my journey through the loss of my first son and the life of my second

Friday, December 31, 2010

trent's story

I wrote the story of his short life just a few days after he was born...

I re-wrote it around the six month mark...

Today I will repost it ...

One year ago today I was admitted to the hospital and told we would wait on the end...
I have been married to the man of my dreams since December 10, 2005. We met on a blind date and had a whirl wind romance. We married six months after that fist date. I was diagnosed with PCOS when I was 18. I told Ken before we got married that we may never have kids of our own. But, we started trying to conceive right away. After four years of fertility meds and nothing we opted for adoption. We were working our way through all the courses and paperwork when in September of 2009 I took a pregnancy test that would forever change our lives. I was so excited to be pregnant. I never thought I would ever carry my own. Ken was overjoyed. We called all our family right away. I had an early ultrasound done because I could not remember when my last period was. I was 7 weeks and 5 days pregnant. And, the journey began.

The pregnancy was good, healthy, uneventful. All of my tests and blood work had come back normal the entire time. The ultrasounds had all looked perfect. We found out on December 21st we were having a little boy. We would name him, Trenton James. He would be our everything.

In December 2009 Ken and I flew to Florida to visit my family for Christmas. I was so excited for them to see my pregnant belly and see my sister, Cassie, all big and pregnant. We were pregnant together. She was a few months ahead of me. We would talk almost daily about pregnancy tired we were, how smells made us sick, how to cope with morning sickness, and more than anything how amazing it would be to watch our kids grow up together in this world.

On our flight to Orlando the seat belt would not fit around my pregnant belly. I had to ask for an extender...which is embarrassing but, really I was proud of that pregnant belly. I was proud that I was growing our future. I was so excited that my belly would continue to grow. I was excited our miracle was just under my skin.

When we arrived in Orlando my sisters and Mom all greeted us.

We celebrated Christmas.

My mom drove us back to the airport on December 29th. I had booked the room for us (Ken ALWAYS makes our travel arrangements) When we got to the front desk to check in the guy looked at me like I was crazy. Our reservations were for the next night. I was a little confused and we got to the airport a day early. So, we just stayed at the hotel for two nights...enjoying the peace and quiet...

On the morning of the 30th we got up and had breakfast. I was feeling awful that day. I just thought it was normal pregnancy stuff. I was 21 weeks and 2 days pregnant. All throughout the day I was having heavy discharge. I thought it was normal. I would soon find out it was my cervix dialating. The morning of our flight we were up at 3:45 to catch our early flight. I could barely walk I was so dizzy. I lost my mucus plug in the room (although I had NO idea that was what it was...but, boy was it nasty) We checked out of the hotel and headed to the gate to check our bags. I couldn't even see straight I was feeling so bad. I thought maybe I just needed to eat. I had a banana left from the day before and ate that while I sat on the floor in line for our bags to get checked in. As we headed to the security line I felt like the airport was 110 degrees. I was sweating and swaying. The line was so very long. I thought I was going to collapase at any minute. Once we finally made it through security Ken could see that i was looking worse and worse. He left me on a bench to get me a drink and bagel. I ate it and felt just as bad. We were sitting at the gate. The called for boarding...I of course ran to the bathroom (hello, I was pregnant) As I pulled down my pants that early New Year's Eve whole life changed...

I couldn't even go...I pulled my pants up and ran out to Ken. I was crying. I knew something had to be very wrong. I was covered in blood. I called my mom. It was 4:45 am at this point. She said call my OB. I did. He told me to get to the ER and not get on the plane. I really didn't want to do that. I debated with myself for a few minutes. Because we had gotten to the airport two days early we had upgraded to first class. My husband adores flying in first class. I didn't want to disappoint him. But, I knew, for Trent, I had to go to the hospital. The gate agent called 911...the ambulance came for me on the tarmac...they strapped me to the bed and whisked me to a private elevator and back onto the tarmac. Ken was right beside me. I was so scared. I had no idea what was going on. Our bags flew back to Dallas without us. Our first class seats sat empty. Our lives were falling apart. I told Ken to call our parents. He did. We arrived at Winnie Palmer Hospital in Orlando. We were placed in the triage room.

I was first examined by a nurse. As she my checked me...she stopped before she even really started. She said, "Umh, I have to get a doctor in here." Oh my heart was beating so fast, tears had not stopped flowing. I couldn't even imagine what was coming next. The doctor came in shortly after and checked me. She said I had bulging membranes. I had no idea what that was (although I would soon be an expert in a matter of days). The whole time I kept saying "I can't lose him, I can't lose him, I can't lose him." And her answer was, "well, sometimes it happens this way." WHAT WAY??? WHAT DID SHE MEAN?? WAS HE NOT COMING HOME? WAS HE NOT GOING TO MAKE IT? She didn't tell me anything about it just said they had to get me to the perinatoligist right away. They placed my IV, undressed me the rest of the way, and started wheeling me down the hall. Ken called our parents back and let them know it was not looking good. My parents started the two hour ride over to the hospital and Ken's parents booked tickets from Missouri to Orlando.

We were both so scared. The nurses rolled us into an ultrasound room. The perinatologist came in to do our ultrasound. Trent was perfect. He was swimming around, having the time of his life. He was just as happy as could be, I could feel him kicking me. (In the months after we lost him Ken has told me the hardest part for him was this last ultrasound. There was our son on the screen...perfect, happy, safe. He didn't know what was coming. He didn't know it was all going to be over so fast.) His heart rate was good. He was fine...but, my body was not. The doctor pulled the wand away from my belly and did one more internal exam. They would not let me sit up or stand up. She told us my prognsis. She said I was dilated to a 6, which for a baby the size of Trent, was fully dilated. She said my cervix had fallen apart. She called it an incompetent cervix (a term I had never heard). She told me we didn't have much time or many options. She said that had I gotten here sooner they could have placed an emergant cerclage that could have held him in. Because my cervix was so far gone there was no hope. She said my only option is to do an amnioscentisis and drain all fluid from around him. She said this may retract my bag enough to place a cerclage. She told me that on the ultrasound she could see his little foot in the birth canal. She said she had never seen a woman with membranes hanging this far out and still be pregnant 24 hours later. I was sobbing, I was in shock, I could not believe this was happening to me. I asked what next? Ken was holding my hand through the whole thing. She told me I was going to be admitted to the hospital. She told me I was going to be on the highrisk floor. She told me I would deliver this baby in the next 24 hours. I just could not believe it. The staff rolled me into the elevator and took me to my room. The IV was hooked up to a pump for pain meds. The nurses were taking all my stats. They called my OB to get my medical records. Our families were in route. When my parents arrived one of the "head" doctors came to see us. He explained my diagnosis. He told us why my membranes were bulging. He told us that I would have my son within 24 hours and his chance of survival at this stage were zero. I was 21weeks and 3 days. I cried and cried. I was shaking. I couldn't even understand the words he had just told me. My parents were already in the room with us. My mom was sobbing so very hard. Our lives were never going to be the same. My dad asked what the likely hood would be that I would not deliver, the doctor told us 1%. I was devastated. Ken called everyone we knew and my mom called every one else. We were added to hundreds of people's prayer lists. I was so scared.

24 hours later I was still there, still pregnant, and starting to be filled with hope. I was placed on retraction medications, something to keep labor at bay, and told I could not get out of my bed. My in-laws had arrived. My parents were still there...but, we had made it bast the 24 hour mark. As the days continued I prayed that God would let me take this baby boy home. I prayed that I would lay in this hospital bed for weeks and weeks. I prayed for any sign of hope. The doctors checked on me daily. After I passed the 72 hour mark they started to treat Trent like a patient too. They told me I had to make it to 24 weeks to be viable. My biggest risk at this point was infection. Because my bag was hanging so very low in my birth canal it was being exposed to all kinds of things.

As the days past my family visited, Ken's mom didn't leave my side, and hundreds of emails and messages on Facebook were rolling in. People all over the place were praying for my little family. People were hoping for the same miracle I was hoping for. I felt like the world was on my side. But, in the very back of my mind I knew I would let them all down. I knew I was not bringing him home. I tried to stay positive. I tried to smile. But, I was so scared. My IV kept falling out or leaking so they kept replacing it. They had to bring in an ultrasound machine to find my veins. Each person that came in my room would cry with me, or pray with me, or just sit and listen. The staff was amazing.

