Why?

In the time since we lost Madilynn, we have never stopped trying to have another baby. It took us so long to get pregnant with her that we were afraid it would be the same way again, and we were right. It has been 2 1/2 years now and still nothing. About a year before I was pregnant with Madilynn Jeremiah got checked out and no issues there. Last year my hormones were tested, they were fine. Then I had an hsg which revealed one of my tubes was blocked. The test itself was enough to clear the blockage and we were so excited when my doctor said that there didn't appear to be any other problems and now that that tube was cleared our chances would be a lot better. She started me on clomid and we were so confident that it would work. 5 months went by and nothing, then my doctor said she would not prescribe any more Clomid for us and her next option was to send us to a fertility clinic in Kansas City. That's were medical intervention stopped because we simply can't afford to do that. So here we are, still not pregnant, and admittidly envious of those who are and who don't have the problems that we do getting that way. All this time and I still have trouble going by baby sections in the store. I see other kids that are about the same age Madilynn would have been and feel a pang of hurt and jealousy. I see young babies and long to have one of my own in my arms. There have been a few times that we started to get our hopes up that it had finally happened only to discover it hadn't. I am a Christian, but I will fully admit that sometimes I get angry at God when I think about this. Not only have we had to endure losing our baby, we are now enduring, for the second time, infertility. It's frustrating. I know from talking to others that this anger is normal, and it's ok. I'm not always angry at Him, but when I see other parents playing with their kids, pushing them in a stroller at the park, rocking them to sleep, I get angry that we don't have that. I feel selfish, but it's true. I get angry when I hear about and see parents not treating their kids right, hearing about people that don't want their kids yet keep having them one after another and neglecting them, and young teenagers who are careless and end up pregnant. Why does God keep giving them children, and not us? Then there are people who are trying to be a comfort but instead say things that are hurtful, though I know they don't mean to be. My "favorites" are "at least you know you can get pregnant" and the "this time next year you'll have a baby". Well, we don't know that we'll have a baby next year! And yeah, we've gotten pregnant, once, in 8 YEARS! That's not very good odds. Other than my support group this is really the first time I've vented these things in any sort of public forum. On the outside, how I appear to others, I put on a strong face. I have people ask me all the time how I stay so strong through this. The answer? I'm not. I am an expert at keeping things bottled inside me and just letting them brew. I'm good at putting on a smile while inside my heart is breaking. My tears fall when I'm alone and no one can see. I have been that way for as long as I remember, even as a kid. I keep things to myself. It's just natural for me to do that. In the meantime, I just keep praying for a miracle. Praying that God will forgive me for whatever wrong I've done to deserve this and bless us with the one thing we want more than anything in the world, our baby in our arms.

To Madilynn

I had a crazy week last week working overtime almost every day so didn't get to post. I want to share something I wrote before my first Mother's Day without Madilynn. It was a huge comfort to me to write it.

To Madilynn...
I remember the excitement I felt when I found out you were on the way. The pure joy and happiness of just knowing you were with me brought.

I remember driving home, putting my hand on my tummy and telling you I loved you and to hold on tight, I would keep you safe.

I remember when I told your daddy you were on the way and how the joy on his face mirrored my own.

I remember the excitement when I told your Nana about you, how she handed me the phone and insisted I call everyone we knew to share the good news.

I remember your great-grandfather's surprise and his excited "Oh Boy" when I called him.

I remember the first time we heard your steady, strong heartbeat. We could have listened forever.

I remember watching you on the ultrasound. Moving, kicking, and sucking your thumb. Your daddy and I were so very proud of you.

I remember how happy we were to find out you were a beautiful, healthy baby girl. We were so happy we went straight from the doctor to the store to buy you a pretty dress.

I remember having a dream about your name, it was perfect and your daddy liked it too, Madilynn Isabell.

I remember the first time I felt you kick, it was such a wonderful, comforting feeling knowing you were with me and thriving.

I remember the first time your daddy felt you kick, at your great-grandpa's house. In the house where your namesake great-grandma lived.

I remember laughing as we tried, multiple times, to put your crib together and how good it felt when we finally got it right.

I remember decorating your room, washing your clothes, making sure everything was perfect for your arrival.

