Not my whole story...

I was sitting at my daughter's dance studio, reading my kindle when I noticed a woman walk by. She was pregnant- only two months- and though I tried to focus on my book, I couldn't help but be drawn to the conversation she was having with two other mothers.

As I listened, I smiled. They were all sharing their 'pregnancy stories' comparing them. They had such fun sharing their stories- it was as if they couldn't take a breath- they had only a half hour to chat and they needed to get it in- the details... Part of me wanted to join in and share!

There were two! The way my husband almost passed out when he found out- He was trying to get used to the idea of being a father- He wasn't sure why our baby had 'two heartbeats'. I smile remembering the way his face looked that morning. When the reality of what 'two heartbeats' meant.

I was so sick! I lost so much weight- 13 pounds that first trimester. I joked that I should have gotten pregnant BEFORE I got married so I'd be so tiny on my wedding day...

I had PUPP- A horrible itchy rash- a reaction my body had to my babies. It was absolutely miserable!

I loved every minute of it! I was huge (measuring 40 weeks at just 6 months) and near the end of my pregnancy I had to sleep in a reclining chair. The babies were too heavy on my lungs and it was hard to breathe laying flat or even on my side for too long.

But I loved it.

And yet, I sometimes feel I can't share my story- even though I loved it- love telling it to my children. Because then I get to the end, the delivery- and then... well, the laughter stops and that uncomfortable feeling settles in.

And my story stops the laughter.

That is what I hate about my story. The way it stops the laughter- skips the record- cancels eye contact- and as much as I want to share it with pregnant moms, be part of the conversation, I can't- and I feel terrible for those first time moms who know my story- the way it ends.

On New Year's Eve we had my old college roommates over to ring in 2011. One roommate and his wife knew our story, lived it with us. I had spoken often with his wife about Andrew and she was so sweet to ask questions, show concern. She knew my pregnancy story.

The other roommate I hadn't seen in years. It was great to see him and meet his pregnant wife. This was her first pregnancy and she was over the moon. She saw our house full of children and naturally started asking questions about pregnancy... delivery...

We were much like those girls in the dance studio, comparing stories, laughing... I had commented that I couldn't wait to get my tummy tuck since my body was so wrecked after my first pregnancy. When the pregnant mom asked how much Joey had weighed, I paused. Six pounds. I felt foolish talking tummy tucks after delivering a 6 pound baby- but I couldn't finish my story... he had a brother who was six pounds 11 ounces... they were in separate sacs... separate placentaes... I was huge! I carried all out front! I had to sleep in that reclining chair...

But I stopped.

I let her think I was crazy and probably a little vain but I sipped my wine and enjoyed listening to the stories. And then it was on to talk of the delivery. Me? I had had an emergency c-section so then all my other children were delivered that way. I don't even know what a contraction feels like.

"Why?"

Oh... it's a long story... the recovery was horrible. I had never been in such pain (from my surgery and my broken heart), but the other sections weren't as bad. I knew what to expect...

I chose that night to keep Andrew's existence a secret. Or rather- not share his story.- the whole story. I had a choice and I didn't share- and even now I know I did the right thing.

But that wasn't always the case... I remember that day (months after delivering my boys), someone asked me if I only had one (referring to Jonasen) and I remember nodding. Yes.

As soon as I nodded I felt sick to my stomach and needed to get to my car. I drove home hysterical. I pulled over to the side of the road- head in my hands. Oh forgive me Andrew. I don't know why I said that. I don't have one, I have two. Forgive me. Forgive me.

But that New Year's Eve night, I looked at her face- beautiful with the glow of pregnancy and I told her she would do great. That there was nothing like becoming a mother. I didn't tell my whole story- because I looked at her and I saw me-

So happy.

So excited.

The nursery was ready, the baby books already being filled out.

She was beautiful.

And I would have been so angry had someone told her that this would be her story- taken that glow- that smile that she wore everywhere.

For she only had it that first pregnancy- and she never got it back.

Ignorance is bliss- and after she has that beautiful baby in her arms, maybe I'll tell her the whole story. I'll tell her how beautiful you were- how beautiful you all were- and how with every heart that beat in me, I grew to be a mother, and I have a story for each precious soul and what a blessing that is.

My story.

The Eve

Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will meet the baby growing inside of me.
The baby I have been praying for.
The baby I have been dreaming of.
Singing to.
Pleading with.
Tomorrow.

Today is the eve.
And the eves have always been safe.
I feel the movement.
I know it is o.k.
They were all o.k.
On the eve.

But today I cried.
Knowing that tomorrow my life will change.
How I was such a different person on that first eve.
So different than the woman I am now.
And while the transformation has been a process-
And the person I am now is one I am proud of- and that I love-
The transformation has been painful-
Scary-

Today I cried.
Knowing that tomorrow my life will change.
And in so many ways I do not know what that change will be.
Boy? Girl?
Full? Broken?

But I know that whatever that change will be- I will not be alone.
I've never been alone.
God has always been by my side- and has sent me His angels- and so many, many people who have been praying- holding me up- keeping me here.
Where I need to be.

But it's the eve.
And I cry for the unknown-
the what will be-
the peace that seems to be tested-
on my eves.

Tomorrow is October 9th.

95 years ago, my dear Grandpa Jonasen was born to this world.
34 years ago, his son left this world.
All on October 9th.

This day has been a day that has changed my family.
Sometimes growing hearts-
Sometimes breaking them-

Tomorrow our life will change again.

But today is the eve-
And through wet eyes, I will think and ponder all that is good-
all that is right-
and know that whatever will come.
I will be blessed.

Stay with me.

