1 month... Blessings begin.

Today Noah would have been a month old.  In some ways it feels like yesterday we welcomed him into the world and in other ways it feels like June 13, 2015 was a lifetime ago.

A month ago today was the happiest day of my whole life.  I became a mother for the fourth time and my dream of giving life to a baby from my own womb became a reality.  It was an extraordinary day.

I've been thinking about this milestone for the last few weeks and how I'd feel coming up to it.  This is just one more anniversary to remember, to think about and to face the reality that he is no longer here on this Earth with me.  But when I thought about his birth and that today was the date he was born, I was reminded of how happy I was that day.  And so I decided instead of thinking about how sad I am today, I want to make sure the milestones of Noah's life are remembered in a positive way.  For he was one of our greatest blessings and I want him to be remembered for the blessings he brought us, and for the gifts he shared with others.  I want him to be remembered for what he added to this life, rather than the fact that he was only with us for a short amount of time.

So each month on the date of his birth, I plan to write a post that highlights one of the blessings I have been given because of Noah, for there are so many, I have started a list of things to talk about in the coming months.  But tonight, I start with the greatest gift... my son himself.

On February 8, 2015, the morning Jarrett and I found out we were pregnant, it was a day filled with such emotions.  I was shocked, I was beyond surprised, I was scared, I was nervous and I was in love.  Mostly, I was in love.  After the fifth or sixth pregnancy test, and spending most of the day giving glances to Jarrett like "This is really happening" and "Isn't this crazy", we were given confirmation after confirmation that indeed it was real.  We were having a baby.  I was in love.  While I didn't know the tiny embryo, fetus, I'm still not sure what the correct label is, was our son and that we would name him Noah, I knew the news of him being real, him growing inside of me, was a true gift, and the love I felt for him was instant.

At our first ultrasound, when we saw his beating heart, beating at a rate of 160 beats per minute, we were overjoyed.  The doctors told us the chances of miscarriage were very minimal and we were filled with hope.  Seeing his tiny heart beating inside me was surreal.  It was the realization that my body, Jarrett and my love for one another had created another being... that is a miracle.  And again I felt love... even stronger than before.

At 13 weeks we decided to share the news with our children and extended family.  It was a great Easter surprise.  Our children were so excited about Noah, they jumped up and down and ran down the street telling everyone they could find that they were going to be a big brother and sister and that their mom was pregnant.  Even the landscaper from the neighbor's house several doors down congratulated me.  The kids were in love, because of their brother Noah.  It was a new world for them.  Instead of "getting another kid" through the world of adoption as we had experienced before, they were going to experience the birth of their sibling... the first for all of us, not just Jarrett and I.  We all felt love, we were in love immediately with Noah.

The ultrasounds became a regular part of our pregnancy and at week 17 when I had spotting, I was given another ultrasound and at this one, our little Noah would reveal his gender to us.  Sitting with Jarrett next to me, the ultrasound tech searched for the answer to our complication and instead gave us the news that there was no reason for concern, but only reason for celebration... for we were having a son.  She said, "I'm very confident but wait until your 20 week ultrasound for sure.  But I'd bet my job on the fact you're having a son.  He wasn't too shy in his positioning.  Seeing Dad's face light up next to me as he watched his son swimming around in my stomach, I was still in love, but the love had grown.

Look at that beautiful profile picture... I looked at this ultrasound picture day after day for weeks, dreaming about what he was going to look like when we was born.

 And then, when the ultrasound pictures weren't the only evidence of Noah's growing presence in our life, my body started to change too.  A belly where Noah's home was growing as my heart was expanding too.  Every few weeks we'd take a picture and my sisters would ask me to send pictures of my stomach to them.  It was real. Every part of the life, Noah's life, growing inside me was real.  And it was amazing.

I remember finding this poem on Instagram and taking a picture of it because I thought it perfectly described what I was feeling...

 For Noah's movements inside me were real.  I could feel him moving, and twisting and waving his hands across my insides.  I will never forget the first time I felt him move.  I was sleeping and guess I must have rolled over to my stomach.  He must not have liked it because I felt his kick and it was stronger than any other movement I had felt before.

Now my stomach, while barren, still dreams of the movements he made and every once and a while I catch myself feeling as if he had just moved inside me.  I remind myself of what it felt like and where he was always positioned.  Head down to the lower right side of my stomach.  Almost always there, rarely switching positions, it must have been comfortable.  I was in love, and with each movement and the expanding of my waist, my heart grew, for the love so strong it was spreading throughout my whole body and beaming from my soul.

And then came the moment for the big gender reveal.  While Dad and I had known for several weeks that you were our son, we were excited to share the news with the world.  We ordered cupcakes and had them filled with blue frosting. We had our family guess if you were a boy or a girl and most people thought you were a girl, but all along I knew you were a boy.  I'm not sure why I felt that way, but I did.  From the very beginning I had guessed you were my son.  Maybe it was just a good guess, maybe it was you telling me from very early on.  

When the big reveal was made, there were shouts of cheers and congrats all around. Everyone was so excited to meet you, they were in love too.  Noah James, we all felt and found love... because of you. 

And the days I spent getting ready for your future arrival, I unpacked the clothes Aunt Megan had shared with us.  I held up each outfit, every pair of tiny socks, and I dreamed of what you were going to look like in them.  There were so many cute outfits I had to show dad almost every one.  We dreamed of each day we'd have with you and how you had already made us so happy. We were  madly in love.

 And while I didn't expect you to come so soon after getting your clothes ready, your birthday had very quickly arrived.  I wished the month on the calendar read October 3, it instead read June 13th.

It was a day filled with so many emotions... just like the day we first learned about your.    I was shocked, I was surprised, I was scared, I was nervous and I was in love.

 Mostly, I was in love.   The moment you entered this world, I changed.  I have always loved your brothers and sister with my whole heart.  Seeing you leave my body which had sustained you for 24 weeks and then see you take your first breath outside my body, made me see love in a whole new light.  With your tiny cry and your precious tiny hand reaching up, I felt love in a way I never had before.  I had seen you be given life and I will never be the same.  You taught me love in a way I never new existed.  