After a few days of being in ICU the nurses told me the doctors were moving me to the 5th floor. The 5th floor were for women on bedrest. It was for women who were waiting out the weeks. It was for women like me...who had beat the odds. With this news it was decided Ken would fly home and go back to work. He would fly in every weekend to see me. His mom stayed with me. My sisters kept visiting. My mom would come and cry with me. Ken flew out early the morning they were moving me to the 5th floor. Little did I know I was already having contractions when he left. I thought it was Trent kicking. Around noon that day I had a pretty big contraction. Ken's mom wrote down the time. The nurses added some new meds to my IV. The contractions continued throughout the afternoon. I was on the 5th floor...a floor with hope. They continued the meds all afternoon. My mom and youngest sister came to join me for dinner. I could not sit up for anything, not even to eat. As we ate dinner my contractions grew stronger and stronger and closer and closer. I didn't want to tell anyone. I didn't want to believe it was true. But, finally they were so bad I was yelling in pain. My mom called a nurse in. She checked me and I was immediately moved to L&D. I was screaming all down the hall, "No, not yet! He isn't supposed to come yet!" I was 22 weeks and 1 day pregnant. Ken's mom came back, Ken booked a flight back to Florida. I was in full, active labor. They moved me to L&D at 6pm. My contractions continued for hours without any help from the doctors. Because I was so early in the pregnancy they would give me no drugs to help with pain. As the night progressed the room was more and more filled with an awful odor. I was so embarrassed. I had been in the hospital for 5 or 6 days with no bath. When a doctor came in to check me around 2am he moved the sheet back and kind of just stopped. He ordered blood taken. He gave me an internal. The blood work came back an hour later. He was back in my room. The contractions had not stopped but he finally gave me some morphine (which made me throw up). He told me to get my husband on the phone. Ken's mom dialed him so he could hear what the doctor was saying. The doctor explained that I was very sick. I had contracted an infection in my uterus. This is what brought on labor. He told us that Trent would have 0% chance of survival because of the infection. He would be too sick to make it. He told me that if I didn't let them assist with my labor I would be septic within 6 hours and there would be nothing they could do for me either. He basically was telling us that we had to pick me, Trent, or both of us to die. He told me because I was so early I would have to sign paper work that I was aborting my child. I refused. I would not let them help me if I had to sign those papers. The doctor left the room...the moms were crying, Ken's mom was trying to explain it to him. I was crying and still in labor although the morphine had slowed down the contractions. Ken said not to sign it. I said no. But, both of my moms were telling me I had to. The nurses explained that I would die too if I didn't sign the paper. I said I didn't care. I didn't want to live without him. I was not going to sign anything that said I was aborting him. The infection was growing worse and worse. My temperature was rising. The smell was almost unbearable. My mom kept trying to convince me it was the only way. Ken's mom was on the phone with him trying to make him understand he was going to lose us both, and soon, if I didn't sign. My mom finally said to me, "Honey, you can have another baby, but, we can never have another you." I cried and cried. I WANTED THIS BABY. I was so sick, I was in so much pain. I finally let them assist me in my labor. As soon as I said yes the room was alive with activity. I told them that the only way I would let them do this was if the NICU staff was there to try. I knew there was not much hope. But, I was fighting for his life up until the second it was gone. I would not let them do this if they didn't even try to save him. I would live my whole life in regret if I didn't make them come in. They agreed. My epidural was put in, drugs were hung to speed up contractions, and the end was coming. I asked if I could hear his heartbeat one more time. I asked if they would please hook me up to the monitors. His heartbeat was fast and strong. He was still perfect. He was still fighting. But, mommy had given up. I had surrendered to this awful infection.

As Ken boarded a plane in Texas to come back to Florida I tried to get a little sleep. I couldn't feel anything anymore...anywhere. I knew it was over. They had told me the NICU would try to save him. But, most likely the tubes would not even fit in him. They told me that once they knew that they could not save him they would hand him back to me...I would hold him until he died.

My heart was broken, it was all a nightmare. We waited. My mom's both slept. My little sister slept. I had ask her to take pictures in case Ken didn't make it back in time. She took over 200 and they are one of the best gifts she could ever give us.

At seven in the morning there was a shift change. The nurses came in to tell me about the new staff. They told me that they would take care of us. They assured me the NICU would come after he was born. At around 8: I felt like I needed to push. I knew something was happening. I called the nurse and asked for the doctor. At 8:09 we all heard a pop and my water broke. At 8:10 Trenton James slid into this world with no doctors and no nurses there to catch him. My mom was at the end of the table, I asked, "Is he alive??" She said, "He is moving honey." The NICU nurse was in just seconds later. They picked up my beautiful son and moved him to the crib. They tried but nothing fit. I was yelling at them to try harder. I was crying so hard. The doctors were helping me deliever the placenta. When I saw the head nurse shaking her head I knew it was going to be over so soon. I screamed for them to hand him back to me. I wanted to touch him alive. My mom placed him in my arms. I cried and cried. He held my finger. He opened and closed his mouth. I ripped off my hospital gown so I could feel his skin against mine. Bridget kept snapping pictures, Ken was still in an airplane, and the nurse kept taking his heart beat...both his grandmas held him, Bridget held him, and as they placed him back into my arms the nurse took his heartbeat one last time and told me he had gone home. It was 8:32 am. I told him he didn't have to stay for me. I told him he could go onto heaven. I told him I would be okay. I told him how much daddy loved him. I told him how sorry I was my body had failed him. I kissed him. I loved him. I was broken. Ken arrived shortly after Trent passed. He held his dead son. He cried harder than I have ever seen him cry. They brought me all kinds of papers. I had to sign for an autopsy, for pictures to be taken, for 100 other things I can't remember. They drew more blood. I was very very sick at this point. They hung some powerful antibiotics and said I would be moved back to the ICU for 48 hours to monitor the infection.

They wheeled us all back upstairs. We kept Trent's little body with us all day. I couldn't say goodbye yet. I couldn't let it be over. I took pictures of his daddy holding him. All his aunts and uncles came over from Daytona. My dad and mom were there. Ken's mom had been there the whole night and his dad had booked a flight back in. The entire family was there to meet their nephew, grandson, child...and he was already gone.

The days following were filled with blood tests to see if I was getting better, making funeral arrangements for our son, deciding to bury him or cremate him, picking out his urn, signing for his birth certificate first, and then his death certificate. It was awful. It was something no one should ever live through.

We had his memorial service at the hospital in the chapel. It was beautiful. It was perfect. I had no clothes (as our luggage had flown home without us) I wore PJ's to my son's memorial service. I had no shoes...I wore hospital issued socks to his memorial service. Ken held me and he and I sobbed and sobbed as the scriptures were read, the songs were song, and people hugged us and grieved with us.

It couldn't be true, it couldn't be over. I was discharged after a few more days in ICU. I went home with a memory box full of his clothes and hospital armbands...but, not with him. We stayed at my sisters house for a few days. I didn't know what to do. Finally Ken's mom booked us tickets home.

And, back to the airport we went with...
an empty womb,
empty arms,
and an empty heart.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

the end is near

One year ago today my mom drove Ken and I to the airport to board a plane back to Texas. Our flight was early in the morning so we were going to spend the night at the Hyatt at the airport. Our flight was Dec 30, 2009...or so I thought. When we got to the hotel to check in the front desk clerk said our reservation was for the night of the 30th not the 29th. Whoops. I got us to the airport a whole day early. Our flight was actually scheduled for Dec 31st. My mom was already home by the time we figured out the mistake. So, we opted to just spend an extra day relaxing at the hotel.

It was the last time the three of us were together with no idea of the pain that was ahead.

Trent was safe, happy, and healthy.

I had no idea it would be his last days alive.

Dec 30th is when I started to dilate...although I had no idea that is what was happening.

These next few days will be hard milestones to cross. The emotions of those days still so raw.

When I think about it all it feels like a lifetime ago and then other moments I feel like I am back there living it all over again.

I miss him.

<3 Trent <3

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Ian James

That is right...I am pregnant with my second SON!!

Ian means God is gracious. I think it is such a perfect name for a baby that is born after a loss...our Gracious God providing us another miracle.

James is his big brother's middle name. We had thought of a few other names but, at the last minute thought it would be nice to honor Trent in this way. first born Trenton James will have a little brother Ian James.

I am excited at the oppurtunity to raise a son. My heart is full of love for this little wiggle worm! (He doesn't stop moving very often!! And, today at the ultrasound the tech had a hard time getting good pictures because he just kept wiggling!)

Healing is a funny thing...grief is even stranger.

There are some who feel like I should be "better" now. I am pregnant again...I guess that means I am cured of the grief. Wrong. I will never be "healed" of the pain of watching my first born die in my arms. The sorrow of that truth will never go away. Time does NOT heal all wounds. Some never go away. But, the joy of this second miracle is good for the healing.

I was laying in bed tonight (trying to sleep but this crazy rash that is covering my body is keeping me awake) thinking about what most moms pregnant with their second worry about. I was thinking about how nice it would be if my fears were how will I handle two little boys at once? How will I potty train one and keep up with diapers on the other? How will I make sure they both have everything they need? The "normal" thoughts while pregnant with your second. I started thinking how fun it would be to watch Trent be a big brother. I would love to see him kiss Ian's little face, love on him, tell him the "meaning of life." I thought of what it would be like to have Trent convince Ian that monsters really do live in the closet and then daddy having to go in to the rescue. I thought of the times the three of them would wrestle. I thought of the family pictures with my three boys and mommy. I thought of Ian wanting to be just like his big brother. But, I will never see those things.

As a mommy to one son in heaven and on on the way my worries are much different. I worry about how to make Ian's life about Ian and not about trying to fill Trent's empty shoes. I worry about making Ian special for being Ian...not for being the baby that "replaced" Trent. I worry about explaining to him what it means to have a brother in heaven. I worry about the tears I will shed when he comes home because I will always be missing one of my boys.

I worry about making it to a stage in pregnancy where this little sweetie can make it outside of my womb. Here are the dates we are going to pray Ian too....okay??

Saturday February 4th - 22weeks1day pregnant - this will be the most pregnant I will have ever been as I gave birth to Trent at 22 weeks. I need to get here next. I think I will breath a little easier knowing my cerclage is working!

