I was just about to write about how Bernadette's 3 mos anniversary was today, and that I felt that I was making great strides in the healing process. But then, I discovered that a friend of mine from a Catholic forum I'm on just lost her full-term baby today. I just want to scream with anger - why does anyone else have to go through this? It just isn't right! The horror of October 17 has just come flooding back, and I actually wish that I could go through it again so that she could have her precious baby back. My heart physically aches for her.
I don't even know what else to say. Please pray for her and her family. Her name is Danielle and her sweet boy's name is William Patrick.
little saint Bernadette, please pray!
Amen
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Relinquishing Control
Naive. That's the perfect word to describe myself prior to Bernadette's death. It's sad that my daughter had to die in order for me to grow up. I thought I understood what faith and trust in the Lord meant, but I had no idea. On The View this week, Joy Behar claimed that all the Saints were crazy, and we simply mistaken their craziness for holiness. Despite the absurdity of her comment, it got me thinking about all the Saints that have gone before us. Most of them bore tremendous crosses that the majority of us can't fathom carrying. Mother Teresa often felt as if she were abandoned by God. She, and many Saints, questioned God's existence during the dark trials of their souls. Yet they continued to serve the poorest of the poor, they witnessed to others, they walked their lives of faiths despite (or maybe because of) their crosses. I should feel honored to suffer, although this certainly isn't something I asked for. I shouldn't ask what I did wrong to deserve it; rather, I should ask how it makes me a better wife, mother, and friend.
One of the things that I struggle with is not knowing what the future holds. I look at families with multiple children and become frightened that the yearning in my heart for a large family may not be God's plan for us. My pride makes me wonder if God thinks I can't handle it. And instead of directing my energy towards prayer during this difficult grieving process, I spend my time worrying that we may never have another child. It's a dangerous road to walk, because it only leads to more anger and less acceptance of God's will. So, lately that has been my plea...that somehow, I may surrender my will and know that we are taken care of. And most importantly, to be thankful for my devoted husband and my adorable son and daughter.
One of the things that I struggle with is not knowing what the future holds. I look at families with multiple children and become frightened that the yearning in my heart for a large family may not be God's plan for us. My pride makes me wonder if God thinks I can't handle it. And instead of directing my energy towards prayer during this difficult grieving process, I spend my time worrying that we may never have another child. It's a dangerous road to walk, because it only leads to more anger and less acceptance of God's will. So, lately that has been my plea...that somehow, I may surrender my will and know that we are taken care of. And most importantly, to be thankful for my devoted husband and my adorable son and daughter.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Suffering
One of the many things I dwell on is whether or not Bernadette felt pain in the moments before her death. I remember when Jack was very young, and we were visiting John Mark's parents. He was asleep on the bed upstairs, and as the rest of us were eating breakfast in the kitchen, I faintly heard his cries of terror. I ran up the stairs and found him on the floor, screaming in fear. I remember feeling so helpless and horrified that I allowed him to fall off the bed. There's nothing like watching your child get hurt or fall ill. So, I think about that day in October and wonder what it was like for her. Did she die in her sleep? What if those last kicks I felt before I left for my ultrasound were of her struggling? (Sorry, I know these images aren't exactly pretty, but I'm trying to be honest about the futile battles I experience in my mind.) Anyway, something I've come to realize is that the past is just that - the past. Regardless of whether she felt pain, she certainly isn't feeling it now. I need to transform my image of her death into what it truly is - a new life, an eternity in heaven. If only I could accept the fact that she's better off there, instead of in my arms. I imagine it's nearly impossible for any mother to accept that.