 Noah James... you are love.

Daddy and I celebrated each moment we got to spend with you.  Your life was the creation from the love we have for each other, but that doesn't even compare to the love we feel for you.  Daddy and I would have done anything to have you still here with us, for the love we feel for you could move mountains.  

Noah James, from the very first moment we learned you were with us you brought us so many gifts.  From happiness, to hope, to faith in a God bigger than ourselves, but mostly Noah... you showed us LOVE.  

Thank you for giving us so many gifts.  Thank you for giving us your love.  We miss you, we celebrate your life and while we wish you were still here with us and we were celebrating your one month birthday, we are thankful that we got to have you for the time we did.  For we wanted more time together, but Noah James the amount of love you brought to our life, will last us our lifetime.  Until we see you again my precious baby... my love for you continues to grow and grow.

Happy 1 month baby.

Until next time,

Mom

Week 15. A scare.

July 12, 2015... I realized today I never got to finish posting the summaries from the weeks when I was still pregnant with Noah.  I had been writing them each week and then posting them.  Because we waited to tell people about our news until the second trimester, I had kept each week in my draft folder until each new week came... sadly I never got to finish posting these.

As I reread them this morning, I realized I wanted to post them.  I want to relive the moments of our time with him inside me.  While they weren't all sunshine and roses (now I wish I would have never complained), they were the true feelings and recollection of what our life was like.  And so I want them shared.  If not for anyone else to read or enjoy but for my sake, for our children's future memory of their brother.  See each year I take the postings from this blog and I turn them into a book.  The next chapter of our lives to sit under our coffee table as memories of what we have gone through in the past year.  They are one of the kid's favorite books and I often read them to remember just how far we've come.

Noah will always be a part of our story, our family and so I feel it only right that these weeks be included in our family books.

Oh what I'd give to go back to April 16.  Oh what I'd give to be able to be writing about the start of week 28 now.  How the chances of survival if he were to be born today, are so much greater.  How we'd be almost guaranteed we'd be bringing him home.  Oh the what if's....

But we will never know and now all we have is the memories.  So here's to the memories from when we were pregnant with Noah... Week 15.


Week 15.  A scare.

April 16, 2015

Last week started off like any other week… yep still sick.  I’ve found a new goal to shoot for.  Now that I am into the 2^nd trimester and still feel sick, I’m hoping the half way point gives me renewed energy and days without the ever present nausea.

Last week the baby was the size of an orange and while I wasn’t scheduled to see the doctor until week 16 (this week), we unfortunately or fortunately made an unscheduled visit.  Last Wednesday evening I went to the bathroom and when I was finished I noticed I had some blood on the tissue.  It wasn’t huge but enough to cause me immediate concern.  The doctor told me on the very first day, a list of symptoms to watch for, bleeding was one of them.  I immediately texted Jarrett, “I’m worried, I just went to the bathroom and am bleeding.”  He called me a second later. 

We talked about what to do and if to call.  I looked up all sorts of things on the internet (a pregnant ladies best and worst resource) and tried to find articles that calmed my nerves.  And that was all the blood there was, until the following morning.  That night I didn’t sleep at all.  Coupled with my normal sleeping problems and the fact that I was a nervous wreck, I stared at the clock and prayed for daylight to come.  Finally the morning arrive, I did my best to get ready for work and went in early.  I had to go to the West campus that day and while I tried to distract myself, I couldn’t stop worrying.  See when I went to the bathroom for the first time that morning, I found blood again.  This time I wasn’t going to wait to call, I dialed the afterhours non-emergency number.  The on call doctor was paged and within 2 minutes I received a call back.  The doctor asked me a series of some questions and I told her I am O Negative.  She asked me if I had gotten the shot earlier in my pregnancy and I said no.  She said it was best that I come in to meet with them and to have an ultrasound to make sure everything was okay.  She said, it could be a number of things and rattled off a series of a few medical diagnosis.  I remembered “shortening of the cervix” and “miscarriage”  While I was comforted to hear her say, it is best you come in, I couldn’t help but feel like I had done something wrong, like this was all my fault.  I remembered carrying my heavy bicycle and lifting it to put on my bike rack.  I also had to carry Isabelle, because she was too tired to walk on her own.  I know the doctor told me to be mindful of my activities and don’t lift heavy objects, but at the time I felt like I had no other choice.  Now I was sitting on a quiet bus with an hour ride to the next campus, feeling horrible, guilty and that I was responsible for what was happening.  The minute the office opened, Jarrett called and asked for the first available appointment, it turns out they said they were booked, but after some further explaining, she receptionist said she’d make some accommodations and call us back with the appointment time.  I couldn’t wait for her call back and when she finally did she said, “The only slot I have is an 11:30”  I told her I’d be there.

Jarrett decided he wanted to go with me to the appointment so we made plans to meet and he drove me to the office.  He tried to make light conversation and talk about Isabelle.  I knew he was purposely trying to calm my fears and talking about our daughter was probably one of the best ways to do so.  She always brings a smile to my face.  When we got to the office we were 27 minutes early.  I told him there was NO way I wanted to be late, especially since they fit us in.  Thankfully the ultrasound tech finished her appointment earlier so she called me back within 5 minutes of arrival.  Jarrett sat in the normal “partner” chair and I laid on the table.  She asked me some questions, and then started with the ultrasound.  She put warm gu on my stomach and then put the wand on my stomach just below my belly button.  Right there was the baby, and instantly she showed me the heartbeat. She said, “The baby looks great!”  I sighed with some relief.  She said were going to check everything to try to figure out where this blood might be coming from.  She looked around and around while baby turned and squirmed in various different directions.  I had had an ultrasound 3 weeks prior and I couldn’t believe how much bigger and clearer the features were this time.  The ultrasound tech explained exactly what she was doing and all the different features of the baby.  She showed us the different chambers of the heart, even the blood flow through it, the brain and many other organs.  She talked us through the development and how detailed exactly what the baby was doing at this stage to get ready for being born.  I was so thankful for her compassion, her empathy and the extra information she was sharing with us.  As she moved the want around she said, “Do you know you are having a contraction?”  I had no clue.  Jarrett asked if that’s why the baby looked pretty smashed in there and she said, the baby isn’t really smashed, they like to be all snug.  Plus it looks more smashed because mom’s bladder is full.  Indeed she was correct.  I had to pee like no other but I was so interested in making sure everything was okay, that the minute she called me I was not going to delay it any longer.  She then asked me if I would like to go to the bathroom, I said yes.  She explained that she wasn’t done reviewing everything but knew I’d be more comfortable without the pressure of having to go.  Another reason I was so thankful for her.

