"Broken people don't have to stay broken." I am a broken person. True story. While I have lived a pretty amazing life so far, I have faced some difficult issues that are very real but not often talked about. For my first blog post on this new journey of sharing my real life, I'm going to talk about the freshest thing I am currently facing, and the event that has inspired me to write and share the real and raw and for me, that is the loss of a child.
Sometimes in life, you experience an event that forever changes you. It's like something major shifts and you can't pinpoint exactly what it is, but you are a different person in the blink of an eye. For me, that moment was the moment I lost my baby boy.
My husband and I have struggled with unexplained infertility our entire marriage, never once getting pregnant on our own. We were blessed with an amazing little boy in 2013 after undergoing years of fertility treatments and finally taking a chance on IVF. This perfect little boy was the one embryo transferred that stuck on our first try. He is 3 today, and the joy of our life. Once again, in 2016, we embarked on the grueling path of IVF and became pregnant with twins. As anyone can imagine, we were excited but overwhelmed at what was to come. We were living in Washington state with a well established and busy Chiropractic practice, but never felt like it was "home". We prayed for guidance and felt prompted to move to Utah to be closer to family. We knew starting over from scratch would be hard, especially with two babies on the way and a toddler in tow. We decided to make the leap and moved in August of 2016 when I was 21 weeks along with our twins. We were ecstatic to know we were expecting a boy and a girl.
This pregnancy was hard. Harder than any physical experience of my life up to that point. I was nauseated 24/7 and getting bigger by the day which meant my body was in constant pain. I was an emotional wreck living in my parent's basement and unable to care for my 2 year old as I would have wanted to. My husband was working his butt off trying to find an office to rent and start bringing in some income to support our little growing family. On Saturday, December 10th I was 38 weeks and 4 days along when I felt like I couldn't go on. I was in tears and in pain and called my midwife to come check me. When she arrived, she said I was dilated to a 7 and it was amazing I hadn't gone into labor already on my own. We chose to try to induce labor by stripping my membranes. After this, her assistant checked my progress and as she was checking, the water of baby A, my little girl, broke. Much is a blur after this, but my little girl was born naturally at home in a birthing tub in very little time. Within minutes, baby boy's water broke and that is when things went to the worse possible scenario for a home birth. The nightmare and details of all that follow are best left for other blog posts, or maybe not shared at all, but my baby boy didn't survive and was born via emergency c-section after a hospital transfer by ambulance. We buried him on Saturday, December 17th.
Who knows what to expect after losing a child during such a traumatic event? I was left with intense physical and emotional pain that have turned into physical and emotional scars that will last me a lifetime. When I looked in the mirror for the first time after days in the hospital, a stranger stared back at me. Who was this aged, sad woman looking back at me? I was living between two worlds. The world of a new mommy having triumphantly naturally birthed a beautiful baby girl who was healthy and thriving, and the world of a mommy who had just lost a beautiful baby boy in a very unexpected and tragic way. I had made the best birthing choice I thought possible, but why was my baby taken? What had I done wrong? The endless questions and suffocating guilt rushed in and almost swallowed me whole. The joy of being a new mom and the agony of losing a baby could not exist together in the same moment. I was literally pulled back and forth like a vicious tug of war in my mind and heart.
I was beyond hope, sobbing and wailing in agony on the floor of my bathroom in those first few days home from the hospital and thought life would be better if I wasn't in it. An image of my 3 year old popped into my mind at that very moment. He was sad and crying and worried asking where I was. I knew that if I left him, I would cause him the extreme pain that I was feeling at that very moment and it snapped me back to reality. I could never do that to him. I could never leave him without his mommy. From that moment on, I resolved to press forward, putting one shaky foot in front of the other and had this intense determination to survive. I was broken, but I refused to stay broken.
It has been 4 months and 11 days since my baby boy left this world. There isn't a day gone by that I haven't thought about him. The quiet moments are the hardest. The moments I am alone with my thoughts. In the shower or laying in bed at night. The what ifs haunt me at times. The tears at times still flow heavy and there are moments that take me by surprise like a slap in the face that this is now my reality, my new normal. Is this really my life? Is this a dream? He should be here. Those words run through my mind daily. He should be here.
My faith in my God and my Savior has carried me these last 4 months and 11 days. I would be lost without it. I have witnessed some amazing miracles and tender mercies in many forms that I cannot deny are from my Father in Heaven. I have experienced true sorrow and have had strangers treat me with the most amazing Christ-like love and mourn with me.
My name is Liz and this is my real life.
This is in the hospital and the face I found staring back at me in the mirror for the first time
This is the face a woman living her life and refusing to stay broken
Sometimes in life, you experience an event that forever changes you. It's like something major shifts and you can't pinpoint exactly what it is, but you are a different person in the blink of an eye. For me, that moment was the moment I lost my baby boy.
My husband and I have struggled with unexplained infertility our entire marriage, never once getting pregnant on our own. We were blessed with an amazing little boy in 2013 after undergoing years of fertility treatments and finally taking a chance on IVF. This perfect little boy was the one embryo transferred that stuck on our first try. He is 3 today, and the joy of our life. Once again, in 2016, we embarked on the grueling path of IVF and became pregnant with twins. As anyone can imagine, we were excited but overwhelmed at what was to come. We were living in Washington state with a well established and busy Chiropractic practice, but never felt like it was "home". We prayed for guidance and felt prompted to move to Utah to be closer to family. We knew starting over from scratch would be hard, especially with two babies on the way and a toddler in tow. We decided to make the leap and moved in August of 2016 when I was 21 weeks along with our twins. We were ecstatic to know we were expecting a boy and a girl.
