Anything Worth having is worth fighting for- part two: the decision

My post in June finished with me asking the question. What's the point of having faith in a loving God when he chooses to allow such suffering into my life? Most people would agree that permitting suffering isn't the first characteristic you think of when describing someone who loves you. I battled along alone for a while and it really tore me up from the inside. As one of my (non-christian) friends observed, my faith is/was intricately wound unto my self-identity and without it I was finding it difficult to know who I was anymore, let alone who God was. After a couple of weeks of sitting/standing mutely in church each Sunday, refusing to pray and avoiding as much as i could anyone who wanted to pray for me i realised i had a decision to make.

In the indelible words of Chris O'Donnell in The Bachelor it was time to "shit or get off the pot"

I either had to accept that God is a real and ever-present loving father who hurts when i hurt and rejoices when i rejoice, or i had to turn and walk away from God, Faith, the church. Because there is no point in believing in, or worshiping a God who doesn't care.

I thought this should be easy i'll just issue God an ultimatum, either he does SOMETHING to my heart so that i can see how me he loves me, or i walk. simple. i mean for a God who can and does do miracles, surely this is child's play. so i waited. and i waited some more. i thought, come on! you elected to harden the pharoh's heart against the Jews, surely you can come and soften mine? Its not that hard! all i want is some incontrivertable proof that you exist!... you are the alpha and the omega, the begining and the end, nothing is impossible for you!!!

... wait a minute... incontrivertable proof by its very nature is unassailable, concrete and observable...  but that would mean that i would have no choice but to believe..., i would have knowledge, not faith... taking away my free will to turn my back on you. I don't want a God who removes my free-will! Its no fun giving a gift if its not given freely.

Bugger! thats not going to work then is it?

Not so easy after all.

i was back at square one. How do i make this decision? the logisist in me wants a list of pros and cons for each side of the coin, then you just compare them and simple, decision made... but life's not like that. All pros and cons aren't created equal, and this isn't about something as trivial as buying a washing machine, this decsion will affect all of the relationships in my life, surely it will change the course of my life. It cannot come down to a simple list.

so what does is come down to?

in the end it isn't about making the decision, its about the commitment. i guarantee you i could be happy without God in my life, thousands do it everyday.

 BUT. I. DON'T, WANT. TO.

Ultimately it came down to a heart decision, not a head decision. My head tells me it doesn't really matter what i decide, my heart tells me nothing matters more. So i've decided to step out in faith, accepting that i cannot know the inner workings of my God, i cannot know why such suffering is allowed be inflicted upon so many, but i can know he loves me, i can know that he promises me eternal life and happiness. So I've decide that i'm going to seek these rewards.

My life is about whatever i chose to focus on. If i chose to focus on the hurt and the anger and the resentment that losing Jonathon inspired in my heart, i am not doing myself any favours. I am not doing Jonathon's memory any favours. The loss of my precious boy is raw and aching and i don't know when that will change. I do know that i want to think of my son as something good that happened to me, a blessing. A blessing of my own choice. I choose to believe that he was sent to me for a reason, i don't know why he was taken so soon, only God does. Since i choose to believe in a loving God i must therefore believe that God's way is best. so even though i don't understant his death i will use it as inspiration to persue a heart based faith- what greater gift could a son give his mother?

anything worth having is worth fighting for: part one -my faith background

In the past my faith has been almost entirely mind-based. To understand what i mean by this you'd need to understand how i came to faith. (be warned this may be a long and rambling account, feel free to skim through it :) ).

Being brought up in the church i was taught from an early age about God the loving father and Jesus Christ the living sacrifice (leaving the holy spirit out of it for the time-being). As a child i simply accepted the existence of God as fact and moved on enjoying my weekly Sunday school lessons, songs and craft. Later, during adolescence, i found the church we attended as a family to be a very exclusive group of people, the other young people had known each other for a very long time and weren't looking to accept a newcomer to the group, they were happy the way they were. As an outsider looking in, my view was of a group of youngsters loving life, supporting each other and basically brimming over with this sense of overflowing happiness and well-being. i wanted a part of that. (Isn't that the age old way to get a teenager wanting something? tell then they can't have it?). during this time my faith was tenuous at best, i was seeking a stronger connection but since i had no idea how to go about that i slowly drifted away.

I attended a catholic school for my senior high school years, where faith was more of an assumption of common values and core beliefs rather than a personal decision. It was here that i finally found acceptance with a group of people who liked me for who i was and supported me unconditionally. Sure i didn't have the all consuming happiness that the "born again"Christians seemed to have, but for once that quest for overflowing happiness took a back seat to comfortable acceptance. my Faith was superficialy based in the ongoing teenage quest for acceptance and approval.