After my potty break, I returned and she finished up her investigation.  She said, everything looks really great.  She said, I’m not sure where your bleeding was coming from, but I’ll go review the results with the doctor and be back.  She handed us a few pictures she had taken, including a picture of the baby’s foot outlining all 5 toes and a facial profile.  I could see the eyes, mouth, nose and chin.  I feel like each time I see a picture, it becomes more and more real and I fall greater in love.

The wonderful lady returned a few minutes later and asked me if I had had the Rogam shot for my O negative blood.  I said, no and she said, I’ll be right back.  My doctor who was at another office location that day, talked with the on call doctor I had spoken with and was in the office where I was, along with the ultrasound tech.  Together they decided I should have the shot and there was no other reason why I had minor bleeding  I was given the instructions to take it easy, to rest and not lift heavy objects.  This time I was going to heed their instructions if it meant I had to beg a stranger off the street to help me carry my bike. 

Right before leaving I got my “shot” and 35 minutes later we were leaving with new pictures of our baby, praise to God that everything was okay, and fading fears restored by my faith in God’s ultimate plan.  Relief could be seen spelled across my face.

By this point I was starving and knew I had a small window before the hunger was overcome my nausea.  There was a Panda Express across the street and we made a beeline for it.  Jarrett and I got to enjoy a nice relaxing lunch, something that we NEVER ever have, and in a way, I was thankful for the opportunity to share a few minutes uninterrupted with my husband.  We talked about how thankful we were and I stared over and over at the picture of our baby’s face.  Studding each feature to see whose nose he or she has and whose chin that must be.  All things so new and exciting, and different that previous times we grew our family.

For the remainder of the week, I did pretty much what the doctor had ordered.  When I felt tired, I sat down, when I needed a rest, I tried to take a nap.  I’m so thankful for my hubby and the kids.  They have been so wonderful to give me the extra breaks.

Getting the confirmation that everything was okay, was another good reminder for me not to take this pregnancy for granted and to be reminded again, just how lucky I am to get to experience this.  Yes, the sickness sucks, yes I feel horrible more than I ever feel decent, and yes, sometimes that gets the best of me.  But this whole thing is pretty darn amazing, especially when you think about the fact there is another heart beating inside me.  Staring at my precious baby’s foot, the one that is made from parts of Jarrett and some parts of me, is truly a gift I never thought I’d get.  I’m thankful, oh so thankful and pray that all continues to go well.

Until next time,

Angie

What no one talks about...

In the last two weeks we've been through more than I ever imagined life's most difficult moments would bring.  I've talked about the challenges of losing Noah and how we've working through grief.  But there are several things I've noticed, no one talks about.    And for me, that's just as much a part of this painful process.

So here I am talking about the things that no one talks about. I guess this is where I should give the warning... this maybe a post some people want to skip. 

 I've been debating for well over 10 days whether to write about this or not. And I've decided that if anyone ever has to go through what we've gone through, and someday, in the off chance happens to find this blog, than maybe, just maybe what I have to say can help them.  

In losing our son, the reminders are everywhere.  In pictures, in messages of support sent from family and friends.  There is the clothing, the blankets he never wore or used.  The package of newborn diapers, the hospital gives you as a gift... never to be used.  The baby supplies purchased that will remain empty... but there are also other reminders... the reminders when I look at my body.  These are the subjects no one talks about.  

When Noah's health started taking a turn for the worse, it was the subject no one wanted to discuss. We talked about everything from his CBC report, to the gas labs they did, to the respirator he was on and even how much Verset they had given him to calm down.  And since my question really involved me and what was happening with my body, I was okay not asking.  My whole focus was on Noah.

Everything in this process was new for me, and I didn't know if I should ask or just go with what the nice lady had told me back on that early morning, June 13th.  The lactation consultant had told me getting Noah nutrients from my body was the best thing I could do for him and that pumping every 2 hours would be critical in making sure my milk came in and there would be enough to sustain him as he grew.  I guess when a woman goes into premature labor her body isn't necessarily ready to produce milk, hence the reason for needing to be so consistent in pumping every 2 hours.  If there was one thing I could do to help my son, I was going to do exactly as I was instructed.  If they told me jumping off a building would have helped him, I would have done it in an instant.  But they told me to pump and that is what I did.  Around the clock and thankfully my milk came in.  The nurses would tell me I was doing a great job and at one point they told me I had already filled the quota of space they had reserved in the freezer at the hospital, so I could keep my supply for him at home until they needed more.  

I always believed in my heart Noah would come home to us.  I know we'd have to face hurdle after hurdle in the NICU.  They told us that the first day, so I prepared myself.  Never did I imagine that our God would give me him after 10 years of wanting a child from my own flesh, only to take him away from us so soon.  That would be too much for a parent to overcome... our God wouldn't do that right?  And so I continued to pump.  

That was until Noah's health turned and I could see the signs in front of me.  As more and and more equipment was hooked up near his bedside, the medications administered increased and the comments about him not having any "reserves", were told to me over and over, I stopped.   It's when I knew that our happy ending was not the ending to our story and that I was losing my son.  I stayed by Noah's bedside as much as I physically could.  We didn't really eat, we didn't go to the bathroom and it wasn't until the nurse or physician would give us orders to go get some rest, that we'd step away for a minimal amount of time, only to return as soon as possible.  

