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

Tuesday, August 31, 2010


The day I was admitted to the hospital with Trent family from all over the country rushed in to be by our side. I can't even put into words the gratitude I have to all of them for being there. There are parts of that week that are so etched in my memory I will never lose them. There are other parts that are fuzzy because of the drugs, or grief, or both. But, one of those moments that is there forever happened in the first few hours we were there. My mom and dad had arrived. Ken and I were in shock...beyond shock. My parents cell phones kept ringing with people asking about us and wanting any new details. One of the calls my dad answered he said this, "We are in the hospital room with Ken and Trisha now. (pause while the other person says something) It looks like she is losing the baby." NNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't say it...don't say the words...don't put them out there. It can't be true. It will not happen. I will keep him safe inside.

You know the ending to that story.

And, here I am again. At the end of something else. Did I jinx it by saying I knew something wasn't right? I don't think so. I think that my heart would not let me get attached. Today as I looked down and saw blood I thought, "It looks like she is losing the baby."

How many more times will I hear that in my life? How many more times will we suffer? How many more times can my heart break?

This is nothing like the pain that came with losing Trent. NOTHING. But, why? Why us? Why? WHY? WHY? WHY? Why?

My heart was already broken...I don't think it could break, today I am numb.

I am numb to the pain of this world. I can't understand why?

Does He think I am strong enough to endure this? I am not! I don't know if there is a lesson in all of this...but, I can't see it.

I have had three positive pregnancy tests in my life. One in Sept 2009 that brought my beautiful Trenton James into this world. One in May of 2010 that ended in a chemical pregnancy. And, one yesterday...that brought me to my "spontaneous abortion." Thank you for inventing that wonderful is so much better than miscarriage...can you hear the sarcasm? Three times and no babies in my arms. I feel like giving up. I feel like there is no hope for me. But, most of all I feel like I don't deserve it anymore.

It all happened so fast. I didn't even get time to say hello.

I hate being the one to make my mom cry. And, today she cried for me again.

I am so sorry I keep messing this baby thing up.


it is over.

before it really even began.

i woke up with cramps this morning...bad cramps.

called the doctor, went to the doctor, he says I am miscarrying.

it will happen over the course of the next day or two.

no blood yet.

so, basically we wait for the end...again.

this is nothing NOTHING like having a live birth...but, still that shred of hope is gone.

one day we will bring home a baby

Monday, August 30, 2010


I have learned many, many things in the almost eight months since my sweet baby boy was here with me. I have learned of this nasty club that way too many belong. We seem to call ourselves the BLM's (baby loss mommas) It is this crazy world that should not exsist. It is a group of mommies mourning the death of their child. It is a group of women who all carry the same burden. It is a club in which every single member has had to say, "My child is dead." In this club we have all had to make the awful decisions that come along with the death of our child; burial or cremation, memorial service or funeral, public or private. Ugh...these things should not exsist. But, they do.

I have also learned of the "rainbow" babies. What is a rainbow baby? Well, for us BLM's it is the baby that comes after our loss. It is the tiny bit of hope we see through the storm. Another BLM describes it as this...

"Rainbow Babies" is the understanding that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of the storm. When a rainbow appears, it doesn't mean the storm never happened or that the family is not still dealing with its aftermath. What it means is that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and clouds. Storm clouds may still hover but the rainbow provides a counterbalance of color, energy and hope.

So, with fear and tears I would like to share that I am 4w2d pregnant with our rainbow. It is not an easy place to be. I know it should be. But, something already feels wrong to me. I just have this gut feeling this will not be the one either. I just can't let myself be excited. I can't let my heart get attached...yet. I have seen the dr. I have an appt with the high risk ob next week. The week of 9/10 I will have an appt with my normal ob to set the cerclage date. I will have a cerclage placed. I have cried most of the day. And, the sad thing is not many were tears of joy. I guess I don't have the luxury anymore of thinking that in 36 weeks I will be bringing an infant home. I am not sure happily ever after exsists...but, oh how I am trying to have hope. I am trying to see this rainbow as what it is...our second miracle.

One of the first questions I asked the nurse today was, "What happens if I start bleeding?" She told me that this early on there was nothing they could do. (Which of course I knew) But, I wondered do I go to the ER? Do I call them? Or do I just sit at home crying again? I can't even believe this is my thought process. I can't even wrap my mind around how awful of a mom this all makes me to this little rainbow I am growing...

