Finally Named

Wave of Light 2018-

I had so much to ponder on this year. It’s interesting how different stages of grief continue to change, develop, and show themselves as the years pass by.

For many years, I was told by various women, in support groups or even casual conversation, that it may help me in my grief to name our lost babies. I objected to it initially. I wasn't ever able to do testing to find out the gender of any of our babies. Some women have a strong feeling of what they were carrying and go with it. Some women joke they may have a boy in heaven with a girl's name and that’s fine with them. But it bothered me.

I also had guilt that my gestation wasn't far enough along for a name. That I was trying to "claim more grief" than I had a right to. Even though I have cried for those little lives that I loved from the second they were within me. I have wondered who they are and I prayed for them every moment that they were growing.

It's difficult to find validation when the medical community names your baby “spontaneous abortion.” It's hard when the pro-choice community tells you that your baby was “just a bunch of cells” in the first trimester of development. If a large portion of this country believes that, how can I have claim to the grief I feel? How can my baby be real? How can the condolences be sincere from people who believe that? Just because I wanted the baby to survive? It’s either a life or it isn’t, right? (By the way, these are actual questions, not sarcasm.) How can I have claim to a NAME?

Well, I would like to reclaim the right. As a mother. Because I'm still a mother. As the years go by, our losses are all becoming clumped and grouped together, and it makes me pause.

If they were not “real” or “individual, ” then where does all this love go? What do I call all this sorrow? The twinges of pain with little memories. The candles I light for them. The ornaments I hang for them each year on my Christmas tree. My birthstone necklace. The prayers I still say for them, asking God to keep them in His presence. I have spent so much TIME in my own mind just defending my right to grieve and assuring myself that my babies are real instead of actually allowing myself to grieve and heal. 

Where is the threshold? The invisible one that society has? Clearly, if a mother loses a living child, we expect her to grieve; knowing that it will be a painful lifelong burden. If she delivers a stillborn child, society (we hope) is sensitive and anticipates that she will need time and space (certainly she will never just “get over” that loss either). Both a living child and a stillbirth are different than a miscarriage (I would never think of comparing them) but you are not any LESS pregnant at any point in gestation (as if it were possible to only be “a little pregnant”) You either are, or you are not. So where is the threshold? When does it becomes ACCEPTABLE to mourn your own child?

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go” ~ Jamie Anderson

Grief is the price of love, and I'm happy to pay.

As the years have gone on, and I have participated in ceremonies of remembrance for babies gone too soon, I have become tired of saying "all 6 Hanni babies" or "my six angels" because I very much think of them as individuals. And after all this time, I am ready to call them as individuals.

Kevin and I already talk about them as individuals but I'm ready to stop referring to them as number 3 or number 5. Out of nowhere, it suddenly felt disrespectful to continue to use numbers as I reference them. Kevin and I had a very long and tearful conversation, and we spent Wave of Light 2018 naming our Lost Babies.

The baby from our first loss, our second pregnancy, was the most interesting to name. Reflecting on the pregnancy, it was the time of “ignorance is bliss.” We had no idea of what was ahead. When I think back to that pregnancy, I feel pure joy. Warm, safe, excitement spilling over. Wrapping up a present to break the news to Kevin. The feeling in our home was tangible. Hugs and dreaming, sharing the news early. We will never have that again. Not in that way. Kevin has mentioned that he feels robbed, because we will never have that again. Life turned a positive pregnancy test into immediate injections, medications, emergent ultrasounds with bleeding, coping mechanisms to get through the anxiety and PTSD. Daily home doppler, midnight calls, panic attacks. Pregnancy will never be the same for us. 

We wanted to give a name to this baby that encapsulated that wonderful moment of innocent joy and unassuming hope and happiness. We originally decided on Caia (rhymes with Maya) because it means “to rejoice.” It’s a beautiful name and we both felt very pleased with it. I even told a few friends about the name.

Now for the interesting part. The morning after choosing the name, ​I woke up, and walked over to the bathroom counter thinking about how I was going to write the babies’ names on the candles later. Suddenly the name Caia didn’t sit right with me. I shook it off because I loved the name. Continued to get ready for the day. Then out of nowhere I heard the name "Elliot" in my mind. I've never even thought of that name. Again I disregarded it, I didn’t want to change Caia. But the experience stopped me- why would this name come to my mind out of nowhere? Especially a random name so different? Very much a boy’s name and I didn’t even know the meaning.

