Lizzie's Birth Story

This is the amazing birth story written by my dear friend and doula, Natalie Terry. I am so thankful for her involvement in not only my pregnancy, and Lizzie's birth, but as my good friend! This birth story is one of the many wonderful benefits of having a doula, there's no way I could have remembered all these amazing details!

"Sweet little Lizzie, you changed not only your mom and dad's lives when you were born, you changed mine as well in so many different ways. I remember when I found out your mom was pregnant with you. She was still grieving the loss of your beautiful brother Hunter. She posted on Facebook that she was expecting you in August. I had just started my doula journey and wanted to help your mom have a healthy and happy birth outcome. Your mom hired me to be her doula and I was able to learn everything I could about your mom, dad, and big brother Hunter. I learned that your mom had an incompetent cervix, which means she was unable to be pregnant without having to have a little stitch inserted into her cervix to keep you safe inside her womb until you were to be born. I also spend a lot of time with your mom deciding what type of birth she wanted. Our goal was never to have an un-medicated birth, even though she did want to go as long as possible. She just wanted a healthy and happy baby when all was said and done. We continued to talk almost daily about you and how well you were growing inside your mom. We went through a lot of ups and downs worrying about the cyst you had inside your body. We didn't find out where it was located until after you were born and your mom and dad dealt with the new wonderfully. A few weeks after your mom had her stitch removed she continued to see her wonderful doctor, Dr. Porter. He cared about your mom and your dad more than any other doctor has cared for another couple. There was just one little problem Dr. Porter had to take care of and that was that your mom was starting to get pregnancy induced high blood pressure. It happens to a lot of women and your mom was just lucky enough to have it. This meant that we all got to meet you a couple of weeks sooner than we were planning. Your mom was told she could be induced on August 1st. She went into the hospital at 3:00 in the morning. She sent me a text letting me know they were there and asked me if I could come on down to the IMC hospital to be with them. I showed up to the hospital around 3:40 am and took a seat. It was early in the morning and the doctor hadn't performed the induction yet. We asked for a Foley bulb and the doctor agreed to give you mom that option. They finally started the labor process at 5:30 am. Your mom was awesome. She had the bulb in with a small drop of pitocin going which would make her body mimic labor. She was tolerating the contractions. Your dad was the best support I have ever seen in the delivery room. He was helping your mom with her breathing during each contraction and reminding her how beautiful and wonderful she was. Your mom showed so much strength, she made me look like a weakling. At 8:52 am, the doctor came in to check your mom, which meant that they were able to remove the Foley bulb and check your mom's dilation and station. Your mom was dilated to 6 cm and effaced 100%. We were all so excited that in only 3 hours your mom was so far along in her labor and still handling things so well. We continued to labor int he room by ourselves with your dad doing most of the coaching. I was mostly helping with knee presses and reminding your mom which areas she needed to relax. Your dad was the real star of the coach show though. At 11:00 am the nurse came back in to see how far your mom had progressed and she was dilated to 76 cm. Your mom was starting to feel the tiredness of working through contractions creep up on her and she asked for an epidural. Your mom got to 7 cm on pitocin without an epidural for 6 hours. I was astounded. You have one very tough mama. The anesthesiologist came in and gave your mom the epidural at 11:30 am and she was able to sleep. She took about a 45 minute nap and then woke up to talk with the numerous family members who arrived to await your arrival. The nurse came back in around 1:40 pm to see if there was any change and you were stationed so high up, your mom wasn't able to dilate much. Your head was not engaged on your mom's cervix yet and we really wanted you to come, but you knew you weren't ready and we are thankful that you weren't. From 2:45 pm to 3:30 pm, we were waiting for you to come down and engage because your mom was dilated to 9 cm. We were told that if you didn't come down by the next time the doctor came to check on your om, he would have to do a cesarean and get you out himself. This is something none of us wanted to do. Your mom and dad worked too hard to get you Earth side already they didn't want to have to have another surgical procedure to get you to take you home. We immediately moved the bed all the way upright and made your mom sit straight up and push you down as much as she could. We were determined to get you Earth side the way your mom wanted to. At this time in the night, I was worried that there was something holding you/her back. So I asked your om what she was most worried about. Your mom decided that she wanted to talk to me about your angel brother Hunter. Wee talked about him for about 30 minutes. Your mom told me about his birth, and the things that led up to to it. Your dad even chimed in and told me a beautiful story about a very good friend of his and your brother. It was beautiful; we all cried and let our emotions hang out on our sleeves for the whole hospital to see. The doctor came back in at 6:00 pm to deliver your mom' fate. Would it be a cesarean or would it be a normal birth for you? He checked her dilation and we were all so excited when the doctor said that your mom was ready to have a baby. I remember looking at at your mom and saying, "You're going to have your baby!" I was crying and couldn't wait to meet you. The doctor got everything set up and ready for your arrival. Your dad took one of your mom's legs and I took the other. She started to push and there was your beautiful little head. At that point, your mom wanted the mirror so she could see you be born. She continued to push very effectively and within 7 minutes, there you were. Doctor Porter placed you on your mom's stomach and we all just had to cry at your beauty. You were the most beautiful thing we had every seen. Your mom was just kissing and loving on you. Your dad was so happy and filled with joy that you were here. He couldn't take his eyes off you or your mother. He was so in love with his two girls. It was wonderful to witness. After you mom had cuddled you for a few minutes, the nurses took you to to their station to give you your shots and eye cream, as well as weigh and measure you. You weighed in at 7 lbs. 7 oz. and 21 inches long. Your Agar's were 8 and 9, which are very good numbers. The highest you can get is 10!! Then they brought you back to your mom and she was ready to nurse you. I taught her how to hold her breast and how to position you and bring you to the breast. You latched right on and suckled beautifully. We were able to introduce you to your grandparents, aunts, uncles, great aunts, and great grandparents. Your mom was so happy to finally have you here she didn't want to stop holding you and she definitely didn't want to let you out of her sight. We were finally moved upstairs to recovery and we were able to just love on you. Like I said before, you changed my life. I have never seen so many people who love a person more than your family loves you, Lizzie. You were the bright rainbow that came into your parents stormy lives, and brought the sunshine with you. I will never forget the way you looked and the way your daddy looked at you when you were born. I will never be able to forget the tears of happiness running down your mom's face when she finally got to hold you in her arms, and I will never forget how much I fell in love with you. The moment your mom asked if I wanted to hold you, I was so honored. Your light radiated into my heart and made me realize that birth work is where I was meant to be. Lizzie, you will always know how much your family loves you, and I hope you will always know how much your doula loves you!!!

