One year... and our rainbow

One year ago I was in a very rough spot.  One year ago I had lost hope.  One year ago I was questioning my faith, God, meaning for my life.  We had just gone through such a trying 3 months of frozen embryo transfers.  A failed FET, a chemical pregnancy and finally our miscarriage at 8 weeks. 

To say this last 365 days has been a whirlwind is an understatement.  After our miscarriage taking time off mentally, physically, financially then to experience a true and utter miracle in March 2017 with the natural conception of our now 6 week old son Easton.  I cannot begin to describe the ups downs and excitement this year has brought us.

Although I am beyond thankful for my newborn son, who is healthy happy and a gift from God, I think about my little baby that was gone too soon last January.  What would that baby be in our lives right now, how would our life be different?  Would that baby look just like Easton does or maybe more like Jackson? 

I sit there at night nursing my rainbow baby boy although exhausted, sleep deprived and in need of a shower and think that one year ago I would have done anything to feel these things.  In the moment now these seem like negatives, things that I look forward to getting better and passing.  But, then I ground myself and think of the countless women who don't get to experience these things, going through heart break month after month that they see only one pink line.  

For those who are just starting, in the midst or just gave up, I don't want to offer you false hope saying "if you just relax" or "when you aren't trying it will happen" because that's bogus, those words don't help they just sting.  I just want to give you a hug, and know that I think of you, I pray for you just as I pray for my baby gone too soon.  I pray for peace in our hearts.

Easton Gordon Hensel

"Thy Will"

A friend recently shared this amazingly beautiful song with me that I had to pass along as I have had it on repeat and probably listened to it a good 20-30 times since last night.  The lead singer of Lady Antebellum Hillary Scott wrote this deeply inspiring song after experiencing a miscarriage of her own.  The words can relate to so many experiences, losses, or unanswered prayers throughout life. 

I hope that you will take time to watch and listen to the beautiful words sang, as I am also trying to really listen.  Really open my heart and soul to God. 

When I made our fertility struggles and miscarriage public I felt such a sense of relief that our news was out for our friends, family, co workers to all be aware of.  The thing I was not quite expecting was the private messages from women also going through infertility, also experiencing miscarriages.  Our culture is one in which these topics are kept quiet, not discussed.  Pregnant women often wait until after the first trimester to announce, so if a miscarriage occurs they do not have to tell many people. 

I understand, to each their own... but I wish that this stigma and tradition would stop.  We need to talk about these issues to support one another.  During these life events of infertility and miscarriage is when we need the most support, not to feel more alone.  Whether if you find a few friends or go public please don't face these struggles alone, it is already such a lonesome time that doesn't have to be. I am always here for any and all, even if I don't have answers (obviously don't even have my own answers) but I can be an ear to hear your frustrations, someone to agree and say "This sucks".

Beautiful Gifts

We have the absolute best friends, family, co-workers.  We have from the beginning felt so much love, and support.  We are so appreciative for all that you guys have given us, from prayers, well wishes, and asking how things are going.

We thank you for the beautiful flowers, momma relaxing items, dinners and prayers.  We feel so loved.  We have also received the most beautiful book from my parents entitled 'Mommy, Please Don't Cry' by Linda Deymaz.  I have to admit the night that we got it, Derrick and I sat down to look at it we couldn't get past the second page, the emotions were too raw.  The words spoke too true to our hearts.  I couldn't handle it.

After a few days, I was able to get the book back out and made my way through the pages that comforted my soul.  I would highly suggest this book for a family that experiences a miscarriage or loss of a child.  I believe my parents found it at a local religious store called Gloria Deo their link is here: Gloria Deo .  There is a lovely journal section in the back of the book to write down prayers, thoughts, dreams that you had for the baby, that later I can reflect on.

I also feel like one of the things that we were given at the hospital on the day of our D&C.  The hospital gives out a beautiful golden baby ring.  The ring is so tiny.  I put it on my necklace that holds a charm that Derrick gave me when we had Jackson.  Now I have my two babies together close to my heart.  This ring will always be a special reminder of our baby.

Our baby will be buried this coming October at Lincoln Memorial Cemetery in a special area called baby land.