All morning I couldn't shake the thought out of my mind. I laughed, “maybe we have a boy who just didn't want to be named Caia or something.” So I came home and I looked up what Elliot means, and it means "Jehovah is God.” So in a way, it felt like it was about rejoicing. I told Kevin about my experience and he immediately agreed that we needed to change it and he loved the name. It was a blessing to have a spiritual experience like this. If it didn’t matter, this wouldn’t have happened. But it did matter. The name needed to be Elliot. Elliot matters.

Our other names were chosen in similar ways. I could go into great detail, but suffice it to say that each name came to us and felt right for the short experience we had with that baby.

Our third pregnancy- Amil. Meaning “One who hopes.” Losing Amil was like living in a nightmare. Something I thought wouldn’t actually be possible but only a dream resulting from my anxiety. I remember being physical ill from the news. Shocked, terrified for the future.

Our fourth pregnancy- Micah. Meaning “Who is like God.” The sentiment here is meant to express “Thy will Oh God be done.” This was one of my toughest losses. I was across the country from Kevin. I had done daily belly injections and I was sure if I was brave enough to do that, Micah would survive. I had lots of bloating and cravings and I was sure that meant healthy growth. It was at this point that I had to accept what was happening to us. After Micah, I started my blog and my life really started changing.

Our fifth pregnancy- Quinn. Kevin decided he wanted to name this baby after the humility we felt after this loss. Quinn means “wisdom, reason, intelligence.” We lost Quinn very suddenly. We were sitting on a couch in my Dad’s basement, at Christmastime, surrounded by holiday lights when those horrible pains started. I’ll always remember Kevin’s strength holding me through the pain and my screams. I had written lots of little notes to Quinn through the pregnancy that said “dear baby.” I’m glad there can be a name now.

Our sixth pregnancy- My most vivid memory with this baby was begging God to spare their life. On my bathroom floor I cried and pleaded in prayer like a little child. It was October, gorgeous time of year- our favorite time of year. I wanted to carry the life inside of me through the season. When the baby passed, I had to orient for a new job the next day. I absolutely had to take the job and couldn’t miss orientation. I took progesterone to keep the miscarriage from progressing, and carried them inside of me that whole day, like a secret, and tried not to cry. We named the baby Autumn. Our October loss, such a beautiful sentiment and tribute to that time of year. It’s October now and we can think of you.

Our seventh pregnancy- We knew when we saw that second line on the test that it was out of our hands. We did the injections and everything we could, but we knew by that point that it was not likely for you to survive without God intervening with a miracle. We named you Isla. Isn’t that just a gorgeous visual? An island off the coast of Scotland. An escape from all the anxiety and everything impossible in this world. Freedom. That’s what you might have been for us, but we hope that you have that now Isla. Peace and fresh air.




Elliot 2012, Amil 2013, Micah 2013, Quinn 2013, Autumn 2014, Isla 2015

I recognize this post may seem a bit “out there” or hippie-ish or bizarre. That’s ok. If it doesn’t sit well with you, I get it. Honestly I wouldn’t understand it either if I hadn’t experienced what I have. Just know that every mama who is hurting has to heal in her own way. If you are aware of someone’s hurt, all you have to do is support her/him in the way that she/he needs at that time. <3

Wave of Light 2017

I give myself the day. Today I'm allowed to feel sad. To do nothing. To hurt and stop normal life for a moment. To remember. To imagine. To accept that I am forever changed. Because of my experiences, my heart is that much fuller, and that much more broken.

​It’s October 15th- Wave of Light. It’s the 5th year I’ve participated and I’ve always found it to be very healing to reflect, mourn, and also give thanks for miracles.

This year has been amazing and my heart has been healed in more ways than I can explain. At some point you have to let go of your loss more than you had allowed yourself in years past. To get through the day to day. But it doesn't just go away. It never goes away.