"Birth matters and I believe the way a child is brought into the world has an important impact on the rest of life. Helping with that transition is an honor."- Anjil Aurora Hinman

I am grateful for every birth I witness, but yours is one of my favorites."



This was by far, one of the most beautiful, spiritual, transforming experiences of my life. I'm so thankful to my Heavenly Father for my sweet daughter, my husband, my doula, my doctor, the nurses, everyone who helped get my sweet girl here safely. I can't believe it's been a year already, but it's been the best year of my life.

Happy Birthday baby girl, I hope you always remember what a special, beautiful, wonderful person you are!!

First Birthday Letter

My darling girl,

You're laying here in my arms, with your little hand resting on my cheek, and I can hardly fathom that it's almost been a year since the first time you were placed in my arms. What a journey you and I have been through together. I remember the day I first learned you were growing in my belly, and I loved you instantly. I wanted you so much, from the very beginning. You entered my life at a time when I was unsure of the world, and where I belonged in it. Your big brother's life and death changed me, and I was still trying to find my way out of the darkness of my grief at his loss. And then there was you. You saved me, my darling. You brought me back to life. There were times I missed your brother so much, I felt sure I would never know true joy and happiness again. I was lost and you found me. The first time I heard your little heart beating, it felt as though my heart finally started beating again. Do you know just how wonderful you are? You have been the light in the darkness, truly my rainbow after the storm. I will always remember the first time I felt you fluttering around in my tummy. I was so worried about the special surgery I had to have to help my body keep you safe so you could grow. I was praying and talking to you, fighting back the fears and doubts. And then, out of nowhere, there you were, reassuring me with little flutters. What a joy it was to feel you grow and move and roll and kick. I wish you could have seen your father's face the first time he felt you moving. I think you brought back the light to his eyes in that very moment. My pregnancy with you was not easy, but oh my sweetheart, I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. The day you were born was, is, and will be one of the most cherished days of my existence. The moment you were born, it was like the world stopped spinning. There was peace and joy like I'd never known before, and when you were placed on my chest, I knew you'd have my heart for the rest of this life, and the next. You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I couldn't get enough of you. You were minutes old, but it felt as if we'd always been together. In those quiet, early morning hours, when you'd wake to nurse then fall asleep on my chest, the feeling of your heart beating next to mine helped heal the broken pieces of my heart. I loved those moments, when it was just me and you. It felt like we were the only two people in the world. Watching you grow this past year has been the greatest privilege. I am so humbled and honored to be your mama. You already have such a sweet and sassy personality, I can't wait to see who you become in life, yet I wish I could keep you this small forever. I hope you always know just how special and important you are. You've been a gift to me, your father, and anyone who has the pleasure of meeting you and those big blue eyes. Your big brother made me a mother, but you, my sweet girl, have made me a mom. Thank you for choosing me.