I remember the fun of the baby shower, everyone getting so excited because we were getting so close to meeting you.

I remember everyone starting to make guesses about when you would come into the world.

I remember laughing when you got the hiccups and made my tummy jump.

I remember your daddy and I talking about all of the fun things we would do with you and how anxious we were to meet you.

I remember going to the doctor 3 days before you were born..........and the last time I heard your heartbeat, strong and healthy. We knew you were close.

I remember finishing your nursery the next day and packing a hospital bag for you and for me, I knew you were almost here.

I remember that evening, your stillness, the incredible fear I felt, praying that you were ok. It was 5 years today your great-grandma went to heaven.

I remember the ride to the hospital, trying to convince ourselves that nothing was wrong...

I remember the silence when they searched for your heartbeat, the stillness of the ultrasound, and when the ultrasound tech shook her head and said she was calling it.

I remember the whirlwind of the next 12 hours, the paperwork, the needles, the tears, the pain.

I remember hearing another baby's heart beating on a monitor in the room next to me and thinking how unfair life can be.

I remember the silence when you were born.

I remember how beautiful you were and seeing how much you looked like both your daddy and me. Our real life angel.

I remember holding you close, never wanting to let go, but knowing that I had to.

I remember watching your daddy hug you close, kiss your hand, and the tears in his eyes.

I remember not being able to take my eyes off of you, I had to look at you every second I possibly could while I could.

I remember your tiny white coffin, how I longed to just be able to hold you one more time.

I remember saying goodbye, but knowing this goodbye is only temporary. I know you are sitting on God's lap until I make it Home to you.

I remember that even though you are not in my arms, I am your mother and you are with me always.

Madilynn's Garden

Today, for the first time since February I got to visit Madilynn's grave. I don't like that she's so far away, but she is buried near family which is some consolation. I would love to visit her more often but it's just too far. Whenever I go I find it hard to leave. And I also find myself straighting around the grave, organizing decorations, trimming the grass around her stone with scissors. I think it boils down to that being the only thing on this earth I can still do for her. Keep her resting place cleaned up. Once when we went last year we met a woman who's husband is buried just up the hill. She said she visited the cemetery daily, the loss of her husband had been sudden and recent, and had wondered about the baby's graves next to each other and if they were related. They are, Madilynn and her cousin Kaylee Jo who was stillborn 2 years before her. We told her the stories of both babies. Told her we lived in Springfield and couldn't come as often as we liked. She asked if it was ok with us if she helped keep an eye on Madilynn's garden and maybe leave something for her sometime. She said she didn't like calling them graves, she felt they were the gardens of our loved ones. I loved that. Knowing there was someone right there looking out for her. Even if it was a complete stranger. I didn't know what to expect when we arrived today but when we got there, I was overcome with peace and love. Not only was her site well kept, but there were numerous flowers and mementos left for her. I know the things left were from various family members. We visited my aunt after we left the cemetery and she told us who left things. Despite the fact that Madilynn was gone before she was born, hasn't stopped people from loving her and missing her terribly. That brought me such comfort. I wish sometime I could go alone and just sit there and talk to my daughter. I had planned on doing that in February, the one and only time I have been there alone, but it didn't work out. Whenever we go I have trouble leaving. Not that I want to spend my whole day in a cemetery, I just want to be with my daughter and even though I know she is in heaven, her "garden" is her physical place for me to be with her. I always hate leaving there because I feel like I'm leaving her behind. It just feels so wrong. I don't know why God dealt me this hand, but I know He had his reasons and I have come to accept that, not that I like it. I still get angry with God when I think about it and how unfair it is that there are so many people out there that don't want their babies, who abuse them and don't take care of them, yet they have baby after baby after baby. While I wanted my baby more than anything in this world, still do, but she was taken from me. Now we are struggling with unexplained infertility and it kills me wondering if Madilynn was our only chance at a child. I will be 30 in a month and have no living children. This is a very depressing thought for me. I thought I would have at least a couple of little ones running around by now, but I suppose it wasn't meant to be. Below is a picture I took just today of Madilynn's Garden.

