Waiting for Spring

Yesterday, May 4th, it snowed.  It melted on contact, but STILL.  Snow in May just isn't spring.

My point?  I can spend my time lamenting the snow, the cold that chills me down to the bone and the wind that has lately accompanied it or I can just pull on my big girl panties and deal with it.  I find myself waiting so often.  Waiting for my kids to wash their hands, waiting in line at the grocery store, waiting for spring and the list goes on and on.  It's easy to to tell myself that things will be better when my youngest is potty trained, the older three kids are in school, the weather stays above 60 degrees and we can put away our winter jackets, ____________ (fill in the blank).

But what does that really do for me?  It keeps me hanging on for something that may or may not happen (hopefully in the case of potty training and school, right?) and who knows when it will happen.  I can find myself waiting for the sun to come out or my loved ones to change their views when we don't see eye to eye.  I would be much better served though by not waiting but instead by making the best of every situation that presents itself.  I don't even know if after these things I'm waiting for actually happen, whether I'll be any better off than I was when I started the waiting.

I remember waiting for both Wyatt and Eli to be born, knowing that I would never bring either of them home with me.  Talk about hard waiting.  I think waiting for death is one of the hardest things to wait out for anyone.  But those shadows lifted long ago.  Now it's just a matter of perspective.  I still find myself waiting, waiting for answers about Potter's Syndrome, hoping to find out why my boys were afflicted and hoping for treatment options in the future.  But I don't have to passively wait.  I do my own research.  I ask questions.  I keep my finger in the pot.  Because someday that wait will end and just like every moment since my boys' deaths, the world will keep turning.  I can't get lost in the waiting and the possible outcomes.  If I can make a positive difference to the outcome, I always try.  If I can't, I'm learning to live while I'm waiting and just make the best of it.

Waiting

I have not shared much about this pregnancy because I have been in an almost constant state of waiting. For the first fifteen weeks I waited for pictures of kidneys, amniotic fluid and a bladder. Then when that ultrasound came, the radiologist could not confirm existence of kidneys (even though my husband and I were confident after seeing so many prior ultrasounds that they were there) so we had to wait for the next ultrasound to confirm the existence of these oh-so-important organs. That ultrasound came and then we were told that this little girl has slightly enlarged kidneys and bladder so now we are again waiting for another ultrasound to tell us something that will hopefully end our waiting.

I am now about 25 weeks but I find myself just stuck in this waiting cycle. I am waiting for a good reason to believe this little girl will cross our home's threshold before getting any baby things ready. I am waiting for that same reason before contacting the church to discuss our daughter's baptism. Even though enlarged kidneys and bladder are not even in the same ballpark as missing kidneys and bladder I am just waiting for more - more something to end that waiting.

I am tired of waiting. Waiting for babies to die. Waiting for babies to live. Waiting to see what happens.

Waiting

Today while waiting with my three year old to check out our books at the library an elderly woman blatantly cut in the front of the line to check out her own books. This has happened to me before but today it irked me a bit. I mean, seriously, how impatient do you have to be to cut in front of a three year old at the library? Especially when that little three year old is hip hopping all over the place with her own impatience?

I attempted to let the woman politely know that there was a line behind her while at the same time intending to let her cut in front of me anyway but she either was hard of hearing or ignored me so I abandoned my effort. But I thought to myself, "Lady, I can tell you a thing or two about waiting." Try waiting over four months for a child in your womb to either take his last breath or enter the world. Try waiting over four months to find out whether that child will cry when he is born. Try waiting over four months to hear that cry and then begin to count the minutes, yes minutes, which will make up your child's entire life. Try waiting those precious minutes praying each and every heartbeat is not his last. Then, when you've done all those things. Do it again. I've done it, twice, and I now know a few things about waiting.

I know that it's not the end of the world to step into a line that has more than one person ahead of me. I know that it's not worth the mental effort of analyzing which line will be faster in an effort to save precious minutes. I know that whatever precious minutes I manage to save, they will not even hold a candle to some of the most precious moments life has to offer. I know the lightness my heart gains when I let someone with a smaller load or cart go in front of myself or when I slow my car to let someone cross the street. I know what feeling that burden of waiting being lifted feels like too.

I don't want anyone to understand waiting like I do. But I would like to see more patience than impatience and more empathy than judgment. After all, some of the best things in life are worth waiting for, I also know that about waiting.

Anger & Sadness Creeping In

As the days close in on me, I am experiencing moments of anger. Anger that I'm making last minute funeral preparations instead of making sure the crib is set up and covered with freshly washed sheets. Anger at not getting to fill the closet with sweet smelling tiny little outfits. Anger at not having to buy diapers and wipes. Anger at having given birth to full term infants five times yet only having three beds at home. Anger that, after Friday, for each earthly child we have, we also have one in heaven (I have also experienced a loss via miscarriage). Anger at having had to lose and going to have to lose the pregnancy weight all of those times and possibly (God willing) again. Anger at having had all these c-sections and the limitations that go along with that. Had Wyatt not been a Potter's baby stuck transverse in my stomach without fluid, it is highly likely that I would not have had a c-section with him and might have been able to experience a natural birth. There are so many positive things that have come about from having repeat sections but I also mourn the loss of being able to give birth like nature intended. I am also very anxious and apprehensive to find out the condition of my uterus on the operating table Friday. It means the world to me to be given one more chance.