Staying by Noah's bed I could feel the weight in my chest, the pain of having of having milk ready to be taken from my body to be stored for Noah's future use.  As as painful as it was to have engorgement happening to me, what was even more painful was knowing Noah would never get any of my milk again.  I thought to myself, "What's the point of pumping anyway?"  It will never be used."  And so I'd hold off for another few hours.  With each hug from a family member, nurse or doctor, I was quickly reminded of the pressure and pain of the moment.  It was torture going through those few days, in more ways than one.  

When the swelling, pressure and the burning became too much, I'd wait for a nurse to give me an order to go rest and I'd sneak away from Noah's bed to go pump in the nesting room. A few times I pumped by his bedside, like I did in the good days we had.  It always seemed when he was near me, I'd release more milk.  I considered those times together special bonding times with Noah.  While I wasn't getting to hold him, it was times when the curtain was pulled, I was next to him and I could stare at his beautiful features while I gathered milk for him to use one day  It was our private time together.  I'd talk to him as I did my motherly duty, I'd tell him about Isabelle, Gabriel and Michael and I prayed to God talking loud enough for him to hear.  

When I finished, I placed the bottles of milk on the working station next to his bed, carefully place his label "Baby Boy Haskovec" on it, write the date and time the milk was put into the bottle and I left it there for the nurse.  In the final hours of Noah's life, I knew he'd never drink it and I thought about simply dumping it down the drain at the sink next to his pod, but I didn't.  I put the bottle and label on like I had done all of those days prior and I pretended it was going to be okay.  Thankfully Noah's nurses would always take the bottles, and make them disappear I think to help me avoid the pain of having to dispose of it myself.  

I just didn't know what to do.  I thought if I stopped pumping completely, then I was giving up on my son, but when I knew how it was going to end, I couldn't bring myself to pump every two hours.  Knowing I'd never get to breastfeed my son, that I'd never get to hold him while feeding him a bottle, knowing that my nutrients weren't enough to save him... it killed me inside.  And no one talked about it. 

So I suffered in pain for this loss as well... silently though.  It was the taboo subject.

And it continued.  After Noah had passed, there were several forms we signed, and his belongings, our stuff, all gathered up to take home.  It was painful.  And then came the form to sign off on asking me what I wanted done with all the milk the hospital had stored for us.  At first I said I wanted to donate it.  Noah had first received donor milk before mine had come in and I was so thankful for the woman who had given of it.  I asked if I could donate my milk to the hospital and was told no.  The women who donate their milk for the NICU go through a series of screenings to make sure it is safe, and there are no risks for the babies that will receive it.  Because I hadn't gone through the screenings, they wouldn't be able to take my milk, but they shared there are some organizations that will take donated breast milk.  I could just google it when I got home.  With everything going on around me and knowing we'd have to plan a funeral, and try to put our lives back together; figuring out what to do with our milk seemed too much.  I said, its okay to dispose of it.   The bereavement nurse left the room  to I thought take care of my wish.

Until Melanie walked back in with a huge bag filled with my milk.  Seeing just how much milk I had produced and what had been frozen for Noah made my eyes bulge.  I knew I was pumping a lot but I had no idea how much milk I had saved up for him, and I had a lot at home.  Melanie brought me the IKEA sized bag and had me verify that the bottles all read, "Baby Boy Haskovec."  She then stepped out of Pod A and came back in a few minutes later apologizing, she hadn't been told I had changed my mind and said it was okay to dispose of it.  By this point I had changed my mind again and said, "Its okay, actually I'm glad you brought it to me, I want to keep it, I'll find time to find a place to have it donated."  She said, "Angie, remember you don't have to do this now or even in the next couple of weeks."  It was like she had given me a pass, an extension and it made me feel like I was doing the right thing in taking it home.  So we did.

Before leaving the hospital though, I decided to ask Melanie what I was suppose to do with pumping.  I felt closer to Melanie than anyone at the hospital and knew she wouldn't judge me for asking a silly question.  I just didn't know what to do.  Melanie politely responded and said someone from lactation would come and talk with me about what to do to reduce and stop my milk supply.

Nothing compares to losing Noah but having the conversation with the lactation consultant of what it was going to be like to take steps to dry up your milk supply is crushing.  Pumping and providing milk was the continuation of my pregnancy that ended early.  If I wasn't pregnant, than at least I was making milk and that was my connection to Noah.  Hearing her tell me wear cabbage leaves, to eat lots of Altoids mints and to only pump for 5 minutes or until the pain and pressure was gone, was more than depressing.  She went on to explain that I should only pump a few times a day and decrease that over the next week and a half.  Like losing Noah, it was a process and reducing my milk would be that too.  There's a saying when it comes to removing a band-aid that its less painful if you just rip it off... I was hoping for the same thing here.  Instead it was a drawn out process that each time reminded me... my son died.  And no one talks about it.

For days I tried to pump only for a few minutes as she told me, and each time I felt such different emotions, it was excruciating.  Some times I felt like it was too hard, it just reminded me of the fact I will never get to hold him again so I'd rather feel the pain in my chest, than the added pain in my heart.  And then other times, pumping and producing milk, reminded me of the good days of pumping next to Noah.  I'd picture him in my mind, lead back against my headboard in my bedroom and daydream of the time I had with him.  It was 5 minutes by myself that I still had with Noah and I wasn't about to want to give that up.  A few times I asked Jarrett, "What if I just keep pumping? I can always donate it right?"  Jarrett, being the ever supportive partner that he is said, "I want you to do what you feel in in your heart."  I think he realized there was no right or wrong answer in this situation.  And no book to turn too, no one way to respond.  It was again, the topic no one talks about.

A few days later I packed up the breast pump and I asked Jarrett to make it disappear.  I decided the pain of having to be reminded my milk would never quench my son's thirst was too hard.  So I just stopped.  The tears rolled down my face as I carefully packaged the brand new preemie pump back into the Walgreen's container.  It was the pump Jarrett spent hours tracking down for me.  It was the pump no one in the entire valley had available and it was the pump the nice lady at Walgreen's in Chandler, went above and beyond her duties to help us get one.  