I look forward to this day of memorial because it's the one day a year I give myself permission to feel completely devastated. And say “This is really unfair. It’s so unfair that this happened.” It’s still shocking to me when someone is 6 weeks pregnant and buying baby items, making plans- like, they are just confident their baby will live. Kevin and I have discussed how stunned that makes us feel- ignorance is bliss. Our reality still hurts. Many times I block out memories of particular days because the pain is still so rich and deep.

Some treat miscarriage as the loss of a potential person instead of the loss of an individual person. But I saw Aidia when she was just a "fetal pole" with the tiniest heartbeat. All of us start out the same way, in that fragile category. “Normal fetal pole with a heart rate of 129 beats per minute,” the radiologist recorded, “Crown-rump length: 6 mm.” She could have so easily turned into "loss number 7." After all, when I saw her it was Mother’s Day, and I was in the hospital, bleeding. With my history, being diagnosed with a “threatened miscarriage” didn’t provide much hope. But because she miraculously pulled through, I was blessed to know her. Just as I wish I could have known the others who didn't make it.

I just use this to illustrate the point of what is truly lost when our little ones perish so early on in their existence. So why does society tell us to hide our devastation?  It's true at times I've told myself my losses would have been more real if they happened at 8 or 9 weeks instead of 5 or 6.  I've been embarrassed of how traumatic they were for me.

I read an article recently that spoke of early losses and the way they are discussed in the healthcare setting. He said:

"This language change seems to be out of an effort to decrease a patient's feeling of loss, leading the woman to believe that this pregnancy was somehow “less” of a pregnancy... But to me it sounds like the old line about being just “a little pregnant,” as though it were possible. Sadly, this is no joke, and the language change doesn't stop many women from experiencing the loss just as real as any other miscarriage or lost child."

It's tempting to be frustrated that Aidia cries crocodile tears and produces piercing screams when I try to set her down.  It can be exhausting to have a baby in tow 24/7. And then I think- if she wasn't so clingy she never would have made it here. I needed a clingy baby. My rainbow after 6 consecutive losses. She held on tight to me and hasn't stopped.

She is everything I dreamed of. I love her more than I could put into words and I'm glad she loves me as fiercely. We both had to work and fight together to bring her into this world. That kind of bond is distinct and beautiful. And it gives me life and sunshine every day.

Lingering Effects

Aidia 6 months

I've been procrastinating this post for a while.  It's kind of embarrassing and it's hard to write about this stuff- but I told myself when I started this blog that I would always do my best to be honest so others going through similar experiences would feel validated and have some support.

So here's a shout out- to anyone in similar circumstances.
To you, who never wants to feel anything but happy because by some miracle, your baby made it to you alive.  Your joy is so full and overwhelming.  It's such a relief to be engulfed by such happiness and to be content for the first time in a long time.  But all those big and devastating emotions you felt repeatedly through the years don't just disappear instantly.  They have to go somewhere.

Sometimes it's hard to know how to process those "left over" feelings in this new season of bliss.
You still mourn your little lost ones.
You still have trigger moments.

A little over a month ago, we moved Aidia into her own room and I realized just how much postpartum anxiety I really have.  I knew in my mind it was the best thing for her because she is such a light sleeper.  She was constantly being awakened by us tiptoeing around our room.  We would even brush our teeth in the closet and still she would toss and turn.  I did want her to sleep better for all of our sakes.  I have a video monitor that responds to sound and/or movement.  I have her on an oxygen and heart rate monitor all night that I can check from my phone or its base station.  So WHY did the idea of being more than an arm's length away from my baby send me into such a spiral?

But with the help of my supportive husband- we gave it a try.  Instead of sleeping better, I had three panic attacks in three nights.  I would lay down, check on her with my multiple monitors, but the second I touched my head to the pillow, my thoughts raced unceasingly.

"What if there's a fire and I can't get to her because I'm trapped on one side of it and she's on the other."

"Her window is locked but we forgot to reinforce it with wood today so someone could get in." (Everything has since been reinforced to ease my mind- thank you hubby.)

And so on and so forth.  I would have horrible graphic nightmares.  The kind that are burned into your memory.  And it's hard to explain, but in that moment all these bizarre scenarios feel SO REAL and I was overcome with guilt if I were to TRY to sleep.  So I forced myself to stay awake.  When I started feeling sleep overtaking me, the panic attack would start.