Fast forward through my first degree at uni where apart from a couple of brief moments of introspection (not always alcohol induced, but admittedly that was more common than not) i didn't really think about my faith at all, especially not as something alive, something that had to be nurtured. The first year of my second degree saw me living with a housemate who was not so nice, he regularly ran me down in ways so subtle that i came to believe him. By the end of that year my self-esteem was pretty low and i moved home for the summer holidays. Most of that 3 months i spent with the best friend i have ever made, her unconditional love and support reignited my interest in a loving God and we started attending my mum's church together. I found it very enlightening attending church with my beautiful friend. Having not been brought up in the church, and having had very little contact with the church in general, here was a fresh perspective of faith. Her head knowledge was so basic that she was surprised to discover the true meaning of Easter and marvelled at the resurection story, yet her heart was won over in a matter of weeks.

I had the privilege of watching her faith journey from the beginning and my heart was filled with joy to hear her speak of God's love for the first time. I must confess i rode on the coat tails of her passion for a while, but the heady temptations of new love are almost impossible to resist. Finally i was beginning to develop my own faith. Founded on personal experience rather than Sunday instructionals, my passion for God grew even more over the next year as i was blessed with an phenomenal share house filled with loving christian girls (who i probably never thanked and really wish i had) and finally led me to meeting my first love, Steve who became my husband less than two years later.

As a couple Steve, a lapsed catholic, and I, with my newly rediscovered faith, began to attend a contemporary Anglican Church (where we were later married). There we met like-minded, sensible individuals, well grounded in biblical knowledge and church law. Over the next two years we were challenged by thought provoking sermons and warmly welcomed into the church family. After our marrieage we struggled for nearly 2 years in silence to start a family before eventually admitting to our bible study that we were deeply upset at our failure to fall pregnant. They prayed and we fell pregnant the next cycle.

the blessing of Elianna
Three weeks after my positive pregnancy test, following an early dating ultrasound my Dr rang and asked that i make my way as quickly as possible to the private consulting rooms of a well respected Obstetrician. She was concerned that my HcG levels were higher than indicated by the ultrasound and suspected an ectopic pregnancy. Devastated we rushed to see the OB and a scan revealed a single inter uterine pregnancy. our relief was short lived however as soon-after the OB began to look worried and ask us lots of questions about my last period and my dates. she soon revealed that the gestational sack was far to small to be as far along as indicated by my HcG levels and the previous ultrasound. she was very sorry to inform us that we had what is known as a blighted ovum or molar pregnancy. We were absolutely shattered, we asked if there was any reason she could be wrong. she said no. before we left she gave us a prescription for a pill that would bring on a miscarriage telling us that i would likely miscarry over the next few days but in case i didn't i should get the prescription filled as we were due to go on holiday to Qld the next week and it would be inconvenient to miscarry while away.

We rang our friends to tell them the news and they began to pray for hope and a miracle. at a follow-up Dr's appointment we asked if we could have one finally ultrasound to confirm the OB diagnosis. the Dr agreed and wrote us a referral for the following Thursday (less than a week later). we were due to leave on our holiday on the Saturday morning so we had Friday to present to the hospital for a D&C. with heavy hearts we attended that follow-up ultrasound appointment. you can imagine our surprise when we were told we had a healthy heartbeat from a foetus measuring two week further advanced than the previous ultrasound a week earlier. Amazing. It appeared God had answered our prayers. after a tumultuous pregnancy plagued with anxiety attacks and morning sickness the whole 9 months I finally gave birth to our beautiful daughter Elianna Faith, meaning God has answered Faith.

After Elianna arrived i felt like my life was complete. A new(ish) husband, a newly purchased family home and the most beautiful baby girl anyone could ever dream of. She was a perfect little angel from her first moments earthside. She slept, fed and pooped like a little trooper (mostly saved the poos for her doting daddy too- what a little darling ;). Over the next two years we lived a truly blessed life, anything we needed, heck everything we really wanted was provided to us one way or another. after much soul-searching during the pregnancy we eventually left our old church and joined up with the local church just down the road (a lot closer and with a younger demographic). The anointment on our pastors at our church was evident, even the sermons seemed to be tailored specifically to address my recent ponderings.  On the day Elianna was born they prayed for labour to start to avoid an induction the following day and what do you know, despite no signs of labour that morning Elianna was born at 6.08 pm that night, less than 2 hours after my waters had broken. It seemed we had a direct pipeline to God- oh happy days!!

When we decided to add to our family 2 years after Eli was born we fell pregnant the very next cycle. It seemed it was meant to be. Even a small bleed at 4 weeks was not enough to sway us in our Faith that God had blessed us with another child to love, We sought prayer and the bleeding stopped instantly- simple as that. At this point my Faith had grown to become a part of my daily life. i understood how this all worked and gave thanks to an awesome, majestic creator who answered my every prayer. We attended and served at church regularly and in addition we went along to a connect group every week where we would spend a couple of pleasant hours laughing with friends and learning more about the promises of God. I began to daydream for our new addition, even arbitrarily deciding that he was likely to arrive on Melbourne Cup day (4 days after the EDD) as that would likely be the most inconvenient timing... And then everything came crashing down around us.