D&C

After finding out that our baby was no longer with us we knew there were two options for how to proceed.  We could either wait and pass the baby at home on our own.  Or, we could have a surgical procedure called a D&C (Dilation and Curettage).  We talked with both of our physicians (Dr. Oakes, and Dr. Friesen) and spoke about the pro's and con's for each with our specific situation.  We decided that a D&C would be the best option for us.  This whole topic is a bit rough and I really don't want to offend anyone when I talk about this.  I know that some of you might be very against this procedure and would rather pass the baby naturally, and that is 100% okay, which ever you decide just as I have said before make sure you make an informed choice.

Mayo Clinic- D&C

I called and made an appointment for surgery with Dr. Friesen for Friday January 6th.  We decided to do the surgery in Lincoln as it is much cheaper with insurance.

Friday morning we got up bright and early at 4:15AM and went to the hospital and got checked in around 5:00AM.  The nurse went through some questions on my medical history, medication history, and did her absolute best to be sympathetic to the reason we were there.  The nurse came in to start my IV, and lab came in to draw 3 tubes of blood, thank goodness I have great veins.

Both the anesthesiologist and Dr. Friesen stopped in to talk and go over some questions and hear our history.  Then around 6:45AM they wheeled me back to the OR.  I hated this part because I had to take out my contacts and I am blind as a bat, and couldn't make out a single persons face.  Once we got into the OR my nurse introduced me to the other surgical nurses and personnel in the room.  I slid over to the OR bed and laid back as they hooked me up to monitors, and put some "feel good" medication through my IV.  At that time the anesthesiologist put a mask over my face and out I went.

I woke up maybe 30-40 minutes later to the PACU nurse rubbing my shoulder saying "how are you feeling Stephanie".  I thankfully didn't have any nausea and no pain (Thanks to some zofran and toradol through my IV).  After waking up a tiny bit more in the PACU they wheeled me back into my outpatient surgery room where Derrick was waiting.  I continued to drift in and out of sleep while the nurse came in to monitor my blood pressure and any bleeding I was having along with any pain.

After about 90 minutes I felt a little more awake.  I still wasn't having any pain, or nausea and minimal bleeding.  Once I felt a little better I was asked to get up to try to use the bathroom, once I could urinate I was able to get dressed and ready to head home.  The nurse again came in to go over dismissal instructions, medications, follow up appointments, and what to expect.

Overall the staff did a wonderful job of allowing us space to breathe and process together, but yet were available to answer questions and let us know that we were being cared for.  We went home and spent the rest of the day resting, sleeping, and watching movies.

Emotionally during my time at the hospital I tried my hardest to keep it together, to not show the hurt and scared side of my heart.  It wasn't until close before we went back for surgery that I broke down.  Derrick and I yet again found ourselves tangled together holding each other, crying, praying, and sharing one of the worst two days of our lives.

The end of our rollercoaster

This whole third round of our FET has been one of the most extreme roller coasters I have ever been on.  We would have extreme great news followed by devastating news.  I felt constantly worn down and at the end of what I could take but then somehow I would muster up excitement and hope for our next blood draw/ultrasound/medication. 

I sit here now feeling lost.  Feeling like I don't know which way is up, like I am suffocating from all of the hopes and dreams that are now gone.  Although this little baby was only with us for a few weeks it was our baby, it was loved.  There are many questions I have, many questions that will go unanswered until someday when I too go to heaven.  I will never know if our baby was a boy or a girl, I will never know why this little one was taken from us, I wont know what this little one would have done in life, what sports it would have played, what our life would have been like as a family of four with this little one completing us. 

There are so many other women that go through this terrible thing of losing a baby, no matter at what stage of the baby's life the thing that connects us all is the grief.  The hopes and the dreams we had for our children that were taken away.  I don't want to keep my grief and my baby quiet and from the world, because even though baby was only with us for a short while it was my baby... My baby mattered.  I had always thought of blogging or journal about our infertility journey not so much to share with the world but as a way for me to process everything, and to have a long standing journal that I can look back on someday when I am a infertility survivor. 