On June 13th the lactation consultant told us we needed to make sure we got the preemie pump because one day when Noah would finally be able to breastfeed, if I had used a regular pump, he would not have the same strength in his suck and wouldn't be able to get my milk to release.  She said preemie babies suck differently and we needed to train my body what it would be like, that one special day in the future when he could drink from me.  Jarrett made it is his mission to find that special pump and after many stores telling us they didn't have what we needed, he found one lady who listened to our story, responded to our need and called her corporate headquarters boss in Chicago to get approval.  She ordered the new $2600.00 pump and had it shipped as soon as possible to get it to us.  It was another act of kindness we had received, I thank Noah for it.    

But it too was packed up and returned, just like everything from this pregnancy.  It too is now gone,  and reminds me that so is my son.  With each passing day, the reminders of what my body was created to do, become a greater distant memory.  There are still some gentle reminders, the crying of a baby causes them to respond, as does the image of my son when I daydream of good days in the past.  I know that eventually they will stop responding and it will be one less reminder from the best and worst days of my entire life.

 I always believed Noah would come home to us.  I never thought he would be taken from my arms as quickly as he was put into them.  But he was and I am living a reality I would never wish upon anyone. I've learned through living these last few weeks that there are many levels of this grief.  There are more things I mourn than I ever imagined and I've learned there are some things that no one talks about.   

Until next time,

Angie

Forever in My Heart...

Forever in My Heart

You are forever in my heart

The day will come, I know

when all the rain has fallen

And the sun begins to show.

I'll think of you in all I do

Your warmth will touch my face

You'll twinkle in the starlight

And be held in each embrace

So please do not be saddened

If a tear for you, I shed

But we had dreams and wishes

which I'll safely keep instead

Although it hurts, I understand 

You'd somewhere else to be 

Our time together has not passed 

You'll always be with me

In every day, in every way

You'll always be a part

My precious little Angel

You're forever in my heart

Noah James...

Your aunt MaeLyn,  sent me this poem and I can't help but think of you... 
I miss you so much and dream of what it would be like to have you in our home.  Our family now feels incomplete... you are not here.

I love you Noah James... you are forever in my heart.
Love always,
Mom

The reason I get up in the morning...

Two weeks ago today Noah took his final breath on this Earth.  This morning was one of those days when I just didn't want to get out of bed.  Actually I didn't get out of bed until well after 7, even though I had been lying there awake since the sun came up around 4:40.

I've come to dread the mornings and the evenings.  I think its because during the day, I can keep my mind occupied or busy enough to function.  With the kids, there's always something they need, can't find or an argument to break up.  While I don't enjoy the bickering, the other reasons keep my mind distracted for at least a bit. It isn't the same in the early mornings or evenings.

I told Jarrett, I think I dread the mornings because the second I wake up, I realize the bad nightmare I pray every night ends, is confirmed to be our reality.  All the emotions, the hurt, the sadness, the pain of losing Noah returns and I wish more than anything I could change it.  Where is our happy ending?

The nights are hard too because the kids go to sleep the darkness from the outside seems to fill the house and the ache in my heart seems to grow two fold.  Its the time of day when I dream of getting to hold him, of feeding him all hours of the night, of watching him grow... the things we were suppose to do in the future but now will never see.

When I learned I was pregnant, I was worried it was too good to be true.  I think that was why I lived in shock, (as I wrote in my early weekly posts) for several weeks.  While we were thrilled beyond our biggest dreams to find out our news, we kept is quiet, waiting patiently for the first trimester to end, that time period when the greatest "risks" of losing the baby could happen.  I made myself wait to buy anything for the baby until after that first trimester and while I loved the baby from the moment we found out we had conceived, I cautiously proceeded, for it was a journey we wanted more than ever.  When we finally made it to the second trimester I believed all would be well. It was then that I jumped in, my whole body, heart and mind in believing... and for as much love as I had for Noah in the first 12 weeks, my love for him multiplied in ways I never knew were possible.  After sharing the news, I finally let myself buy something for Noah that was just for him... it was going to be his special gift from me.

It was going to be his 6th month photo outfit.  I had it all planned out.  Our boys love baseball and so does Dad.  When we learned we were having a boy, I will never forget Jarrett's reaction.  He smiled from ear to ear and was clearly so proud.  I could see the visions forming in his head.  He'd spend hours playing ball with Noah, getting him his first baseball glove, taking him to D-backs games, and spend millions of hours coaching him on and off the field.  Its just like he does with Gabriel and Michael and I could tell Jarrett couldn't wait for those same moments with his 3rd son.  That's why I picked out a baseball jersey... it was going to be so cute.  I was going to have Gabriel and Michael wear their baseball jerseys and hats, while Isabelle wore her cute baseball dress and then there would be Noah...the four kids, our four angels.

Wouldn't it have been cute?  Seeing his outfit makes me so sad.  It's another aspect of losing him... grieving all the times we never got.

When I finally got out of bed this morning, I made my way to the kitchen and determined today would be the day I'd have to face the challenge of going to the grocery store.  I'm not quite sure why its bothering me so much, but with no milk and the three kids begging for cereal, I knew I'd have go through another first.  When I was pregnant with Noah, I despised going to the store too, I was always so nauseous, there were so many times I almost lost the contents of my stomach.  My nightmare was hearing, "Clean up in aisle 11, (the seafood aisle)" and every time I made it out of the store without getting sick, I told myself good job.

I loaded up the kids and told them we were going to the grocery story.  Whether bad or good, I've been pretty open about my grief with the whole family... it isn't uncommon for them to find me crying.  As I buckled Isabelle into her car seat, I begged the kids..."Please be on your best behavior in the grocery store, I feel very sad about having to go here, so please please please do the right thing."  My plan was to race into the store, grab the milk, the few other perishable items we needed and then to get out of there.