The third night, and the third time it happened, was the most severe episode I've ever experienced.  Kevin thought for a moment that I was having a seizure.  I couldn't feel my hands or feet.  I couldn't see. I had so much chest pain and I just felt myself flop over and start twitching around.  I was really out of it- kind of like I was watching it happen from outside my body.  Kevin pulled me up and propped me up on a pillow and immediately went into the baby's room.  He set up the Pack n Play right next to our bed, and moved Aidia into it to sleep by us for the night.  Immediately I was calm and slept all night.  It's like ACTUAL separation anxiety.

But guess what- it's been getting better.  After that episode I decided to go get some help.  Which is SO HARD.  I am a huge fan of counseling, but it's not always possible right in the moment that you need to start seeing a counselor again.  My former grief counselor told me I was showing signs of PTSD after all my losses but before I was pregnant with Aidia.  It makes sense that some of those problems would linger.  I had medication that really helped me before, but I can't take it while I'm nursing.  And "safe while nursing" meds have not always been a good match for me.

So I went and had a really uncomfortable conversation with my doctor.  But I'm glad I did.  I feel like just doing something and admitting the problem helped start the healing process.  I now have some new medication.  I can't usually take it during the day because it makes me tired and kind of nauseous, but it does help me on the bad nights that I feel panic coming on.  I've taken medicine on the nights when I feel that build up, and I haven't had a full panic attack in a month!

I also reached out to my support group (and can I just say I belong to the most wonderful online support group in the world) and I found many women struggling with similar things after their losses.  We discussed all those feelings that you just can't "quite put your finger on" but they make you do weird things.  Like many of us don't buy clearance clothes that are several sizes too big because it's like... you wonder if your child will still be around.  Probably comes from never buying baby clothes too early in a pregnancy.  Some women confessed to never taking tags off of new clothes until dressing the baby in them- just in case.  Some mothers have talked to me about how they can't sleep if their baby isn't in their arms, or if their baby isn't in the room- even older babies past a year old.  One particular story resonated with me.  The mother told me she had been awake all night going over this scenario in her mind.  If her van went into a lake, which one of her kids would she need to get to first in order to save them both?  She agonized over this decision and was discussing which carseat would be harder to get to, or if the baby vs. the older child would need assistance first.  An impossible choice in a fake situation that's highly unlikely to happen. And yet it keeps her awake at night.  We know it sounds crazy- but talking about the crazy helps everyone.  Just because it seems ridiculous doesn't mean it doesn't plague your life.

I'm working on leaving Aidia with Kevin for a couple hours at a time, and I've left her with her grandma a few times for short periods.  It's still hard but it's getting better.  I'm really working at it!  I may still have to take a few deep breaths before I let someone else hold her.  But progress is progress.  I try to be logical about it- I really do.  But logic can't make the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach go away.  I'm a believer that you can't live your life waiting in fear and that's why I'm working to manage my anxiety.

Fellow mamas- postpartum anxiety is SO COMMON especially if you've had other issues to complicate your concern for your baby.  Some research suggests it is even more common than postpartum depression (or goes right along with it.)

It is okay to feel like this! You are validated! I feel so embarrassed after an episode but my husband is very loving and reassures me. So if you are going through this before or after your miracle, I'm here to reassure you and encourage you to find help and support.

What if we treated physical issues like we did mental issues?  Scary to think about. Why are we SO hard on ourselves? Maybe that's why our body ends up "acting out" in such physical ways.  It's saying, "Hey! I need some help!"  I've struggled with really severe headaches since Aidia was born.  But I find that when my emotional health is better- my headaches get better for the most part.

I loved this article if you want to read more about parenting after miscarriage or loss:

http://beckythompson.com/2017/06/12/parenting-after-miscarriage-exposing-the-underlying-fear/


Anxiety can sneak up on you.  You could be having a totally normal day, and then feel like you can't go anywhere because you just KNOW you're going to get into a car accident with your babies in the car.  But when you push through it as much as you're able, and practice good self-care, it gets better.
It's a haunting realization to think... If I had given up after 5 losses or even after 6, I wouldn't have Aidia. I can't give up the fight now to enjoy her and not live life in fear!