This pregnancy was hard. Harder than any physical experience of my life up to that point. I was nauseated 24/7 and getting bigger by the day which meant my body was in constant pain. I was an emotional wreck living in my parent's basement and unable to care for my 2 year old as I would have wanted to. My husband was working his butt off trying to find an office to rent and start bringing in some income to support our little growing family. On Saturday, December 10th I was 38 weeks and 4 days along when I felt like I couldn't go on. I was in tears and in pain and called my midwife to come check me. When she arrived, she said I was dilated to a 7 and it was amazing I hadn't gone into labor already on my own. We chose to try to induce labor by stripping my membranes. After this, her assistant checked my progress and as she was checking, the water of baby A, my little girl, broke. Much is a blur after this, but my little girl was born naturally at home in a birthing tub in very little time. Within minutes, baby boy's water broke and that is when things went to the worse possible scenario for a home birth. The nightmare and details of all that follow are best left for other blog posts, or maybe not shared at all, but my baby boy didn't survive and was born via emergency c-section after a hospital transfer by ambulance. We buried him on Saturday, December 17th.
Who knows what to expect after losing a child during such a traumatic event? I was left with intense physical and emotional pain that have turned into physical and emotional scars that will last me a lifetime. When I looked in the mirror for the first time after days in the hospital, a stranger stared back at me. Who was this aged, sad woman looking back at me? I was living between two worlds. The world of a new mommy having triumphantly naturally birthed a beautiful baby girl who was healthy and thriving, and the world of a mommy who had just lost a beautiful baby boy in a very unexpected and tragic way. I had made the best birthing choice I thought possible, but why was my baby taken? What had I done wrong? The endless questions and suffocating guilt rushed in and almost swallowed me whole. The joy of being a new mom and the agony of losing a baby could not exist together in the same moment. I was literally pulled back and forth like a vicious tug of war in my mind and heart.
I was beyond hope, sobbing and wailing in agony on the floor of my bathroom in those first few days home from the hospital and thought life would be better if I wasn't in it. An image of my 3 year old popped into my mind at that very moment. He was sad and crying and worried asking where I was. I knew that if I left him, I would cause him the extreme pain that I was feeling at that very moment and it snapped me back to reality. I could never do that to him. I could never leave him without his mommy. From that moment on, I resolved to press forward, putting one shaky foot in front of the other and had this intense determination to survive. I was broken, but I refused to stay broken.
It has been 4 months and 11 days since my baby boy left this world. There isn't a day gone by that I haven't thought about him. The quiet moments are the hardest. The moments I am alone with my thoughts. In the shower or laying in bed at night. The what ifs haunt me at times. The tears at times still flow heavy and there are moments that take me by surprise like a slap in the face that this is now my reality, my new normal. Is this really my life? Is this a dream? He should be here. Those words run through my mind daily. He should be here.
My faith in my God and my Savior has carried me these last 4 months and 11 days. I would be lost without it. I have witnessed some amazing miracles and tender mercies in many forms that I cannot deny are from my Father in Heaven. I have experienced true sorrow and have had strangers treat me with the most amazing Christ-like love and mourn with me.
My name is Liz and this is my real life.
The strength you have as a survivor is inspiring. When I heard about your loss I was devastated. I cried for a week, I haven't lost my own child but even imagining that pain has brought me to my knees more than once when it has happened to friends of mine. You are not the only one who thinks about your little boy. Thank you for sharing your journey.
ReplyDeleteStephanie, thank you for your sweet words. I have never in my life felt the power of love and prayer as I has during this event. I am 1000% sure I felt your love along with all others that engulfed me, so thank you. Thank you for remembering my sweet Briggs <3
DeleteSuch beautiful and raw words that are truly inspiring! Keep writing!!
ReplyDeletethanks Steph! xo
DeleteYou are strong. You are beautiful, inside and out. I LOVE authentic people. Thanks for sharing. My love to all in your family. I found out later that afternoon when another neighbor called me asking to borrow cleaning supplies for your basement. I was out of state for a funeral. My ringer had been off as I mourned with my family for another life taken too early. And then I saw that I'd missed a call from your mom. In the midst of the crisis she had called me for help. And I wasn't there. I know I was where I was supposed to be. And I know there was nothing helpful I would have been able to do from so far away. And yet I was filled with such deep guilt for not being there for your family when you needed me. I felt guilty for being out of state, guilty for not having turned my ringer on right after the service ended. Guilty that I hadn't gone over to build a friendship with you as I had been prompted to. And maybe it wasn't guilt, but aching for what might have been. Even with complete faith a our Father's plan, I mourn. And who was I to Briggs? I imagine my pain multiplied by that of his mother and I am in awe of your strength.
ReplyDeleteSasha, you have nothing to feel guilty about. You have been such a wonderful new friend in my life! That delicious beef stew you brought over was real comfort food. The night you sent Brandon over to play with Seamus literally brought tears to my eyes. It was such a simple thing but made the biggest difference for my little boy whose world was turned upside down. I will never forget that. Thank you for your love and kindness <3
Delete❤ this ❤ hope to read more of your post.
ReplyDelete