Don't worry ... my hissy fit has passed!

First of all, a tremendously gigantic thank you for all of your prayers. God is hearing! I am feeling much better tonight and I think I'm done with my panic. So sorry you all had to witness that, gag!

Gracie continued throwing up until about 2:00 today. Since then she has held down a popcicle, 1.5 pieces of bread, a small cup of applesauce, and about 8 ounces of water. Thank you Lord! Still no fever. Please continue to pray fervently, that she rests well tonight and has no further vomiting or fever at all tomorrow!

This evening after James finally got home I snuck out to have a pedicure. There's a little nail place about 500 yards from my neighborhood, and I was super desperate for a quiet moment away from the stress at home. Boy it did me a world of good! Having someone rub my feet for an hour made me feel like a million bucks! PLUS ....... the added bonus is that my toes are beautiful and I won't have to be embarrassed at the hospital. Well, okay, let's be realistic: LESS EMBARRASSED at the hospital, given the fact that I'll be naked from the waist down and chances are no one will be looking at my toes anyways. But I digress .........

By the time I left the nail place it was already dark. Driving home, I looked up and noticed that the moon was full and round. And it hit me like a ton of bricks: it will be a full moon this weekend when Jamin is born. This probably doesn't seem significant to you, but let me explain.

Isaac was born on a full moon, back on September 2, 2006.

Ever since that time, I see a full moon and immediately think of Isaac. I can't tell you how many nights I have spent over the last 2 1/2 years, staring at a full moon missing my little boy. For a long time the sight of it made me incredibly sad. But as time has passed, seeing a full moon now brings a smile instead of sadness. For me it feels like a connection to Isaac.

So tonight, driving home, after a marathon-stressful day ....... to glance up and see that moon was quite a moment. And knowing that Jamin will be born on Friday, when the moon is still full, that just seems so perfect to me. I feel like Isaac was sending me a little message ..... "I'm here, Mommy. I'm fine. And you guys will be fine too!"

I continued driving, my mind trailing off .... just feeling grateful for that moon and that moment. Suddenly I began hearing some words repeated over and over on the radio, which was playing quietly in the background. I turned up the volume. It was a song I'd never heard before. Repeatedly, this guy was singing:

"God will lift up your head"

"Your story soon will end in joy, end in joy, end in joy"

I have no clue who sings this, as I haven't been driving lately and therefore haven't been listening to the radio much at all. But those words stung my heart and instantly I felt an overwhelming peace hanging heavily over me. Yes, I cried a little bit. I *am* a wimp, afterall. But if you've ever been in a situation where you have clearly sensed a very close presence of the Lord, you'll understand why there were tears.

He always knows just what I need, and when. Tonight I just needed a little reminder that He is here, He is in charge, and He's got all this covered.

Who among the gods is like you, O LORD ?
Who is like you—
majestic in holiness,
awesome in glory,
working wonders?

(Exodus 15:11)

Divine Design

I am happy to finally report that the Room of Heartbreak no longer exists. It has been transformed into the sweet baby blue nursery that it was supposed to be in 2006.

The sadness and disappointment that used to flood me every time I looked in that room is now replaced with nervous excitement. And the best part: we keep the door OPEN.

Here are a few before-and-after pics so you can get a feel for the transformation. I wish I had taken some pictures of the room before I cleaned it out .... back when there were boxes stacked 4 feet high and 8 feet deep .... so you could fully grasp how far we've come. Oh well .... I probably would be embarrased to share them if I did have photographic evidence of how horrific it was!

View from the doorway:

Dresser/Changing Table:

Snuggle Corner:

A few of my favorite details:

The other night I sat in this blue chair for about an hour after everyone was asleep and our house was quiet. I felt eager to meet Jamin and I thought about how many long hours I have ahead of me, God willing, feeding and rocking him in that chair. But even in that moment of excitement and expectancy, my mind trailed off to missing Isaac. I couldn't help but think how drastically different life would be if he had lived. It's a surreal battle of emotions, knowing that I would do anything to have him here, and yet knowing with equal certainty that if he were here Jamin would probably not exist. It's hard to explain.

I do feel a big weight lifted now that the room is finally finished. Well ......... 99% finished. I waited so long to get started on it, so it turned out to be a huge project crammed into a small amount of time. Many thanks to my husband for the hours of sanding and painting, my sister for helping to hang the curtains and pictures, and my parents of painting the "blue primer" and for their good sense of humor.

Major Breakthrough

Today marks 22weeks. Getting this far with my sanity in tact has required quite a feat of mental gymnastics. Mostly it's meant completely distancing myself from the baby and consciously not allowing myself to bond with him. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that, but it is the truth.