Friday February 18th - 24 weeks - viability! - I really really do not want Ian born at 24 weeks...but, this "magic" week means he is viable outside of the womb (with only a 30% chance of survival)

Friday April 1st - 30 weeks - he may spend some time in the NICU but the chance of him coming home is HUGE!! I think when I make 30 weeks I will start to believe that this little guy is going to come home with me one day!

Friday May 20th - 36 weeks - if we go this far my cerclage will be removed and I will have a baby SOON!!

So, let's start praying for Feb 4th! I need to make it past the point that Trent died for my own sanity!!

Saturday, December 25, 2010


I think I have learned to survive. Most days. There are still moments when it would be easier to give up. There are moments when I can't figure out why I even try to survive. And, then this second miracle inside me kicks, squirms, or I get to hear the heart beat. I am blessed.

I survived my 1st Christmas without my son. It was actually a beautiful day spent with my darling husband. We woke up, opened presents, ate a big breakfast, and just enjoyed each others company all day. I was reminded how lucky I am to call him my husband. I thought many times of how much more fun it would have been to have Trent with us. But, today was for us. We didn't go to any family members house, we didn't travel on a fancy vacation, we stayed in our pj's all day...and I loved it.

This week marks a year from when the beginning of the end started to unfold.

We flew to Florida a year ago yesterday...

I was admitted to the hospital while on that trip...

We meet and said goodbye to our son during that "vacation"...

These next few weeks will be hard.

One year ago today I was blissfully unaware that babies die.

I hope and pray that a year from today I will be aware that babies live too.

Friday, December 24, 2010

merry christmas

Merry Christmas in Heaven my sweet boy...

I am not sure how much I can "celebrate" this year without you...

To all Angel Mommies...

written by a boy who died of a brian tumor

My First Christmas in Heaven

I see the countless
Christmas trees
around the world below
With tiny lights, like Heaven's stars,
reflecting on the snow

The sight is so spectacular,
please wipe away the tear
For I am spending Christmas with
Jesus Christ this year.

I hear the many Christmas songs
that people hold so dear
But the sounds of music can't compare
with the Christmas choir up here.

I have no words to tell you,
the joy their voices bring,
For it is beyond description,
to hear the angels sing.

I know how much you miss me,
I see the pain inside your heart.
But I am not so far away,
We really aren't apart.

So be happy for me, dear ones,
You know I hold you dear.
And be glad I'm spending Christmas
with Jesus Christ this year.

I sent you each a special gift,
from my heavenly home above.
I sent you each a memory
of my undying love.

After all, love is a gift more precious
than pure gold.
was always most important
the stories Jesus told.

Please love and keep each other,
my Father said to do.
I can't count the blessing or love
has for each of you.

So have a Merry Christmas and
Wipe away that tear
Remember, I am spending Christmas with
Jesus Christ this year

Thursday, December 23, 2010

christmas eve eve

I didn't know life could/would be this hard. I didn't know it would hurt this much. I didn't know my heart could love and hurt so much all at the same time.

I have watched the Lifetime movies and cried as I watch other peoples horrors unfold on the screen. I have cried as I read novels about peoples heart ache and loss. But, to live actually know the pain. It is not something that could be understood.

When I was little I watched the show "Party of Five." I cried at the end of every single episode. It is a story of five kids who are raising them selves. Their parents were killed in a car accident. I am one of six but, while this show was on the air there were only five of us. The thought of losing my parents scared me. The idea that I would never ever see them again. It seemed like the most painful thing I could imagine...I had no idea that losing a child was even possible. The parents are supposed to go first...right??

There was a family that lived up the street from us. They adopted special needs kids. I started college with the idea that I would be a special education teacher. These children amazed me. Their handicaps were hard...but they kept on going. I remember thinking how lucky our family was...six kids and all healthy. Not a birth defect or handicap in the bunch. I didn't know that I was the one. I was the one born with a life-ending defect. I was the one who would later carry the burden of losing a child. I was the one born with a birth defect that would change my heart and soul. There was no way to know it was there. No way to test for it. No way to know...until he died.

My high risk OB has questioned me over and over trying to figure out why I have an incompetent cervix. He told me most of the women he sees with IC have a history of LEEP surgery, D&C's, cone biopsy...some kind of trauma to their cervix. IC is rare....but, from what he tells me...especially rare in a woman who was literally just "born this way."

My heart is beyond broken this Christmas season. I long to hold my son. I want to experience this first Christmas with

I miss him more than words can explain.

Monday, December 20, 2010

alter universe

In my alter universe I am so very excited for our first Christmas as a family of three!! I have the stockings hung and full! I have bought my son way WAY too many Christmas outfits. I had our family pictures made in October with our sweet boy wearing a "My 1st Christmas" outfit. I have taken him to see Santa and cried while he cried. I have driven him around town night after night looking at all the Christmas lights. In my alter universe I am so anxious that I let him open a gift or two. He is crawling around the tree and Ken and I are constantly changing his course so he doesn't pull it over on himself. In my alter universe I am creating Christmas traditions that will hopefully stay with him until he is an adult.

But, in real life...

I have cried for all I am missing. I have mourned for the 1st Christmas we should be sharing. I have hung ornaments on the tree with his name on them. I have skipped Christmas cards, parties, and even the lights. I have tried to avoid all the holiday cheer I can. I have wrapped no presents with his name on them. I have nothing under the tree for an almost one year old. I ordered no cute clothes for Christmas pictures. I have no idea what the line to see Santa is like at the mall.

It breaks my heart.

And, it is just so very unfair.

Friday, December 17, 2010

a little mixed up

I wish I could explain the feelings I have now. Finally, FINALLY I feel excited about this little life growing inside of me. Yes, I still am guarded. Yes, I still know that history could repeat itself. But, I am finally stitched closed. The thing that lost our precious first born is "fixed." Let's hope and pray that is the only thing it takes to keep this little one with us.

The hospital was filled with many many triggers for me. I tried to hold it together...and, I did pretty good. But, there were a few moments when I felt like the world was crashing down on me again. My pre-op nurse was such a sweet lady! I have awful veins for IV's. I learned this with Trent. I had a new IV placed daily, sometimes more than once a day, because my veins roll and don't "valve" (I think that is the word they used) I warned the nurse that it is pretty tricky to place an IV in me. (I think they all think I am being dramatic) But, three pricks later and two large bruises on my hands she agreed and got the anestisoligist. He tried twice in my arm and finally got it (I told them so). But, the memories of so MANY people poking me trying to get IV's with Trent was too much to handle before surgery. I was shaking pretty bad on the inside...but, still holding it together. The same nurse came in with a fetal doppler to find Sprinkle's heart beat. She couldn't. I didn't worry right away. I know at 14w5d it is still hard to find. Ken and I rented a doppler to use at home and had just heard the heartbeat the night before. Another nurse came in and still no heartbeat. They went ahead and wheeled me to the OR. Three more nurses heart beat. I was crying and shaking so hard. I finally said, "I want a cerclage today, not a D&C" I was trying so hard. One of the techs just came and held my hand and wiped my tears for me. They finally called a L&D nurse in...the batteries on the doppler were DEAD!!! My OB walked doppler batteries in hand...and found the little stinker right away. Praise God!! But, oh I was so scared. Next came my spinal...40 + pricks later into my spine, with landicane, they finally figured out I have scholosis. 45+ minutes of poking and burning my spinal was in place and they started surgery...with me wide awake. The rest of the day was fine. Cerclage was placed. My blood pressure dropped a few times in recovery. But, we were home by noon.

When they wheeled me out of the hospital I kept thinking, "I am leaving with empty arms again." I was more than upset. When I left after giving birth to Trent all I had was a box that held his clothes and a gaping wound that would never heal all the way. This baby was still safe and sound.

I just feel a little crazy at emotions are so mixed up. I am happy and sad at the same time. I am looking to the future and desperatly holding onto the past. I want this new life to make it more than anything...but, I would give my legs if I could have Trent here too.

It is so very hard. But, I am beyond blessed to be carrying another baby.

I pray daily for this little one.

22 more weeks and I will be full term...37 weeks. They will take the cerclage back out then. I am believing, in Jesus' name, we will make it that far!

Thursday, December 16, 2010


Cerclage is in place!!!! At home resting!!!!

Wednesday, December 15, 2010


My sweet Trent was born at 22 weeks due to my incompetent cervix. By the time we reached the hospital at 21 weeks 2 days, my cervix was fully dialated. It was the hope that laying on hospital bed rest we could keep him in long enough that he could live outside the womb. But, I contracted a deadly infection that lead to inducing him to save my life. A cerclage could have saved his life.

Tomorrow is the day for this baby. Tomorrow I check into the hospital at 6:30am to have a cerclage placed. The cerclage will stitch my cervix shut in hopes that this baby can stay put until at least 36 weeks.

Please pray for my team of doctors, that the baby does great during surgery, and that I come out infection free.

I am scared beyond scared...but, without this surgery history will surely repeat itself.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

when I grow up...

We all had those dreams right? Not just the dreams of what we would be ... but, the dreams of the things you would do different than your parents did.

I grew up in a vegetarian household. I was not vegetarian - nor were my 5 other brothers or sisters - or my mom...but, my dad was. And, that ruled all. My mom did make us turkey hotdogs, turkey burgers, and fish sticks when we were little. But, I didn't have my first steak until I was 18. I didn't have crab legs until I was 15. I didn't have fish (not in stick form) until I was 26. I did eat A LOT of tofu burgers, tofu bacon, vegi crumbles (a tofu mixture that was made to look like ground beef), vegi chicken patties, vegi hotdogs...really I am getting sick to my stomach just thinking of it all! But, I remember being about 15 and fed up with all the vegi crap! I could not WAIT to get my drivers licensce so that I could drive myself to McDonald's and get a hamburger...or two or three or four :) And, I did. I ate fast food on my way home so I could skip what ever vegi item was being made at home.