My Story Part 2

December 3, 2009. A day my life changed forever. A day that will forever haunt me. I still remember it like it just happened. After giving birth that morning we held onto our precious angel for as long as we possibly could. Having to let her go was horrible. I was eventually moved to a floor far away from the normal maternity floor. I attempted to eat. I was in a fog and running on autopilot. In shock from the nightmare my life had just become, angry that it happened in the first place, foggy from the stadol, and it was almost 2 days before I was fully able to feel my legs again thanks to hitting that epidural button so many times during labor. I was on anti depressants and sleep aids. That night in the hospital Jeremiah laid down on a couch in my room and got some sleep. Luckily we were given a private room. I knew I needed sleep but even with the sleep aid it just wouldn't come. I just kept replaying everything that happened in my mind and trying to figure out if it was actually real or was I dreaming? At one point in the night I couldn't hold in anymore and started bawling. I am not much of a cryer, but I couldn't stop the gut wrenching sobs, and I didn't want to. I just didn't care anymore. My crying woke Jeremiah up and he came and crawled into the hospital bed with me and just held me. I was finally able to doze off and he stayed there with me the rest of the night. The next day around lunch time I was released to go home. We made the drive back home. Mostly in silence. My mom and her partner, Mary, along with Jeremiah's parents were at our house waiting for us. I felt so helpless. So useless. Like I had failed my baby. I was numb and just wanted the nightmare to be over. The closer we got to home I felt what little grip I had on my control fading. We opened the door to walk into the house and I nearly collapsed with the grief. Just completely lost it. Luckily my father-in-law happened to be standing near the doorway and he grabbed me and just held on and let me cry it out. Opening that door, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was home from the hospital after giving birth, but my baby wasn't with me. What was supposed to have been an incredibly happy time, bringing our new baby home, was everything but. I was home, my baby was in a funeral home. That was not how things were supposed to be! Everyone always says it's horrible when a child goes before the parent and boy are they right. My child never even had the chance to take a breath. Let out a cry. Open her eyes and see her family. Something that also bothered me and still does? I don't even know what color my daughters eyes are. I will never hear her voice, her laugh. Will never see her play or watch her dream.  Nothing. My sweet baby girl is gone. All we have left of her are some photos and momentos the nurses managed to get together for us. A lock of hair, a pair of pants she wore in some of her photos, her headband, the blanket she was wrapped in, handprints and foot prints. The tape measure they used to measure her. She was 7 lbs, 7 oz and 21 inches long. The nurses were so amazing to us. They made a little beaded bracelet for her with her name on the beads and put it on her for some of the pictures and sent the bracelet with us along with a small heart pillow and a flower that they also put in the pictures. All of the photos were taken by the nurses because they couldn't get in touch with the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep photographer. They printed copies of the pictures and gave to us and put them on a cd for us as well. I don't know what we would have done without them. I was so out of it I wouldn't have thought of doing any of that stuff. The nurses cried with us. Ones that worked the overnight shift while I was in labor came back after she was born, on their own time, to see us and her. They all wanted to hold her and told us how perfect she was. My amazing doctor I talked about in my last post, well, she was off on her vacation the day I was released but sent another doctor from her practice to check on me before I was discharged. She said my doctor, Dr. Graves, had told her to check on me and then call her and let her know how I was. The day after I was released after we went to the funeral home and made all of the arrangements we bought a card and dropped off at the hospital for the nurses that had been there for us and and saw us through it all. December 3 was a Thursday, that Monday we had her funeral. My grandmother had bought extra plots near my paternal grandfather's grave and gave us a plot for Madilynn. Right next to my cousin's baby who had also been stillborn a couple of years before. The cemetery is about a 3 hour drive from where we live. We opted to make the drive alone instead of riding with family members. We needed the time alone. We had a simple graveside service officiated by a pastor I had known since I was in kindergarten. After he concluded my aunt started to sing Amazing Grace and all that were present joined in. Throughout the service Jeremiah and I just started at the tiny casket and cried. Another thing that will always stick in my mind from that service, my grandfather, who is in his 80's was sitting behind us. I could hear him crying. I had only seen him cry one other time and that was when my grandmother passed. He has always been such a strong man. He was a soldier, a horseman, a hunter. It killed me that he was taking this so rough as well. After the service the pastor's church held a lunch for us in the basement. We all visited and everyone wanted to see the photos of our angel. My mom had taken the cd and gotten multiples of all of the pictures for us just in case something should happen to any of them. We keep them along with the cd and mementos in a firesafe. My mom has duplicates of the photos and cd in her safe so just in case something should happen we have backups. I used another set of the pictures and started a scrapbook. Whenever I started to get down in the dumps I would lock myself away and work on it. I have pregnancy pictures in there, every little thing I could think of to document that it all actually happened. I finished the scrapbook on my first Mother's Day. I was having a horribly rough time that day and worked on it basically the entire day. I felt a rush of relief when I finished it. Like then I could begin to heal because everything was documented. I look at that scrapbook frequently. I have photos of her headstone I need to add to it, then it will be truely complete. I also wrote a poem that Mother's Day. Also of rememberance. I will share it in another post in a couple of days. For now, it's time for another nights sleep, tomorrow we will be celebrating my grandfather's 89th birthday. Sunday we are taking him home and since he lives closeby it, we are going to the cemetery to visit Madilynn's grave.