I am a planner by nature. The type A-personality, control-freak kind of person who over-plans and over-analyzes every big event in life. With my other pregnancies, I indulged in all the fun planning practically 10 minutes after peeing on the pregnancy test! I bought every baby book that Borders carried, poured through all the baby name websites searching for just the right choice, researched every detail about breastfeeding, excitedly created baby registries, and spent endless hours designing the perfect nursery.

With Gracie, all the planning and preparation paid off. With Isaac, not so much. Coming home to a room of baby things when you no longer have a baby ..... well that's just torture. It's been over two years, and I haven't been able to even *look* at that room since then. Staring at the empty crib sitting there, and envisioning how it should have looked with the perfect shade of blue on the walls, the softest chenille bumper pads and rich silk drapes .... it was all more than my heart could handle. So, I did what any weak-minded grieving mother would do: I shut the door and simply refused to deal with it. Every now and then we would open the door, just long enough to throw in a box of outgrown clothes waiting to be donated, or an empty crate we needed to dispose of. It became a quasi-storage room really.

But always with the door closed.

Since becoming pregnant again, I have instinctively made no plans. People will excitedly ask me things like, "have you picked out a name?", "are you gonna paint the room blue?", "when will you have a baby shower?" ..... each time I can only smile and shrug my shoulders. No plans. No names. No nursery decor. No showers. I simply can not bring myself to do it. I am too afraid.

But something changed last night. I couldn't sleep. I literally laid in bed, wide awake, ALL NIGHT long. My brain was running a million miles an hour and I couldn't figure out a way to turn it off. I was overcome with a feeling of guilt for refusing to bond with an innocent baby. *My* baby. And suddenly an urgent need flooded me: a need to make up for lost time. I laid there, desperate to fall asleep, until about 5:00am. At that point I finally gave up trying. I quietly tip-toed out of bed, walked across the hall to the dreaded room, and opened the door.

Then, I did something even more heroic: I sat down right in the middle of those 4-foot stacks of boxes, and I began cleaning. You should have seen James' face when he woke up a few hours later for work and found me there.

For nearly twelve hours I have sorted, organized, and disposed of the mess .... all the while convincing myself that it's way past time I get over it. It was a bit like a 12-hour pep talk inside my head: I can't let fear rob me of any more of my pregnancy ... This is supposed to be a joyous and magical experience ... I have to believe that we're going to get a happy ending this time.

After much pondering, I've decided that this is truly a leap of faith. And today I take my first little hop.

By the end of the day, I had packed up TWELVE very heavy boxes and bags of things to donate. By some miracle, I managed to drag them all downstairs and load them in my car without going into pre-term labor. Then Gracie and I drove down to Goodwill and passed it all off.

I'm now feeling quite exhausted, having done all this activity on zero hours of sleep. But I'm also feeling incredibly relieved. Today I've purged equal amounts of material junk and emotional junk.

It feels good.

The halfway point!

I can hardly believe I'm 20weeks already! The last several days have been emotionally draining to say the least .... with passing the "milestone" gestational date when Isaac died, Laura being in the hospital, and fears of increasing contractions and a thinning cervix. Praise the Lord we've all survived, and Laura is just fine despite a good scare.

I must say I expected Isaac's milestone date to be sad, but in all honesty I was not expecting it to be so completely overwhelming. I literally spent the entire day in tears, and on the way home from Dr. Garcia's office I stopped by the cemetary (haven't been in a while). There I sat, alone, sprawled out in the grass, weeping like a crazy woman while it snowed.

Not my proudest moment.

I'm blaming it on the hormones. And the fact that our current circumstances have increased my fears of a repeat. I've been seeing Dr. Mann (perinatologist) every 2 weeks ... each time I go she does an ultrasound and takes careful measurements of my cervix. At week 16, it was measuring 4.0cm, which is good. Two weeks later (week 18), amidst increasingly frequent contractions, it had shortened to 3.5cm. This is right at the bottom end of the "normal" range, but of course its enough to have my mind racing with fear. I go back again on Wednesday for another measurement - I'm praying for no change so I can relax a bit. Right now James and I are holding our breath, to some extent it feels like waiting for the other shoe to drop. We talk about our fears often, which helps just to know I'm not alone. James is also immensely stressed and frightened.

Though he can't blame his fears on the hormones. That's one of the perks of being pregnant!

It's official

Safe to say my brain has been going a million miles an hour since Saturday.

And of course, being Labor Day weekend (which I have grown to despise since two years ago) ... today was the earliest chance to get into the doctor.

Four full days of obsessive Kristi-brain is not pleasant. That's all I will say about that.