When the GP couldn't find a heartbeat on the Monday after we arrived in Melbourne i was momentarily concerned but he reassured me that since i was only just over 16 weeks and he wasn't very skilled with the Doppler he wasn't surprised he couldn't hear anything. I relaxed knowing i had a midwife appointment at the hospital the next day,  surely she would be able to find it, she does it all the time after all. But  she didn't even try, saying it was too early and it could cause unnecessary worry. She advised seeking an ultrasound if i was truly concerned. over the next few days my sense of dread increased. i tried to pray it away, handing my worries to God as i had been taught. it helped a little but by the middle of the next week it had built up to the point that i asked Steve to see if he could get the 18 week ultrasound booked in a little early. Which he managed to do for the following Thursday. The day before the ultrasound i was talking to the pastor at our new church and i mentioned the appointment and asked her to pray that everything would be okay. Having had a good track record with this sort of thing in the past she seemed confident that our prayers would be answered.

The rest as they say is history (please read the earlier posts for Jonathon's story) we found out that our baby had died. That night the pastors came and prayed again. i wasn't really able to focus on what they were saying, but through my grief I heard them praying for a miracle of life. i remember thinking at that point- how naive are they?- my baby had been dead for over a week, there's no way that prayer is going to be answered....

And finally we come to the point of my ramble, my faith to this point had been based almost solely upon external evidence of God's presence. Evidence any pseudo scientific objective onlooker could perceive and attribute to the manifestation of a Glorious father. Head-based if you will, but when it came down to the wire, when things were such that my logical mind could no longer support it, my heart didn't have faith- i didn't truly believe in a God who could or would answer my prayers with a true miracle.

what's faith got to do with it?

tomorrow we go back to the place where all our precious memories of Jonathon were formed.

The hospital where we held him, kissed him, told him we were sorry and said our goodbyes.

They have done all the blood tests, tested the placenta and autopsied our little man, now they're ready to tell us what they found.

I don't want to go.

i don't want to hear that they don't know why it happened.

i don't want to hear that it was something i did during the pregnancy.

i don't want to hear that it was a genetic issue and nothing to do with my actions.

there's no response they can give me that will appease me.

So, i don't want to go!

As the appointment has drawn closer i have found all my old anxiety triggers returning, resulting in unpredictable tears, heart palpation's and fatigue. In the past i could count on a quiet moment of reflection and a prayer to God to set me back on track. Now i can't. because i am giving God the silent treatment.

I know this is probably not the best way of going about healing my heart, but just i don't know how to get past such a betrayal as this. I know and i truly believe that God didn't take my son from me, just as i know and believe that God loved him as much as we do. but he didn't save him either. so I'm at a stalemate. My problem is that i want to go on believing in a loving God who answers prayers, but i can't reconcile that with a God who let my son die. you might say that "betrayed" is a very strong word to be using here. but that is truly how i feel. to me its as though He heard my distraught pleas and went ... ahh? NO!.. no room for negotiation, no room for appeals, in fact i never even knew he'd decided no til it was too late. how is that the actions of a God who loves me?

last Sunday one of the women at my church was talking about being faithful and how in His own time God will answer your prayers, but they may not be answered the way you want them to be. i sat there in the back of the congregation with tears streaming down my face thinking "there is no time" his or mine, no amount of time will enable my prayer to have been answered. its too late for that now. so what's faith got to do with it? how can faith turn my situation around. what do I get from having faith. what's the point of having faith?

I feel like such a fool for having prayed so desperately that my baby would be alright, both in the weeks leading up to, and the night before the fateful ultrasound. I had blindly believed in the power of prayer to affect situations. As i am writing this now i feel kind of like a petulant child asking "ohhh, but why not?" in a whiny voice. but this is no denial of a lolly, this was denial of a love that promised to always be there for me, to answer my prayers, to bless my life with abundance. and it hurts, as all denial does.

So where do i go from here?

There's a few things i do know,

God loves me,

God loves my son,

God has the power to answer prayers,

In the past God has invoked miracles in my life both small and huge, that could not be explained with the most modern methods of modern science,

I am blessed with a gorgeous loving husband who is a great provider and the best dad a little girl could ever hope for.

I am blessed with a stunning daughter, who is so intelligent and empathic that she makes me cry with pride.

i am blessed with two supporting churches with fantastic pastors (all four of them),

and i am blessed with the most amazing network of friends who daily lift me up and surround me with their love.

there is so much love in my life and i believe that its there because God has declared it over me. but the question for me lately has been, is that enough? do all these past and present blessings make up for the one denial? is this enough to support my faith in a loving God?

 

 

Honestly?

I don't know... i know that i want to believe again that God listens and my prayers will be answered. i know that i want to be able to pray around this hard cold lump of a heart i have. i know that i want to feel safe and blessed again...

but i don't know how to get there.

Silence is Deafening

yesterday marked a milestone, one month.

One month since i held my son for the first and the last time

One month since i left the hospital empty handed and empty hearted.