My Story

Never in my wildest dreams did I think my life would take such a turn. I remember being in middle school and dreaming about growing up, getting married and having children. I always wanted 3 or 4. I grew up. I got married. But where are my children? My husband, Jeremiah, and I were married on June 19, 2004. Almost right away we decided to leave things up to God and while not concentrating on getting pregnant, we weren't going to prevent it either. I was literally only on birth control for a month. A year went by, then another and another and still no babies. I went to a doctor for a basic check up, no problems were found. Jeremiah was checked out and no problems there either. Unexplained infertility. So, we tried the temperature charting for a brief time then kind of gave up actively pursuing pregnancy. We switched our focus to buying our first home. We finally found a home we agreed upon and put it under contract in February of 2009 and would be closing in mid April. About 2 weeks before closing I was starting to not feel like myself. Constantly tired, my sense of smell was off the charts, and I would get sick every time I brushed my teeth. We'd had a couple of letdowns before so I put off taking a test for a few days. My cycles were irregular so I was not counting on that to be any sort of symptom. A week before closing Jeremiah was helping a friend of his from work move and I got brave and got a test.I went home and took it and was in complete shock to find out I was finally pregnant!!! I was shaking and didn't know what to do with myself and it would be a bit before Jeremiah got home. I couldn't contain my excitement. So, I called my best friend and told her my news. Then I decided I wanted to find a fun way to tell Jeremiah the news so I went to the store and bought a bib that said, "I love Daddy!". On the drive home I rested my hand on my tummy telling my baby to hold on tight and how much I loved him or her. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. I got home to our apartment and knowing that Jeremiah was riding his scooter and would be coming in through the sliding back door, I taped the bib on the door at eye level so he would see it when he came home. About an hour later when he finally did I was standing in the hallway watching, having heard him pull in. He stood there and looked at the bib with a goofy look on his face. Then he walked in and said, "Really?!!" I confirmed it and we were both giggly and the happiest we'd been in our lives. We talked about how to tell people and knowing neither of us would be able to keep it a secret decided to go ahead and share the news with our families. We drove to my Mom's house, with the pregnancy test in a ziplock bag in my purse knowing my mom would want proof. As we walked in Jeremiah got his parents on the phone, they live 4 hours away in St. Louis. So, at the exact same time we told each of our parents the news. As expected my mom needed evidence. Then she got my grandpa on the phone and insisted I tell him. I will never forget his excited, "Oh boy!" when I told him he was going to be a great-grandpa. Me being his only grandchild and my mom his only child, this was a huge deal for him. The next few months flew by in bliss, with the exception of everyday morning sickness. I would listen in wonder to the baby's heartbeat at every doctor's visit. Due to Jeremiah's work schedule I generally went to my appointments alone. We would constantly debate on names and had agreed on a girls name but couldn't agree on a boy's name. If the baby was a girl we decided on Madilynn Isabell. Madilynn had actually came to me in a dream I had about the baby and I loved the name. Isabell was my maternal grandmother's name. She passed away on December 2, 2004. I knew my grandpa would be moved by us using her name. Finally at 17 weeks and 6 days I got my one and only ultrasound. I still thank God that Jeremiah was able to go with me that day. It would be the one and only time we'd ever get to see our baby alive. We found out that we were having a girl and we were ecstatic! Especially since we had only been able to agree on a name for a girl! Watching her during that ultrasound is an image I will never get out of my mind. She was very active. She kicked straight out at one point and we have a perfect picture of her adorable feet and toes. Then we watched her move her arms and next thing we knew she was sucking her thumb. Jeremiah wanted to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing and had to ask the technician who said that's what she was doing. We were already so proud of our girl for knowing how to suck her thumb! After the ultrasound we went straight to Target and bought the outfit we intended to take her home in. We were so excited we couldn't