But alas, Tuesday is here and we are officially pregnant. The joy and the fear is all so overwhelming, honestly I have not turned my brain off since I woke up Saturday morning. I have worried my way around every possibility and what type of mountain we could be facing. And my thoughts are so jumbled that I couldn't possibly put it all on paper if my life depended on it.

My emotions are an insane mess. No it's not the hormones. Well, maybe a tiny bit. But mostly its that today is Isaac's 2nd birthday. Quite a day to be all alone at the doctor (James was stuck at work), worrying and wondering about the fate of this new little one. The irony of it all will just slap ya in the face really.

So tonight we will go to the cemetery, and grieve for the child we lost, while we simultaneously rejoice that we now have another.

The whole thing is so mixed up I seriously can not wrap my brain around it.

Sinking in

Well, so we're not pregnant. Yet. I must admit I was a bit surprised, I really thought we'd knocked it out of the park this month. lol. I'm okay with the negative result, maybe even a bit relieved to tell you the truth ... just worried that the more time that passes means more time for my head to really kick it into overdrive. I'm already thinking to myself that I don't want to get pregnant in January, b/c that would most likely mean delivering in early September around Isaac's birthday. I know that's silly, but that time is sacred to us in a way. And it's really difficult to imagine trying to mix celebrating one child's birthday and another child's death day all in the same week. The emotional complications exhaust me just thinking about it.

Our Christmas was wonderful, though the annual marathon of running from one place to the next was still stressful and tiring. But we enjoyed it nonetheless. We were really hoping to have some "big news" to share with our families that day, but since this month is a no-go, James and I instead secretly traded grins and giggles at the thought of having a little bundle in our arms this time next Christmas. Lord willing.

The last few days have been spent recovering from the busy-ness of the Holiday, and doing some work around the house. Friday night we finally moved Gracie out of her crib (though it was converted to a toddler bed), and into a "big girl" bed. I have to say it was a little sad for Mommy to realize her baby is officially not a baby anymore! And it was also hard moving the crib into the empty room in our house affectionately known as "the box room". It's basically full of boxes and junk. I had cleaned it out and began getting it ready for a nursery while I was pregnant with Isaac. But after he died I was too disgusted to look at that room. We began throwing junk in there and keeping the door closed. Many times since then I've had intentions of cleaning it out again simply because it's become an eyesore in its current state, but never could bring myself to do it. But this weekend I couldn't put it off any longer. We got the new big bed in Gracie's room, and poor James had to *completely* disassemble the crib to get it through the doorway, down the hall, and into the spare room. But seeing it set up in there now, all stripped down to the bare mattress in an empty room, floods me with sadness. Mostly because there is supposed to be a little guy sleeping in that crib already. And also because my heart yearns for another baby to sleep curled up in that crib. That must sound confusing. It is confusing, even to me. The way I feel looking at that empty crib really epitimizes my mix of emotions right now. On the one hand, James and I really want to add to our family again. But no baby will ever "replace" our Isaac. He is our first born son. Another baby will not change how much we love him or miss him. A hundred more children will never change that. When we are 90 years old with dozens of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, we will still miss our son. We will never stop missing him. And yet, the irony is, that if he had lived, there would probably not be a third baby for us.

Clearly my emotions are all over the place right now. Please disregard. Can I just blame it on the PMS this month?

The calm before the storm ...

Today my mind is racing, in true typical Kristi-style. That familiar anxious feeling - the heavy ache in my chest - is creeping over me. I've had lots of practice over the last year and a half dealing with this feeling. We've been through so many ups and downs (well, okay, maybe more than our fair share of downs!) over the last eighteen months .... that the anxiety almost seems like the norm these days. I've learned lots of little tricks to help me deal with these feelings when they start to overwhelm me: deep breathing, praying, shopping(!!), reading, etc, etc, etc. One of the things that has helped me the most during my emotional meltdowns is talking. Not the chit-chatty stuff ... I mean REALLY talking. About everything I'm feeling: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Getting it all out on the table has been so therapeudic for me in the past. And many times since our ordeal began I've had a near-obsessive NEED to TALK ABOUT IT.

This method of coping has served to cause some major issues from time to time among those people close to me, who are the unfortunate recipients of my constant emotional babble. I understand that must be hard for my loved ones! Some have tried to be supportive, and others not-so-much. But very early into my grieving period I began to feel like a major burden on some of my loved ones. So I began seeking out alternative ways of fulfilling my need to talk through my emotions. I joined an online support group, full of other fabulous women who had endured the same pain that I had ... women who had that same obsessive need to VENT. Turns out we are really good for eachother!! I thank God for finding this small circle of women who I now call my *friends*, they have been my lifeline on many days. Another way I have learned to satisfy my need to cope is through writing. Never considered myself much of a "writer" before ... but I've learned that doing so can really soothe a tattered soul without burdening those you love with your emotional junk. And SO..... here I am: writing. The need just overcame me today so strongly that I suddenly created a blog profile and began typing. But why, why, WHY, you may be wondering, would I be feeling so anxious at this moment?? It's because of the big secret that I've only shared with one person (outside of my "BabyAngels" group, that is).....