On our way to the store I played the song "Blessings" by Laura Story, a former high school classmate and other NICU momma (whose going to have a happy ending I pray), sent me.   Jen and I went to high school together and she just happened to go into labor a week or so earlier than I did, but she was a few weeks farther along when her beautiful daughter was born.  When we entered the hospital Jennifer reached out to me and everyday we've corresponded back and forth.  While we hadn't talked in years, its amazing how quickly one can pick up and bond together during difficult times. In the nice card Jennifer sent us, she said the morning Noah took a turn, she heard this song on the radio on the way to see her baby girl in the NICU.  She then said that evening, after Noah passed away, she heard the same song when she went home.  She said she felt like she was suppose to send us the song or the CD so she did.  As I listened to the song on our way, I was surprised how quiet the kids were, they were listening to the words too... it's beautiful and I encourage you to listen to it...

 Laura Story "Blessings"

While hard for me to celebrate the blessings when my heart is so broken, I pray one day, I am able to say, "I see it now God, thank you."  I can't imagine saying that now or ever... but maybe..I have to believe and trust right?

The kids seem to understand the way I was feeling and were on their best behavior.  We grabbed the necessarily supplies and were out of there as quickly as possible.  And yet my heart hurt terribly as we went to the check out. It was Cindy at the register.  The one who always talks to the kids, remembers us and she was one who checked us out the last time I went to the store with all 4 kids.  Yes, all four.  The last time we went she had noticed I was expecting and had told me congratulations.  This time there was no bump, and just three children.  I tried to hide my stomach and use the filled sacks as shields to avoid the question.  I hope she will forget about our conversation a month ago. I hope.

After we returned home with our groceries, the kids ate and went on about their day... they're kids... they went to play.  As I cleaned up the breakfast dishes, I noticed Gabriel had helped Isabelle put on her shoes and soon enough all three were out back playing.  I tidied up the kitchen and tried to find a way to ease the deep feeling of missing Noah, missing our life in the NICU.  I daydreamed...what I'd give to be racing off to the hospital to be with him.  It was then that I looked out back to check on the kids.  This is what I saw...

As sad as I feel each morning and evening, I looked out back to see the three reasons I get out of bed each morning.  Brandi had told me back in the hospital that last night, that they would be the reason I had to keep going.  Looking into my backyard, I knew she was right.  

I quietly opened the back blinds, snapped a few pictures to remember for myself, and closed it back shut... "Yes Angie they are the reasons you have to keep going,"- I told myself.  

As the morning went on, I was dreading 12:10 p.m. (the minute Noah died), but yet I was looking forward to 11:30 a.m..  See today, I got to go to lunch with Miss Mel, Noah's nurse.  One of our friends' daughters offered to watch the kids someday, so I took her up on her offer- I'm so thankful. I couldn't wait to see Melanie, she was one of the many great nurses who took care of Noah, who took care of us.  Melanie loved Noah, she said she still does, as if he was hers.  From the minute she saw him, she loved him like he was her son.  As a mother in the NICU feeling helpless, what more could you want from your baby's care provider? I will always love Melanie.

And I think it is because of that, our connection started.  Since I've gotten to know her, I've grown to think of her as family.  Conversations flow so easily and we talk like we've known each other for a lifetime.  Today when I got to the restaurant, I fed the meter, 3 hours, "That should be long enough right?", I thought to myself.  The minute Melanie arrived we talked non-stop.  I think we could have sat there for 6 hours and still had more to discuss.  Its kind of hard to describe it.  We spent several days together bonding over Noah and yet, our hearts grew together in other ways as well.  She told me about her family, the strong connection she had with her dad she unfortunately lost at too early and about her passion for working with children- from the PICU to the NICU.  She has lived through so many things and provided care to so many children.  She's had to hold children in her arms as they passed because they had no one else to hold them. I can't imagine the pain she has had to endure to give others comfort and peace.  The love she has is immeasurable. She is an amazing woman... an angel on Earth.  I told her I have thought of her every single day and I thank Noah for bringing her into our lives.  

At one point in our conversation we realized just how long we had been siting there and that Melanie's meter was probably expired.  Before getting a ticket we decided to walk to the car.  With so much more to say we talked about the next time we wanted to get together and that we should plan a girls trip to Telluride. I hugged Melanie, told her I loved her, and thanked her for all she had done.  I watched her get into her car and then turned to walk back to mine.  It hit me then, that it was the first time in the last 14 days that I felt happy.  It was the first time my mind hasn't been consumed with the loss of Noah.  Yes we had talked about him, yes we relived those last 24 hours he spent in the NICU, but instead of the deep pain and sadness of his little body being too weak, we celebrated... we loved on him like Miss Mel had loved on him every minute she worked with him.  For the first time since he passed, I could feel happiness back in my body...it was because of the connection Miss Melanie and I had formed back in the NICU.  Noah brought us that gift. While I lost him and that void will always be there, he left me a special relationship... with her. What a special little boy he was.

Its been two weeks since my heart was shattered.  The day my boy left my arms.  My heart will never be the same.  I wish more than anything I was celebrating him being almost a month old.  Instead our milestones are measured in sad timelines.... two weeks since his death.  the first time going to the store as a mother to three living children not four.  I'm not sure how or if I'll ever recover from this loss. When I talked to my friend Trudi's sister, Kayla, a mother who sadly also lost a child, she said you'll never "get over this" you just learn to live with grief.  Kayla also told me that in the 5 1/2 years she's lived without her precious daughter in her arms, she's learned to be thankful for the blessings grief has brought her.  I hope someday I can get there, until then I'll keep getting out of bed each morning... for many reasons, but today I realized because I have three children waiting for me to be their mother here on Earth, and a new friend to build wonderful memories with.

Life these last two weeks has been horrible, its terrible, in a way no words can accurately convey... and yet I've survived; we've survived.  We have to find a way.  There's a reason God still has me here on Earth. Gabriel, Michael, Isabelle, Jarrett and Noah... they are the reasons I get up in the morning.

Until next time,
Angie

The light...

Yesterday I found myself staring at the shadow box we created in Noah's memory.  It contains some of the important things from his short life.

