Friday, February 17, 2012

The Downside of Being "Ahead"

I've always felt that being prepared is important, and love to get things checked off my list. That being said, I already had the baptismal date for Sebastian months before he was born... It was scheduled for this coming Sunday, February 19.

I feel like the date is looming over me and that it is crying out from the calendar to mock me and my assumption that Sebastian would be here.

I know it will take time, but there is part of me that wonders if these reminders will ever end, or if I will forever be reminded of my losing him.

But, today I want to smile in spite of my pain. I know Sebastian would want me to smile, to not dwell on the hurt but seek joy in what I have and what God has given me. To be present for the son that I DO have here.

I also know that, while I'm regretting planning ahead today, Sebastian would tell me to give myself a break and know that everything is ok. He would tell me not to stop being myself and that it's ok to plan ahead and be organized...

He'd tell me that it was ok that I didn't know he wouldn't be here.

So, while it hurts, I will continue to plan ahead. Right now I'm already planning ahead for that day I enter the pearly gates and will hold my sons for a long time...

For a VERY long time.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Generosity

"Let me not measure the future by what I think I can do for you, but rather by what Your power can do with my generosity..."

All I can say is: wow. I read this while praying this morning and I felt like God was highlighting this for me and asking me to really hand over my fertility and my future. I should stop worrying and being anxious about being pregnant again and the potential fears and pain it could bring, and just trust.

All I really need to do is to Love, and be generous in my loving. God will take care of the rest.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Empty arms

This morning at Mass I really felt an emptiness... It seemed like there were a thousand pregnant moms or moms with little babies surrounding me. As Toby is becoming more and more independent, he was standing by himself and for the most part didn't want to be held.

It's beautiful to see him grow and mature, but a day like today confirmed to me a truth about motherhood that I've often reflection upon. That is, a mothers greatest joy is also a great sorrow - to see her child grow and gain independence.

Today I just wanted to hold Toby and cuddle him as I want to fill the void I feel. But I couldn't. My arms ached and longed for someone to hold and nurture.

But for now I must content myself to be in the arms of Our Lord. I can be as restless with God as Toby can be with me. As much as I want to hold, right now is my time to be held by my Father.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

More questions...

This morning I went to daily Mass and a very sweet lady came up to me and commented on the cuteness of Toby. Then, in broken English she said "You have one more?"

"Yes, we'd like to have more."

"No, you have ONE MORE?" she insisted.

Then I realized, after shaking my head "no" and her bewildered look, that she had remembered me come to Mass here when I was pregnant and must have thought the newborn was at home.

It made me feel empty. Both my arms and my heart.

I always feel so guilty after something like this happens.

Oh my boys, Tony and Sebastian. I love you.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

What ifs

I was due with Sebastian a little over a week ago, so it is very hard for me not to think about the what ifs... What would his life have been like if he was born? What if I was holding him now? What if he hadn't died, what would things be like? What would he have grown up to be?.....

There is so much I could wonder, but I have to stop myself, because those "what ifs" are not reality. From the beginning of time, when God thought of Sebastian, He knew that Sebastian would be called home early. He'd skip the suffering of this world and would basically get a Monopoly Card to heaven. God never designed a "full life" for him as we consider a "full life" to be. His life was full, in so short a time. It was all he needed to experience God, His Love, and be ready for Heaven. The rest of us have work to do to get there!

Contrary to some, I don't have any bitterness over this thought that God called him home early. Quite the opposite. It helps me to know that this was God's plan, and in some crazy way, it gives me peace. Maybe because it affirms to me that I didn't do anything wrong and I couldn't have helped his dying even if I tried. Even the doctors have affirmed the later part, because all the tests and autopsy came back normal.

A woman takes her fertility so personally, and when a baby dies inside her, she really feels like it is her fault. We are entrusted with these babies and they really begin as a part of us. Deep in our psychology, women know this. That is why it is so hard for us when something like this happens, because in the depths of our being we wonder if this was something we could have prevented, or that our bodies were not perfect enough vessels for them. We wonder if it was in the subconscious of our bodies that our babies life was rejected and ceased living because of us.

Having faith has been such a blessing for me in this time. It takes the bitterness away and assures me of a deeper purpose and a beauty that life without faith could never give. For me, faith is not a crutch. It's a way of life that I wouldn't ever want to live without. Give me the choice of bitterness without a God or beauty with God...

I choose God.