I also worry about ripple effects from being too anxious at home.  Jack is getting a little old for me to be sharing his feelings on the internet, but this experience really spoke to me and motivated me to work harder on my problems.  He has this recurring nightmare about his baby sister dying- often by very violent means  (and no, I don't let him watch anything more violent than power rangers.)  I woke up to his sobs about a week after we moved Aidia into her own room.  He came into my room and he was sobbing her name.  It was the same bad dream.  I showed him all my monitors and told him that sometimes I also get scared that Aidia is ok at night, but looking at these help me feel better.  That calmed him down and he was able to go back to sleep after checking on her.  He was so worried through the whole pregnancy right along with me.  He's experienced these traumas and losses right alongside me as he's grown up.  Now he's nearly 6 and responds well to logic.  It helps ME to explain things to him and comfort him.  It's the reminder that I need.  But I certainly empathize with his worries!  He's doing better, and has this nightmare less often than he used to.

People seem to justify challenges with logistical reasons- for example, "you lost all those babies because you weren't supposed to have another kid before Kevin finished his doctorate, it would have been too hard."  I refuse to see life that way.  To see God that way.  Like do people think it was easier going through school having losses?!  People have kids when they're poor and overworked all the time.  However, I do believe that God guides us through challenges to change us into better versions of ourselves.  I am a changed person.  I can see the changes in myself just by looking back through the years of blog posts I've shared.

Her special "Omera" quilt!

We are so happy with our beautiful miracle.  Gifts and well wishes are still coming in from around the world.  They continue to remind me of the wonder of this miracle!   We felt that Aidia's middle name, Omera, fit her perfectly because it means "inspiring"  Aidia's namesake is my friend Marie who I adore. We helped each other survive being music majors in college. When I found out Marie's first name was Omera I just fell in love with it.  Marie's mama (a perfect stranger to me!) sent us this gorgeous quilt.  She hid her own name in the stitching, as her middle name is also Omera.  I hope Aidia will treasure the quilt and love the history it contains.

I love how sing-songy Aidia is.  Her little voice lifts my spirits.  I love watching the love Jack has for her too.  Baby girl has Daddy wrapped around her little finger.  She was worth the journey!  And to anyone struggling with anxiety of any kind- you are not alone!  Help is available.  Getting help provides the tools needed for you to live a happy life.  I'm living proof!

A Witness of His Miracles

Every time I look at Aidia...it's confirmation that God heard every one of my prayers.  He never abandoned me in my grief and I'm glad I understood just enough of that to keep going.

There are rare times in life where you become thankful for how impossibly difficult your trials were.  The joy truly matches the struggle and pain- and far surpasses it.

After writing so much over the years about our dreams of having another child, it would seem ungrateful to not follow up and speak of how wonderful it is!  Aidia is a little over 11 weeks old now!  She is healthy and thriving and the most gorgeous little person I have ever seen.  Even now, writing this, I still cannot believe that my blog now joins the league of the blogs that offer hope after recording the struggle.  It seemed so impossible.  And yet, here we are!  It truly speaks to the love our Heavenly Father has for us.  It is now my testimony that MIRACLES HAPPEN!  I want to go back in time and hug my past self for never giving up that last tiny bit of hope.  I would tell myself that dreams come true and to keep fighting for it.

I started writing this blog after my third miscarriage.  That was nearly 4 years ago.  I couldn't have imagined that I would go on to lose 3 more before meeting my daughter.  Those of you who have been reading since then know what a hard and painful road we have traveled.  The grief and sorrow nearly overtook my entire life.  Now I feel a responsibility to testify of God's love and miracles.  If anyone had reason to doubt, it was me.  I miscarried six babies in a row- how on earth did my pregnancy that followed all those losses bring me a perfect little girl?

Sometimes God really does give us the desires of our hearts after we've done literally everything we can.  I was preparing myself to find the faith "not to be healed."  I was trying to square away how I would live my life and keep my faith if I never had another baby born alive.  And yet, when I was finally able to surrender that will (and I was pretty stubborn about it), that bitter cup was taken from us, and a little angel came into our home.  She heals my heart each day.  Every single day feels like a gift- in a way I would not have understood had it not been for the loss I experienced first.  Some nights when I rock her to sleep I feel literally overwhelmed with gratitude- like please don't let this be a dream.  I love her so much it hurts!!