Why does it matter? Because it is one of the things I have always said I will change when I have kids. I will never "force" them to eat things that they hate. I know I know...sometimes you have to make them try things they will not like at first. But, I spent 10 years of my life telling my dad how much I hated the vegi food.

I have a lot of those plans. But, not just things I want to change. I plan to be the kind of mom my mom was/is. The kind of mom who believes in her kids no matter what. The mom who is there to cry with her kids. The kind of mom who thinks her kids are the most amazing ones around. The kind of mom who shows up at the football games to watch her daughter march...even though there are 5 other kids at home that need her attention.

I want to make memories of family vacations that will last a lifetime. We traveled a lot when I was a kid. I have some amazing vacation memories. I want that for my kids.

So, can I dream??? Can I believe that one day I will get to be a mom here on earth? Will I get the chance to make my kids dinners they will hate and blog about 20 years from now?

I don't know...and it scares me to think that maybe ... just maybe one day I will...

When I grow up...

I want to be a mommy...

to a living child too

Saturday, December 11, 2010


Some days I think life would be easier if I just wallowed.

Wouldn't it be nice to just wallow in grief for a few minutes, hours, days, months, years???

Sometimes I just think it would be easier to stop trying to "live" and just wallow in my grief.

But, I don't. I just keep moving forward. When I really let myself stop and think about this last year ... it would be easier to just give up and wallow. I mean think about all I have missed. My first born son is in heaven. Who wrote this script? I don't like it anymore. I want my alternate story. I missed all his firsts. I missed a year that should have been filled with laughter. I lived that year with tears. I love my son...more than I new was possible.

I can't wallow. I can't just lay here and feel bad for myself. I have to keep moving on. I have to be excited for this little one God is knitting together in my womb. I feel blessed that He gave me Trent and even more blessed that He feels like I can do this again.

Yes, it would be easier to wallow. But, I must keep going on.

Friday, December 10, 2010

5 years

Today Ken and I celebrate 5 years of marriage.

What a ride it has been!

I really could not have even imagined how true our vows would become over the years.

I feel pretty lucky Ken picked me. He could have picked anyone in the world...but, he picked me. I think about all the issues my dumb body just doesn't seem fair to him! But, he loves me no matter what. When he married me he thought I would never have kids and now 5 years later we know I can have kids...and even more important we know my body gives out and can't carry a baby without help.

In 5 years we have laughed more times than I can count...
we created a life...
we lost that life...
we planned a funeral for our first born...
we have cried together for our son...
he has held me while I laid broken...
we have been rich and poor...
we have loved and lost...
we have traveled...
we have made a home together...
we have moved across the country and started again...
we have made mistakes together...
we have gotten lost together and found our way hand in hand...
we have become "us"...
we have loved each other beyond what words can say...
we have created life...again.

I am beyond blessed to be married to this man.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

13 weeks

So fitting

The Other Child

a friend emailed me a link to this site...

What a very fitting way to explain this new pregnancy...

My sweet Trent will always be missing...

But, I am beyond grateful for this little miracle being knit together in my womb...

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

my sweet boy

I have heard some of the craziest things in the last 11 months. I have heard mean things, rude things, strange things, and of course many many sweet things. When people think of my son or tell me how he has changed their life or heart....those things warm my heart.

About a week ago I was talking with my niece, Lily. She is 7. She is one of my favorite people in the world. She always cracks me up. And, just like her mom, she tries never to offend people so is careful with her choice of words. In the week after Trent died Ken and I stayed in Lily's room. She and Ella (my 4 year old niece) ((Ella and Trent share a birthday)) asked me lots of questions about Trent. Their mom had showed them pictures of him and of course they wanted to hold him and meet him. We did not have them come to the hospital. Ella wanted to know why she could not hold him. Lily wanted to know why he had to go to heaven. I digress...back to last week...Lily asked if I was coming to their house for Christmas this year. I told her I couldn't. (I didn't explain how heart wrenching it would be to be back in the place it all happened so close to the day we lost him) I did tell her I had to have surgery to keep this little baby safe and the doctors would not let me travel. She thought for a few minutes and said, "If this baby lives can you come next year?" Oh...that sweet girl. I hate that she knows that babies die. I hate that she has had to see the pain Ken and I have lived through. She and Ella both miss their cousin. And, I so wish he were here.

I am feeling better these past few days. Thanksgiving was rough. I know Christmas and his birthday will be even worse. But, for now I am trying to find joy in this little miracle growing inside.

Friday, November 26, 2010


There is nothing normal about the life I live. Nothing. Normal is not defined by a parent who holds their child as he takes his last breath. Normal is not used in a sentence about a family who has to pick the music to be played at their child's memorial service. Normal is not someone who watches as the nurse wheels your child out of the room...never to return again. I don't care the age of the child...a parent should never, ever out live their child. This quest to be normal is crap. I don't know why I tried to find it so hard. My hands have held my sweet little boy...lifeless, cold, gone...I can never be normal again.

The horror, grief, pain and abnormality of this last year have been almost too much. I have learned how to deal with it most days. I have learned how to control the tears. I have learned how to talk about Trent without crying. But, yesterday proved to be too much. I can't explain why it hurt so much. I can't tell you why it mattered so very much that he wasn't there. Except...he will never be. As I woke up yesterday I kept thinking I should be getting him ready. I should be laughing with him, changing his diaper, feeding him. But, all I had to do was get me ready. I showered, brushed my teeth, fixed my hair...and laid back down. I didn't want to be doing it all alone...again. I wanted to be ... his mommy.

Thanksgiving...a day I have always loved. Food, family, fun...and of course thanking God for all that we have. But, yesterday I could think of nothing but what was missing. I tried to make the green bean casserole like nothing was wrong...but, I ended up back in bed in a puddle of tears. I hate myself for not being stronger...but, I hate more that my son is dead. I can't sugar coat it...he is dead.

These next few weeks will not be easy to say the least. Christmas is was my most favorite time of the year. The lights, shopping, gifts, family, friends, tradition, parties...but, I don't know if I can face it all with a smile this year. Ugh. In just a few days it will mark 11 months without Trent...followed by his first Christmas - in heaven...New Year's Eve will come next...the day I was admitted to the hospital...and we will end all the fun and merriment with January 5th...the day my world stood still. The day he was born. The day he died.

How do I do this? How do I become normal in the midst of this pain? How do I see God as merciful when less than a year ago I held my son as he died?

Lord, I am begging You to hold me.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

boy or girl?

No, we do not know the sex of the baby yet. I am only 11 weeks 4 days.

And, I want to preface this post with two things...1) if it is a girl I will be forever grateful for the chance to raise a daughter 2) I realize even if it is a boy it will never replace what I lost with Trent.

I want a son! I want this to be a boy so bad I can taste it!! I never thought I would say/think/type/wish that thought!! But, a boy is what I want. I want a chance to raise a son. I want the chance to train a boy to be a gentleman. I want the opportunity to raise a son that will one day be a man as amazing as his daddy. I want to give him the skills to be a loving husband, amazing father, a caring friend, and a God-fearing man. I want a son.

I want to have to learn to change a diaper without being peed on. I want to watch Ken try and teach his son to "aim." I want a house filled with blue, legos, dinosaurs, cars, dirt, and love. I want to watch my husband teach our son to hunt. I want to watch my son and his dad wrestle. I want to watch my son build castles, forts, houses, planes, and anything else his little mind can come up with out of blocks and legos. I want to know what it is like to have a five year old talking my ear off about Transformers (or whatever toy is popular in five years.) I want to step on Matchbox cars and army men as I walk to the bathroom at night (yes, I will yell at him for leaving them out.) I want the chance to raise a son.

I want the chance to watch as he drives away for the first time on his own after he gets his driver's license. I want to be there to hear about his first date, first kiss, first love. I want to be there to comfort him when that evil girl breaks his heart. I want to watch as he goes from teenager to man. I want a son.

I know a girl would be just as fun in an opposite way. I know I would enjoy pink and ribbons. But, I want a son.

I know this son will never give me what I lost with Trent...but, I want that chance. I want another boy.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

season of thanks

I have always loved the holiday season. But, this year that love is missing.

I just can't seem to do it. I can't seem to think of anything to be thankful for. My life is full of things that I am thankful husband, a job a love, great friends who make me laugh, a family that loves me, nieces that warm my heart, nephews who make me smile, a beautiful place to call home, money to pay the bills, money to buy food, and of course a pregnancy that will bring hope and job back into our lives (God willing).

But, all of that seems to live in the shadow of his absence.

Last night Ken and I were talking about names for Sprinkle, again. He still likes Ian (and after last nights conversation Ian is the name of this baby if it is a boy!) I told him one of the reasons I wanted something other than Ian is I wanted a name I could shorten like Trenton became Trent...a nickname I could call this baby. He said call it "nubbin" for all I care. I laughed so hard...Nubbin? We both laughed and laughed. It was the first or one of a few "positive" thoughts about this new life growing within me. Most of our thoughts and conversations are about worry and dread. But, last night we laughed and laughed at the idea of calling Ian - Nubbin.