The outfit Miss Mel dressed him in when we said our goodbyes.  His little baby blue hat that kept his head warm.  The last scent cloth he wore on his forehead.  His "Batman" goggles that he wore for the first few days of his life under the light.  The tiny booties that would fit his tiny feet.  The gold heart sticker that kept his temperature measured, his hospital bracelet and label we had to put on the milk we stored at the hospital.  A crochet cross that he was given from Jill, the chaplain at the hospital that came to pray so frequently at his bedside.  The tape measure that was used to measure around his tummy a few times a day.  He always seemed to measure 17 centimeters around... yes that's how tiny he was.  The bible, his first one, which was given to him by his neighbor in Pod D, Alexa.  Her mother was the one who came over to us after the first rough night Noah had and told us God had talked to her and said she felt Noah was going to be okay.  They continued to pray for us and we've kept in touch regularly.  I read the story of Noah to our Noah from his bible many times in those final days.  One of my favorite pictures of Noah.. the one that looks like he's praying.  And finally a tiny bear... from his nurse Miss Mel.  She always called him her little Boo Bear.  When we picked up Noah's final things from the hospital, I saw the bear and I knew immediately who it was from.

As I stood in our front room and thought about Noah, I couldn't help but notice something interesting about the shadow box... more specifically what was happening as I looked inside the shadow box.
I looked around the room, took note that the lights were off and all the blinds were shut (trying to keep the heat out of the house), and yet it was there at every angle I looked.  See for yourself...

I'm not sure what to make of it and I decided to take pictures to send to Jarrett.  I made sure the camera flash was off and snapped away walking around the box to see if being at a different angle would make the light go away... but no matter what it stayed.

People keep telling me that Noah is with us, and that he always will be. I hope and pray that's always the case.

Noah was the light of our life for 12 days, and maybe he's just saying, I'm still here Mom,  I can still be that light for you.

Until next time,
Angie

Unchartered waters...

This whole grieving this is tough, its uncomfortable, and we don't know how to go through this.  I'm not sure if there is a right way or a wrong way, so we just try to do what we think is right in moving forward.

Yesterday after seeing the rainbow, I went on about our day.  Jarrett went to work for the whole day and the kids and I stayed busy at home.  Lately I've been so selfishly drowning in my own grief that I find it hard to inquire and see how the kids are.  Generally speaking, I think they are doing pretty good.  They seem like life is the same as it was prior to Noah coming into our lives, they are busy playing, fighting with each other as they so regularly do and carrying as if their lives aren't too different.  And yet I read about how kids deal with grief and thought it best to ask.

Of the three kids, Michael and Gabriel seem to be the most affected.  I suppose it is their age compared to Isabelle's.  They understand death to be a permanent thing.  At the hospital when we were saying goodbye to Noah, they both weaped as tears flowed down their face.  Jarrett and I, our parents and extended family members tried to comfort them.  On that sorrow filled day, 12 days ago today, Jarrett and I wanted to be the ones to tell them their baby brother had left this Earth, so after we had our time at the hospital saying goodbye to our baby, we came home and gathered the kids in the living room.  As soon as we walked through the door though, Michael was there greeting us and asking us how Noah was.  We told him to go to the living room and called for Isabelle and Gabriel to join us.  Michael immediately sensed something was wrong and said, "What happened?  Is Noah okay?"

Telling the kids was probably one of the worst things next to having to let Noah go.  Immediately the kids broke down in tears, even Isabelle, while we know she didn't fully comprehend the reality of the words we had shared.  The boys cried uncontrollably and fell into our arms.  We hugged them and told them we would all be okay and that we were still a family, it was just that Noah was in Heaven now.  As broken as my heart was from losing our baby, seeing their hearts break hurt mine even more.

We told the kids that we will still talk about Noah, have his pictures around, celebrate his birthday and that he will always be a part of our family.  We also told them they can talk about him, his passing or ask us any questions they have at any time.

In the days since Noah's passing there have been questions.  "Mom, what color skin did Noah have?" Michael asked, "Did he have your color skin or dad's?"  I answered, "Actually Michael, that is a great question... I never thought about it, but I would say his skin color was kind of like Dad's"

 Isabelle asks many questions, in fact I sometimes wonder if she can sense him or if she dreams about him.  This morning her first words out of her mouth were, "Mommy, where's Noah?"  When I answered he's in Heaven honey she said, I want to go get him.  I miss him"  And there have been other things she's said that makes me wonder what going through her mind.  On the day of Noah's wake, we all  loaded up in the car and as we left our house, Isabelle started talking, to herself we thought.  She said, "Noah, you can't sit on the floor.  Mommy don't like you to sit on the floor."  I'm not sure what to make of it, but to hear her talk about her brother makes me happy.  On Sunday after church we stopped at the grocery store and Jarrett and Michael ran in to pick up a few things, as I still cant' bring myself to walk through that store door.  As we sat in the car, I in the front seat, sat straight ahead staring out the window feeling empty and complete sadness.  Isabelle started talking and I turned around to listen to her.  She had her hand up and was counting on each finger.  She said, "I love my whole family... mommy, daddy, Gabriel, Michael and my baby brother" as she pointed to each finger.   While Noah was only here a short time he left an impression on all of us.

Yesterday I wanted to get a better sense for how the kids, especially the boys were doing.  After lunch while Isabelle was napping I asked the boys to write a letter to their brother.  I told them they could write about anything they wanted but gave them some ideas... tell Noah all the things you wanted to do with him, write about how you feel, what will you miss, what did you want him to know that you never got to tell him?  The boys got their pencils and colors out from the closet and went straight to work, each of them in separate rooms.  Soon they emerged and showed me what they had written and drawn...

 Michael's letter first...

  Dear Noah,
I really wanted to teach you sports.  I miss you a lot.  I love love love you.  I would of taught you how to do math, reading, history, science, social studies and most all, legos.  Love Michael.
And below a picture of what he would have taught Noah at each age...
At three years old he was learning social studies and got an A+ on his work.
At four years old, he was teaching him football.
And at age five, he was teaching him baseball... "Home Run by Noah!"


Gabriel's letter to his brother...