So many little moments have been cause for celebration!  I nearly cried when I got that beautiful piece of paper in the mail that read "Certificate of Live Birth."  Live birth.  With my name as the mother.  My heart overflows.

Life still has its moments.  We had a sudden move when Aidia wasn't even a month old yet and our whole world got flipped upside down.  I kind of felt like I was plucked right out of my support system immediately after having a baby.  My five year old can no longer attend school all day, we had to give away our doggie, and start all over with meeting people.  Kevin just officially started his career and there is plenty of stress for him (despite loving his job) with long and busy hours.  Then he gets to come home to two screaming children and a frazzled wife after work.  He's my hero.

I've struggled quite a bit with postpartum depression and anxiety- it makes me feel so guilty to struggle because I love my baby more than anything.  Luckily I've had no trouble connecting and bonding with her despite feeling depressed.  But I struggled before I was pregnant so I knew I was at risk postpartum.  I've also learned that those who have had extreme anxiety during pregnancy (...like me trying to be brave while pregnant after recurrent loss...) are very likely to have that anxiety linger on after birth.  I'm praying a lot to get me through it because I simply don't feel comfortable with going back on medication while exclusively breastfeeding.  Baby girl eats so often, and won't suck on a bottle (even though we continue to try.)  So even if I decided to bottle feed...it wouldn't really be an option.  However, breastfeeding is very important to me so it is worth suffering through being med-free to enjoy these moments with my baby (and I think breastfeeding helps with feeling happy.)

I lost about 22 pounds by the time Aidia was 2 weeks old, and that's where my weight has stayed.  I do want to start exercising soon, but Kevin says I need physical therapy first so I don't injure my back further.  He's probably right....  I should involve Jack with my exercising because he has been such a handful since moving- almost impossible some days.  But I know his whole world was just changed all at once too- so we're taking it a day at a time the best we can.

When I was in grief counseling, I talked a lot about my triggers for panic attacks.  One of the best things I've experienced since Aidia's birth is that the triggers have lessened immensely.  I can go to church without running out in tears.  I can grocery shop without a brick in my stomach and tears behind my eyes.  I even went to a diaper shower today and enjoyed it- I was genuinely happy to celebrate new babies coming into the world.  Having Aidia doesn't automatically take away my sorrow for my six lost ones- but I feel healed in a new way.  There's a little guilt for feeling better about my losses- but I'm sure that is normal.  I've put on my ring with my lost babies' "birthstones" in it (the months that I lost them in).  All six are different and it makes the ring look like a rainbow- it's so fitting now that I hold my rainbow baby in my arms.

 

When things are painful now, it's easier to run away from them.  I don't need to have the baby-hungry hurt anymore, because I have a baby at home.  There is still fear of losing more pregnancies in the future, and still hurt from the past- but I'm taking this season to rest from the pain and worries and just enjoy this most beautiful gift from my Heavenly Father.

Aidia's Birth Story

My sweet baby came into the world 8 days ago- Aidia Omera Hanni was born December 22, 2016 at 5:13pm.  7 pounds 10 oz and 19 inches of perfection.

Words can't describe the disbelief, awe, and joy I experienced when she was born and immediately given to me.  I just kept saying "You made it! You did it!"  I couldn't believe that I was living my dream and that my baby was alive!!  I'm so thrilled to once again have a live birth story to share.

The night before my induction was really strange.  It was so different than going into labor spontaneously.  It was hard to go to bed knowing that first thing in the morning we were headed to the hospital to have a baby.  It was really happening.  It's also nerve racking because giving birth is no picnic.

Night before the induction.  Jack was sad to have us leave him for a sleepover.

I called the hospital at 5:45 Thursday morning and they said they had a bed for me and to come to the hospital.  I was so relieved once we were at the hospital on the monitor- because at that point I knew if something went wrong, it would be noticed immediately and they could do an emergency c-section to save her.  I had been so afraid that she would die in the night before my induction.  I was really happy to be in the hospital!

We got settled, placed the IV, and started Pitocin at about 715am.  Pitocin goes in doses of "4" from 4 to 20, and they bump it up every 30 minutes or so.  It's brutal stuff because unlike your body, it doesn't give you a break from intense contractions.  It's purpose is to give you strong and painful contractions (the kind that actually do something) about every two minutes.  I wanted to hold out as long as I could before pain relief so that I could feel my body working and not slow anything down.