help ourselves. As time went by her kicks got stronger and stronger. We used to joke because she was always elusive when Jeremiah would try to feel her move. But he'd fall asleep and end up turning his back towards me, I would cuddle up to his back and she'd start kicking away at him without him ever realizing it. I always told him she was kicking his butt in his sleep. We would get laughs out of it almost daily. Our cat would try and lay on my tummy when I would get in bed and she'd kick him and scare him off every time. If I sat with the laptop on my lap and typed she'd kick it and nearly knock it out of my hands. Our girl was definitely strong and active. We had a routine. I would feel her first thing in the morning, around lunch time, around the time I got off work, around dinner time, before bed time, and she'd usually wake me up kicking around 2 a.m. And if I had ice water or peanut butter.....watch out!!! We were nearing the due date of December 8, 2009 and couldn't contain our excitement. We teased my mom that I'd go into labor during her Thanksgiving dinner, which was about 2 weeks before my due date. She was relieved when I didn't. December 1 I went in for my 39 week check up and everything looked great. Her heart rate was perfect, she was moving so much she kept kicking the doppler and we could hear a thump on the speaker whenever she made contact. Like she was chasing it. All was great. I was just under 2 cm dialated. My doctor set up my appointment for the following week, on my due date, and if I hadn't had her by then I'd be induced. She also put me off work because my blood pressure was getting a little high and I had a stressful job writing obituaries for the newspaper. So with a smile on my face and doctor's note in hand I went by work to let them know. I went home and all was well and the anticipation was through the roof. I remember waking up that night at 2 a.m. to Madilynn's normal kicking routine and just laying there awake enjoying the feel of her kicking. Jeremiah was asleep of course and missed it. That night it felt like it went on longer and stronger than ever before, but I was happy and couldn't get enough. Finally drifting off to sleep about the same time she did. I woke up the next day, my first day off work, and decided to put the finishing touches on the nursery. I got everything in place, washed all her clothes, and went through the diaper bag to make sure everything was ready to go to the hospital when the time came. I felt little flutters now and then but I was so focused on nesting that eventually I didn't notice. The afternoon came and went and I finally realized I hadn't felt our little drummer recently. I got some ice water and peanut butter ready to reassure myself all was ok since she always went wild whenever I had those. I downed the water.............nothing........the peanut butter.........nothing. I laid in bed, as still as possible, for about 30 minutes........nothing. Worry started to wiggle into my brain. Jeremiah got home from work and I told him I was scared. We called the hospital and they told us to come in right away. We grabbed my bag and the diaper bag and got on our way. The whole drive trying to talk ourselves into thinking everything was ok, but knowing deep down it wasn't. We got there around 9 p.m. and were taken into triage where first they used the dopper to try and find her heartbeat. They kept finding mine instead. I was terrified and my heart was racing like crazy. We'd start to hear something, start to feel relief, then they'd figure out it was my heart instead. So, they brought in a sonographer. They turned the screen where we couldn't see it. The sonographer and 2 nurses staring at the screen with serious looks on their faces. I could tell it wasn't good. What is burned in my brain the most? Hearing a nurse whisper to the sonographer, "Are you calling it?", I could tell she was trying to keep me from hearing her question. Then the sonographer nodding her head, she was calling it. Our daughter, who had been thriving inside me for 9 months, who had never taken a breath, never would. She was gone. The date? December 2, 2009. Exactly 4 years after loosing my grandmother, who we'd named her after. My husband and I were sobbing uncontrollably. I asked for my mom and gave the nurse her phone number. They called my doctor who said she'd be there right away and that she wanted me induced, no c-section. Within minutes I was in a delivery room and it seems like less than 10 minutes and my doctor was there. Visably upset. My mom followed shortly after. 