My due date is May 7, 2011 ... Trent's was May 9,2010. Can I do this? Am I strong enough?

I want a living child so very much....I am just so very scared.

And, I feel like I am not ready to tell the world yet. So, I have only posted this here...not on Facebook. We have told our families...I am just too scared to let people hurt with us again if anything goes wrong.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

his absence

The presence of his absence is everywhere.

I held my whole world in my hands for such a few moments.

But, I will carry his absence forever.

He will never be here. He will never be back. His memory will never fade. But, his life is forever over.

Last night I was catching up on some blog reading. Ken came out of the bedroom and asked me who I was reading about. I started sharing the stories of the other baby loss mommas. I showed him pictures, I told him the birth stories, I cried with him. I told him of a few misdiagnosis of incompetent cervix. We both talked about how "lucky" we were to have gotten the correct diagnosis. The life of our future children depend on that diagnosis. He told "If the doctors would have missed your incompetent cervix and we lost a second one...I would probably spend the rest of my life in jail because I would have gone on a shooting rampage." My husband is not an angry man. He is not unreasonable. But, he is a grieving father. He is a man who misses his son every single day. I think he knows we could not survive this again. It is too much. Too much pain. Too much sorry. Too much agony. Too much emptiness.

His absence is all around us. We have no baby clothes in our laundry. We have no dirty bottles in the sink. We have no diaper changer. We have no crib. We have no tears at night. We have no smiles from our precious Trent. We have no pictures of his growing body.

He will forever be absent from our lives.

And, that truth surrounds every inch of my being - every single day.

taking his last breath...holding up his tiny finger
as long as I'm living my baby he'll be

Wednesday, August 25, 2010


I was just laying in bed watching the minutes tick by on the clock. On nights like these I know that sleep will not come easily...if at all. As those minutes kept ticking by I thought of something my dad always said while I was pondering an answer to one of his questions "Hurry up honey, time is marching irrrvocably into the past." Those words were ringing in my ears tonight. I am not sure why. I know there is not way I can change the past...but, as time marches on sometimes I feel almost numb to the whole thing. I sometimes feel like I am still in the denial stage of grief. This couldn't be my life. These last seven months ... it must have all been a dream. But, the truth is it is not. I am here.

When Ken and I first started dating the Lifehouse song "You and Me" had just come out. The first time I heard it I knew it was "our" song. The words were so powerful to me. In those first few weeks and months with Ken every time we were together it felt like time stopped. It felt like nothing else in the world could matter. I used to think having a boyfriend was some kind of status symbol but, with Ken it didn't matter. We had nothing to prove to anyone. Because we meet and married so quickly people were looking to us to prove it...but, it was just him and me. No one else mattered. With Ken everything has always been easy. There has never been an awkard moment with him. And, my favorite thing of all is when he would tell me I was beautiful and that he couldn't keep his eyes off me. Every time I hear the song I still get that nervous - butterfly feeling in my stomach...just like the first times we kissed.

what day is it
and in what month
this clock never seemed so alive
I can't keep up
and I can't back down
I've been losing so much time

cause it's you and me and all of the people
with nothing to do
nothing to lose
and it's you and me and all of the people
and I don't know why
I can't keep my eyes off of you

all of the things that I want to say
just aren't coming out right
I'm tripping inwards
you got my head spinning
I don't know where to go from here

cause it's you and me and all of the people
with nothing to do
nothing to prove
and it's you and me and all of the people
and I don't know why
I can't keep my eyes off of you

there's something about you now
I can't quite figure out
everything she does is beautiful
everything she does is right

you and me and all of the people
with nothing to do
nothing to lose
and it's you and me and all of the people
and I don't know why
I can't keep my eyes off of you

you and me and all of the people
with nothing to do
nothing to prove
and it's you and me and all of the people
and I don't know why
I can't keep my eyes off of you

what day is it
and in what month
this clock never seemed so alive

Time time time time time...

We are obessed with it. There is not escaping it. I just want to catch my breath. I just want to stop...for a few hours and figure out what is happening. But, I can't. I am the treadmill of my life...chained to it. I can never get off and take a break. Sometimes I think that is what makes this whole grieving thing so very hard. There is not time to stop and really absorb what has happened. There was not enough time with our children. There was not enough time before we said goodbye. If time would just stop...just let me catch up with where life has taken me...maybe, maybe my heart could heal a little more.