Alas, my body likes to progress slowly.  Just like with Jack.  Thankfully my labor was shorter than with Jack- but it was still a process.  After a couple hours I had only dilated a half centimeter more and my cervix was still high and somewhat thick.  I was willing to be patient as long as baby didn't seem stressed.  I lasted about 3 hours on the pitocin (it was now at level 16/20) before I felt like the pain was getting to be too much (since this was likely going to take all day long.)  Having a natural birth is one thing- but trying to do pitocin without pain relief is a whole different game.  When the anesthesiologist came to place the epidural I was really nervous (when I had it placed with Jack it did NOT go well...that's another story.)  I told him about my spinal fusion and he thought he could still get the catheter in the right space.  The first numbing shot hurt, but the second is the deep local and it really feels like someone is punching a hole in your back.  I was so relieved once the injections were over- but as much as he tried, he could not get the catheter in place because my spinal fusion compressed everything.  He apologized and said he was going to have to start all over in a higher spot.  I felt a bit overwhelmed in that moment- especially trying to hold still during those contractions.  Eventually we got through the pain of having the pain relief placed.

They brought in a peanut birthing ball and put it between my legs as I was lying on my side to help everything open up.  It basically put one of my legs straight up in the air.  Even with the epidural it was pretty uncomfortable to stay like that for hours.  The epi I had allowed me to still move my legs around and have some control- but numbed most of the pain.  Hours and hours passed.  I tried to focus on music playing and tried to relax and listen to baby's heartbeat.  Finally I was at a 6 when they checked me.  I thought that things would go fast from there.  About a half hour later, I was in so much pain I was crying, so they redosed my epidural and checked me again- I was at a 9.

As they started prepping the room I started yelling that there was a ton of pressure and please someone come check what was happening.  I was at a ten and ready to go.  The doctor came in and they got out the lovely wide stirrups that make you more exposed than anything imaginable.  I started pushing right away, but could tell that my pushes didn't feel very effective.  After a couple minutes the doc said that Aidia was faced sideways instead of face down.  Very carefully he put both hands in and spun her head as I pushed (not pleasant.)  We did that a few times and once she was face down it was much easier to feel effective pushes.  Her heart rate suddenly dropped very low, like into the 50s.  The doctor calmly told me not to push through the next few contractions to let baby recover.  I was given oxygen to help her.  Once her heart rate came back up I started pushing again, and as she crowned the cord was around her neck.  My doctor carefully slipped it over her head.  A few more pushes and she was born!  It was such an emotional moment for me.  She was so perfect and beautiful.  And super purple.

After they rubbed her for a few minutes they took her to the warmer and had the respiratory therapist come in.  She sounded like she was struggling to breathe and cry.  She kept grunting and it was a scary sound for me to listen to.  They took her to the NICU to get her on CPAP right away, and Kevin went with her.  After Jack was born I pretty much just passed out- but with Aidia's birth I was not very aware of myself at all and was totally focused on her well being.  I hated that she had to leave me right away before I could really hold or feed her- but I wanted her to go because her breathing was terrifying to me.

The good news was that I didn't need a single stitch.  Talk about a miracle.  You pretty much just plan for stitches after childbirth.  Since Jack was 9lb 4oz and she was 7lb 10oz, it helped a lot.  It was way less painful when she was actually born- despite the small tears I had.  Once Aidia and Kevin were gone, the nurse pushed on my belly and noticed I was still bleeding way too much.  They gave me 4 nasty chalky bitter pills to chew to help with the bleeding- and continued the pitocin to keep the contractions going.  Within 30 minutes I was shaking uncontrollably.  The medicine helped control the bleeding but I felt like I was having a seizure.  My teeth were chattering so hard I thought I was going to bite my tongue off.  I couldn't use my hands because they were shaking so badly.  After an hour the shakes were getting worse instead of better.  I felt like I had the worst flu or fever.  I don't remember ever feeling so cold.  Eventually after an hour or two they gave me something in my IV to help the shaking.  I was super emotional because I didn't have my husband or my baby with me and I felt like total crap.  Luckily I had my mom and my best friend there.  They were super supportive through that misery.  Eventually the medicine started working- warming me up and calming the "seizing."  They were able to get me up and clean up some of the bleeding and take me down to the postpartum unit.

