11.24.17
I tried to write this post once, but, I didn't save it in time and I lost the whole thing. So then I was irritated with blogging for a week.
Anyways, I'm back. Here are some updates.
I'm 18 weeks this week. I heard Peanut's heartbeat on Monday. Still thumping away. Still makes me so happy to hear. I don't think I'm feeling any movement yet. One of the physicians I work with, said I probably am, but just don't realize it. Can't wait until I do! Our anatomy ultrasound is on December 4th. It will be the first time Anselm will get to see Peanut. That will be really exciting.
My Glow app says Peanut is the size of a sweet potato.
We do know Peanut's sex. For now, it's our little secret. I didn't even think of that as an option in my previous post, but Anselm said we should enjoy it just us for now.
I'm starting to feel less in panic mode and more like maybe it is safe to nest and only be excited...instead of excited...fearful...anxious...I'm losing my mind...this is the hardest thing ever.
Maybe I'll even buy some baby things on Black Friday.
11.9.17
Post number twenty. I still can't express how meaningful writing this blog has been for me. The feedback I've received about putting this out there has made such an impact on me. It is truly everything I wanted, women supporting each other, hopefully breaking the stigma of miscarriage. If you've had a miscarriage, you've created life, you had a baby in your womb, no matter how short a time. That means something so wonderful and great. Then, God called that baby home. It's ok to not understand. But, once you're ready, celebrate that life!
I've had some cousins gift me some really special things. Anselm's cousin gave me a bracelet with a feather on it. The card that came with the bracelet says that some people believe feathers are messengers from the gods of the sky. I like that, signs from above. A way to send a message to my Charlie.
One of my cousins sent me a necklace with a Momma elephant, and two baby elephants. It looks like there is room to add more, but I'll have to check with her to ask her where she got it from.
Another person told me a friend of hers got her a bracelet with a pea pod and three little peas in it for her to remember all her children.
I really like this idea. Even if it's only something you understand. You're acknowledging that baby was a life and a soul and person, worthy of love.
Of course the more direct remembrances I've already discussed, such as the painting of St. Charles that we'll hang in our home next to our respective saints.
Another great way to remember unborn babies is to submit their names to any one or multiple of various Catholic Shrines. Our friends submitted Charlie's name to be listed in the prayer service at the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
I'd love to know other ways people remember their babies. Leave a comment, or connect with me through social media.
11.9.17
Recently, I've seen some news articles floating around about how European countries have basically eliminated Down Syndrome through prenatal screening and terminations. One of my aunts posted a transcript of Frank Stephen's testimony to a congressional committee about NIH research. Frank has Down Syndrome, and spoke to Congress about how countries around the world are using prenatal screening to terminate pregnancies of children with Down Syndrome. He asks Congress instead to fund research for and on people with Down Syndrome. He notes this research centers around Alzheimer's.
Here is the link for Frank's remarks, explaining why he shouldn't need to justify his existence. And he shouldn't. He is every much a person, deserving of life as I am.
Apparently, October was Down Syndrome awareness month. I am late getting this post out.
It's very easy for me to write this in hindsight. Would I have been scared and sad to find out my baby had Down Syndrome? Of course. But I know a little more about Down Syndrome than your average person who may be carrying a baby with it, just from studying it in PT school. I know that people with Down Syndrome can live very productive lives. I know they can be happy, fulfilled, and bring the people around them so much joy.
One of my professors in PT school shared this perspective with us. One of her children has disabilities. I shared it with Anselm when we found out the news. It's called 'Welcome to Holland' by Emily Perl Kingsley
c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.
10/27/17
Anselm thinks we are having a girl.
I got approval that the cell free DNA testing would be covered by my insurance. So I'm going on Wednesday to have my blood drawn. When we get the results, we will be able to find out the sex of the baby then. If we want to.
What are your thoughts? Would you wanna know? Surprise is best?
On one hand, I kinda want to know for this one. I wanted to know last time, but, I mean to plan for an actual birth. Then I might not want to find out for any other children we might have. The only problem is, that I now know full well, that it may not be in God's plans for us to have others. Then I would be counting my eggs before they've hatched per say. We shall see. I know you all will be waiting on the edge of your seats :)
I was supposed to have a baby today.
Not necessarily, I know. He might have come early, he might have come late. If Charlie had grown to term, I'd have a baby now.
I took the day off. Wednesday, kind of nice. Mid-week break.
I'm going to write this post throughout the day, try to stick with me, there may be more nonsensical ramblings than usual.
My mom has recently moved to Nevada. She can't be with me today. I wish she could, she was such a comfort when I had my D&C. So, rather than spend the day alone in my house, I've asked my in-loves to spend the day with me. My 3 sisters, my other mom, 2 nephews and 2 nieces.
Charlie's remains are buried at Holy Cross Cemetery. We're going to visit today. I also want to go to Mass. The parish that Anselm and his family went to mostly when they were young, Old Saint Mary's, has a daily Mass at noon.
As I'm typing now, I feel okay. I teared up just a minute ago talking about my mom, but the floodgates have not yet opened this morning. To be continued...
10:50pm. I should go to sleep. But, here I am, wanting to finish this post. Reflect on today. The weather was perfect. This Indian summer we are having is fantastic in my opinion. Holy Cross was lovely. I've mentioned before that it is one of a only a few cemeteries the Archdiocese has a special plot for children and the unborn. There wasn't a label or marker for Charlie's grave yet. There were some crosses, servings as markers, for the some of the burials in 2016. It might be nice to buy a stone. The other option, to personalize, is to buy a plaque with Charlie's name on it.
Mass was short and sweet, as daily Mass is. Today is also the Feast of St. Luke, the evangelist. I want to learn more about him.
Today was hard, but good. I am filled with happiness that perhaps I started a tradition today, to remember our Charlie. He won't ever be forgotten. I certainly knew that already; but it was really comforting to know that he won't be forgotten by other people as well. We can celebrate this day with our future children, and they will know they have a big brother in Heaven.
My sister-in-law Flannery draws and paints excellent commissions of Saints. We keep telling her she should do this through an Etsy shop, and I'm sure she will someday, but right now, she mostly does it for her family. We have a St. Anselm and a St. Abigail, that she did for us earlier this year. Today, she and my other sister-in-law Ariel, gave me a commission of St. Charles Borromeo. (I'll post pictures when I figure out how to do that well)
I'm going to do my next post on St. Charles, and I'll explain why he's special. Of course you'll have figured out he is partly our Charlie's namesake, shared with my grandfather. For now, though, I'm going to sleep.
Rest well, friends.