As the laughter faded I began crying...of course. I told him I didn't want it this way. I told him we should have a 10 month old boy ready to celebrate his first Thanksgiving. I told Ken I would have bought him an outfit that said "Baby's First Thanksgiving." I told him that we should be feeding Trent mashed potatoes, stuffing, yams, and even making him try cranberry sauce. I told him we should all laugh as he spits the cranberries back out because he doesn't like them...we laughed again at that thought. I long to share this Thursday with my son...but, it will never be. This is what makes me forget all I have to be thankful for. How can this be my life? How can my son really be dead?

I want to be thankful. I want to celebrate this new life within me...but, (and yes, I feel guilty for thinking this way) I seem to want Trent more. I love this Sprinkle...don't get me wrong. But, I feel like I have a different love for first born. Will I ever learn to love this child for itself? Will I ever let the grief move out of the way and the joy of this new life take center stage? Will I learn to give this baby a chance at winning my heart?

I feel guilty for these thoughts. I feel guilty that I want my son here.
Somedays I feel like I spend more time thinking about the dead than the living...

Tuesday, November 16, 2010


Ken and I have been trying to pick a name for this little one for a few weeks. We have/had decided on Ian for a boy and Jane for a girl. I have not committed fully to either name. I am driving Ken crazy! I lay in bed most nights looking up meanings of baby names. I feel like I want a name that is strong with meaning. We didn't do this with Trent. Ken picked the name and I was in total agreement. I looked up the meaning of Trent today, "journey across." I cried. (nothing new of course, I cry alot) But, did we name him prophetically? I know that is a silly thought. But, maybe just maybe we knew somehow. His name was so fitting. His little life was all about journeying to the other side.

I miss my little boy...

Monday, November 15, 2010


I hate not planning. I hate not dreaming. But, oh how it scares me!

It scares me to pick out names, clothes, diapers, anything.

It scares me to think that this time next year I will be holding my child.

Last year at this time I was 16 weeks pregnant with my sweet Trent. Last year I thought it would be my last Thanksgiving without my child. Last year I kept thinking about how fun it would be to have our son with us this year. It is heartbreaking to be facing the holidays...with empty arms.

Yesterday, Ken told me a dream he has about this child. A special something he wants to save for this baby. It brought tears to my eyes. He has been just as scared to get attached to this little one. We used to lay in bed every night and dream of all we would do with Trent.

I am 10 weeks and 3 days pregnant today.

Praying for Sprinkle.

Hoping to dream soon.

Ready to start planning for this little one.

Friday, November 12, 2010

broken arm

I was thinking today how much easier it would be to fix a broken arm than my broken heart. There is no surgery, no cast, no xray to see the damage of my heart. There is no medical help that can be given to insure that it heals. There is nothing. Nothing that makes any sense anyway. I have found that the constant love from my husband has healed in wondrous ways. The love and support we receive from our families is and indescribable form of healing medicine. The prayers, hopes, and dreams that are felt from friends that are new and old help piece this broken heart back together every single day.

Everyday I feel love and support from across the world thanks to the Internet. Everyday I fall asleep next to the man of my dreams. The man who has watched me fall apart and still live. Everyday I get phone calls, texts, emails from family checking on me and my heart.

In so many ways this is all better than a cast could ever be. if the doctors would have put a cast on my heart it would have been hidden away for months as it healed myself. But, I know they would have taken that cast off and my heart would have fallen out in pieces still. My heart has been open for the world to see the pain. And, the world has helped put it back together.

I will never be "over" my sons death. I will never not have the scars from the broken lines. But, I will have a heart that is stronger because of the love I have been shown.

I have a request to share some of the love I receive with a dear friend. I have a friend, who has been TTC for many years. She and her husband tried for 7 years. She has since divorced, had surgery for her endo, and now has a wonderful new man by her side. They are ready to start this TTC journey again. I am scared for her. I know the pain that comes with the hope that is destroyed month after month. Ken and I TTC for four years before Trent. It is not an easy road. Please pray with me for peace. Please pray that she finds the strength. Please pray that there is a new baby in her near future!!

Thursday, November 11, 2010


here is Sprinkle...

8 weeks 4 days...tiny little arms and legs!

I am 10 weeks tomorrow.

I am beyond blessed to be carrying our rainbow baby...

(this picture is just for you lis)

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

wordless wednesday

Monday, November 8, 2010

4 letter words

When you are little the "bad" words are the cuss words...

but, I think they lied to us...

to me the "bad" four letter words are:


You can mix and match these words and make good things out of them...but, if you use any of them in the context of your child dying...they are the bad words. They are the words that haunt me. They are the reason I don't sleep. They are the reason I don't dream of the future. These words are the ones that have me in the corner...not because my mom put me there for saying them...but, because I am too scared to come out and face the world.

Friday, November 5, 2010


The day we held Trent's memorial service was also the day I was discharged from the hospital. They doctors had taken blood that morning and the infection was gone. My white blood cell count was fine. The nurse came in before the service to give me my discharge orders. I can't remember any of it...except that she asked if I needed any pain meds. She wanted to know if I had pain any where. I told her I would take something for my heart not to hurt so much. She just stared at me. She told me she would ask the doctor what kind of pain meds he could prescribe.

We had a beautiful service for my son. His whole extended family was there. We all cried for him. We all prayed and sang and wept. It was the most perfect service...if you have to plan a service for your dead child...this one was pretty good.

They let me walk to the service. They wanted to push me in a wheel chair. We had his service in the hospital chapel. It was beautiful. I was on the ICU floor and the chapel happened to be on the L&D floor. We had to walk through the L&D lobby to get there. I had given birth on the L&D floor but was soon moved back to ICU. We had to walk through families bringing flowers and balloons to the new moms. It was not fair.

When I was back in the room another nurse came in to see if I needed any more pain meds before I was discharged. Again, I asked for something to make my heart not hurt so much. Guess what?? There is not a drug for that. They don't make it.

In the months since his birth and death I have seen and heard people do awful things. I have been on the receiving end of cruel words. I have watched people avoid me so they don't have to talk about it. All of it broke my heart anymore.

But, more than anything I have been loved. I have had people email me, text me, stop me in the halls...just to show me love. I have had people...friends and perfect strangers who hear my story...stop to hug me. I have had people send me care packages, special gifts, stories of how my son's life has changed them. I have become friends with people that I never should have crossed paths with. I have been loved by people who I thought had forgotten about me years ago. I have been prayed for countless times...that I didn't even know about. I have been touched beyond words. You have been my medicine. You have been what has healed my heart. The doctors could give me nothing for the pain that was/is in my heart. But,, old, far away, close, ... family ...they/you have helped mend my broken heart.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

10 whole months

10 minutes after he died the delivery room was still full of activity. The nurses took him back from me to dress him, take his foot prints, take pictures, and clean him up. The doctor was helping to deliver the placenta. It was pure chaos...and the only thing in the room that mattered to me was that sweet boy that just died.

10 days after he died I was laying in bed with a pinched nerve from labor. My mom was in town to help take care of me. I had so much milk my chest ached. I was in so much physical pain at some moments I forgot how much my heart hurt. I couldn't walk, talk, eat, sit, sleep, anything without crying. I couldn't imagine living. I didn't want to. I didn't understand why God chose to keep me here and take my precious son.

10 weeks after he died I was back to work. I was trying to be "normal." But, the grief was so powerful I felt like I couldn't breath most days. My chest was heavy. My heart had been shattered and my body could barely hold it in. I cried all the time. I tried to hide it. I tried to be strong. I failed. I was deep in guilt for failing him. I was beyond broken spirited. I had nightmares of those days in the hospital. I had dreams of the son I was supposed to be raising. I had a husband that didn't recognize his wife anymore. I had a life that didn't feel worth living.

And, tomorrow it is 10 months since he died. If you just glanced at my life you wouldn't know the pain I have seen. If you were a stranger you would just see a pregnant woman...and it must be my first since I have no other kids in tow. If you were on the outside looking in you would see a woman how laughs, jokes, loves, and lives. You would see a woman who took the grief and decided to change herself...lose 90 lbs, delete all negative people from her life, care more deeply, love more genuinely, listen fully, and more than anything give her sons life meaning. But, in these 10 months I have fallen apart more times than I have had it together. I have cried more tears than I have in the whole rest of my life put together. I have questioned God more times than I wish to remember. I have given up hope. I have wanted to end it. I have yelled, screamed, cussed at God for taking him. I have hated the people around me who get to have a child with "ease." I have felt jealousy for those who don't know this pain. I have hidden from social events that I knew would hurt too much; birthday parties, baby showers, wedding showers. I have offended people by mentioning my sons name. I have ran people off because they can't deal with the "new" me. I have learned a new reality.

But, more than anything else...I have missed him.

I have missed his first bowl of oatmeal.
I have missed his first bath.
I have missed his first time peeing on daddy.
I have missed kissing his face.
I have missed hearing him cry.
I have missed every second of every day that he should have been here.

I miss him.

What about 10 years from now?

I believe I will still miss him. I know that I will never be the same person I was before he came into my life. I will have other children (hopefully living ones) But, he will always be missing.

And, the only real comfort in any of it is to think that in 100 years I will be there with him.

And, then I will never have to say good bye again.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010


There are so many things I will never understand in this life. And, in my human mind I can't even for see being able to understand them in the after life.