"I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always.
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be. "

-Mommy

Real Talk: Food Addiction

Every day I see something, somewhere, commenting on some one's body. Typically, it revolves around the person's weight. You see a post about a celebrity on Facebook, a woman who would be categorized as overweight, and scroll through the comments to see a range of negativity and some support. Comments like "She needs to put down the pizza" or "Would it kill you to hit the gym every once in a while" seem to be the general theme of these internet suggestions. Here's the thing that I think we, as a society, have yet to grasp: food is as real an addiction as any drug. *GASP* "What? No way, the person just has no self control. They just need to try harder." In some cases, sure, maybe that's all it is. But as someone who has struggled for probably the majority of my life with using and abusing a substance that is so easily available, it's so much more than that. And I don't think I'm one of just a few people who deal with this. I think it's something that most people who have struggled with their weight can relate to. Some people turn to alcohol, some to sex, some to illegal substances. Then there are those of us who turn to ice cream (or whatever your "drug" of choice may be). I doubt its as easy to purchase any illegal drug as easily as one can walk into a supermarket and purchase whatever it is you need to make yourself feel better. We live in a world that still doesn't recognize mental illness as being as serious as cancer, and we live in a world where if someone is overweight, we automatically assume they're lazy, they have no self control, they don't care, etc; we recognize anorexia and bulimia as real disorders, yet someone who uses food to self-medicate is not taken seriously, or often times, not even regarded as having an eating disorder. Throughout my life I've relied on food to fill emotional voids, used food as a coping mechanism, both through over-eating and even periods of restricting what I ate to an extreme, simply because it was the only thing I had control over. After the death of my firstborn, I had many days where 5 o'clock would roll around, my husband would ask me if I had eaten anything, and I hadn't. Part of that was grief, but part of it was I felt so out of control of my life at that time, the only thing I felt I could control was what I put in my body. I also felt such a deep loathing for this body of mine that had, I felt, let me down to such an extreme. Why would I nourish something that I had no regard for? Flash forward two years later, and I'm realizing I still have some deep seeded feelings regarding this body of mine. What does this body deserve? What do I deserve? I'm still in the process of figuring that out, but I do know what my child deserves, what my husband deserves: they deserve a wife and a mother who cares enough about herself to make the changes necessary to be around for them for as long as possible. My child deserves to have a healthy upbringing. She deserves to have a mother who can teach her how to love and care for the body she has been given. And though I might not fully realize it yet, I deserve to be HAPPY and HEALTHY.

Motherhood

I can hardly believe we just passed the 2 year mark from our Hunter's birth and passing. Two long, yet short, difficult, yet blessed, years. As I was sitting here Pinterest-ing ideas for Lizzie's first birthday, I couldn't believe the wave of emotions that washed over me. I have never been an outwardly emotional human being, until I became a mother. Now, I will shed a tear over a touching commercial, or sob over the little baby bird who died after falling out of his nest at my work, and I wouldn't change that for the world. My experience with motherhood, though limited when counting months and days, makes me feel as though I've lived two lifetimes. Perhaps that is just the "norm". But I also feel that my experience as a mother is so vastly different from the "norm". I was a mother, for a time, with no living children. To be that mother is so lonely. You don't feel like you fit in any category, and we, as humans, love to put ourselves and others in categories. I wasn't like my other mom friends. I had no child to bring to a play date, no stories of sleepless nights, no real understanding of the ins and outs of what motherhood entailed. Yet I didn't fit in with those who had no children, who had never experienced the reality change that comes when you find out you're pregnant, who had never felt those beautiful little flutters that let you know it's all "real". Before you become a parent, you have no idea of the magnitude with which you are capable of loving another human being. You truly think you know, but it's so much more than you could ever imagine. Everything about motherhood is "more". Including the grief you feel when that child you've loved from the very second you learned they were there, is simply not there any longer. This past week has been full of memories and reflection. Celebrating the birth of a child who never got to come home is truly painful and peaceful and agonizing and...I could go on and on. It's filled to the brim with emotions. This year, I had my Lizzie here. The added dynamic of having another child who I can hold, kiss, love, on these heavy days, is so beautifully heartbreaking. I have been blessed to get to be a mother to her. She has helped heal some wounds that were so deep, so raw, I couldn't imagine them ever easing. Each milestone she has reached has been a bittersweet reminder of the child we never got to have these experiences with, and just how blessed I am now. Not a day passes when I don't look at her beautiful face, see those big, blue eyes and thank God for her in my life, while at the same time wondering if her brother would have had eyes those same blue. With each giggle she lets out, my heart swells with happiness and twangs with a bit of sadness at missing out on Hunter's laugh. That is my experience as a mother. It's so different than I had ever imagined it would be, but it's so much more than I ever could have imagined as well. I feel like I've been allowed to participate in a miracle, with both of my children. I have never felt more fulfilled in my life and I know that no one will ever love me the way my children do. I hope they always know that no one will ever love them the way that I do. I rejoice daily in my role as a mother, and every night, after I put Lizzie to sleep, I look over at her laying in her crib (usually with her little baby bum sticking up in the air), and I hope and pray that she felt loved enough that day. Motherhood is no easy task, regardless of how you arrived at the role. I hope and pray that I do the best that I can, each and every day. It's a good thing I have a little angel who is always looking out for me.