in the NICU

It was still several hours until Aidia was stable enough to come back to me.  By then my mom and best friend had gone home, so it was just Kevin and I.  I was too anxious to sleep while we waited to see her, and I was desperate to feed her thinking how hungry she must be.  While in the NICU she got a CPAP to help her breathing, and an IV to help thin her blood a bit- she had turned beat red from there being too many red blood cells (or something like that.)  Once she cleared the NICU she was taken to the nursery for her evaluation and bath, glucose tests etc.  They wheeled me down to be with her while they did that and washed her off a bit.  It was just ecstasy to be there with her and stare at her.  She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

She was a super frantic nurser once I got to feed her because she was so hungry, which made for a hard time latching.  We didn't sleep much that first day we had her back with us.  We eventually put a catheter in her mouth while she was trying to latch and put some formula through it.  That way she could get something in her tummy to calm down and still learn to feed from mom.  Once she was full she did much better at nursing the next few times.

The next day we learned that her bilirubin levels were in the high risk zone, and she spent that day under the bili lights to fight the jaundice.  I was still able to nurse her, but she needed additional supplementation to get enough fluids until my full milk came in.  Luckily she did good with both.  I was recovering ok- the after pains were really intense.  The doctor said it was likely because this was my 8th pregnancy, and I had contractions and after pains with every miscarriage, not just with Jack's birth (they tend to get worse every time.)  I also passed a clot that was nearly the size of my foot the first time that I took a shower, and that was not a fun experience.

During all this excitement, Kevin got a wonderful phone call and found out that he had been selected for the job he wanted.  Basically his dream job right out of school!  So much excitement and stress at the same time!  He started that job today.  Currently it's an hour and a half away which means for very long days for him (and for me being home without him.)  It also means we'll be moving within the next 6 weeks.  I've been struggling to find a school who will accept Jack that we can afford.  Since he is halfway through kindergarten already and I don't want him starting over in the fall!  I'm hoping something will work out, but it has been making me sick to my stomach.  He's on a first grade curriculum/ 2nd grade reading level and I can't imagine him starting over NEXT fall in regular half day kindergarten.  I'm praying lots for him that we can find a school for our gifted boy.  Why not do everything at once?  Graduate from doctorate school, new baby, new job, move, try to find a new school...etc.  All good things though.

Jack meeting Aidia

Back to the birth story...although we thought she would have to stay in the hospital, her blood test came back good enough that we were able to come home the night of Christmas Eve!! That was so special.  My joy is so full there are literally no words.  I love her so much that it hurts!  She is so worth everything we went through.  Every procedure and injection and gut-wrenching miscarriage.  I'm glad I clung to every tiny hope that seemed so unrealistic.  I want to give my past self a big hug and say keep going!

Coming home outfit

Hanni kids on Christmas Eve

Aidia is the sweetest baby!  Even as a newborn her personality is very different from Jack and how he was as a newborn.  She is so mild.  She hates getting her bum cleaned (which is unfortunate because she has a dirty diaper almost constantly.)  Having a newborn is hard and being a week postpartum is hard.  Tears have been shed.  But I am so happy.  My mom is here to help me and that's a relief!  Plus as of today I've lost 17 pounds since the delivery!!!  Now I weigh ten pounds less than I did when I got pregnant!  Jack is also the best big brother.  I had prepared myself for meltdowns and tantrums and attention-seeking behavior but he has been nothing but helpful and sweet.  He is so smitten with his sister.  Puppy has also been good.  He hasn't been aggressive or anything towards her.  He is very curious and really wants to "taste" her head before we snap at him.  He also sits on my lap every time I nurse her to remind me that he is also my baby.

Christmas Day 2016

Best Present Ever

There are lots of big events coming up for us, but I am trying to soak in every moment.  Every cuddle and every time I get to breastfeed her.  Every new thing she does.  It goes by so fast!  I'm so thankful to my Heavenly Father for bringing my daughter safely into this world.  Thank you all for supporting us!

Present from big brother

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Rainbow Baby!

 

Today- 8 days old: