Lightening Strikes Twice

When something like the death of a child happens to you, you can’t believe that it’s you.  That the sadness and the story and the tears are for you.  That people are cooking your dinner and offering to clean your house because your baby died.   The first time I heard Skip tell our story, it sounded like the saddest thing I’d ever heard and then I realized that it was not just a story.  It was our life and it was the saddest thing I’d ever heard. 

Three weeks ago, the unthinkable happened.  Another baby in our family died.  Kinsley was Holly and CJ’s second child.  Their little girl was born on Saturday, April 5^th with a diaphragmatic hernia.  She died less than 24 hours after she was born.  Almost 7 months to the day after Levi died, their baby died, too.  My fearless husband drove to the hospital as soon as we heard and stayed with them until they said goodbye to their baby girl.  I stayed at home with Baby A and prayed and cried for our friends whose pain I knew too well.  CJ and Skip have always been pretty close.  They played baseball together in high school and have always enjoyed each others’ company.  They now have a bond that few men share.  They have babies that beat them heaven.

We went to visit Holly and CJ together a week after her death.  The scene looked oh so familiar.  CJ fussing over Holly, Holly trying to be brave.  To talk without crying.   To articulate emotions that no one can justly put into words.  We talked about funeral home visits and the decision to have a service (or not) and the possibility of trying again.  We wondered together about some of our more unusual thoughts being “normal” as if anything related to a child dying is normal.  I’ve always liked Holly a lot, but I felt connected to her in a way that I’ve never felt before.  She’s a member of the club now, the saddest club ever, but the club all the same.  She knows my pain and I know hers.

I went again this week alone and spent some more time with Holly.  I don’t think I went as much for her as I went for me.  I needed to see her.  I wanted her to feel connected to someone else who’s been down this road, and if I’m honest, I wanted to feel connected to this road again.  It felt good to talk about Levi so much and to try to offer some kind of comfort.  I was so blessed by the blogger moms that I began to follow the days and weeks after we lost Levi and the ones who reached out to me personally to offer hope.  I want so badly to pay it forward and be that for Holly. 

I just cannot get over the irony, the cruelty of fate in this all.  What are the odds of two babies in one family dying period, but within 7 months of each other?  I was astounded by the “coincidence” (which sounds like a pleasant, positive word, but I don’t know another to use) of having a stillborn baby 36 years after my mom endured the same.  Then I decided that all those years ago when my mom lost my brother, that the Lord in His infinite wisdom knew that one day I would need her strength.  One day, I would need a real life example of the survival that would be possible for me, too.  And I can’t help but wonder if on September 7^th, 2013,  He knew that on April 5th, 2014 Holly would need a real life example, too. I hope that I am not setting too lofty a goal to aspire to be that for her. 

More than Getting By

There’s a song lyric I’ve come to love and quote often, “I get by with a little help from my friends.”  In the last seven or so months, this has become such a true statement, a motto of sorts, for me.  When we lost Levi (as I’ve said over and over again) I was so blessed by those close, old friends and a few new ones who were not afraid to get down in the mire and be sad not just for us, but with us, too.  For example, Jenilee has remembered the 7^th of the month every month since September.  I’ve gotten so many Face.book messages from former students, girls I know only from one meeting at a wedding or church event, and people who don’t even know me but know our story.  Messages with scripture, promises of prayer and even fasting for our family to grow again.  I’ve sat at my desk after school and cried with Megan five month later because we were (am) still so sad. 

So, when we got Baby A, I was not surprised by the outpouring of support.  The same friend who came the week after Levi died with a teddy bear weighing 6lbs 2oz, brought and installed a car seat for Baby A the same night we got her.  Friends who brought us meals and bought me bras while I was in the hospital showed up with onesies and Bumbo seats and baby food galore.  I was so thrilled by their kindness and so glad to be a source of joy for others.  You know I hated feeling pitied and like I made the whole world sad by just being in it after we lost Levi.  It feels good to be the reason people are happy and cooing over an adorable baby girl.