Faith Sufficient

Today, a mom in one of the baby loss groups I'm a part of posted about teaching her child's primary class at church. The lesson is "To help the children strengthen their faith in Jesus Christ by learning that miracles occur according to Heavenly Father’s will when we have faith." She then asked if any other mom's have dealt with feeling like their faith wasn't sufficient for a miracle to occur. I immediately remembered laying on a hospital bed in the ER after the doctor left to call down another doctor from Labor and Delivery. I knew I was in labor, I knew I was dilated 5 cm, and I knew if my baby was born that night, he wouldn't survive. Never in my life have I prayed like I prayed in that moment, and truthfully, I hope I'm never in a position to pray that hard ever again. Every atom of my being was crying out. It was nearly physically painful, the utter despair and yearning for comfort and for some small, fragile, flicker of hope as a testament of my prayer being heard and answered. I felt so alone, so scared. Then the news came that there was nothing that could be done. I literally could not believe it. There was no way someone could pray that hard, plead that hard, and not be given some reprieve. Maybe my faith wasn't strong enough. Maybe this was punishment for my mistakes. I haven't been a regular church goer for years. My husband and I lived together before we were married. We got pregnant before we were married. I sat there and listed all the things I had ever done that could have been used against me and was sure that that was why this was happening, why my prayer seemingly fell to the wayside. Something that was already fragile, seemingly broke in that moment. Yet, over the past two years, though I still don't understand just why this happened, or what exactly we are supposed to learn from it, the realization that this wasn't a reflection of how little or how much faith I had and have has gradually taken hold. Sometimes we experience things because it is necessary for our growth. Faith cannot save us from everything. A diamond starts out as something ordinary, but through extreme pressure, becomes beautiful and strong. If our faith could save us from every single trial that crosses our paths, we wouldn't evolve and change. I will never be the same person I was before July 9th, 2013 and I hope, and pray, that that is a positive thing.

Dear Hunter, It's Easter

Did you watch as your baby sister played with her Easter eggs today? It was her first Easter egg hunt, but I'm sure you know that. Do they have Easter egg hunts in heaven? I hope so. I close my eyes and I can see you, running around, blue eyes shining and blond hair tousled in the breeze, picking up as many eggs as you can fit in your basket. You're always running ahead of me when I picture these moments with you. Maybe that's because you already have. But you always turn around and smile at me. Like my imaginary version of you is reassuring me that you're okay, that you're happy and safe. Maybe it isn't just my imagination. I know that you're in the safest place you could be, I really do. A place where you'll never know cruelty or sorrow or heartache. Selfishly, however, I wish you were here. I wish you were running around our backyard with your cousin earlier this evening. I wish I had to tell you to leave your sister's eggs alone, that sharing was important and good. I wish you were at the dinner table, asking me to cut up your barbecued chicken. I wish I had to fight to get you to go to bed tonight, after eating way too much candy. It's the littlest things that I miss. And especially tonight, when I should be getting your Easter basket ready for the morning, I miss you so much it feels like I might jump out of my own skin. Every atom aches to be near you and there is no relief to be found in this lifetime. What a blessing it is that we have a Savior who made it possible for us to be reunited. Death has no power over us, it just separates us temporarily. I love you, son. Happy Easter. 

Love, 

Mama