One month since the bottom fell out of my world.

the flowers have long since faded and died,

the phone has stopped ringing and the

postman no longer brings sympathy cards.

when i see people they no longer ask how i am, or if i am doing ok

life, it seems, has returned to normal... for everyone else

in just 30 days

a month can seem interminably long when you're waiting for something exciting. i can remember month's that felt like years when we were trying to conceive Elianna and waiting for the day we could do a home pregnancy test. but this last month has gone by in the blink of an eye.

the memories of my son is fresh in my mind. Every time i close my eyes i still see his startlingly blue eyes, or his impossibly long legs or his dainty little fingers, and i feel the emptiness, the pain and the loss all over again. i can't believe its already been a month. I was told the other day as i cried in response to an unaware comment that it was ok to cry now as its still so fresh but in another month or two i will feel ok. i remember thinking "would this woman say this if i had lost something more tangible to her?" what if i'd lost my husband or my daughter. Surely such a trite comment wouldn't be ok in that situation.

so what makes it ok now? Is it because she has no point of comparison? or does she not perceive the loss of our baby as the death of our son? i could have spoken up, said something like "my son DIED i don't think i'm going to be OKAY in a couple of months" but i didn't... why? because it makes people uncomfortable. We can talk freely about mental illness, domestic violence, death from cancer and other killers so why not miscarriage or premature stillbirth? why do mothers and father have to suffer in silence after the loss of a much loved child?

Since we lost Jonathon i have discovered that so many of my friends carry the scars of baby loss. its heartbreaking to know that they have gone through this same pain, confusion and frustration. many of them being forced to swallow their grief as its expression became uncomfortable for the people in their lives to witness. How can we condone such callous treatment of our dear friends and family? i posted a note on my facebook the first week after Jonathon's passing. 20 things parents of Angels wish you would remember. i won't repost them all here as it is very long, but a few really rang some bells for me...

i wish you could tell me more than once that you are sorry my baby has died and that you are thinking of me, the truth is it tells me you care

i wish you wouldn't pretend my baby never existed. the truth is we both know he was growing within me

i wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over with in a matter of days/ weeks or months. the truth is it may get easier with time but i will NEVER "get over" this

above all please remember that this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. the word miscarriage is small and easy but my baby's death is monolithic and awful. its going to take a while to figure out how to live with it. bear with me.

Now really i am lucky, i have had some truly wonderful friends be by my side through all of this, some of whom i didn't expect who have gone above and beyond to be supportive. However others who i did expect to be there for us have been noticably silent. i don't know why, perhaps they just don't know what to say? either way, their silence is deafening. By staying silent it says to me one of two things. Either "ï don't care" or"ÿour grief makes me too uncomfortable and i chose my own comfort over yours" Thats fine. its their pejrogative, but it still hurts. i wish i could say to everyone who has ever held back words of support for fear of saying the wrong thing. "your words may or may not hurt me, but nothing you can say will ever hurt as much as your silence might".

please i beg of you. if a loved one or even someone you just met has a loss of this kind. don't withdraw. by all means give them their space but please make sure they know you are there for them and thinking of them. this is the most lonely experience of any mother's life. we become members of an exclusive club that no-one ever wants to belong to. A club of silent tears and hollow hearts. your hug, your card saying ï'm thinking of you", message, phone call or flowers might be the only acknowledgement that mother gets of her grief that whole day/week or month. please don't withhold it because you feel uncomfortable. to my lovely friends who have been through this themselves; Sarah, Nikki, Steff, Rachel, Sara, Jess, Gen and anyone i have missed, i'm so sorry for your loss. i wish you had never experienced this pain and that you were holding your son or daughter now rather than mourning them with empty arms. I hope that you have a chance today to remember your baby and the love you feel for them. xoxo

As i said above i have had some absolutely lovely friends who have done some absolutely lovely things to show they care. i would like to publicly thank them now.

To Rachael, Katy and Cath thank you for the beautiful flowers, that put a smile on my face whenever i walked pass them. it meant more than i can say.

To Nikki words cannot express the love i felt when i opened my little "jonathon heart" i have been wearing it constantly and it makes me feel close to my baby boy, thank you so much.

To Jacqui, your letter and your heartfelt words of sympathy had me in tears. i love you girl and value our friendship so much, thank you for being there.

To Darla, Deb and Steff. thank you for your words of wisdom, encouragement and support. you three women have been the backbone of my slow journey back to the land of the living. i don't know what i would've done without you

To simone, thank you for your visit. having you here to actually hug and talk to in person meant so much to my healing process. your letter was hard to read but i'm glad you shared it with us

To Cilla, Aunty louise, Nanna, dad and sandra, Kristy and everyone else who sent cards, you made our day/s. Simply knowing that someone cares and is thinking about us eases the grief just a little, so thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

To Kel, kate, Sarah and Fleur. thank you for the regular messages on my facebook wall telling me you are thinking of me. its really nice to know we're not forgotten.

To my mum and steve's mum... thank you seems like hardly enough to fully express our gratitude for your continued love and support. you grieved our loss with us, you felt it as deeply and personally as if he were your own son. we are sorry for the loss of your grandson.

