.  This year has been no different and I have some of the best students I’ve ever had.  In many ways I’ve left like a first year teacher learning new technology tricks and upping my game in the digital age.  It’s been challenging and caused me to reflect on my teaching practices and has been very, very time consuming.  The good news is, I THINK it will make maternity leave a bit easier since I can communicate with my students online and assign work through my class website.  I left school yesterday after 4PM and spent another few hours last night getting stuff planned.   I don’t feel ready to be gone for over six weeks, but who ever really does?

I’ve been teaching online for the past two years, and although it’s not my high school English classroom, I enjoy it a lot, too.  The first few semesters, I used another teacher’s online layout and most of her assignments.  I wasn’t crazy about all she did, but it was done and on Moodle and I wasn’t 100% sure how to make major changes without screwing up the grading system.  Then the state changed the curriculum and change on my end was inevitable.  They even adopted a new textbook that I received in the mail in May.  My summer class didn’t meet enrollment, so I didn’t teach this summer.  When I began preparing for this year (in August), I totally forgot about the book I’d gotten in May and did an overhaul of my existing course online while sitting for my three hour glucose test.  Fast-forward to the first day of class and my email blows up with confused students who’ve never heard of the text posted for my class.  EPIC fail.  EVERY SINGLE ASSIGNMENT I’d created was not usable.  Turns out I had been left off a few department emails that would’ve clued me in sooner to my unbelievable blunder, but ultimately I had no one to blame but myself.  I’ve been playing catch up ever since trying to  stay a few weeks ahead of my students and ultimately get the whole 12 weeks assigned before Layla’s scheduled arrival.  I’ve got two weeks to go and three days “to go” in.  We’ll see.  They might get to draw me a picture for the last week!

Amidst all the lesson planning and maternity leave planning, my MFM decided that at 32 weeks, I would begin NSTs twice a week and have an ultrasound once every three weeks.  This would be in addition to my bi-weekly OB checks.  Basically, since the first week in September, I’ve been at CMC Northeast two and three times a week.  I’m grateful for the monitoring, but the scheduling of it all has been somewhat unbearable. If it weren’t for amazing co-workers that didn’t mind covering my classes, I would’ve lost a lot of sick days and possibly what’s left of my mind.  I scheduled as much as possible for after school, but that was not always an option and I ended up coming in late or leaving early quite a bit.

When the MFM fist mentioned the NST schedule to me, admitting that it was a “just in case” kind of thing and could not really prevent what happened last time from happening again, I had a few “is this really necessary” thoughts.  If what they say about last time is true (and I believe that it is) and there was nothing we could’ve done to prevent Levi’s death, then what would we be monitoring anyway?  At the 31 week mark, I had been probably more calm than most would believe and assumed I would be that way throughout.  And I haven’t been “not calm” but boy have I relished in those afternoons with the uncomfortable Velcro band cutting into my chubby sides and listening to our girl’s heartbeat.  The closer I’ve gotten to 37 weeks 3 days (I’m 37 weeks today!) the more nervous I’ve become.  Just knowing that an NST was on the horizon made this old girl feel loads better.  I’m so grateful for those in the medical profession.  It’s amazing to me all they know and can do today.  From the receptionist that scans my palm to the finger-pricker lady, everyone in my doctor’s office and the MFM office has been wonderful.  They’re rooting for a healthy baby right along with us. 

Of course, our biggest and most favorite distraction has been Baby A.  Amoura is the absolute light of our lives and we are so lucky that God has let us be her parents for the last seven months.  There’s so much to share about her, but I think she’s waking up, so I’ll have to save it for another day.  Hopefully, the next time I write, I’ll have two baby girls to write about!

A Day to Remember

A year ago today, I blogged about losing my baby for the first time.  Today is the day yearly when baby loss mamas and those who love them remember their lost babies and try to raise awareness about pregnancy and infant loss.  I wrote here that I didn’t know there was such as thing as Baby Loss Remembrance Day and I wished I didn’t have to.  A year has past and so much has changed.  I am glad I know about today and have the opportunity to get loved on and supported by amazing friends and family.  The reason I know about today is the part I can’t get over.