Why is life so very cruel?

Why do dreams end?

Why do children die before parents?

Why me?

Why my son?

I wrestle everyday looking for truth in this mixednup world. I have learned how to bury the pain enough to function on a day to day basis. But, it never goes away. Yesterday, I saw my high risk OB. I had to give a detailed history of Trent's pregnancy, birth, and death. The doctor had my file from the hospital and ob...but, I had to tell him everything again. It was not an easy task. Most of the time I retell the story with just the feelings and emotions that went along with the ordeal. But, yesterday I had to retell all the gruesome medical details. I had to tell of the blood, the amnio, the ultra sounds, the cervical checks, the contractions, the infection, the infection, the infection. I guess chorio is pretty rare (the nurse could not even remember how to spell it). The doctor wanted every detail I could remember of it. I was pretty fuzzy after about 3 am....that is when my temp was rising and the doctors were throwing the words like "septic" "losing you both" and"death" around. I do remember the smell. As I described the smell and the puss I cried. The doctor and nurse just nodded in agreement. They knew the smell. But, did they know it like I did? Did they know what it was like to hold their son and only smell the sickness? Do they know that when I open the bag with his clothes in it I can still smell that awful smell? It will always be the smell of death to me. It was so hard to relive it all again.

But, so very important so that the doctors can do everything in their power to prevent it from happening again.

Life doesn't make sense. Life hurts. Life is fragile.

I pray that in june of 2011 I will once again believe that life can bring joy, hope, laughter, and love.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

deja vu

I am having deja vu...

this time last year I was pregnant...

Halloween last year I was dreaming of what my sweet baby would be this Halloween. I didn't know that Trent was a boy yet so, I didn't buy any of the 75% off custom es for sale after it was over. I can't help but dream what this little sprinkle will be next year. It scares me to be thinking ahead...but, how can I not.

Last year at this time I was thinking about how this Christmas would be his first I can't help but think how next year we will have a little one.

I see the high risk OB on Tuesday. He will do a full prenatal work up. I will have another ultra sound. I will go back to my normal OB on the 22 and we will schedule surgery then. My cerclage will be placed in the 14th week. That will be the week of December 5th. I am so nervous and so excited all at the same time.

The dreaming of a future with a child is so hard when you know that it may just not come true....

missing my sweet boy...

Tuesday, October 26, 2010


This weekend was very draining for me...and this time not emotionally...physically. I started feeling sick to my stomach Saturday afternoon. I was camped out in the bathroom for the whole afternoon. (it was not pretty) I started throwing up around 1 am. It was coming from both ends...nasty YES!! I just sat in the shower with the cold water hitting me waiting on the next wave of vomit to come...I would then have to get out and go to the toilet for the other end...I will spare you the details. This went on until about 8:30 am. I was so sick. I could barely move. I finally climbed back into bed and asked Ken to get me some water. He did...and it came right back up. This dance of him bringing me water and me going straight back to the bathroom continued until about 6pm. I had no sleep, no food, no water...I could barely hold my head up. I decided this was much more than pregnancy and went to the ER. Yep, dehydrated...duh I had been puking for 26 hours... They admitted me and pumped me full of fluids and anit-nausea meds for a few hours. They did labs and made sure the baby was is! They finally told me I had the flu and a UTI...gave me antibiotics and said I could go home when I felt ready. I was ready!! Bottom line --- I feel MUCH better today...a full night sleep and fluids can change your life!!! I kept laying in the hospital bed waiting for myself to freak know back in the hospital...IV...pregnant...scared...but, it never came. I felt secure that this little sprinkle was fine. I knew this visit was about was sick!

I went into work late today. I was pretty much dragging this morning. I have been on progesterone since my fist labs at 5 weeks. There is only ONE pharmacy in town that makes the suppositories...and they SUCK! The first day my doctor called it in and said to go over and give them my info so they could put me into the computer. I left work and went right over, 10 am. The girl says it will be 15-20 mins do I want to wait? Yes, I will wait. 20 mins later they call me up and tell me it will be 2 hours. Okay...I will go back to work. 3 hours later I go will be 2 more hours...REALLY??? What if I sit and wait??? It will be 1 hour. So, I come back in 2 hours. It is still not ready...but, this time it will be 15-20 mins. I wait...35 mins later it is ready. SERIOUSLY mad at this point. They can't get my insurance card to go through so I just pay the 30 bucks and go.

I call in my refill on Friday..."you don't have any refills" "YES I DO!! The doctor called in FOUR of them!!!" "let me check" 10 minutes are right...we will refill it for you. It will be ready Saturday...well, I didn't pick it up because of the mentioned sickness above. I opted to drop off my antibiotics and Zofran at this SAME pharmacy today so that I could just pick them all up together. DUMB idea!!

But, all of that is to say this...of course it took them 4 hours to fill the two drugs and then over an hour of me waiting while they tried to get my insurance to work...I told them 15 times they had to enter it under my husband's social...but, no one listens to me... is why this all matters. I was sitting WAITING and another woman sits down next to me...they had screwed her script up too...we started talking and of course came to the topic of me being pregnant. The questions began and I quickly explained about Trent. She told me that 4 years ago she lost her 13 year old son. She has an 18 month old and a 3 year old. She got pregnant at 16 with her son. I asked what happened. She told me that he had kidney failure. I asked if he had battled it long. She told me that when he was two he was bit by an ant and had a severe allergic reaction. They did not expect him to live for very long. He spent months in the hospital. When the doctors finally told her he had 24 hours to live her father-in-law says this, "You need to just go. You are too young for all of this. We will handle it. Just go live your life and forget about all this." She told me this 15 years later with tears in her eyes. Her son did live...and she stayed right there beside him. He lived for 11 more years. yes, he was sick. Yes, he lost the battle. But, she never left his side.

WHY do people say such awful things? Why do people think it is okay to minimize our grief? Here is this 17 year old mom who has just been told her son is going to die and her father in law tells her to just go live it is no big deal. Some days I feel like that is what the world wants from us. Just forget about it. Just go on. So what your kid died? So what??? It makes me crazy! It hurts my heart. All I want is for his life to matter...

This was a crazy long post just to tell you 2 things...1. the sprinkle is still fine and mommy is much better! 2. why does it never seem to be okay to grieve??

Friday, October 22, 2010


the words will never be easy.

the questions will never come with an easy answer.

I picked up all Trent's things from storage today. Ken's anut and cousin packed it all up after he was born and put it into storage for us. I knew I could not come home from the hospital with empty arms and a home full of baby things. I was so grateful that they packed it all up for me. It was hard to see it all today. It was hard to think back through the excitment that went with each purchase. It was even harder to think about all that I missed.

This new baby will never take Trent's place. The questions people ask me are hard. The words to answer are even harder...

Is this your first pregnancy???

Nope, it is my 4th. I have a son that lived for only 22 minutes and 2 very early misscarriages. I am not sure anyone is expecting that answer. I think most people just want the feel good answer, "Yes, we are so excited!!" "No, it is our second, but we can't wait!" But, for Ken and I our answer is not an easy one.

When are you due???

June 9th...but, I have no idea how far I will carry this baby because I have an incompetent cervix. I am not sure I will make it to 40 weeks but if I can carry to 30 weeks I will be praising God. Again, most people are just looking for a date...and most times I just give it to them. But, what does a due date really mean? For me...nothing. Not when i know how easy and common it is to give birth to a baby too early.

Do you know what you are having???

A baby. And, really if it is healthy and alive when I leave the hospital that is all that matters. People get so caught up in boy or girl. And, I do understand how importnant that little fact is once your child is here...but, I can't even express how much more importnant it is to bring that baby home. I need this baby to be alive...boy or girl....cute or ugly...fat or skinny...ALIVE...that is what I am aksing for.

Why can't I enjoy this???

Why can't I let myself get excited???

Why can't I dream of rocking my little one to sleep???

because I know this world too well now...

I have read this before...but, saw it again still applies...

Don't tell me "things happen for a reason."
Don't tell me to "keep busy" and "move on."
Don't tell me that you "know exactly how I feel."
Don't tell me that it was "too hard" for YOU to talk to ME about the death of MY baby boy.
Don't tell me that YOU feel "uncomfortable"looking at his picture or calling me on his birthday."
Don't ask me about other children.
Don't SAY anything to try to make me feel better.
Hug me.
Listen to me.
Sit quietly with me.
Let me cry.
Smile when you look at his picture.
Help me plant a tree in his memory.
Allow me to sit in the rocking chair in the nursery.
Light a candle.
Release a balloon.
Walk with me on my journey.
Remember him forever.
~author unknown

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

up and down

oh this roller coaster is so not easy...

today I heard one of the most precious sounds of my life...

the heartbeat of our rainbow baby...

it instantly took me back to the last time I heard Trent's...

The morning he was born the nurses changed shifts at 7am. When the new nurses came in around 7:30 they listened for his heart beat one more was the last time I heard that fast, strong sound. I miss knowing he was safe inside. I miss him so very much. The last time they took his heartbeat he was perfect, happy, strong. Then he was born and fought so hard for his life. The nurse checked his heart again at 8:32am...he was gone.

The joy was overwhelming today...the pain was the same...

will I make it though this???

my anxiety levels are high...very very high.