How are you doing?

I probably get asked this question at least once a day by every person i speak to lately... usually i answer in a manner so as to ensure the person asking doesn't feel uncomfortable or upset "i'm doing okay, have my bad days, but you know... i'm fine" I sometimes wonder how it would go down if i answered truthfully...

i am grief striken. i can be so overwhelmed by the grief that at night when everyone is in bed i cannot sleep for the pain from the lump in my throat and the uncomfortable wetness on my pillow. i'm not fine, i'm sad. But i am also a good actor, i can pretend for months if necessary that i'm fine. Even though i'm not.

I feel angry. I don't really even know who i am angry at... God? the universe? myself? All i know is that i am, at times, consumed with RAGE. Blood boiling anger at this whole situation and the unfairness of it all. In my more rational moments i am uncomfortably aware that there is no-one on this planet that deserves to have this happen, but at times i'm just so filled with the "why me?" of it all.

I feel empty. The physical emptiness of my womb is a constant reminder of the loss of our son. The hole in my soul is even harder to ignore. Where i once felt filled with God's love i now struggle to maintain that same level of faith. When once I felt so totally blessed by God, had immense faith in his love for me and his willingness to hear and answer my prayers, i now feel like he turned away when i needed him most... and that hurts. I'm trying to find the meaning in this... but i don't understand. I still believe in God and all his promises.. but maybe they're for other people.

 I feel resentment toward my many beautiful pregnant friends and my other wonderful friends with new babies- which is so very unfair on them. Every status update about how their pregnancy is progressing, their birth announcements, their excited countdowns, proud reporting of milestones reached and even just descriptions of everyday events serve as daily reminders that we won't be making these announcements nor will we experience these moments of joy and excitement. Our journey is over already; we didn't get to bring home our son and wonder at him as he grew. Each and every time i read something new about babies and pregnancy its like a needle to the heart. I know that its unfair of me to feel resentful toward them, they have every right to enjoy their pregnancy and celebrate their babies, indeed they SHOULD as their babies should be celebrated and enjoyed. To be even more contrary i would be hurt if they decided NOT to share these things with me, as i would feel excluded and outcast. (Rock <=> me <=>hard place). Today at the zoo I walked past so many pregnant women and it was like a physical pain in my heart, i resented them for their healthy rounded tummies and contented little smiles. THAT SHOULD BE ME!

 I feel like a failure. physically i feel like my body has failed me. Failed Steve, failed Jonathon and failed even Elianna. Failed to provide the promised son, brother, grandson, nephew and friend. Failed to look after my son. i feel like i must be somehow broken, not in good working order, defective, defunct and damaged.

I feel cheated out of my healthy baby. Cheated that i paid the price of morning sickness, unhealthy food cravings, reducing my exercise, the resulting weight gain, tiredness, crabbyness for 18 weeks of pregnancy and now... nothing. Most people won't even recognise that we've had a death in a family. In the last two weeks our loss has been lumped into the same category as gall stones and boil lancing, i feel cheated out of proper mourning, for a "proper" baby. I know people will expect us to "get over it" eventually. how do you "get over" something like this. We are eternally changed, altered inside so much that i am surprised that people cannot tell just by looking at us.

I feel guilty. When i tell a concerned friend that "i'm doing ok" i often truly think i am... then i stop myself and think HOW? how can you be ok? its only been 2 weeks! When i laugh, when i am happy, when i go for longer than i think i should without thinking about my son, i am overwhelmed with guilt. How can i be happy? my son is dead! i should be mourning him. Part of me wants to get out there and enjoy life with my girl and my man and maybe even try for another baby.

I feel so conflicted. i cannot replace jonathon, nor would i try...but i want to be "normal" i want this never to have happened, but since thats not possible i want sometimes just to pretend it didn't.... and then on comes the guilt, right on cue.

I feel terrified that i may never get another chance to hold a baby that i have conceived, nourished and carried for 10 months.

 i feel sadened that i will never have a carefree pregnancy. i will never again feel that there is a "safe point" in pregnancy after which your baby's health is guaranteed. Hearing a heartbeat WILL NOT reassure me,

....and then i feel guilty about making this about me and my future when Jonathon hasn't got one...

Finally i feel hopeful, sometimes when i sing a song, or play with Eli, or laugh with Steve, talk with a friend, or buy something pretty. i feel hopeful that my life won't always be a constant tightrope walk between how i think people want me to act and the total and utter dispair that beckons off the other side. One day i will smile and laugh without guilt. i will think of Jonathon with sadness, not dispair and i will hold another baby in my arms who i can tell all about their big brother who watches over them from heaven... one day

  So many emotions all a whirly gig inside my head. All day. Everyday. i'm reminded of a line from a Harry Potter book (of all places). In the story Hermione is explaining why Cho cried when Harry kissed her and Ron replies "no one can feel that all at once, they'd explode!" and i think yes, yes they would wouldn't they?