Oh how I miss my sweet Trent. I wish that time would stop. I need a moment a lifetime for my heart to catch up to this reality.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

the summer

This summer is so not what I thought it would be. I thought it would be time for us to get to know our son. I thought it would be filled with sleepless nights from an infant.

I thought maybe today I would share the pictures.

Sometimes I forget to tell the world (and myself) that we are still living, we are still smiling, we are still moving forward...

so, here is our summer... in pictures.

we spent time with my sister's and beautiful niece

I met a dear friend in Albuquerque for a long weekend.

And, we took our first hot air balloon ride.

We celebrated Ken's 30th birthday with a cake in the shape of an airplane seat.

We spent a week in Atlanta with my best friend.

And, of course three of the cutest kids around!

We had dinner with friends from highschool.

Celebrated Ken's 30th again.

Cooked out....a lot!

Hiked in one of the most beautiful spots in the world.

Spent some time with a horse...which I am afraid of ... this was a BIG step for me!

Had some chuckwagon grub!

And, finally, celebrated my 31st birthday.

It may not be the way we planned. But, we are trying to figure out a way to live through this new life.

Monday, August 23, 2010


I am 31. Today.

Yesterday Ken said to me, "I just don't know how I am supposed to act tomorrow. I know you miss Trent and you don't want to celebrate." The truth is I have no idea either.

This weekend I went hiking with a friend down in Alpine, TX. First - let me say I spent a lot of summers camping...but, I'm not really the outdoorsy type. Second - hiking in Florida meant walking a long way across flat land. In Alpine, Texas it means hiking up the side of a mountain. Third - I really enjoyed myself. I didn't mind getting dirty as we hiked. Did I mention it was raining on us and the path was slick with mud? I didn't mind the burn in my legs. I amazed myself that I could keep up. I almost backed out at the last minute and waited at the bottom. I didn't want to slow the group up. But, I made it. I kept up. And, it was well worth it. We hiked into the the mountain to two different waterfalls. It was amazing. They were beautiful. I am always in awe of God's creation when I get into it. The climb was beautiful. It was wet and dirty and hard work...but, I made it to the top and really did enjoy myself. On the way up the friend I went with got a tick on her arm. It didn't get to attach. She was able to pull it off before it did. Later in the day I also found a tick on my arm. I was able to pull it off before it attached to me. (thank goodness!!!)

Last night as I was falling asleep I was thinking of the first and only time I have ever had a tick attached to me. I was in kindergarten. I am old so way back then I went to half day kindergarten. I was in the afternoon session. I remember it was time for me to take a bath so my mom could take me to school and I ran out from the bathroom screaming I had a spider stuck to my arm. My mom tried and tried to pull it off. She called my dad and asked what she should do. (This was before the Internet so she could not just google it.) My dad told her to put Vaseline on it. That didn't work. She tried pliers. That didn't work. She finally called her mother-in-law, my grandma. My grandma told her to spray it with hairspray. That didn't work. My grandma then told her to put butter on it so it was slick. That didn't work. And, if you are picturing a calm 5 year old waiting patiently as her mom tries to pull this nasty thing would be wrong. I was hysterical. I was crying. I was kicking. I was in full brat mode. My grandma finally told my mom to burn it off! Hello!!! I was only five but even I knew that was a bad idea! She wanted to put the wick of a candle up to my armpit and burn this little bloodsucker off. I am pretty sure my dad was home and this point...because, I remember being held down to do the burning. I remember my mom holding the phone on her shoulder and the candle in the other hand. She was crying, I was crying, the tick I am sure was crying. She burned the thing off. I was traumatized I am sure. But, the point of all this nonsense is that she had no idea how to handle the tick situation. And, yes I did miss kindergarten that day. I am sure that is why I am bad at math to this day.

I know you have heard that old saying that kids don't come with a handbook. Well, duh. But, the thing is in most families there is an older, wiser parent to turn to. My sister's can call my mom when one of their girls falls and bumps their head. My sister can call my mom when Aubree will not nurse. My mom could call her mom or my dad's mom and get ideas to get a tick off me. But, I don't have that luxury. There sure is not a handbook that comes when your child dies. (Right now I just got the image of Bettlejuice and that "Instruction Book of the Dead" in my head.") There is no manual that tells you that the happiest day of your life will also be the worst. There is no page in the baby books that says what to expect when the funeral director asks if you would like your son cremated or buried. There is not a number I can call when the grief takes me over so strongly that I don't want to take another breath. There are not people giving me help in the store with a crying infant. I am not googling how to help a colicky baby sleep. I am lost...with no idea of how it is all supposed to go.

So, when Ken said last night he didn't know how to act either. How do you celebrate when the thing you loved the most is gone? How do you smile when world has stopped for you? How? I don't know. But, I am trying to figure it all out.

One year ago today we created Trent. One year ago today the journey began. One year ago today I was still naive enough to think the world was a good, fair place.

Oh the difference a year can make. A year later and I have loved more than I knew I could. I have lost more than I knew was possible. I have cried more tears than seem possible for a lifetime. I have searched and searched for the "why?" I have beat myself up for it all being my fault. I have lost myself.

What will my 31st year old? I am hoping for moments of joy. I am hoping for moments of happiness. I am hoping for more bright days than dark days. I am hoping for less pain.

30 was not good for me....I am hoping 31 is better.

Friday, August 20, 2010


So, today I had an ultra sound of my boobs (breasts to be PC about it.) My OB ordered the test after my appt Tuesday. It was so strange being there for something other than seeing my baby. It was even stranger to have the gel squirrted all over my chest instead of my belly. I didn't cry. I don't know if it was because I am just so numb and drained after this week. (I have had a really hard week. Grief wise.) The tech did her intake asking how many pregnancies, how many live births, how many know the drill. I told her about my sweet Trent. I gave her the short version to keep my tears in check...although she teared up. The scan was long, VERY long. I have a small lump in my right breast and they were really having a hard time getting an image of it. The tech had to call in a higher-up to try and find it. They could both feel it...just couldn't get an image. After about an hour we finally got some good pictures. Let me tell you it is not nearly as exciting to see breast tissue as it is to see your baby! They measured the lump and I should know if I need further testing by next Wednesday. They also scanned the left breast because of all the milk. I have no idea what they were hoping to see...the secret "OFF" button hidden inside? But, either way I should hear from my doctor next week.

SUBJECT CHANGE ;) (didn't want to catch you off guard)

I was talking to a sweet girl last night at church. We had been in a meeting the day before together (the same meeting that bought on my angry eyes because of that stupid woman). She had told the crowd that she was 3 months pregnant. My eyes filled up with tears for her. Last night she apologized for saying anything. How do I even explain in words?? I am excited for her...I can't wait for her to experience all the things that I did. Hearing the heartbeat the first time, seeing the baby moving of the screen, feeling those little kicks, talking to your little angel, and finally having that precious child placed in your arms. I am excited for her. The problem becomes that people don't talk about babies or pregnancies with me...and I feel left out. I vowed at the very beginning of this journey of grief to not be bitter. I love kids. I love to hear stories of them! I want to be included in the joys of other people's helps me forget some of my pain. I have learned to love more fully since the death of Trent. I just wanted to grab her and hug her and pray over her belly. I want more than anything for that little angel to go home with her. I want that for everyone. This world that we live in is just not fair.

I guess all I am trying to say is to all my non-baby loss mama's or even the BLM's expecting their rainbow....know that I am not sad for you, mad at you, or wish any harm. Jealous? Yes! Happy for you? Yes! Praying for you? Yes! Just don't feel bad about talking about it with me. If I tear up know it is because I am thinking of my precious Trent. I would not trade all this pain to have never known him because he changed me forever.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Day of Hope

August 19th ... a day to remember. I know that all of us that have suffered the loss of a child remember every single day. The people who love us remember. The people who care about us remember. And, I love that. But, most days I am the only one to say his sweet name. I will not be sad if you mention him. I may cry...but, to know you thought of him or me or Ken makes my heart heal a little more.

Dear Trent,
My sweet baby boy, mommy misses you so very much. I know you are in a much better place than me. I can't wait to get there and join you. Today I want you in my arms. Today I don't even want to know about August 19th. Today I wish you were next to me right now cooing or even crying. I wish I was seeing you smile for the first time. I wish I were charting your milestones. I wish I was doing tons of laundry for you from all the spit up. I wish you were here. My heart will never be complete again. I will always love you. I will always remember you. But, today I hope for more joy in the future. I hope for a little brother or sister for you. I hope that my heart doesn't hurt so much every day. Today I hope I can shed some of the weight of grief that follows me every where I go. I miss you sweetie.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

a little late...but, worth it

I have been dreading today.

I have been avoiding today.

I have put it off time and time again.

But, I finally put on my big girl pants and went for my 6 month post check-up. (Yes, I am 6 weeks late. But, I was gearing myself up for it!)

When I pulled into the parking lot the tears started. I know I was dreading the airport and the hospital. But, this is different. This is THE doctor's office. It is not one similar to it. It is where my pregnancy was confirmed. It was where I first heard his beautiful heart beat. It is where we planned to deliver (my OB's office is in the same building as the birthing center). It is the place where I cried at my 14 week appt because they couldn't find a heart beat. I was sent to get a sonogram right away. He was just fine. But, how could I have known how hard it was going to get. This is the table I laid on at my 20 week check up and the doctor told me that my pregnancy was coming along nicely. This was the room that Ken teared up in as he heard his son's heartbeat. This is the place. I have only been back one time since Trent was born. Because he was born in Florida the hospital faxed my whole chart to him. He reviewed it thourghly and then he called me for my check up. I can't remember when it was. I think about 3 days after we got back from Flordia. I was so numb I didn't even pay attention that day. I was still in disbelief.

Today was different. Today I was very aware of what was going on. I cried in the parking lot and gained composure before I went in. The receptionsit asked how I was and I burst into tears. Ugh! I hate it that I can't control the tears anymore. I filled out the paper and sat down. I again was able to stop. But, when the nurse came to get can guess. After she weighed me, got my blood pressure, and hugged me for a very very long time I started to calm down. She was so happy about my weight loss. Then it was time to see the doctor.

With all the tears and the fear and the anxiety I walked out with good and bad news.

My cervix looks perfect. My uterus is fine. My PCOS seems to be under control right now. I am ovulating and producing good eggs. All of this is good. I was so excited to hear it. He didn't even put me back on my meds for PCOS. He thought I was fine without them. I was beyond happy to hear all of this.

The bad news...really isn't that bad...since all my lady junk is okay. But, I still have milk. Well, he called it discharge at this point. But, it is milk colored...(and I guess we could ask Ken and see if it is milk flavored) ((sorry I thought we all need a laugh sometimes)) It is only in the left breast. The right breast has several lumps. He thinks they are dialated milk ducts. But, I have a sonogram scheduled for Friday morning and bloodwork tomorrow to figure out what is going on. I am really not even worried about it. I am sure it will be fine.

And, lastly, and MOST important we talked about future pregnancies. I asked if he would place a cerclage or wait and watch my cervix. He said "Absolutley not! You have a text book incompetent cervix. We will place the cerclage before the 12th week." That eased my heart so much. He told me that some doctors do just wait and see. But, he said the life of my next child would depend on that cerclage. He told me that he has preformed hundreds of them and they are very successful. Thank goodness!

That is all...I know that was kind of boring...but, I thought I would share!

Monday, August 16, 2010

my angry eyes

Do you remember that scene in Toy Story when Mrs. Potato Head is packing Mr. Potato Head and says, "I'm packing your extra pair of shoes, and your angry eyes just in case."

Ugh, I had my angry eyes on all day! And, it wasn't even by choice really. I am just mad, devastated really that this is my life. My birthday is one week from today. Ken is a teacher and he has to work all that day. I have no family that live in Midland and even though I have lots of friends I don't know any of them that I could just call up and say "you want to see a movie" I will be alone. And, that is not what bothers me the most. That is not what got my blood boiling is the simple fact that I should be spending my 31st birthday with my son. No ifs ands or buts about it...HE SHOULD BE WITH ME!

I had a meeting this morning at church and as people went around the table introducing themselves I just kept thinking "What do I say??" (although many of them knew what had happened last year) One lady talked about her grandson (her daughter-in-law and I had the same due date) She talked about how he is the light of her life and how she wouldn't know what to do without him. He is four months old. I want my four month old. As we got further around the table a person I didn't know told about being a newlywed and then that she was 3 months pregnant. The whole room oohed and ahhed. I cried. I tried so hard not to. And, it is not that I wish evil will on either of these woman. I am just PISSED that I don't get to glow and smile about my son.

When it was finally my turn I was determined to just say "I'm Trisha. I have been married to my wonderful husband for almost five years."

But, of course that isn't what happened. I already had the tears in the back of my throat, I was already on the verge of losing it. So, I said, "I'm Trisha. I have been married to my wonderful husband for almost five years. I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy 7 months ago and held him in my arms until he went back to the arms of Jesus. This is a road I never thought I would be on. But, I am trying to survive it." The whole room was in tears with me. That is what I love about a group of Christian women. They help me carry my burden. They have called and emailed to check in on us. They have prayed over us. They have hugged me when I just cry. And, yes I cried the entire time I talked. Sometimes I just feel like I need people to know I still hurt. I need them to know that my heart is still broken.

Back to the angry eyes...the woman sitting next to me is the one who a few months ago said to me "Aren't you over that yet" First off, THAT was my son. His name was Trent and he lived and breathed on this earth. Second off F* you...which I would never say but I really really wanted to. I walked away in tears that day and blogged about it then. Today this lovely woman (can you hear the sarcasm) says to me "Oh now that you have lost so much weight maybe you can actually carry a baby." Oh I wanted to punch her. I have an incompetent cervix. It is a medical condition. Yes, my weight did not help the situation but there are hundreds of women who are normal size who have the same problem. That was when I pulled out the angry eyes.

And, I didn't take them off the rest of the day. I threw a glass of water at my husband tonight because he drank half of it and I had just made it. I yelled at the man on the phone from Ebay for freezing my account because I had been inactive so long. I yelled at my poor doggies for getting in my way. I yelled at someone in Walmart who was in my way. I threw myself onto the bed and pounded my fist into the pillow over and over again. I honked...a lot today. I am mad. I am mad people say such stupid things. I am mad that I lost my son. I am mad.

I am going to try and put my angry eyes away tonight. But, if I see that woman outside of is on like donkey kong ;)

One more thought, I really REALLY hate it when people say to me "everything happens for a reason."


Today I woke up in the mood to clean and organize...this is not an uncommon thing...but, it drives Ken nuts when I am in this mood (I guess I distract with all the running around the house and moving and cleaning and so on). I started in my closet. I have lost so much weight (66 lbs) that nothing fits anymore. I pulled dozens of shirts out, threw jeans and pants on the floor, and then moved onto shoes. In a moment of pure insanity I decided I would list everything on ebay. But, me being me, I couldn't just, I went through every closet, evey storage bin, every nook and cranny looking for stuff to sell. But, one thing I didn't take into account...the rubbermaid bin shoved to the very back of the guest room closet. As I opened it my heart sank. There were all my maternity clothes, outfits for Trent, sheets for the crib. I stopped and cried and cried. How is it that we can just pack our hopes and dreams up and shove them away? (Most of the nursery stuff was packed up by Ken's anut before I returned from the hospital but, there was some that was left behind). I don't remember packing up my maternity clothes. My husband may have done that for me. But, as I pulled each pair of pants out of the bin I more and more taken over with grief.

The weekend after I found out I was pregnant I insisted that Ken go with me to the Motherhood Maternity store. I was only 7 weeks pregnant and I was a big girl anyway so I didn't need them...but I wanted them. It seemed like one of the biggest moments in my life. I never dreamed I would wear maternity clothes. I never thought it would be me. On that first shopping trip I just got one shirt and some preggo pops for my morning sickness. I remember walking around that mall carrying that little bag with such pride. That bag showed the world that I was going to be a mommy. As the months drew on I did need to buy maternity pants and shirts. I enjoyed every shopping trip we took! I bought way too many clothes for one pregnancy...but, I just couldn't stop. When they would ring me up and say Ms. Weatherford and your due date is May 9th? I loved it.

The day I was transfered from the airport to the hospital I had on my favorite pair of maternity jeans. The paramedics removed them. They were covered in blood. The days in the hospital and chasing our luggage were crazy. I think Ken wore the same outfit for 3 days before we finally got our bags back. The day they discharged me from the hospital I wore PJ's back to my sister's house. After a restless night I got up to shower and realized the only pants I had with me were maternity pants. I tried and tried to make myself put them on. I just couldn't do it. It didn't seem right anymore. I sat on my 7 year old nieces bed and cried for what seemed like hours. Ken finally went to Target to buy me some pants.

So, today I listed them on ebay. Why? I don't know. I do hope that I will wear maternity clothes again...but, I have lost so much weight I don't think I will need that size. I am afraid of wearing the same clothes in the next pregnancy. I am scared for the memories attached. As I was listing them on ebay I wanted to type "almost brand new, my child was born at 22 weeks so they never really got a good wear" but, instead I wrote "I bought these late into my pregnancy so they are like new." Sad but true. Who would have thought that at 18 weeks I was late into the pregnancy. My heart hurt as I listed them. But, I think I need to do it for some closure. I think I have to keep living.

I don't know the rules in this new life. I don't know what I am supposed to keep and get rid of. I don't know what is right or, I will just go with my heart. And, my heart says .... I miss my baby boy every single day. But, maybe another mommy can wear the pants and have a happy ending with them.

Sunday, August 15, 2010


People tell me daily how strong I am. I don't see it. I read other blogs of women who have suffered the same loss as me...and I think how strong they are. But, most days I feel like I am barely hanging on. Most days I feel like I can put on that "together" face and on the inside falling apart.

A few weeks ago a friend emailed this to me...

Life is hard sometimes--

crazy, mixed-up, messed up.

And there you are,

in the middle of it all,

just doing your thing...

being strong and brave

and beautiful

like it's no big deal.

But let me tell you, girl,

it is.

Not everyone can do what you can do.

Not everyone can handle things the way you can.

And while you wonder sometimes

if you're doing okay...

the rest of us are just

watching in wonder.

It brought tears to my eyes. And, I guess the truth of it is we have become stronger because of our loss. I love differently because of losing him. I care more about people now. I listen more closely. I feel their pain like I never could before. I am more gentle. I am more compassionate. In the weeks right after he died I would get so made if people would tell me about their "petty" problems. I just didn't see how that mattered AT ALL. But, the longer I walk on this path the more I realize we all hurt. Some of us know the pain of holding our child in our arms as they pass from this world. Some of us know the pain of hearing the words "I can't find a heartbeat." Some of us know the pain of never conceiving on our own. And others know the pain of losing a spouse. Pain comes daily for a lot of people. The pain of rejection, the pain of being abused, the pain of stubbing your toe. My point is we ALL feel pain. And, I don't think my pain is worse than yours. I did in the beginning. But, as I have started to love people in a different way and see that their hearts hurt from their own burdens...I know I just have a different pain to deal with. Yes, I feel stronger than I was seven months ago. And, as each day passes I know that I really can live this life without my angel.

I will see him again.

I love you Trent!

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


I survived.

In his new world without my son there are so many things that trigger the memories and take me right back to that moment...

I was very worried about being back in an airport. I did fine. I just kept telling myself that it was just an airport. I survived.

It is hard to keep going forward....but I am.

As I was in the airport this morning I kept wondering what it would be like if we never conceived him, if we never knew him, if the pain never was. I believe that if Trent was never born I would have spent my whole life searching for him. I would have looked into the faces of children and searched for him. I would have known I was missing him. The thing about being a mom is that your kids complete you. If he never was I would be incomplete. If he never was I would not know love so great. I would not trade knowing that sweet boy for all this heart ache. He completed me. I will miss him all my days. But, I have seen him, held him, loved him. And, that makes me complete. If he and never been I would be incomplete.

I love my Trent with all that I have.

And, the next time I see him I never have to say goodbye.

Monday, August 9, 2010

some random thoughts

I have anxiety problems since I lost my precious Trent. I get nervous/anxious over things that never would have affected me before. I used to be fearless (at least that is how I felt). But, now I don't want to venture into anything different or new without someone next to me...just in case I fall, they can pick me up. It is hard to explain what this has to do with losing my son. But, for me he was my greatest failure. He was my greatest lost. He is what I had dreamed of and planned for more than anything else in the world and he was lost. I have always been a dreamer and a planner. I have to see or visualize everything before it comes to fruition. Now, I am scared to dream. Scared to think of the "maybe."

In the week between Christmas and New Year's there were so many posts on Facebook about what people were hoping, wishing, looking forward to in 2010. I posted this:

"2010 will be the most amazing year of my life...I will get to meet the son doctors told me I would never carry." I had dozens of comments and "likes" on it.

Sometimes I wonder if I jinxed it all. Maybe I shouldn't have been so excited, maybe I should not have dreamed so much. I know it has nothing with any of that....but, sometimes I wonder.

Ken and I are in Atlanta for business/fun. We came so I could attend a grant writing conference. But, we are also visiting some good friends. Last night we went to Stone Mountain and watched the laser show. We sat on the huge lawn, nice breeze, families all around us, happy people, laughing people...and all I could think was, "I want him here." I was teary eyed and my husband leaned over to ask what was wrong. I told him, "I want to show him this." He asked me why I did this to myself? Why did I set myself up to be sad like this? But, I don't. I don't know what will trigger it. I don't know how I will react. And, I can't stop living. At least I am trying to not stop living. I cried the whole time for him. Right before the show started...when I was the most desperate I looked up at the sky and saw a shooting star. My little angel was telling me hello.

I need some advice -- my anxiety level has gotten bad. Yes, I take pills. But, when it gets really really bad I start pinching my inner arm. I started a few months ago and it was just a pinch now and then. But, my arms look like a battle scene now. I can't get myself to stop. It just seems to me that if I feel the pain of the pinch I will distract myself from the pain in my heart. What coping mechanisms do you have? My arms look like I am a drug addict. I need to now be inflicting pain....any ideas would help

Thursday, August 5, 2010


Tomorrow we fly.

To most this is no big deal, the last time I flew my husband had Trent's ashes in his front pocket, my chest was so heavy from the pain of loss and the milk that had come in a few days earlier to feed the child that was now gone forever. The last time I flew I watched as mommy's and daddy's yelled at their children to keep quiet, spanked them for running away, put them in timeout for not listening. (I am sure there were good things happening too...but, I couldn't see them). The last time I flew I just wanted to stand in the chair and scream "MY SON JUST FREAKING DIED! CAN YOU ALL STOP BEING HAPPY AND JUST SHUT UP." Last time I flew my heart was broken and I never thought I would live again.

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 embarrasing 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 Cassie and my sisters and Mom all greeted us.

Here we are...blissfully pregnant...unaware of the horror that awaited me.

I miss those days. I miss that person. I miss thinking the world was an okay place. I miss being so naive. I miss having my heart. I miss that baby boy.

We celebrated a strange Christmas that year (too many details to explain).

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 prgegnancy 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 wisked 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 dialted to a 6, which for a baby the size of Trent, was fully dialated. 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 hosptial. 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 surivial 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 immediatily 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 embarrased. 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 contrations 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 tempature 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 surrundered 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 wiht 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 anuts 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, decideing to burry 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 noone should ever live through.

We had his memorial service at the hosptial 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 hosptial 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.

Back to the place it all began.

And, tomorrow we fly.

We fly for the first time since all of this.

7 months and 1 day after our son died, we fly.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010


Will I ever stop living in the past?

Will I ever learn how to live for right now and stop holding onto those few precious minutes I had with him?

Will little things always remind me of my time in the hospital?

Will the tears always come?

7 months ago today I went into labor with my baby boy...

tomorrow will be hard

Monday, August 2, 2010

still moving ahead

Time never stopped. It felt like it did. For a few months I felt like the whole world was going on around me and I was standing in the middle trying to figure out how to get back on the horse. Time just keeps moving. At first I was mad about that. I didn't want to keep going. I wanted to stay right where I was closer to him. I didn't want to know life without him. I didn't want to know what that would even hold for me. But, here we are approaching 7 months. 7 whole months. Ken's 30th birthday is tomorrow and my 31st is the 23rd. While I was pregnant I thought, "Oh how fun our son will be here for both of our birthday's this year." I hate that I dreamed so much...because it makes these days harder to face. I had planned on taking Trent to meet family all over the country. I had planned on having him wake daddy up tomorrow. I could just picture it in my head. How amazing would it have been to walk in tomorrow with breakfast in bed for my hubby and our adorable son there to enjoy it all with. One day...maybe we will have a birthday with a child on earth.

This past weekend Ken's grandmother passed away. She lived about four hours away from us. We drove up the weekend before to see her and this weekend to say goodbye. The hardest part of both weekends for me was to be back in a hospital. The smells, the sights, the sounds, the mommy's leaving with their new babies. It was very very hard. This weekend I kept thinking about how excited she was to be a great-grandma. Trent was her first great grand child. I had talked to my mother in law about taking Trent to meet her this summer. She got to meet him Friday morning. I know she is just smiling to meet my baby boy. In someways I am jealous that she gets to hold him now. I know she will take care of him for me.

I love that little boy so very much. How can we be so far away from the last time I held him?
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