I am so very thankful to find out that our daughters have normal functioning kidneys but since we don't know why Potter's has struck our family twice I worry that someday in the future one, or more of them, may find themselves in my shoes, carrying a child not destined for this earth. As devastating as carrying these babies has been, I think it would completely destroy me to watch one of my children have to do the same. Five children and I have never had the experience of a "normal" pregnancy. All have been shadowed by the fear of something being or going wrong, all being traced back to our precious Wyatt. I know that I will never have that experience for my children either, each of their pregnancies will be shadowed for me by the fear of lightning striking yet again. This apparently is my burden in life.

Four Days and Counting

Our scheduled c-section is Friday and I can officially say I'm freaking out. Tears are constantly one blink away and my emotions are barely beneath the surface. I am very excited to meet this little one. To hopefully hear his/her little voice, get a peek at the eyes and touch his or her skin. I can't wait to see the color of baby's hair, whether it will be dark brown like Wyatt's or red or blonde like our other daughters'. I am curious to see what size of baby I've been toting around and whether this little one will continue my tradition of big babies. He or she has had two sisters that weighed over 8 1/2 pounds at 39 weeks, the youngest was just two ounces shy of nine pounds! We have almost positively settled on names and I am eager to bestow that name to a beautiful face. I am also extremely touched that almost every single member of our immediate family is planning on being present for this baby's birth. It is very important for me to be able to share this baby with them. I feel that seeing, holding and hopefully hearing our little one will create a more special place in their hearts for this child. He/she won't just be "something" that happened to Mandy. I also hope that their presence and witness to the extreme joy and heartbreak of the day will impact their lives in a positive way, one which I could not foresee. I also selfishly hope that this will help me in the future, that perhaps they will be patient for me as long as I need, that their memories of that day will linger.

Those are the good things. The not so good things are worries. Things which I know that I can't do anything about, just a fear of the unknown. I worry how I will be after the baby is born. How I will handle this, how our family will come through it. I know that even though I have lived through it once, there is no amount of preparation that can be done when experiencing the death of a child. Right now I am just clinging to hope.

Waiting with Baby

We are still waiting for baby to come, any day or next Friday, it is clearly not up to me. I find myself drawn to these words "it is written". I say this not from a "it is God's plan" perspective because I truly don't believe that. I do not believe that it is God's plan to take my children from me. Not the God that I know and love. It is just a feeling. Babies go in, babies come out. This baby's arrival, though still imminent, has been written. I will be there, my husband will be there and God willing, our children should be there. That is what really matters to me. I find myself visualizing this like a professional athlete visualizes the big game or race. Playing it over and over again. In my mind it is happy.

The Calm Before the Storm

Our Friday evening visit to L&D pushed us into overdrive. I can now say that everyone's bag, not just baby's, is packed. The house is pretty clean, the clothes are washed, cupcakes and frosting are made and waiting in our freezer. I wouldn't say I'm ready, but I won't say that I'm not. Today I am calm and baby is busy.

Coming Unhinged

I am having a very rough week physically and emotionally. The baby, and I, are getting bigger. Or at least just I am. Potter's babies are usually small but Wyatt defied those statistics weighing it at a whopping 6lb 8oz at 37 weeks so I am hopefully this baby will be a good size and I really feel like he or she is getting plumper! However, with that weight comes discomfort of course and it is getting harder and harder to get things done. I also fear the baby is stuck in a transverse position like Wyatt was. When I was pregnant with Wyatt I could literally see him stretching my stomach horizontally and it was an extremely unpleasant feeling. I believe this little one's head is on the right side of my stomach and the body curls down my pelvis though I think the feet may be more down than to the side. So when baby decides to do a full body stretch it is quite uncomfortable, especially considering that there is little to no amniotic fluid to cushion either of us.

Emotional pain is amplifying the physical pain, the pelvic discomfort, the backaches and the general exhaustion from lack of sleep. Tears flow easy and hard. I told my husband that I am on my last hinge, thank goodness it is almost the weekend. He picks up alot of slack in the mornings before work and when he gets home, but the weekends are my salvation, two whole days where I am not the sun and the moon for our children. They have been at each other's throats and consequently trampling my nerves all week long. We are all hurting so badly right now.

Wanting the End of the Road

I am having a really rough time.  Our household has been hit hard by viruses and illness and as a pregnant, grieving, stay at home mom, it is hitting me particularly hard.  I am doing the best to care for myself, but everyone else needs so much from me right now.  I don't sleep well at night and haven't for most of the pregnancy, but especially since the diagnosis.  I just toss and turn all night long and I'm so tired.  That, combined with my kids and husband coughing and sniffling all night as well as a babe within wriggling around, I am so exhausted.  Thankfully my body does finally get so tired it sleeps every few days so I can at least put together a little energy to get by.

With that said, I'm so very emotionally tired right now too.  I want this whole thing to be over with.  I love my baby with all my heart but my heart is breaking with every minute I have to wait for his or her arrival.  I just want it all to be over with as much as that pains me to say.  I am in such a bad place right now, I feel so used up and isolated.  So few people have to carry a child to term with a fatal diagnosis, why me, why twice?  It is what it is. That's what I've been telling myself to get by.  I know this too shall pass and I will keep going.