Perhaps thats what this blog today is... my relief valve... sharing through the written word to prevent an explosion later.

Edited to add: I looked back over the list above and i feel very self-indulgent. there are many people in this world who have suffered far worse than i. and for that i am truly sorry :( Perhaps if i can help one other person who has suffered a loss like ours to feel "normal" then maybe its okay to be selfish sometimes? ...

our son Jonathon - Part 2

Friday
Friday morning saw an early trip out to the airport to pick up Steve's mum who had booked a last minute flight the night before so that she could be here for Eli. The last thing we wanted was for poor Eli to be stuck with us at the hospital while we waited for things to happen. Our new pastor then arrived, having taken the day off work, to drive us out to the hospital. once at the hospital we went straight to radiology for our ultrasound. even though i knew that my baby had died i couldn't smother that final glimmer of hope that they had gotten it wrong. consequently the moment when it was confirmed was almost as heartbreaking as the day before. now i KNEW :(

We were sent up to the delivery suite to be induced but once there we were told that we would have to go home and come back the next day as they only had a couple of spare rooms and they had to be saved in case a labouring "mother" came in. this was all too much. i broke down crying and we asked if there was any other option. they were firm in their stance and we were sent home, the nightmare continuing... the only hope we had was that they promised not to bump us from the list unless they had no other choice. the next morning we woke at 6am to ring the delivery suites to see if they had room for us. once again the birthing rooms were all full but the mum's in them were in active labour so we were to ring back in a few hours. Finally at 8:30 we were given the okay to come in. by 9:30 i was in a labour room and being administered the first dose of misoprostal (initially a drug used to treat gastric ulcers that they discovered caused premature labour in pregnant women). After having a cannula (sp?) inserted and at least 12 vials of blood taken so they could begin investigating why this happened i was left alone. they told us it could take a few doses 6 hours apart for it to work.

we stayed in that room for the next hours, listening to the labouring mothers in the other rooms, interspersed with the cries of newborn bubbas, the cries we would never hear. The differences in our circumstances was stark. i was surprised to note that i felt no resentment towards the other mum's, even in my complete despair i could remember the joy of Elianna's birth and be happy for the new families being formed that day. by around 2:30 i was starting to feel some pressure and my waters broke. our hopes lifted, maybe this nightmare experience would be over soon and we could begin to heal. unfortunately it seemed that was not the case. After the breaking of my waters everything stopped. although my next dose of misoprostal was due at 3:30 it wasn't until 4:30 that a OB could be found to administer it. at that point she found that i was less than 1cm dilated, not at all effaced, in effect not ready to birth my baby. she left us saying she would be back in 6 hours.

Our son Jonathon was born at 5:15 It is all too raw to write the details of the labour and birth, suffice it to say it was as painful as Elianna's labour only more difficult as i didn't have hope to sustain me. Jonathon had Blue eyes, long legs and was absolutely perfect. His fingers were exactly like Elianna's, so long and delicate, a pianist's fingers. he weighed a mere 20 grams and could fit into my hand. his face, already beautiful, had my nose and Steve's brow line. the curve from his back to his legs was so reminiscent of his big sister as a baby that i can hardly bear to think that i won't ever change his nappy. we have so much love for our son, our beautiful little boy. we wanted him so much. there is a hole in our lives where he should be.

today i should be feeling kicks, and dreaming of his future. instead i am heartbroken that i will never hear him call me mummy, that Eli will never meet her little brother who i know she would have loved so very much, i won't get to breastfeed my baby and have the pride that comes with nourishing him and keeping him healthy. instead i have failed to keep him safe, the one thing he needed from me i couldn't give him and now he is gone and i can never make amends. i wanted to post the photos that the midwives took for us of our beautiful son but i didn't want to open him up to ridicule. if you would like to see him please let me know as I'd love to show you him... in time. thank you for sharing my journey. thus far one of heartbreak, hopefully in the future it will be one of healing and hope. i just can't see that road yet...

Our Son Jonathon- part one

i have tried to write this post a number of times, but as i couldn't see the keyboard or screen through the tears i have waited until i can think of my son without immediately bursting into tears. to tell Jonathon's story properly i will start from the very beginning...

Back in November 2010 i noticed that Elianna was getting to the point that she was fairly independent and no longer "needed" mummy to be there beside her 24/7. Around the same time i realised that i no longer thought of a second child with trepidation, in fact we were both quite looking forward to another baby sometime in the future. Thus it seemed to us that it was TIME to start trying for a brother or sister for Elianna. Given the nearly 2 years of heartache it took for us to conceive Elianna we thought we might as well start trying right away. 3 cycles later, in February, we got lucky and i got my first positive pregnancy test at just 3 weeks and 4 days a week and a bit after Elianna's 2nd birthday.

  Needless to say we were ecstatic, our EDD was 30th October and my life felt so blessed and perfect- apart from the disappointment of not being able to go on the rides at the theme parks during our family holiday to the Gold coast in September lol - in my defence last time we went i missed out too as i was newly pregnant with Elianna- and i couldn't even live vicariously through Steve as he hates roller coasters. Dark clouds arrived around 2 weeks later when i started to bleed, i was devastated thinking it was all over before it even began. lots of prayer and support later i had a scan at just over 6 weeks and there was my baby, with its beautiful heartbeat beating away strongly. Elianna was fascinated at the scan, even more so when she was told she was seeing the baby in mummy's tummy "bye bye baby" she waved as the sonographer switched off the screen. the bleeding stopped shortly after and i began to relax, finally believing that this baby would be fine.

   a couple of weeks later Steve received a job offer involving our move to Melbourne and we eventually agreed that we should move our growing family to Melbourne for an adventure (not necessarily for ever). so began a busy month of organising a home, movers and saying goodbye to my best friends and greatest support in Newcastle and the central coast. During this time my best friend was due to have her baby and i went up to Coffs to help in whatever way i could. It was my first overnight away from Elianna but i was able to console myself with the fact that one of my children was with me and in a few short month's she would have to be apart from me while i gave birth to her little brother or sister. My friend's beautiful baby girl finally arrived and i was enraptured by her, holding her shattered the final piece of doubt that i was ready for another baby- i WANTED THIS! Upon my return from Coffs i had the NT scan at 13 week. once again there was our baby rolling and waving about. the sonographer even had difficulty pinning down the NT measurement as the bub just wouldn't stop moving lol. After that i had just two short weeks before we were to leave for Melbourne and lots of work to do before we were ready to go. those two weeks were so busy that i barely thought about my pregnancy, knowing that everything was ok in the scan had set my mind at ease. it wasn't until everything was loaded on the truck and the keys to the house handed over that i found myself wondering about my pregnancy.

  i was 15.5 weeks by then and i hadn't felt any convincing movements yet. after that thought entered my head i couldn't shake it and spent every spare moment thinking about it, trying to feel my uterus and trying to work out if my tummy was growing. the feeling of dread descended, although i tried to block it out. i reminded myself of the prayers back in the early weeks of the pregnancy and of the reassurances i felt from God that everything was okay and everything would be fine. by then end of the next week i had worked myself up into a tizzy of uncertainty and found myself a nearby GP and made an appointment for the following monday when i would be 17 weeks and 2 days pregnant. the interceding weekend was a bit better as i knew i would have some answers on the monday. although i had fears i still fully expected to hear that everything was fine and that i was worrying about nothing. After all i had had no bleeding or cramping, in fact no sign whatsoever that anything was wrong- other than mother's intuition i guess. at the appointment the GP took my blood pressure: fine, my temperature: fine, measured my fundal height and palpated my uterus, both fine. he then pulled out his little handheld Doppler and had a go at finding the heartbeat. before he tried he told us that he may not be able to find it this early and that we shouldn't worry as it would be more a reflection of his skill. So when he couldn't find the heartbeat my heart dropped to my gut but i tried not to let myself worry too much. i had a Midwife appointment at the hospital the next day, she would be able to find it i was sure.

we left him with a referral for the morphology scan at 18-20 weeks, the next morning we all got up very early and fought with the traffic to get out to sunshine hospital for our 8:30 appointment. however the appointment didn't go at all like i had expected. the Midwife only asked questions and wrote notes, not one element of practical checking of my pregnancy. she didn't even try to use the doppler. as we left the appointment i was upset and asked steve to see if he could book in the morphology scan early as i couldn't handle living another 2 weeks with the uncertainty. Much to my relief we got an appointment for that thursday morning.

Thursday 26/5/11
Thursday morning i woke up with a sense of relief, today i would see my baby, know it was fine and maybe even find out the sex. i still had that dread in the pit of my stomach but the hope i felt was stronger that day. we went in the scan and were immediately disappointed as the angry sonographer said we shouldn't have came in this early for a 18 week scan, that he wouldn't do it til 20 weeks. i started to cry at the thought of another 2 weeks in limbo and we asked him to please just do a quick scan and tell us everything was ok. he grudgingly agreed and we got down to business. i knew something was wrong as soon as the picture came up. every other time i have always been able to identify the heartbeat immediately but there was no sign of it at all. my baby was curled up as though cold or in pain. my heart broke. the sonographer confirmed our worst fears moments later. although i was 17 weeks 4 days pregnant, my baby was only measuring 15 weeks 3 days. our baby had passed away in the days before we moved, and i hadn't even known.

 i don't know how long we sat there crying, i couldn't believe that after all of his promises God had still decided to take my baby back, i was angry and hurt and heartbroken. Just broken in general really. the rest of the day was a tear stained blur, i returned to the GP to get a referral to the hospital and get the necessary blood tests started. my GP advised us to present to the ED the next morning. After ringing the hospital when we got home they were more understanding and took us in hand. they made an ultrasound appoint for the next morning for us to have a final confirmation and said that i would be induced in the birthing suite on the Friday.

We have a house... without a mouse!!

OMG i cannot believe how much of a cliche 50s housewife i become when faced with a mouse in my house. Admittedly i doubt many people have had their 2 year old proudly try to show mummy the dead mouse they found in their play kitchen. My worst nightmare! I was on the phone to a friend when a little voice says in my ear "look what i have mummy" i turn to see her holding out a dead mouse literally inches from my face. and. i. screamed.... ( i may have to pay for some hearing tests and remedial assistance for my poor friend on the other end of the phone) i screamed and ran to the other side of the room, flattening myself against the front door. Elianna now suitable freaked out tries to run towards me whilst still holding the mouse... so i scream again before yelling to her to drop it. she finally drops it and runs to me very confused. i ran her into the bathroom (giving the mouse a wide berth) to wash her hands a thousand times over, momentarily contemplating whether it would be considered abuse to wash her hands with a scourer and boiling water. EW EW EW EW EW EEEEEEEEWWWWW! Of course i was not lucky enough for it just to be the one, later while bathing Eli i saw a very large one slink past on its way to the kitchen. Dissolving into tears i ring Steve (who is of course in Melbourne so the most geographically undesirable person who could help me) who advises me (most sensibly) to call one of my in-laws to help. beautiful brother-in-law to the rescue!! while waiting for the mouse buster to arrive poor Eli is watching me most concernedly saying "you alright mummy?" "do you have a poorly tummy again""Eli kiss it better?" which of course makes me cry harder, she's such a beautiful little girl! Brother-in-law set about 5 traps in the kitchen and put out 2 lots of Talon mouse bait for good measure. i have to say i got a perverse sense of pleasure (mixed with a healthy dose of freak out) when i heard the mouse tucking into its lethal evening meal... sorry mouse. No signs of mice this morning or this afternoon but tonight just after putting Eli to bed it ran past me on the lounge, less than half a metre away, and under a flap of rug. since then i have been hearing it squeal which my cheeky mother insists is it talking to its friends and calling them over, but my more considerate husband assures me is its death throes.... feeling a tiny bit guilty now :( I cannot believe how much more at ease i feel about moving, knowing we have somewhere lovely to live once we get to Melbourne. while i have loved our house purely based on the fact that its ours, we did buy it based on the idea of the worst house on the best street concept. It has gaps in the walls where extensions were put on, an incredibly difficult backyard to mow (resulting in mouse encouraging long grass) which has made it ultra susceptible to visitors of the rodent variety. Our new house (rental) is in Point cook which is a newer yet well established development in the western suburbs of Melbourne. Google maps estimates it will be about a 25 minute walk to a sizable shopping centre (point cook town centre) 2-3 blocks away from a medical centre with "all your medical needs" (lol), a block away from a lovely park, 5 minutes walk from a local shops. 25 minutes to a train station which is only a quick ride from the city. The house itself looks awesome, 4 bedrooms plus study, lots of large living area and outdoor entertainment area. i think we'll be quite happy there. eli is really looking forward to her "big girls bed" that we promised she could have when we get to our "new house" i showed her a picture this evening after her bath and she said "i like my new house"- so cute! Best thing of all... NO MICE (hopefully the current mouse plague in victoria is not affecting this area lol). the movers are booked for next tuesday when they will come and start packing and then will load everything into shipping containers on wednesday before it all makes it way to melbourne for a Monday arrival. Steve will follow it down, flying out on wednesday night, as he has to be back at work for the rest of the week. Meanwhile Eli and I will remain with a good friend and her family until saturday (thus minimising the time spent in temporary accommodation and hopefully minimising the disruption to Eli's life). All of this means that by the 16th of may we will all be sleeping in our new place, beginning the Melbourne chapter for real.

So it begins

Today marks the end of one chapter and the begining of a new one in the story of our little family. Woke up this morning for the last time with out whole family under this roof. Steve has headed off to Melbourne today to start his first week at the new job. Had a few tears as i waved him off to the airport (Eli saw and gave me an enormous squeezy cuddle saying "its all right mummy, i kiss it better"). He's on a mission today to find us the perfect house in the perfect location with access to shops, playgrounds and public transport, before he starts work tomorrow. Not impossible but certainly not easy either, especially since most of the real estates down there seem to be disinclined to do mid-week rental inspections and you must inspect the house before you can apply to rent it. But if anyone can do it, Steve can :) In the meantime i am wrapping up lose ends up here. my mission is to get the Newcastle house into an appropriate state to rent. So my week will be Cleaning, rubish removal, hiding all our crap so the Agent can take photos sometime this week (YAY! ... not), plus of course entertaining one confused little girl, saying goodbye to all my gorgeous friends up here and generally getting my mind into a state of acceptance that this is really happening. Oh well i guess i should get to it... P.S. On the plus side the morning sickness seems to be easing a bit this week (14 weeks + 1day) and the evening sickness is fading too so at least some things are becoming easier. Can't wait until i can feel this little bubba move so i know things are progressing well inside there, hopefully it won't be much longer.