Since I am somewhat obsessive about dates, it’s been surprising to me this year that significant dates have not been as traumatic for me as I’ve read they would be or that they are for many others who’ve been in my shoes.  This could be because I have such a cute little distraction underfoot at all times and a squirmy baby girl in my tummy.  Whatever it is, I am grateful that as I feared last year, the 6^th and 7^th of every month do not send me to bed to wallow in my grief.  So, when I did the ugly cry all the way to school this morning, it surprised me.  My tears came out of nowhere.  I tried to blame them on lack of sleep (Baby A had me up off and on all night) but that didn’t make much sense.  Finally, I gave into the knowledge that today is a special day in the lives of parents like us.  I spent the ride to school remembering my baby boy and wondering what he would’ve been like as a 13 month old and praying like crazy that his sister arrives safely in a little less than three weeks.

Part of “celebrating” Baby Loss Remembrance Day is lighting a candle at 7pm to “light the night” all over the world in memory of all the babies we’ve lost.  My Face.book newsfeed already had several pictures and references to the day at 7am this morning from my friends in other parts of the world.  A big part of me did not want to light a candle tonight.  A big part of me doesn’t want to be in this club anymore.  I want to be in the “I lost my baby but I am over it thankyouverymuch and I am having another baby and this time nothing is going to go wrong” club.  But the closer I get to the induction date and the farther out we get from losing Levi, mornings like this remind me that this is my club, these are my people.  I can do with it what I wish, but I cannot change it.  I am a baby loss mom.  My baby died.  I never got to meet him and I am most certainly not over it and no amount of adorable kinky headed babies calling me mama or brand new little girls with their brother’s initials will fill the hole that losing Levi left in my heart.  I like who I am now even more than I liked who I was before.  I am more compassionate.  I am more willing to talk to others about things that are hard.  I know who my true friends are and I try desperately to deserve them.  I appreciate my husband more.  I am a better mommy to Baby A and more sympathetic to those who want desperately just to see two pink lines on a stick.

I randomly came across a quote today that had nothing to do with baby loss, but reminded me so much of the last year of our lives: “Rejoice in the struggle, because when we choose to rejoice, the struggle becomes pretty.”  Now there have been many dark days that have felt anything but pretty, but when I think about the time that’s past since last September, there’s a whole lot more pretty than anything else.

And speaking of pretty, here are a few photos from precious friends that lit candles tonight for our boy.  Many others (including a bride/client of Skip’s that I’ve never even met) sent sweet texts and emails today letting us know that Levi has not been forgotten.

CJ made this for us.  The four sides spell out Levi. 

 It was perfect for tonight.

Layla, it is!

Last Friday night, in the midst of some turmoil with Baby A’s mom, I told Skip that we needed to name this baby!  I was tired of not having a name to call her and I needed a positive distraction.  We’ve been going back and forth between Layla and Shylie for a while now.  I’ve loved the name Shylie for years, but Layla is a name we’d never really discussed before.  I like L names a lot for some reason, and when I saw Layla on a baby name list, I knew it was in the running.  Skip liked it, too, but he was not ready to commit to either until a week or so ago.  When we looked the name Layla up, it meant night and/or wine, which I found funny but not ideal for a meaningful name for your child.  Shylie is such a rare name that I couldn’t even find a meaning for it.  We were disappointed to find Layla in the top 50 baby names of the year, and we thought that was going to be what swayed us from Layla to Shylie.  We were both so bummed, however, that we decided we didn’t care if it was more popular than we thought and that being bummed could mean it was meant to be.

I wasn’t in nearly as big of a rush to settle on a name this go round.  Maybe there’s some detachment strategies going on unknowingly or something, I’m not sure.  I haven’t been consciously trying to remain detached, I just haven’t been in a rush to do as much as I was the first time.  Chasing a one year old could have something to do with it, too!  Anyway, with only eight weeks  or so to go, I wanted this baby to at least have a name and Friday night, we decided on Layla.  Then, on Sunday, as Skip was on his way to take Baby A for visitation, I get this text: “Layla, it is!”  Turns out as Skip was driving, he just felt this peace about the name and like we’d made the right choice.  So, her name will be Layla June Erdman.  I’ve had her middle name picked out for as long as I can remember.  Long before I ever really thought I would be the mama of a girl.  If the first name didn’t sound right with June, it didn’t make the list.  My Nanny was such an important part of my life and someone I want my daughter to feel like she knows even though they’ll never meet on this side of heaven. I also love the possibility of initial nicknames.  LJ and LE are both really cute to me, and LE are Levi’s initials and we’d talked about whether or not he’d ever be called by them.  Having a name to call her has made this whole pregnancy feel more real, so that’s a plus, too.