  Noah, I wished I could play baseball with you.  I wished you could come home with us Noah.   But you couldn't.  But we all wished you could.  Noah, I love you very much.  I love you always... Gabriel Haskovec
He said from his pictures he would have played baseball, taught him to read, play basketball and how to do multiplication.

As I read the boy's notes to their brother, I couldn't help but feel sad for all the things they were sad about not getting to do also.  The loss of Noah affects all of us... we all mourn,  We are all devastated, it is just that the kids are kids, and with morning must also come play.  So I need to remember to ask them how they feel, we all have to go through these uncharted waters together.

Jarrett's grieving process has been different than mine. While I pour my emotions out like a faucet that wont' turn off, he's the opposite.  He's strong. He continues to be a rock for me. And as we talk about Noah's death and how terribly we miss him he seems to be very much as peace with the fact that God has Noah and that he doesn't need for us to worry or pray for him.  Jarrett has his moments of sadness and I know he's grieving but his emotions are not in the form of tears.  They come through reflective thoughts when he's quiet and I can tell he's replaying the events from the past month over and over in his mind.  We have reminders of Noah all over our house, I've told you everywhere I turn there are reminders.  While I want to have those reminders, Jarrett seems unsure of them.  He thinks they may be causing me more pain as I look at them and have to remember what happened.  Jarrett has jumped back into work with two feet and said it provides him with some distraction.  I told him I think distractions only work for a temporary period of time and it is important to feel what we feel.  Again these are uncharted waters, we all have to grieve in our own way.

If there is one thing we both feel so strongly on with this whole grieving thing is that we have to stick together.  The books share it, the doctors and nurses told us... you two have to stick together to get through this.  Sadly events like this often cause couples to fall apart.  We will not be another sad statistic to come from such an already sad event. So we try our best to keep helping one another the best way we know now.  Having that week in the hospital together before Noah arrived was wonderful for our relationship.  It was a scary time for both of us but we grew closer in those five days, than probably we have in a long time.. see with kids, bonding as a couple doesn't always make the top of the to do list.  Not that we were ever unbonded, it was just that, the time in the hospital gave us time to be together, to talk, to reflect and to be in the moments of what was happening.  It made me realize even more how lucky I am to have him as my partner.  And I hope it did the same for him... although I'm not sure carrying your spouse to the bathroom and measuring her pee output every 45 minutes would count as couple bonding to Jarrett.

In this timeliness period of grief, I just hope I can be there for Jarrett as much as he has been there for me.

I continue to grieve, I feel very openly, sharing my feelings here, and even more openly with Jarrett.  I had told him I was feeling very sad yesterday, even with my rainbow reminder, I have moments when the sorrow just takes over. I replay the days from June 6 through June 25th over and over in my mind.  From my days in antepartum with the wonderful nurses, the visitors, the love and overwhelming support of so many praying for us.  I vividly remember the days in the NICU, how every minute seemed so important and the love that grew tenfold every time we were near our son.  I replay those days over and over and when I think of how I want to go back and relive them, to please let me have a different ending.  And then, my eyes realize where I am and I'm reminded of the present I live in and sadness comes back so quickly.

 It seems when those moments of despair hit, I've been so lucky to have reminders occur that give me encouragement that so many are thinking, praying for us, that we have to keep going.  Yesterday's reminder came in the form of a phone call... the number popped up on my screen and I didn't recognize it, but I answered right away... "Hello, this is Angie." I said.  The voice on the other end said, "Angie, this is Bilha." Hearing her voice made tears welled in my eyes.  It was almost as if she could sense my mind wouldn't stop thinking about her.  Bilha was one of my amazing nurses in antepartum.  She was with me at the beginning of my stay and cared for me as if I was her daughter.  She was so genuine, so caring, so loving and we connected right away.  She had worked the weekend and had a few days off so before she left for her last shift she said, "You keep laying here until I get back... I kept my promise, and laid there.  On the night Noah was delivered she came in and said, "Kristal and I were fighting over who got to be your nurse and I let her win this time." with her joking spirit she always made me laugh.  As I was getting wheeled back to labor and delivery on the night of the 12th, she stopped in to see me. She grabbed my hand and said she'd be thinking of me.  She always made my heart feel so full.

After I delivered Noah, Bilha came to my room, 116B to celebrate with us.  She looked at pictures of our son and told us how precious he was.  She asked to see how I was doing and constantly told us how she would be praying for our baby.  Before leaving the hospital, we took "family" pictures with Bilha, for she had become like family in those short few days.

 Some people make it easy to love them right away... that is Bilha.

As we talked on the phone last night, she shared with me that she hadn't been able to stop thinking about us and that she was so sorry to hear about Noah.  She asked us if we had had a service for him because she wanted to be there. "I'll take off work if I have to."  I had to tell her we had already had his service but that I would share the tribute video we made for him and that she made an appearance in it."

Bilha asked how Jarrett, the kids and I were doing and I told her we were doing our best to get by.  I told her I was so sorry I didn't get to see her the day we took treats to the hospital as a thank you for the staff.  I told her I wasn't sure how to get in touch with her as I thought about calling the department but I didn't know if they would tell me when she was working next.  She said they probably wouldn't tell me.  I repeatedly told her how thankful I was to hear from her and just hearing her voice made me feel encouraged again, I can get through this.

I told her I wanted to definitely keep in touch and I'd love to get together.  I've mentioned it here before, but I feel such a strong connection to the people we met at the hospital and I think it is because of the amazing care we received, the fact that we were loved like we were family and because besides our parents, and some close family members, they were the only other ones to have known our son and loved him like we do.  Although we feel such great loss in not having Noah here, I told Bilha I thank Noah for bringing so many wonderful people into our lives... she is one of those people I am so thankful for.

Bilha, if you are reading this... thank you for calling me.  It was just what I needed at that moment.  I love you and will be forever thankful for you.

The world of grief is hard, it is terrible; it honestly is.  I don't wish this upon anyone and yet, grief is a part of life.  We trudge on each in our own ways, doing our best to make it through the day, the hour, sometimes even the minute.  We stick together and we grieve together.  I know no other way.

Until next time,
Angie