Five days after Trent was born I started on Prozac...over the next few months my psychiatrist worked hard to get me on the right combo of pills so that I could function in life again...for the last five or so months I have been on 3 Prozac (60mg), 2 Welbutrin (300mg), 4 Trazadone (200mg), and clonazapam for anxiety as needed...these are just the crazy pills I take others too...but, I gave them all up when I found out I was pregnant again. I have been doing okay up until a few days ago. I am thinking that the drugs were still in my system...they are not anymore...and I am not doing well. Yes, I am thrilled about our new baby. But, I can't get control of my anxiety. I feel helpless and hopeless. I see my OB next Wed and I am hoping there is something I can take for anxiety while pregnant.

I keep telling myself that I should be strong enough to just deal with it and not need pills...but, that is not me...anymore. I have suffered to much. I just can't deal anymore...without help that is.

But, the good news is...

the sprinkle stuck...

Monday, October 18, 2010


I am prejudice. Not against race, size, sexuality, age, none of the common ones...I am prejudice in my beliefs. I don't believe in happy endings. I don't believe we can do anything we set our minds too. I believe we were lied to...a lot.

Everything we experience in life adds to our filter. Everything we see, touch, taste, feel, all goes through our filter. That filter is made up of experiences from our life. My filter has become very skewed. Every conversation I have goes through my filter of "my son died." It changes the way I view every single thing in the world. My filter has changed many times over the years. But, this one seems to be the most significant.

I process every piece of information through the filter that includes that awful piece of information. I can't leave it out. This makes somethings more amazing than they should be and other things hurt more than they should. This morning while I church I had the precious opportunity to rock a sweet little girl to sleep. As I watched her little eyes grow heavy and listened to her breathing become regular...I felt like I was in the presence of God. This little angel is the little sister to a beautiful angel in heaven. Her parents know the pain that Ken and I filter everything through. They know what it means to say goodbye. They know the awful decisions that follow the death of your child. But, they also know the amazing peace that comes with rocking your second child to sleep. I grew teary eyed today as I thought about the rainbow baby God is knitting together in my womb. I pray that I will bring this little miracle home and rock her (I really feel like it is a girl) to sleep every night. I will hold her in my arms and know that her big bother is watching from above. I know that God will give me the joy that has been lacking in this grief. I would not trade my pain...because that would mean I would trade my sweet Trent. But, I am looking forward to the moment I get to walk out of the hospital with a living child in my arms.

In that same nursery today the lady that was with me told me she thought God was taunting me with Trent. Let's just say her filter is filled with bitter, resentful feelings. She really means well. And, she truly cares about Ken and I. But, her filter is a little strange. She said she believes that this baby will be the one we bring home. She says she can not understand why God would pick a couple like us to taunt with children. Does God taunt? I am not sure I believe that. I don't think God taunted me with Trent. I think He gave him to me for a beautiful, short period of time. I believe that Trent's life will live on in my heart and yours. I don't think God was taunting me.

My life was complete when I held my son. My heart was fuller than I ever knew it could be. I am beyond blessed to be carrying another gift from God...

If we are having a little boy (which Ken believes it is) ...

Ian Kenneth

and if we are having a little girl (which is what I believe)...

Jane Bethany

both mean "gift from God" and truly this little one is.

Did I mention we have $100 going on which one it is??

Sunday, October 17, 2010

life sucks sometimes

This is not an easy life.

I would not wish this life on anyone. But, the sad reality is it happens every single day. There are hundreds of woman in the next few weeks and months that will discover this pain. They will learn what it means to have the sacred ripped from their arms. They will learn of a pain so raw and overwhelming that words can not explain it. They will watch as their child is taken away never to return. They will never know the sound of that child's first word. They will never have the opportunity to watch that child grow up. And, neither will I.

I know that my pain is not any greater than yours. I know that my story is not any harder. But, it is mine.

I was watching the Today show last week and they were interviewing an author who just wrote a book about her journey through cancer. She said that she sat next to someone on a plane and he said to her, "don't hog your story." This statement changed her life.

I get much criticism for sharing my pain and journey. I have people who can't understand why I would want to be so transparent with this pain. I have people who don't seem to understand putting my most vulnerable, painful thoughts on the line for strangers and friends to read. I didn't either. But, I know that this blog has been the most healing thing in my journey. And, I think it is because I am not hogging my story. My story is painful, hard, sad, mean, unfair, and sometimes there is a little joy mixed in. In the months since Trent was born and died I have had many, MANY people "unfriend" me on facebook. I have some that have told me to my face they could not handle the pain of my posts and others I have learned from other people. But, the bottom line is...they don't like my story anymore. My story makes them uncomfortable. My story reminds them this life is not rainbows and butterflies.

Why should I hide this loss? Why should I not mention my son? WHY?

There is no reason except to protect people from the reality of the world.

This world sucks.

Plain and simple.

Life sucks.

But, my hope is that by sharing this journey with you I find healing. By laying my heart out on the line I show someone, somewhere that God is still at work. By bringing my insecurities, my fears, my guilt, my agony to the table...I will praise Him in the middle of it all.

I am sorry if my story offends you.

I am sorry if you wish I was writing about dancing in a field of flowers.

But, I hope that if you ever come to a point that your heart hurts more than you knew it will think of me...and maybe just maybe ... remember that even in the midst of losing my first born son...I can praise Him.

This pain is real, harsh, and all consuming.

But, my God, has never left me.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

worry wart

I worry.

A lot.

I always have.

But, this time it seems like the stakes are a bit and death.

I am beyond thrilled to be carrying this little sprinkle. There are so many emotions that come along with it...the one I have struggled with this week the most has been guilt. I feel guilty that I am excited again. I feel like I am betraying Trent. But, I have decieded that it is far enough after his birth that the phrase "if Trent would have lived you would not have this baby" can not be used. Trent would be 9 months old if he lived from his birthday and 6 months old if he would have made it to his due date. Either one of these ages would be sufficient for Ken and I to have started trying again. Would we have? I have no idea. But, I know that we can't say that we would not be pregnant again because I would have still been carrying Trent. I just don't want this baby growing up thinking we only had it to replace it's big brother. Not so. Ken and I have wanted kids since before we were married. Our first son is in heaven and we hope this one will come home with us...

Speaking of babies...can you believe how fertile I am in 2010???? 4 pregnancies...Trent, checmical pregnancy in May, miscarriage in August, and now this sprinkle. Umh...I am thinking the doctors who told me I would never get pregnant were a little mistaken ;)

I guess the whole "if you lose weight your fertility chances will rise" was not a joke after all.

Bottom line... I am thrilled and scared to death.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

lab results

Blood work came back...

HCG 12,000...great #!!

Progestrone up to 12.5!!! We needed it to be at that is GREAT!!!

Thank you Lord!!!

We will get to see our little sprinkle via ultrasound next Wednesday at 2:00 pm.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


The aftermath of death is never ending.

It never stops.

The pain, the heartache, the tears...they never stop.

I think about those precious moments I got to hold my whole life laid in my arms and I couldn't fight hard enough to keep him here. I loved that sweet boy more than anything in this whole world.

While in Florida I realized how selfish my grief had been. I forgot how the death of Trent affected so many others. His life was not just stolen from me or from was taken from everyone. All of them...all of you. You will never get to hold my sweet least not on this side of heaven. He was so perfect, so beautiful. I wish so badly you could have stood beside me that day and held him. I wish you could have watched him take his mommies hand, breath, kick his little legs. I wish you could have known him...

My grief has been so all consuming I missed everyone elses...

Trent died on January 5th. We had a memorial service for him on the 6th. It was a beautiful service. We had it at the chapel at the hospital. Ken's parents were there, my dad, my older brother, two of my sisters and their husbands. My mom and youngest sister could not be there (there were legal reasons). We never all got to grieve together. At the time I didn't even notice...but, on this trip home I saw what an important step that was that we missed.

On Sunday morning I attended church with my family. They all attend the Beachside Church in Ormond Beach, Fl. It is the church Ken and I attended before we moved. I love that church. I rode with Cassie and Aubree to church and we were running late. I walked in without really being in a place to worship. I haven't been to church in a while. I have been too mad. I hate to admit that...but, I have. I have been mad at God. I can't remember the music that morning...except that it was a new worship pastor and I was not really into his song choices. The message was given and focused on Job. Many many times I thought of Job and his struggles as I walked through this life without my son. I know what it feels like to have God take everything sacred away from you. At the end of the sermon the pastor asked us to forgive God. That hit me like a ton of bricks. I don't know how. I don't know where to start. But, the tears were flowing. I had a few different people come up and hug me from behind. People who follow my story here...people who have grieved for Trent. My sisters and mom cried with me. Finally the pastor's wife came and asked if she could pray with us. It was one of the most healing moments of my life. To sit in a room and weep with my mom and let them know that I hurt so bad every single day for my son. To watch them hurt for him... to know that I have not been walking alone. That afternoon my youngest sister, Bridget was baptized in the ocean. As we walked to the beach my niece, Ella, said to me, "I want to hold you hand because Trent died." I told her that was just fine. She said to me, "I wish he would not have died. I wish he were here...I would be his best friend." I told her I thought that would be wonderful but that he was already in heaven. She told me, "I know, I can't wait to get to heaven to meet him...I want to see if he is bald like uncle danny." Oh that precious girl...even at 4 she is missing her cousin.

Everyone lost a huge part of their lives that day. I wish I could have changed it. I hate that I have brought pain to their hearts. But, to know they have loved my son...still love my son...means so much to me.

I miss that precious boy...

but, I would not give up the last year of pain to erase his short life. It has all been worth it.

To bear the name "mother" because of my angel...

it is all worth it...

but, the pain will never end...

the grief will last until I see him again...

this baby that I am carrying now will never fill his spot...

Tuesday, October 12, 2010


6 weeks pregnant today...

it is so strange to be counting again...

I mean counting in a good way.

I had a lot of people ask why I went ahead and shared the news we were expecting...instead of waiting. Why not? I kept it to myself for a few days and then realized how unfair it is to this little sprinkle (at six weeks my baby is the size of a sprinkle on an ice cream sundae) to hide it. Yes, we have been through a very tramautic loss this year.

Trent will always be our first born son. We will miss him every single day. Our family will never be complete. He will be missing from every family picture, memory, moment, everything!!

I am beyond blessed to be carrying this rainbow!!

I had bad news from the doctor progestrone levels are low. My beta/HCG levels were great but the progestrone was low. They started me on progestrone suppositories yesterday. I am praying they do the trick. I know how devastating loss is...I just don't want to live it again.

Hang on my little sprinkle!!!

Saturday, October 9, 2010

one more rainbow

5 weeks and 2 days pregnant...

this one feels good...

i am excited...

i know i should guard my heart a little...

but, this little one is growing (and making me very sick)

Thursday, October 7, 2010

36 hours

I am home.

My flight arrived in a little late and after wandering the parking lot trying to remember where in the world I parked my car...I made it safely home into the arms of my husband. I don't remember much after that. His alarm went off at 7am yesterday morning. It woke me up...I felt like I had been hit by a mac truck. I quickly sent an email to my 10am meeting letting them know I needed to reschedule. My phone rang and buzzed with texts throughout the day...but, I don't remember answering or responding to any of them. Ken arrived home at 4:30 yesterday afternoon and I had not moved from the spot he left me at 7:30 am. I slept the entire day. He woke me up with a big glass of water and told me I needed to drink some. I feel right back to sleep. He woke me back up around 8pm and told me I had to eat something and take some medicine. I did and went right back to sleep. I think he returned some calls for me, I think he answered some texts, I can't remember much at all. I begged him to take me to the hospital. I just wanted them to hook me up to some kind of meds to make the pain stop. I can't tell you if it was my heart that hurt or my body. It felt like both. I can't tell you if it was grief or sickness. I can't tell you why I slept for 36 hours straight. But, I did. I woke up this morning with the same sick feeling. I forced myself up and to the shower. I drank a cup of coffee and headed to work. I have been at my desk since about 8:30am. I have felt very productive. But, at the same time I am so very numb. I can't feel my fingers, toes, lips, anything. I have a doctors appt at 1:45. I can barely see through the haze that has become my brain.

I am numb.

The trip was not that bad.

I think that I may have told my dad goodbye. I am not sure I will see him alive again. He is so very sick. I can't figure out how to deal with that.

I grieved with my family for Trent.

My heart ached for him.

My body is exhausted from 9 months of missing him. I feel like when I got off that plane Tuesday night I could not hold it together any longer.

My body shut down yesterday...I am not sure it has done this before. But, for once, I listened to it. I needed to just sleep.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

9 months

As I sit in the Jacksonville airport on the nine month mark....I am overwhelmed.

I can't help but think what should be today....

A bouncing baby boy giggling at his mommy...

A family sad to see their little nephew/grandson leave...

Instead this weekend has been filled with so many tears...

Healing tears, painful tears, tears of hope for the future...

This weekend I found out how selfish grief really is. I have been so consumed with the pain in my heart I missed the pain of every one else. They all lost a part of them that day. My entire family, on both sides, have grieved for my son. I have been so overcome I couldn't see the pain they had for him...for me...for Ken.

I have so much more to write...but, it is time to board my flight

Back to the life I have been forced to live without Trent

Back to the most amazing man I know

I miss you so so much sweet boy!

Saturday, October 2, 2010


While I am in Florida visiting my family I am writing our angel's names in the sand.

I will only be here until Tuesday so please let me know if you want one!!

Friday, October 1, 2010

Angel names

I plan to write Trent's name in the sand on my home town beach tomorrow....

If you want one for your angel please let me know

Safe and sound

6 anxiety pills later...

I arrived "home"

I feel like Texas is home but Daytona is home home. I learned to drive here, graduated high school, went to college, meet my amazing husband, and married him. My family is here. My friends (some of them) are here. I can go anywhere and not get lost...two years living in Midland and I still get lost! This is home.

What is that saying....home is where the heart is....

Maybe that is why in a strange way I feel closer to my sweet boy here. This is the last place I had him with me. I am staying at my sister Kristen's tonight...we spent our one and only Christmas , with Trent safe and sound in my belly, here. The last moments of innocence was spent in this house. The last nights of sleeping with no nightmares. This is the last place I had him with me. But, it is also the house I returned to when I was released from the hospital. This is where I came when my whole world had ended. This is the bed I slept in the night my milk came in. This is the room where Ken reached out to hold his wife and I turned away and wept....I couldn't let him feel my empty womb. It was all my fault that his son was no longer there. This is the house they brought me his ashes to. This is the house that, with tears in her eyes, my mom took that tiny bag of ashes and kissed her grandson goodbye.

Why me? Why us? Why our children? I so wish I could fix this....I wish I had him right here next to me. I wish I could here the soft sounds of him sleeping. I wish I could touch his cheek just once more. I wish I could kiss his head as I drift off to sleep tonight.

My son is dead.

But, for some reason I feel closer to him tonight.

Thursday, September 30, 2010


tomorrow I fly home.

I fly back to the "scene of the crime."

I am flying alone this time. Ken could not take the time off of I will go it alone.

Yes, I am scared. Yes, I am worried the emotions that will come back. But, my family is there. I grew up there. I can't never go back.

Today I had so many people tell me that they were praying this weekend...on facebook, email, text, and in person. It was amazing. I didn't know if I had voiced my concern...I probably did. But, these people cared enough to remember that this trip would be hard. It was humbling. I always think I need to people EVERYTHING in hopes they won't forget about me. But, they didn't.

My main concern is Tuesday.

I fly home on Tuesday.

Tuesday is the day he was born.

Tuesday is the day he died.

Tuesday is October 5th ... exactly 9 months later.

It is a lot to try and contain.

So, prayers of peace on Tuesday will be needed.

Thank you.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010


You know that old saying if I knew then what I know now

I don't think I would want to live in that world...

i am not sure in that world much would make sense...even if we knew it all...

Here is what I know:

I know that i no longer run from my emotions. I no longer hide behind this fake, happy exterior so that the world will never see the real pain. I know that there has been a storm brewing in my heart for a very long time...and with the death of my son I could no longer contain it. I have been deeply hurt in my life. I used to hide all of this. I would hide the things that scared me...the things that would make me vulnerable. If you didn't know them you couldn't use them against me. I let my brother use my own insecurities against me for far too long. I refused to let anyone else. But, I know now...I am stronger in sharing my weaknesses. I am more whole than I ever was when I hid in the shadows of that storm. I know that my heart hurts...and it is okay to share that with people. I know that my weakness is not my insecurity but, rather what pushes me forward. I know that my biggest fear in life has already come to pass. I have lost my child. There is nothing worse. There is nothing NOTHING that can bring more pain. There is nothing left to be scared of. Am I still insecure? Yes. Do I still bottle up my emotions? Yes. But, I have changed. so. much.

On December 30, 2009 I sat in the Orlando International Airport waiting for a plane to take me back to the life I knew. The life of hope and promise. The life that included my son. I now know that that world was not meant to be. I am not going to say "it was God's plan" I HATE THAT! I don't believe that God's plan was for this beautiful boy to die. I don't believe that I serve a God that is that cruel. I don't think that it is fair to assume that Trent's plan was death and yours was life. I know now that Trent's story was 22 minutes. That was his life. That is what he got. And, he lived it to the fullest he knew how. He rested on his mother's chest, he felt the hands of both of his grandmothers, he felt the lips of his mother on his cheek, he felt the sweet caress of his aunt, he held his mommies hand, he breathed in the air around him, he fought as long as he could. He experienced the world in every way his little body would let him. That is his story. That is his life. All of it. But, my life is not over. My story is not done being written. God is still working on my story. It is changing every single day. HE GAVE me my son. He didn't take him away. He GAVE him a life. A beautiful, wonderful life. A life filled with love and happiness. Do I miss him? every. single. second. But, he did it...he lived...he was here. His life was fuller than I can even imagine mine could ever be. He never knew my pain. He never cried tears. He never hid his emotions. He lived. My son is gone. Forever. But, I am still here.

I now know that I must go on. There are days when I don't think that is possible, fair, or even likely. But, I must. My story is not over yet. Trent has become the star of my story. He has become the reason I have found the good hidden behind the bad. He is the reason I know that God is good...HE created my beautiful son. I know that I have to get up, face the world, and try my very best to make a difference. I now know that it is okay to look people in the eye. I have nothing left to hide. I know that I am worth something. I matter. I know that I am Trent's mom. I know that my son will forever be with me. And, most importantly I know the next time I see him I will NEVER have to say goodbye. I know that I have nothing left to fear.

I know life sucks, hurts, screws you over, slaps you in the face, kicks you while you are down, pees in your cheerios, gets your panties in a bunch....but, I know I can survive it all.

I have.

I will.
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