Today she handed me a paper.
On October 9th she will deliver my baby.

Holding the paper made it feel real.
For a moment.
I haven't really imagined a new baby coming to live with us.
I haven't given it much thought- boy? girl?
But holding that paper- my mind began to wonder.

I walked to my car.
Turned the key.
And began my ride home.

And my mind began to write- to compose- words- ideas swirling in the air...
A new baby coming to live with us?
A boy a girl?
Wonder?

And in the background of my thoughts- I saw the backdrop of my life.
My life as a mother-
How I have tried to protect myself- shield myself- from the unknown...
or in my case- the known too well...

As my mind began to wander- it stopped- and listened.
For on the radio came some familiar notes.
From a familiar band.
A song I heard so many times-

The Lyrics:
She's so scared
So very frightened
Anything could happen
Right here tonight-
-Beautiful Girl (Stay with me)

And while I do not know if the baby growing inside of me is a boy or a girl-
the song spoke to me-

And I started thinking about him.
The reason I am so scared
So very frightened
Anything could happen
Right here tonight-
-Beautiful (Stay with me)

Stay with me...
It's what I wrote last year this month in my journal as I miscarried my baby

Stay with me...
It's what I secretly prayed in my mind when I saw the ultrasound- the absence of his heartbeat.

Stay with me...
It's what I begged as I held his lifeless body- kissed him-
begged him...
Stay with me!

And it's my prayer now.
And though these recent months have gone by-
And I haven't really imagined a new baby coming to live with us.
And I haven't given much thought- boy? girl?
Today as I heard those notes- my mind began to wander and wonder
and beg-
Stay with me...

(The Band: INXS- The Song: Beautiful Girl)

Sweet Relief- and Fear

This is not my memory talking now.
This is my here.
This is my now.

I found myself driving to my appointment and when I learned my husband wouldn't be able to make it I could feel myself begin to tremble. Didn't he know that this was the big ultrasound? This was the one where so many of my friends had gotten the news- something was wrong- what they had dreamed and thought would happen had suddenly changed? This was the day they went down the other road- the path I've traveled- I didn't want that! I wanted to stay on course!

I began to tremble and I began to think...
And perhaps that's why I haven't thought- and haven't dreamed.

When I found myself pregnant six months after I lost Andrew, I thought that I had put my pregnancy out of my mind- but the truth was I hadn't. I was angry at God- but still in love with my baby and praying that my heart wouldn't be taken from me again.
And it wasn't.
It grew!

Two years after that- pregnant again and it was a little easier- my heart grew again.

And then E came and left- and we were broken- back to square one.
Afraid to be pregnant, afraid not to be.

And so my belly has been growing, and people have been asking- but not me. I don't talk too much about it. I don't think about it- I consume myself with thoughts of work, family, friends and the happenings of the day- not the kicks that I feel- not my lack of energy- my expanding waistline-

Am I protecting myself again?
I'm sure of it.

But my guard is down- my armor stripped-

And so today when I was told- 'perfect' and I saw a little foot upon the screen, and heard the strong heartbeat- I tried to fight the lump in my throat- but it was no use- the tears came-
like floods-

Sweet relief.
And fear.

Now it is real. Now it could happen. A perfectly healthy baby-

But a perfectly healthy baby was who he was-
albeit a cord-
the very thing that gave him life, took it away.

So please- keep my baby F in your prayers- keep me in your prayers-

It's officially begun.

I'm pregnant
I'm in love
and I'm terrified.

I See Pregnant People...

The months after I lost Andrew, I saw twins everywhere. They were in the stores- in the park- in our church. When I drove I found myself always behind a 'Twin Camri'- When I shopped I found myself staring at "Twin Packs" of food items.

How I longed to be pregnant again- to feel that way again- and just like 'twins' were everywhere I looked, so were women who were pregnant. They were everywhere I turned. I would look at them and remember that ignorant bliss I felt when I carried the boys. I remember thinking my biggest fear then was how labor would feel- not how losing a baby would feel.

I would watch them, the pregnant people, and part of me wanted to run to them- to tell them- don't be so sure- don't be so happy- Listen to what happened to me! I would watch them shop for clothes and strollers and part of me wanted to run to them- to tell them- don't buy those things- they are so hard to return- it is so hard to have those things when you don't have your baby.

That's how I felt in those early months. I hated seeing twins. I hated seeing pregnant people and I found them around every corner. It seemed to be some cruel joke.

The morning I learned that Baby E was gone and my heart had broken again, we decided to take our children for ice cream. They had seen their parents cry a lot that day and it seemed that something sweet would make things better- at least for them. It was a fall day and we sat licking our ice cream cones and I noticed they were there. Pregnant people. Five cars pulled up with passengers who wanted ice cream and every single one of them carried a woman who was expecting a child.

Again there was that cruel joke- I went back to that raw place- those feelings I felt when I lost Andrew- I wanted to tell them- I was pregnant- I was pregnant just like you- just yesterday...

And then I looked around me-
Three children sat near, enjoying their special treats. Three children close in age. Three children and their mother... me.

Had anyone looked at us, they would have never suspected, never guessed, never believed that I, a woman in my early thirties, had had my heart broken twice by children who left me. I was a member of that secret society of broken hearts and I suddenly looked at the women and wondered if perhaps they were members of the secret club too. But I wouldn't dare ask. Not anymore. I'm healing- but I did wonder...

We've talked about it at meetings. So many of us felt it. Those of us who have been walking this path for some time... We could look at pregnant people and be happy for them. I could look at pregant people and be happy. But as happy as I was for them, I was more sad for me.
I wonder if that's right,
or wrong-
and I think it just
is.
My reality.