9 sticks later I had an iv of pitocin in my hand. To make the situation more miserable they had trouble getting my viens and my arms and hands were covered with bruises. Finally getting it in the top of my left hand but the only way the drip would work was if my wrist was bent. So, in addition to being in shock because my baby had died inside of me, in addition to going through labor, I also had to concentrate on keeping that wrist bent. I had not planned on any pain medication, but my doctor overrode me saying that I was in enough pain and she didn't want me to have any more than necessary. She also told me she wasn't being cruel by not giving me a c-section, but since this was my first baby, and she wasn't living, she didn't want to limit me having children in the future since most doctor's won't do more than 3 c-sections. I later thanked her for that consideration. So, I had an epidural put in and surprise surprise, it didn't work like it was supposed to. Instead of working from the abdominal area down, it worked from the waist down, so while it wound up making the actual delivery bareable, it did nothing for my contractions. Which were hard and fast throughout labor because they had the pitocin set so high. So, they gave me stadol, which didn't really do much for the pain, but made me not care about it. And helped me tune out the sound of a baby's heart monitor beating steadily in the room next door. After about 10 hours in labor I was at a 6. At that point it was about 8 a.m. and I was told that my doctor was supposed to be going off duty at that time and leaving for vacation. However, she wanted to be the one to deliver my baby so she was staying. They were going to give it a little bit longer but if I hadn't progressed more by 10 they would go ahead and do the c-section. I had been given a button for the epidural, even though it wasn't really helping much, but it at least made me feel like I had some control. I pushed that button a lot. Even knowing that I only got something out of it part of the time. The stadol helped better than anything and I was able to get a little bit of rest. At about 9:50 I came to and started begging for more stadol. I was convinced it was wearing off and I was in immense pain. The nurse came in and asked what I was feeling. I told her it felt like a bowling ball between my legs. So she checked me and told me I was more than ready to start pushing. It was so close she didn't even want to leave the room and instead stuck her head out the door and yelled at the nurses station to get my doctor. She was there almost instantly, she had stayed in a room down the hall. At 10:14 a.m., December 3, 2009, our daughter was born, without a cry, a wimper, a breath, nothing. The second I delivered and my doctor had her in her arms, she started to cry. She said it was very recent. It had just happened. She could find no wrong with our baby, she was perfect. We held her briefly then the nurses took her next door to a room they kept open and cleaned her up and they put her in the outfit we had so lovingly picked out after the ultrasound. They had pulled a curtain across half the room. Half had my family members, who had trickled in through the night. The other half had a wicker crib in it where some photos of Madilynn were taken. My doctor did what she needed to do for me and left and came back with Madilynn so we could spend a little bit of time with her. We cried, pictures were taken, we had her baptized. We managed one little laugh while my husband was holding her. I told him, "At least she doesn't have your big nose!." I was still feeling the effects of the stadol at that point. We still laugh about that. Then the nurses came back to let us know they had figured out what happened when they gave her a bath. They took off her clothes so that we could see her umbilical cord. The tiniest, thinist, little white thread, an amniotic band we would later learn, had wrapped itself in a knot around her umbilical cord. That tiny thread had taken our beautiful baby away from us. My doctor, who still had not left for her vacation, came in every few minutes for a couple of hours to check on us. Crying with us herself and sharing that that day was also the anniversary of her losing her mother. She was constantly assuring me that I did nothing wrong. It was not my fault. 6 weeks later at my follow up appointment she told me she did a bunch of research on the amniotic band. She said she had heard of it before, but in 30 years of practice had never actually seen it happen. That's how rare it was. She assured me it was not genetic and with the chances of it happening being so small to begin with, the chances of it happening again were even smaller. She also confessed that she had been 2nd guessing herself, should she have went ahead and sent me to be induced on December 1 when I was there for my appointment? But no, everything had seemed normal and perfect. There was nothing to warn us of the nightmare that was to come.