So today at church the pastor talked about questions, particularly questions to God. I have always heard that we should never question God or what happens in our lives. But today the pastor used some scripture to point out that that might not be true. Here’s a summary of his message. Matthew chapter 11:3 tells us that John the Baptist sends his disciples to ask Jesus “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?” Jesus could have simply said “yes, I am”, or told John not to question him. But instead his reply in Matthew 11:4-6 is “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.” And the pastor went on to tell us to ask our questions when they arise, lean into them. That being said, I have some questions. I’m sure you know what my number one question is. Why did my daughter have to die? Here’s another one. My husband and I waited almost 9 years after we were married before trying to conceive. We prayed that if it was right, that God would let us get pregnant. Well we conceived Lauren the first time we tried. The question is this; if our daughter wasn’t going to live, why did he allow us to get pregnant in the first place?
The list goes on:
Why are people who won’t work and live off the government able to have children as easily as I’m able to blink my eyes?
Why do people who abuse their kids get blessed with more kids?
How is it fair that single, teenage girls can have 2 healthy babies before age 20, with 2 different men?
Why did the people who were supposed to care most about me and my husband abandon us at the time in our lives when we needed them the most?
The list goes on and on. I’ve taken these questions to God. Maybe I’ll never get answers. What I am praying I’ll get is peace.
A little over a year ago I’d never heard much about you. But now, you are a term that pops into my mind more times in a day than I can count. There is no way to prevent you and no way to treat you. On August 4th of 2012, we found out that you were the cause of all of the pain and swelling. And on that day you changed my life forever. You tried to kill me, but you failed. But you took so many other precious things from me. You took my only child. She didn’t have a change against you. You also took my plans away. I’d planned on having natural birth. But because I was so sick, I had to have a c-section. And because of the emergency you caused, I will have to have a c-section if I ever get pregnant again. You also took away most of the fun that most women get to have while they are pregnant. Of course if I ever get pregnant again I’ll be very happy. I’ll have a lot to look forward to. But then there you are. I’ll be terrified of you the whole time, wondering if you’ll show your ugly face again. Every pregnancy symptom will be faced with caution and fear. I’ll wonder if you’re silently wreaking havoc inside my body and with my baby. You’ll always be on my mind. Not because I’m letting you or fear rule me, but because you’ve sentenced all future pregnancies to extreme caution and monitoring. And what really stinks about that is that even with the extreme caution and monitoring, there are no guarantees that I will stay healthy or get to have a live or healthy baby. It breaks my heart and comforts me at the same time that I’m not alone in hating you. I know there are women reading this that understand how I feel, but I hate that they have to know, because that means they’ve been through some similar nightmare. And it also means that they spend their days, like me, missing their baby and wondering where you came from. Well I don’t know where you came from but I know where you can go; straight to the pits of hell. I really do hope that someday in the future people are saying, “remember that awful thing that pregnant women used to get, preeclampsia, I’m sure glad they found a cure for it”. Until then, stay away from me!
First of all I’d like to wish a Happy Father’s Day to my awesome husband. We certainly never thought we’d be spending this day missing our only child. We got out of the house and had some fun today. As Father’s Day approached I got more and more anxious about it. Saturday I did my typical weekend errands. I walked around Wal-Mart and saw all of the Father’s Day displays and cards and realized that it was perhaps weighing more heavily on me than Mother’s Day had. I think because when we were pregnant I of course thought ahead to Mother’s Day, but it wasn’t a day I was planning for, it was a day that I knew my child and husband was make wonderful. My husband is a romantic man and is always surprising me. But Father’s Day, from the moment I found out we were pregnant, I’d planned for. I’d dreamed about the cute little crafts I’d make with the baby to give to my husband. I’d dreamed about making a big breakfast and catering to him all day. I knew exactly what I’d do to make his first Father’s Day perfect. But now what was I supposed to do? We ended up having a pleasant day. Certainly some awkward moments when complete strangers would wish my husband a Happy Father’s Day and we’d smile and wait to see if they asked if we had kids or how many kids we have. Fortunately, the stopped at the wish and my husband just smiled and said thanks. We spent time talking about her and what we’d be doing with her, as she’d be 10 months old now. So not a bad day altogether. Just sad. And I guess it’s a question that will always be on our minds, “What would she be like now?”
Sometimes I feel like it’s being rubbed in my face that I don’t have a baby to hold, or that I’m not pregnant. While in the grocery store today the lady in line behind me took a phone call from someone who was telling her all about a baby that was just born moments before. I came home and got on the internet and my homepage was full of news about freaking Kim Kardashian having her baby and the Kate (princess/duchess, whatever she is) going on maternity leave. Some days you simply cannot avoid the reminders and it’s like they are being rubbed in your face! UGH! Frustrating day!
I came across this quote today and it touched me.
“A life may last just for a moment, but memory can make that moment last forever.” author unknown.
I don’t know if I can put into words how true this is, but I’ll try. Lauren’s life was 22 minutes long. So brief. She never cried, never opened her eyes, never did any of the things you wait for your baby to do as a sign they are ok. In a way, her short life was a blur because of everything else that was going on with me at the time because of the preeclampsia and c-section. But in another way, the moments she was alive are crystal clear. Just a few moments. My husband and I will forever remember and cherish those short moments. It is a memory that we wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world. Its one we hold on to and relive often through thought and conversation. We are remembering that moment, making it last forever, because it is all we have. We have to do that for ourselves and for Lauren.
Yesterday, June 4th, marked 10 months since we said hello and goodbye to Lauren. 10 months. It doesn’t seem possible that we’ve been missing her for that long. But believe me, every hour of those 10 months have been filled with missing, wondering, and longing. We miss her so badly. Every time the 4th of each month comes around we start to think about how old she’d be and what she would be like. We wonder what she’d be like. She’d be 10 months old, crawling now. But instead we miss her. We wonder what she’d look like, which baby foods she’d like and which ones she’d hate. We wonder if she’d be a vocal 10 month old, full of giggles and baby talk. We think about all of these things. But we also think about the future that we won’t get to share with her. Going to school, visits from the tooth fairy, crushes, driving, prom, college, a wedding, and even becoming grandparents. These things are the things that we immediately started dreaming about the moment we found out we were pregnant with her. So here we are 10 months after losing her, never to dream with her about a future. I guess every 4th from here on out will always be filled with that missing and wondering. The 4th will always be Lauren’s day.