On a completely separate note, I wanted to ask you all to pray for a woman named Tricia who I found out about from a forum I frequent. She has Cystic Fibrosis and was preparing for a lung transplant when she discovered she was pregnant. She is currently 24 wks along, so the transplant has been postponed until the baby is delivered. Please pray for the physicians who have to help decide how long to go before performing a C-section. The longer they wait, the better chances the baby has of surviving. But the longer they wait, the greater the risk for Tricia. Her husband's blog is: CFHusband.Blogspot.Com
Edited to add: Tricia's website is http://65roses4pattysue.com/
On a completely separate note, I wanted to ask you all to pray for a woman named Tricia who I found out about from a forum I frequent. She has Cystic Fibrosis and was preparing for a lung transplant when she discovered she was pregnant. She is currently 24 wks along, so the transplant has been postponed until the baby is delivered. Please pray for the physicians who have to help decide how long to go before performing a C-section. The longer they wait, the better chances the baby has of surviving. But the longer they wait, the greater the risk for Tricia. Her husband's blog is: CFHusband.Blogspot.Com
Edited to add: Tricia's website is http://65roses4pattysue.com/
A New Year
As painful as 2007 has been for me, it is hard to say goodbye. It's as if I am walking further and further away from my daughter, leaving her behind in some place that I am forced to abandon. But in actuality, I've got it all wrong. Fr. Phil, our priest, stated it so well in his homily today: those who die become more fully human, more complete, than we ever knew them to be on earth. They are closer to us, even more so than the people whose hands we can physically touch. As I sit here at my desk, I imagine Bernadette's perfect hand on my shoulder. She is praying for me in my sorrow and knows how much I love her. She watches me sleep, she watches me kiss her father and big brother as we start our day together. She watches Jack get into trouble, she laughs when we laugh, and wipes away the tears that we cry. How beautiful that is! She's as much a part of our family as she would have been if she were alive. She is our patron saint, our intercessor, and I feel so blessed to have her ever present in our lives.
I know this sounds ridiculous, but something I have a hard time with is when someone asks how many children I have. On the way to John Mark's parents' house for Christmas, we stopped at a Waffle House. The woman sitting behind me asked if Jack was our only child. I hesitated, but finally answered "yes". I regretted it as soon as I said it. How dare I leave Bernadette out of our family! The next week, someone in Kroger asked the same question, and I just quietly answered "he's my only living child." Along those same lines (well, not really), I hear a lot of moms who have experienced still births say one of the challenges is having the body of a post partum mother, yet having no baby to show for it. You're leaking milk like crazy, painfully engorged, your abdomen is flabby, and you are 20 lbs heavier. It seems superficial, yet insanely cruel at the same time. I remember taking a shower in the hospital before being discharged, and I refused to look down at my belly. I felt so ugly, knowing the dramatic changes my body had gone through, and it felt like it was all for nothing. So, if you know someone who is going through a still birth or loss of a newborn, make sure you tell her how beautiful she is, despite the rolls of extra skin, the bags under her eyes caused by the sleepless nights, and the gigantic boobs.
I know this sounds ridiculous, but something I have a hard time with is when someone asks how many children I have. On the way to John Mark's parents' house for Christmas, we stopped at a Waffle House. The woman sitting behind me asked if Jack was our only child. I hesitated, but finally answered "yes". I regretted it as soon as I said it. How dare I leave Bernadette out of our family! The next week, someone in Kroger asked the same question, and I just quietly answered "he's my only living child." Along those same lines (well, not really), I hear a lot of moms who have experienced still births say one of the challenges is having the body of a post partum mother, yet having no baby to show for it. You're leaking milk like crazy, painfully engorged, your abdomen is flabby, and you are 20 lbs heavier. It seems superficial, yet insanely cruel at the same time. I remember taking a shower in the hospital before being discharged, and I refused to look down at my belly. I felt so ugly, knowing the dramatic changes my body had gone through, and it felt like it was all for nothing. So, if you know someone who is going through a still birth or loss of a newborn, make sure you tell her how beautiful she is, despite the rolls of extra skin, the bags under her eyes caused by the sleepless nights, and the gigantic boobs.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Burdens
I think most of us realize that our society thrives on convenience. For those who know me, you know how nutty I am when it comes making things from scratch. I never seem to take the easy road (which is often the smarter road, mind you)...why not make all the centerpieces for our wedding instead of hiring a florist to do them? And forget frozen chicken fingers, steak fries, chicken broth, and pizza. I'll just make it all to save a few dollars. Canned soup? Whatever, I'll just spend 3 hours making my own batch.