I guess I am finally starting to believe in this pregnancy.  Just today I had my 30 week visit and discussed a plan for induction. Monday, I had an “unplanned” ultrasound (The MFM had planned it, I had not!) and got some adorable 3D pictures of our girl.  Everything looks good, but my new MFM is very cautious and has scheduled me for ultrasounds every three weeks for the remainder of the pregnancy and NST (non stress tests) TWICE a week starting at 32 weeks.  I have a new MFM because the Women’s Institute at the hospital recently brought on a full time MFM.  I’d met with the last full time MFM for a consultation 10 weeks after losing Levi; I really liked him and he up and moved back to Michigan.  Then, rotating MFMs from the Charlotte practice would come to my office and see patients, so I saw two more MFMs around 20 weeks.  One, I liked, one, not so much.  So, in the past year, I’ve seen four MFMs when one is more than most pregnant mamas ever see.  Dr. Bower (my amazing OB) sent me to the new one because we wanted some back up on inducing at 37 weeks.  Without prompting, she offered her suggestion: induce between 37 and 38 weeks.  I was thrilled, AND, unlike several of the others I’d seen, she is not a stickler for an amino before induction, so that’s one thing I won’t have to do.  Inducing early does mean I’ll have an increased risk of having a C-section, and there’s a 1% chance her lungs won’t be fully developed and she’ll have to go to the NICU.  Stats haven’t historically worked in my favor, but I feel good about those odds.  I feel better about not going much past when we lost Levi (37 weeks, 3 days) than the other possible risks. 

The whole C-section thing threw me for a loop for a minute because the actual act of labor with Levi was kind of a breeze.  They began my induction at 7PM on a Friday and I delivered at 12:10PM on Saturday afternoon.  I just assumed that it would likely be the same way.  Dr. Bower explained to me today that since the baby’s health wasn’t at risk the last go round, I got higher doses of labor inducing drugs and that would not be the case this time.  There’s no reason to automatically assume I’ll have to have a C-section, but it is a risk she wanted me to be aware of.  She also said since she won’t be taking any chances, she would “cut you (meaning me) open at the first sign of distress.”  And that is why I love this woman!

I’ll start the NSTs on September 29th which is also the day of my 32 week check up and my next ultrasound.  I’ll go Mondays and Thursday or Tuesdays and Fridays every week from then until delivery.  Since they don’t schedule them later than 3:05PM, I’ll have to leave school five minutes before the bell, two days a week.  When I started getting a little frustrated making the appointments today, I reminded myself of how worth it they’ll be if they help get her here safely.  If someone had said all I needed to do was spend the last five weeks of my pregnancy in and out of the doctor’s office, and it would’ve prevented losing Levi, I would’ve gladly taken it.  So, I’m not going to complain about the monitoring or the extra attention. 

In case you’re wondering, the tentative plan for induction is to admit me Monday evening, November 3^rd and begin the induction.  Dr. Bower is on call on Tuesday and I should be ready to deliver by then.  I’ll be 37 weeks, 4 days on Tuesday.  We both feel comfortable with this. I’ll work until the previous Friday and go back to school the day before Christmas break.  It’s an early release day and a Monday, so I thought it’d be best to go back when lots of kids will be taking the day off and the day will be short, too!  I love a plan, but plans like these are scary, too.  It means I’m committed.  It means I believe I’ll need a substitute teacher for 6 weeks and that I’ll have a baby girl to bring home.  And while I really do believe it, it seems like a distance, far off goal and like I might be planning for someone who isn’t me.  It’s hard to explain.  If the last 8 weeks of this pregnancy go by as quickly as the first 29 and if NSTs take up as much time as it sounds like they will, I won’t have too much time for worry or fear, and that is just fine with me.  Come on, November 4th!