James and I are trying to have a baby.

Phew, there it is. One sentence, so exciting, and yet scary as all @*%* at the same time! We haven't been "trying" long ... this month was our first attempt in fact (TMI, I know, sorry!) ... but apparently it's been long enough for my annoying personality traits to step in, and so begins my worry process. James is gone today picking up a goat (ask me again after Christmas and I'll explain why!) ... and so as Gracie and I sit here watching "Woody Woodpecker" (her new favorite), I'm suddenly compelled to write. Again. Since I have a feeling I'll been doing a lot of writing over the next 9 months (God willing), I decided a blog would be a good idea. I have no idea if anyone besides me will ever read it, or if I'll ever even INVITE anyone to read it for that matter. But right now I'm needing a personal place to unload all of my emotions - the excitement, the worry, the paralyzing fear .... especially knowing that in the months to come (God willing) there will be many more emotions which surface.

At this point it's too early for James and I to know if our "efforts" (*wink, wink*) this month were successful in producing a baby. We are hoping to know for sure in the next day or so. We are both so giddy with excitement and anticipation that we can hardly see straight! But the practical part of me is stepping in today and taking stock of just how hard this is going to be, whenever it happens. James and I are not naive - we've been through the preconception consultations with all the specialists, we've read the statistics, we've analyzed all the potential outcomes, and we know without a doubt that with another pregnancy we will face a MOUNTAIN of emotional, physical, and spiritual difficulties. For a very long time we were too consumed with fear to even consider trying again. But as time has passed we've slowly found ourselves at the point where the desire for another child now outweighs our fear of what we'll endure in order to get there. James, in fact, is so giddy with excitement, he's been on cloud nine since we made our decision to try again. I think he's going with the "let's not think about it" approach. That works well for him.

But me .... well, I was once a biology major. Despite my sometimes emotional and sensitive nature, I'm actually quite analytical and fact-based in my line of thinking. I need scientific studies, I need statistics, I need raw data. I need to read an article by some obstetrical genius proving that a woman with my medical history can have a perfectly normal healthy pregnancy. No, I haven't begun reading cover to cover The New England Journal of Medicine in my spare time yet, but I'm close. For months I have scoured hundreds of articles detailing all the risks and possibilities, I've made lists and asked so many questions that my dear doctors have begun joking that I'm 3/4 of the way done with my medical degree at this point. My former obstitrician even told me she'd give me a job working at her practice as an OB-educator. I think she was only half kidding. I've even dubbed myself an "info-maniac". It's that OCD part of my personality which I try to control, but in situations like this I actually find comfort in having ALL the information. It's the unknown I can't handle.

So, there's risks. Every pregnancy has risks. How bad can they be, you ask? Well, some background: I have a history of pre-term labor (PTL), marginal placenta previa, grade 3 placental abruption, and last year was diagnosed with heterozygous type III Protein S Deficiency. With a subsequent pregnancy, these are the risks according to all my doctors. With the first two, they've attempted to quantify my risks, with all the rest they will only tell me "increased risk" or "high risk":
1. PTL and/or another pre-term birth: 25%
2. Another abruption: 17%-20%
3. Placental previa
4. IUGR (Intra-uterine growth restriction)
5. Pre-eclampsia, common for women w/ blood clotting issues
6. HELLP Syndrome, a very severe form of pre-e
7. Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation (DIC)
8. Stillbirth
9. DVT (Deep vein thrombosis)
10. PE (Pulmonary Embolism)

There are additional risks associated with the medications I will be injecting during the pregnancy ... but they are much less serious than those above.

Typing that list scares me. Anytime a condition can (rarely) lead to your death, and/or the death your baby, it's scary. But I do believe that God is the ultimate Healer, and my doctors assure us that with careful medical treatment a healthy outcome is attainable. Right now I'm holding on to those things for reassurance. We're either really confident, or really crazy. I'm not sure which. Regardless, I know we're in for quite a roller-coaster ride! But it's like they say: With great risk, comes great reward. If there's a healthy baby at the end of that rollercoaster, then the risks, the fears, the pains and sacrifices ... won't mean a darn thing at that point. It will all be so worth it.