I imagine that many people think that the fact that our daughter died is sort of a relief. It's so much more convenient now that we don't have to live away from home, spend hours lying awake in the hospital. We don't have to worry about wheel chairs, physical therapy, or feeding tubes. But when it comes to your child, none of that matters. No, I can't speak for those parents who have sick or special needs children - they have it hard, and I can't pretend to know what it's like - but I can assure you that they don't think twice about what is "easy". All they care about is their children's health and well-being. I would move to the Sahara Desert if it meant that Bernadette were with us today - convenience just isn't an issue when it comes to your own flesh and blood.
I think that's what our society is missing in a way. We're always so quick to find solutions to a life of happiness and ease, and suffering is avoided at all costs. We're forgetting that suffering only leads to a deeper love for others and appreciation for our lives. I think that's one of the things I love most about my Catholic faith - the idea of redemptive suffering. So much grace flows from the crosses we bear. Souls reach heaven, sick people are healed, the dying are comforted through the pain, sorrow, and sacrifices we make. How beautiful it is that we are all united in that way.
So, please please pray for moms who are faced with the decision to abort their babies because of adverse prenatal diagnoses. They need to know that their children are worth fighting for, and that so much good will come from their lives, however short or long that may be. Taking the easy way out just isn't worth it...when you see that sweet child's face on her birthday, you'll realize that nothing else matters but the love you have for her.
I imagine that many people think that the fact that our daughter died is sort of a relief. It's so much more convenient now that we don't have to live away from home, spend hours lying awake in the hospital. We don't have to worry about wheel chairs, physical therapy, or feeding tubes. But when it comes to your child, none of that matters. No, I can't speak for those parents who have sick or special needs children - they have it hard, and I can't pretend to know what it's like - but I can assure you that they don't think twice about what is "easy". All they care about is their children's health and well-being. I would move to the Sahara Desert if it meant that Bernadette were with us today - convenience just isn't an issue when it comes to your own flesh and blood.
I think that's what our society is missing in a way. We're always so quick to find solutions to a life of happiness and ease, and suffering is avoided at all costs. We're forgetting that suffering only leads to a deeper love for others and appreciation for our lives. I think that's one of the things I love most about my Catholic faith - the idea of redemptive suffering. So much grace flows from the crosses we bear. Souls reach heaven, sick people are healed, the dying are comforted through the pain, sorrow, and sacrifices we make. How beautiful it is that we are all united in that way.
So, please please pray for moms who are faced with the decision to abort their babies because of adverse prenatal diagnoses. They need to know that their children are worth fighting for, and that so much good will come from their lives, however short or long that may be. Taking the easy way out just isn't worth it...when you see that sweet child's face on her birthday, you'll realize that nothing else matters but the love you have for her.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Beautiful in God's Eyes
There's nothing that says Merry Christmas more than being handed your daughter's autopsy report. Sorry for the sarcasm...this just seems so unbelievable at times. It's hard to describe the guilt that I feel as a mother. Bernadette lived within me for 9 months, and I can't understand how and why I couldn't do anything for her. It's crazy how complicated her condition was, yet at the same time, I am angry and hurt that no one told me what a high fatality rate is associated with it. No perinatologist, besides the one I saw the week before her death, suggested that she would die. I'm not sure if they just didn't have a full understanding of her anomalies or what, but I wish I could've been at least a little bit prepared. The report states that she had omphalocele-exstrophy-inperforate anus-spinal defects (OEIS) complex (which I pretty much knew), "which is almost always fatal". I made the mistake of googling OEIS just now, and the first research article that was listed described the postmortem exam of an aborted baby. She was so beautiful, and I guess since I'm so used to seeing photos of exstrophy kids, it was easy to overlook her problems and only see a sweet little baby who died too soon.