Friday, February 3, 2012

My Vocation

When I miscarried Tony in 2009 at 8 weeks pregnant, I had a beautiful thought that has given me strength through this more recent process. It was reflecting on my vocation, my being a mother. The vocation of a mother is to nurture and teach her children the ways of God so that, God willing, they will choose Christ and be with Him forever in Eternity. Whether you believe in God or not, IF there is an afterlife, you want them to be good people and make it there.

So, in spite of all my suffering, I've done my job with Tony and Sebastian. I was here to be a part of God's amazing plan of creation, I loved and nurtured him, and now he's with God. I have no worries about where he is or the path he will choose. He is in the safest, most wonderful place.

But what makes it so difficult is that death was not a part of God's original plan. When He created Adam and Eve there was no "death". That's why we fight it with all our being. Literally.

In addition, no one wants to bury their children, regardless of how old or young they are at the time of death. It goes against every grain in our being.

But I have great peace knowing that, while I'm suffering here, Sebastian is in eternal bliss hanging out with the awesome people in heaven. I've done my job. This is my vocation.

My Goodbye Prayer

I wrote this on November 30, 2011 (2 days after finding out that Sebastian had died):

Flesh of my flesh,
bone from my bones...
Baby C, I miss you already.
Smile down on me from heaven,
and ask Our Lord for the strength I need
to say goodbye.

Questions

Not a week after Sebastian was born, I had to go to the supermarket with my husband and 14-month-old son Toby (I think we were picking stuff up for the funeral). When we were checking out, the cashier commented on how cute Toby was, and then asked "Is he your only one?"
I tripped over the words; "Yes... He is..." not knowing what else to say. As soon as I got out of the store I started crying. I felt so guilty, and I decided going forward I would tell the truth. But I wasn't prepared for that moment, I hadn't even thought about the questions people will say. I felt like a horrible mother to Sebastian. I said over and over again, "I love you, Sebastian... I'm so sorry!"

It's been really shocking to me how simple, innocent questions can hurt so bad and can leave me speechless. It's definitely made me more aware of other people and what their sensitivities might be. But at the same time I know people can't walk on eggshells around me, I don't want people to feel like they can't ask those simple questions. My issue is knowing how to respond. Yes, it's painful. But that's part of life after a stillborn and a miscarriage.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Purpose

At times I wonder why this happened to me. Why did I lose Sebastian in the beginning of my 8th month of pregnancy?

Well, I was on retreat this weekend and I felt that God was trying to tell me how blessed I am. The retreat master was talking about each and every one of us being made in God's image, and the immeasurable dignity we have, just by being loved by God. Nothing we do can make us more lovable or increase our dignity before God. Beautiful, right? Well, then he went on to say that we don't choose our parents, our birthdate, where we are born, etc. Every child is a gift from God. Every one of us is a gift from God, designed by Him. No one came into being by accident. God had us in mind from the beginning of time.

That means, God had Sebastian in mind from the beginning of time. If Sebastian was going to come into being regardless of whether he belonged to me or someone else, I am SO thankful he came into mine. It made me really come to see how blessed I am. God knew from the beginning of time that Sebastian was going to be called home very early. Though I'm dealing with the grief of not having him here with me now, I can't imagine my life without Sebastian, and would do it all over again for the time that I did have with him in my womb.

Another thing that I think was incredible is that God granted me this light on Sebastian's due date, January 28th. Bad things happen, but God never abandons us. He has been with me every step of the way.

Thank you, Lord, for this incredible gift.


"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
before you were born I dedicated you..." - Jeremiah 1:5

Sebastian's Story

Two months ago today my Sebastian was born. But he never breathed. He never cried. He never saw the sun, moon, or another human being. But the world is a better place because he lived.

The Monday following Thanksigiving, I had a routine doctors appointment. I had been sick that weekend, and while sick in bed on Sunday night I realized that he was not moving. I tried everything I could and then I finally *thought* I felt a kick but was not sure, so I was concerned when going in first thing the next morning. I had heard it was normal for babies to go through a growth spirt around 29-30 weeks and have decreased movement, but I was worried. I read online that every baby is different and that it could be normal, so I prayed that this would be the case.

The midwife at my appointment heard my concerns when I went in and cheerfully told me we should listen to the heartbeat right away to put me at ease. Instead, she struggled for several minutes to try to find the heartbeat, then tried doing an ultrasound, then called in another, more experienced midwife to see if she could have any success. After yet another fail, they called the doctor (who was out), to hurry back from her errand.