I find myself thinking of how my life is now changed and altered, I cry over the things that I shouldn't be allowed to do.  I cry when I drink a beer now, or have a cup of coffee, I cry when I think of traveling to a friends wedding minus my growing bump that I was excited for.  I cry when I don't get to take my estrogen and progesterone... I cry over not getting a shot in my butt every night. I cry when I see the beautiful picture on my fridge of my 5 day embryo, I cry when I see the I'm a Big Brother book that we gave to Jackson.  I know that as the days go on these things wont make me feel as sad, I wont have the guilt when I drink my cup of coffee or have a glass of wine, but for now I feel sad. 

I find myself staring off frequently, just lost within my own mind thinking of what the last 8 weeks have brought us.  I loved this baby, I planned for this baby, I prayed for this baby and now my baby is in a different place not with me but with Jesus.  I am thankful that my baby is in such a beautiful place where there is no pain, there is no darkness and that love and light are all around him/her, but I am mad that I don't get to have my baby with me.  Someday I will rock my baby, and hold and kiss it until then I will have to remember what I can about our short time together.

After we found out that we had lost the baby I knew that our best option for myself was to have  D&C, but I found myself wanting to push it off.  I felt torn, part of me was sickened by the thought of having my dead baby inside of my womb, but then a large part of me felt protective.  I didn't want surgery to come and separate us.  I held my tummy, talking to it, praying for it that knew our love, and that I would forever be its mommy.  I now feel hallow, I feel like my body betrayed me.  I feel broken. My mind, body and spirit are in shambles and I need time.

The longest wait...

We went in on December 22nd for our first ultrasound we were 5 weeks 6 days and would get to see our baby for the first time!  My hcg was 3562 at this point and baby measured a small .16cm. The baby's heart was within 48 hours of developing and so we scheduled an ultrasound for the following week to see the baby's beautiful heart beat.

5 Weeks 6 Days

On December 29th we went in for our 6 week 6 day ultrasound and saw the most beautiful amazing sight, our baby's heart beat.  My labs were estrogen 406, progesterone 26, hcg 7407. The baby measured only .48cm.  We initially left the appointment feeling happy and again on cloud 9 that we saw the heart beat, baby was beautiful and growing.  An hour later I got a call from Dr. Maud herself (Usually it is the nurse we speak with). Her first words to me were "I don't like how this baby is looking", she went on to tell us things didn't look normal.  The baby should be much bigger than it was, and the hcg should be much higher than it was.  Although we saw a heart beat she didn't have a good feeling that the pregnancy would progress normally.  Her inclinations was that it was either a chromosomal issue again, or it was a insufficient placenta.  We were told there wasn't much we could do at the moment besides wait and see what the next week brought.

6 Weeks 6 Days

The week between these two ultrasounds was so crazy terribly hard.  One of the longest weeks of my life.  I tried my hardest to stay positive, but it was so hard to when I had the doctor who had gone over some pretty terrifying things, and didn't give us much false hope. I prayed harder than I had ever prayed before.  I knew in my heart that our chances weren't great for getting positive news, but was trying to hold out for the chance that there would be a miracle, that our baby had a big growth spurt, or that the measurements were wrong the previous week.

One week later on January 5th we went back up for our ultrasound at 7 weeks 6 days.  And I had tried to prepare myself for what we might see/hear but nothing could fully prepare myself.  As I laid there on the ultrasound table, Dr. Oakes one of the other RE (reproductive endocrinologists) came in to do our ultrasound,  we eagerly watched the screen and saw our little baby, I searched the screen for the flicker of the baby's heart beat but there was nothing moving. No flicker. No heartbeat. Our baby had died.

Dr. Oakes said "I am so sorry but your baby didn't make it, there is no heartbeat". And the tears started flowing.  How could this be us? How could this be happening? Why can't things work for us? Why did my baby have to die? I felt like we had been through so much over the past few months with such highs and now we were at our lowest of lows.  After catching my breath we sat there for 15 minutes talking and asking the doctor questions.

After the doctor left the room, we sat there stunned, holding each other, crying, wishing this was just a nightmare.  We had a lot to think about and had to go home to process what our next step would be for the baby that was still inside of me.  I held my tummy, wanting to give all the love I could to this little part of us that just died.