So, the autopsy report states that Bernadette's cause of death was due to multiple congenital anomalies. You might be thinking "well, duh", but since almost none of the doctors I spoke to
suggested that she wouldn't live to see her birthday, I was concerned that her death was caused by something like an abrupted placenta or a blood clot in her brain. Something that "just happens". Not that that would've made me feel any better, but as her mom, I felt quite unsettled not knowing how she died. The list of abnormalities is overwhelming, although most of them we already knew. However, I didn't realize that she was missing a gall bladder or that there were anomalies in her thoracic spine. Or that her liver had an extra lobe. She did have 2 ovaries and fallopian tubes, and her uterus was split in two. Her kidneys, pancreas, lungs, stomach, heart, and brain looked beautiful.
No matter how emotional this is for me, no matter how much my heart aches when I look down at this 8 page report or when I relive her death in my mind, she's at peace. She feels no pain. She is with all the saints and angels, praising the One who created us. She is with God. And for her, everyday is like Christmas.
So, the autopsy report states that Bernadette's cause of death was due to multiple congenital anomalies. You might be thinking "well, duh", but since almost none of the doctors I spoke to
suggested that she wouldn't live to see her birthday, I was concerned that her death was caused by something like an abrupted placenta or a blood clot in her brain. Something that "just happens". Not that that would've made me feel any better, but as her mom, I felt quite unsettled not knowing how she died. The list of abnormalities is overwhelming, although most of them we already knew. However, I didn't realize that she was missing a gall bladder or that there were anomalies in her thoracic spine. Or that her liver had an extra lobe. She did have 2 ovaries and fallopian tubes, and her uterus was split in two. Her kidneys, pancreas, lungs, stomach, heart, and brain looked beautiful.
No matter how emotional this is for me, no matter how much my heart aches when I look down at this 8 page report or when I relive her death in my mind, she's at peace. She feels no pain. She is with all the saints and angels, praising the One who created us. She is with God. And for her, everyday is like Christmas.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Reliving
There will always be triggers that will cause me to relive October 17. When I went in to get my wisdom teeth extracted last week, just having the nurse administer my IV brought me to near tears. It was like I was in L&D all over again. Going to my OB's office for my post partum checkup today was obviously painful, but honestly the hardest part was taking the elevator up to the 4th floor and opening the door that I've opened up a dozen other times. Except this time I wasn't anticipating hearing my daughter's heartbeat on the Doppler or getting my belly measured.
I am often afraid that my friends and family are tired of hearing about my loss, or at least will if I continually bring it up . Jack doesn't ever seem to mind, so I'll often talk to him about how much I miss his sister and how much fun they would have had together if she were alive. I hope he grows up knowing and loving Bernadette. She is such a great intercessor for him and our family, and I really want him to understand who she is and how much she means to us.
It's funny how the emotional ride that I am on can be so unpredictable. Often, I find myself getting into the groove of my old routine, then it hits me all over again. The past couple of nights I have spent just aching for my daughter. My chest feels weighted down, like she is in my arms and I am holding her tightly. The little lifeless body on the ultrasound screen flashes in my head repeatedly, and it's as if it were yesterday. I wish I had some warning when the hopelessness would overwhelm me, but at the same time, I'm glad I am able to enjoy the good moments w/o worrying whether I should feel sad or happy. I will experience both emotions. A lot. And it's okay if I enjoy life one minute, then the next, bawl my eyes out.
Well, there really was no point to this entry except to post a picture of Bernadette's burial plot. I plan to call Johns Hopkins tomorrow to see if they ever completed the autopsy report. I will update everyone if I hear anything.
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