I got to spend yesterday with two of my most treasured friends, Ashley and Jenilee.  I spent three of some of the best years of my life with these girls in college as roommates.  I learned so much about life from/with these girls as we became adults together, and I learn something new from them every time we get together.  When my dream of being a (practicing) parent got put on hold last year, one of the things that made me SO sad was feeling “out of the loop” with these girls.  I couldn’t plan a “Boone girls” weekend because I felt so different from these mamas who have a hard time (naturally) going too long without talking about their babies.  Yesterday, with Baby A in tow, I got my first taste of parent talk, and it was amazing! Jenilee gave me sleep training advice (more on Baby A’s sleeping later) and Ashley gave me some baby food making tips.  It was a glorious morning just like I had envisioned months before when Ashley and I were pregnant together, and only a little bittersweet that it came to fruition a different way than I had planned. 

I just love these girls (and many others who’ve been there for us) so deeply that I find it hard to put into words and don’t feel like I am doing them justice now.   I know that being friends with someone who has been through what we’ve been through isn’t always easy, but I am so thankful for those who’ve signed up for the task anyway.  I have done more than “get by” and had more than “a little help” and I never want to take these blessings for granted.

What is Life?

One of the perks of teaching high school is staying up on the most recent/popular lingo.  A few weeks ago, Megan and I entertained some of the girls on the trip to Joyce Meyer by teaching them the latest kid slang.  “What is Life” is a very popular saying among them currently.  It can be used when a teacher assigns more than a reasonable amount of homework for one night, someone dumps someone else a week before prom, or when the snack cart runs out of Reece cups.  This past week, I have found myself saying it more than once about my life and the events of the past four days.

A week ago today my friend Emily called and asked me a life-altering question (and I am in no way being dramatic).  Emily has been involved in a ministry called Rise Up for a while now and has had the opportunity to mentor several girls who’ve recently come out of dangerous situations.  (It’s an awesome, worthwhile ministry and I’m so proud of the work she does for them). While I was pregnant with Levi, Emily was working with a pregnant teenager she met through the ministry.  Lots of people had given us things for our baby that we either didn’t think we’d need or already had, so one summer afternoon Emily brought this young woman to our house to pick up some stuff for her soon-to-be-born baby.  All in all, we probably spent two hours with her and had not seen her since.

So, you can imagine my surprise Sunday afternoon when Emily asked if Skip and I would consider taking Mama K’s baby for a while so she could get on her feet.  She had decided that she needed to make some changes but knew she couldn’t take care of Baby A while trying to make a new life for herself.  She explained to Emily that the only people she could even think about leaving her baby with were Emily’s friends Skip and Stephanie.  (You know, that she spent 2 hours with last summer).

Skip wasn’t even home for us to discuss this together, but I knew I really didn’t have to ask Skip to know his answer.  A few months ago, Skip and I spent some time discussing and investigating the possibility of becoming Foster parents.  Before we lost Levi, we’d never had any conversations about fostering or adoption.  But then, we found ourselves with empty arms and a full nursery.  It seemed like I was hearing all the time about how many children are in the foster care system and how few Christian families step up to help.  We ultimately decided that although we were interested, the timing of trying to get pregnant again while fostering (and possibly giving back) children was not something we could undertake.  But then Emily called and this mama had asked for us by name, and I couldn’t even hesitate.  Every reason that I thought of to say no (a girls’ weekend in the works, my need for a regular schedule, summer vacations, etc.) was just a shallow, worldly reason that I couldn’t even say aloud without feeling like a loser.  So, we agreed to meet with Mama K the following Tuesday. 

Then Monday night, Emily called and asked if we could possibly move the meeting up a few days.  Mama K needed to go ahead and change residences and Emily and the Rise Up director agreed that the sooner we met and took Baby A, the better.  We pent the next few days pulling out stuff we’d packed away and enlisting the help of our (AMAZING) friends to gather toys, and diapers, and car seats.