The surge of shock and pain that I was experiencing is hard to put into words. I didn't drink, do drugs, or do anything to cause this to happen. My brain was swirling and I couldn't make sense out of anything. The drive back to my parents house was torture, but thankfully my mom was with me so she could drive. I had phoned my husband in the waiting room when they were having a hard time finding the heartbeat, but then called him again on our way home. One of the first things out of his mouth was, "You know it's not your fault, right?". I was in so much pain but was so comforted by the immediate support and compassion of my husband and was so thankful for him.

The next days are a blur. I was in a state of shock and there was so much to think about. We decided to have a more advanced ultrasound so that my husband could go, just for that 0.0001% chance that Sebastian was still alive, and to schedule to be induced that Thursday night. I was so scared and so asked St. Sebastian to be my patron during this difficult time, since I associate him with courage and thats what I felt I needed most (St. Sebastian was an early Roman martyr that was martyred twice: http://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=103). At this time we didn't know whether we were having a boy or girl.

Though I know my pain was not the same, I likened those days of waiting as the agony in the garden. I was petrified of labor and delivery, knowing that my son was already dead. I felt like I had no strength, and I didn't know how I would go through with it. I know some people are very private when going through this kind of thing, but I felt like I needed everyone and their brother to pray for me so that I'd have the strength, so I sent out a mass email letting everyone know the situation and begging for prayers. They worked.

Thursday, December 1st, I went in at 8pm to be induced. I had already taken a pill an hour before, and the contractions were already starting. I brought a crucifix and rosary with me, and kept the rosary in my hand and my eyes on the crucifix as often as I could. I felt totally united with Him in His suffering like never before. In spite of the horrific pains of labor, I was tremendously at peace and I felt the power of everyone praying for me, and the presence of Christ and His Mother there with me.

The labor was very quick. Sebastian was born on December 2, 2011, at 2:23am.

Contrary to his older brother's birth, there were no cries, no first breath, no exhilaration when he was born. No, it was near silent in the room. Nurses and doctors are at a loss for words, family is overwhelmed with sorrow when something like this happens. For a moment it was as if I was alone with my son. My beautiful son. Sebastian.

I held him in my arms and marveled at his beauty. He had chubby cheeks, dark hair and a nose just like his older brother, Toby. He was absolutely gorgeous. But he had been dead probably a week, so his body was already starting to break down. It was difficult to see him that way, but I was so glad to have the opportunity to hold him. My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage at 8 weeks, and though that was hard enough, this was harder to see him and hold him and be so far along in my pregnancy (31 weeks).

I was relieved that a good friend of ours was coming to take pictures. Here we had thought we'd have a lifetime with Sebastian, and now I felt the pressure of an hour or two to be with my son. Knowing that picture would be taken and that I could come back to them was a huge comfort to me.

I don't remember how long we spent with Sebastian's body, because it seemed as if we were outside of time. I remember gazing at him, admiring his every feature. His perfect toes, fingers, cheeks, lips, chin...those legs that had kicked me so many times before, and not so long ago.

I cried and cried....and I loved. Painfully, I loved.

____

I’ve been thinking of starting a blog ever since I lost Sebastian to stillbirth, but it wasn’t until today that I felt I could.

There is so much I want to say and express, but words seem to dissipate and dissolve into nothingness when I try to speak or write. But the experience of love, pain, sadness, peace (yes, even peace), is so strong that words seem like a dull representation of what is behind them.

I am realizing more and more that stillbirth is not just a tragedy that happens, is painful, and you get over it. Rather, it is a cross that you bear your whole life and it is only at the time of your great loss that this cross is given to you. It’s going to be with me forever, my whole life. I have only begun the journey.

It is painful now, but it will also be difficult to go through future pregnancies knowing it might happen again. I'm afraid of the same thing happening again and again and again. But strange as it may sound, I’d do it again and again and again. For isn't it a risk worth taking, for love? For in spite of the grief, I have incredible peace knowing that my son made a difference in this world. The world IS a better place because of him, and I'm so honored that God allowed me to have him, to be his mother, to love him. He didn’t just go into nothingness without any meaning in his life - I am a better person because of him. Though his body was lifeless when I held him; his sweet face, toes, fingers, etc., could not but have a lasting impression on my heart. I feel like a part of my heart died with him, and yet it somehow, like a seed, it fell to the bottom of my heart and took root, taking over the rest of my heart and showing me what it means to love. What it means to give, without seeking return. And what it means to let go.

Even though you and me know that he will never come back, part of my heart hopes and dreams of holding him again.

But here’s the thing: I KNOW I will.

My beautiful boy. Sebastian.