Friday afternoon, Emily, Mama K, and Baby A arrived at our house.  What could’ve been (and we fully expected to be) awkward was more like a family reunion.  The baby came to us easily, loved the toys we’d put out for her, and we, of course, fell in love immediately.  Mama K wanted us to take some pictures all together before she left.  I came away from our time together with an understanding that this is a temporary arrangement.  Baby A has a good mama.  She’s been loved and cared for the first 8 months of her life. Mama K asked us to take care of Baby A not because she is a bad mom but because she wants to be a better mom.  Her goal is to be ready to take Baby A back by her first birthday and Skip’s 34^th (they share the same birthday!).  We think that is a realistic goal and although we know it will be hard to say goodbye to this girl who’s already stolen our hearts, we know she’ll be going back into capable hands.  But until then, we are getting all the practice we can doing this parenting thing. 

All too Familiar

Last month I got a wonderful call from a dear friend of mine.  She was going to be adopting a baby.  I was oh so happy for her and, of course, oh so sad for me. Before I lost my baby, I honest can’t remember being jealous of anyone (except those with freakishly high metabolisms).  I was one of the last of my friends to get married, but it never really hurt when another friend announced her engagement; I could be sincerely happy for them.  I could throw bridal showers, attend bachelorette weekends, and buy pieces of their China pattern.   And then my baby died, and I became so jealous of people with breathing babies and happy, naïve pregnancies where death was no part of the equation that sometimes I don’t recognize myself. 

After my friend called, it took a few days to work up genuine enthusiasm over her awesome news.  I prayed a lot about it, asked a few of my best girl friends to pray with me, and forced myself to ask my friend all the tiny details of her adoption.  And, by God’s grace, my jealousy quickly subsided and I got invested in this coming little girl.  I started believing in happy endings again.  I was so excited; I even started working on my plans to attend the baby shower, something I’d pretty much decided I would never do again. We spent afternoons walking and talking about cloth diapers, the high price of formula, and procedures they would have to follow the days after her arrival.  I am proud to say I was there for her the way she was there for me when I was expecting a baby when she so desperately wanted to be.  That’s what she deserved and I am so glad I found it in me to be that friend for her.

Then yesterday got all too familiar.  I got a text at school to call her when I could.  I knew what had happened as soon as I read it.  A call confirmed what I suspected; the birth mom that chose them just five weeks before changed her mind.  Three weeks before they would officially become parents, their world was turned upside down.  One minute, they’re counting down to maternity leave, 2am feedings, and a newborn photo shoot; and the next minute, all those dreams are over and there is nothing left to look forward to.  And it feels like there will never be anything to look forward to ever again.  And you feel stupid for believing that your dream would come true.  You feel silly for registering for a car seat you won’t be needing and envisioning a summer vacation with a baby that isn’t going to be yours after all.  You wonder what to do with all the stuff you bought in those moments of weakness when you thought you’d be a mom.  I know all too well how she feels. 

So why don’t I know what to say?  Why do I feel duped right along with her?  If anyone is supposed to know that there are no guarantees, it’s me.  If someone should’ve been reminding her to not count her chickens before they hatch, it should’ve been me.  I feel ridiculous for believing so much in this happiness before it proved itself.  More than anything, I just feel the same sadness I felt almost 7 months ago when the same thing happened to us. 

I’ve said a lot that I think I met this friend at the perfect time in my life.  We were fixing to get married and she and her husband were newly weds.  We started trying to have babies around the same time.  She tried for a year before learning of their infertility issues.  We got pregnant right away and miscarried. 9 months after that, we got pregnant again with Levi and lost him, too.  They went through two surgeries to increase their odds of conceiving only to find out that they wouldn’t even be candidates for IVF.  They chose to pursue adoption and now this has happened.  I hate to say “misery loves company” because it sounds hateful and bitter, but there’s no denying that there is comfort in knowing that you are not the only one for whom motherhood has not come easy. And so, I will be there for her the way she was there for me.  And we will wait for the babies God does want to us raise and we will find solace in knowing that we are not alone.