Our June angels have names!

Your Name

i put your name in the sand.
but the waves washed it away.
i put your name on my hand.
but i washed it away the next day.
i put your name on paper.
but i accidentally threw it away.
i put your name in my heart and forever it will stay
~Shelby Ann Arthur

I mentioned the other day that I had thought about naming our June Angels. It has been 11 and 2 years since we lost them, but it's never too late, right?

I never had a feeling about their genders. Both pregnancies were over so quickly after finding out about them. When I told Eric that I wanted to name them, we decided to come up with unisex names.

Our June 2000 angel is Tristan Avery. I've always loved the name Tristan and wanted to use it for Christian, but Eric thought it was too girly. I've seen little boys and girls named Tristan, so it seemed perfect for our first angel.

Our June 2009 angel is Riley Addison. We both like Riley and I think at some point we even tossed it around for one of the other kids, same with Addison.

All of our kids, except Kelsey, now have middle names that start with vowels. I'm a theme person. I went back and forth about Kelsey not fitting the "theme," but her middle name was picked long before her first name--Grace. Because she is proof of God's Grace for us. After losing Sydney, I knew if we had another girl, her middle name would be Grace.

It feels so good to finally have named our other two angels. This past weekend, we included their names on our October 15 activities. I'll post more about that tomorrow!

A little brown bear

As Long As I Live You Will Live

As Long As I Live You Will Be Remembered

As Long As I Live You Will Be Loved

~Author unknown

For the first year after Sydney died, I slept with a little brown bear that some sweet nurse put in her hands on the last day we held her. When I gave her to the nurse before I was discharged, I held onto the bear. They brought back her clothes and blankets, and still, I held onto the bear. Other moms left with their new babies bundled up against the cold February wind, and I wrapped this little bear in Sydney's pink blanket that she was wrapped in on the day she was born.

Over the first few months, I gathered more items to try to comfort me. After my first support group meeting, when I realized I wasn't crazy because the other moms understood how I felt, I stopped at Target and bought a bigger bear. This one was about 18" inches long. I took the bear home, asked Eric to bring me the outfit that was supposed to be Sydney's coming home outfit, and lovingly dressed that bear in Sydney's sleeper with the pink ladybugs and wrapped her in the matching blanket. I then held that bear, with my husband watching without a clue why I was dressing a bear in our daughter's clothes, and I cried. I'm sure Eric thought I had lost it at that point.

A couple of months later, a third bear joined my collection. A friend I met at that first support group showed me the bear she had that matched the bear her son was buried with. I knew that Sydney had been buried with that same bear, so I was on a mission to find one of those bears. I searched online, ebay, all over, and finally, I broke down and called the funeral home. I'm sure they thought I was a nut. I asked them if they could order this bear for me and the funeral director promised to look into it. He called me back only moments later and said, yes, we can order the bear, but you'll have to pay for it. He could've told me it would cost $10,000 for that bear, and I would've said yes. Fortunately, it was a much more affordable $13. A few days later, he called again to tell me my bear was there and as soon as I left work, I rushed to the funeral home to pick up my bear. When I arrived, someone in the office told me that the owner had told them to give me the bear, no payment required. I started bawling like a baby right in the middle of the funeral home office (which I guess isn't really the worst place for that to happen). I took that little bear home and he joined the tiny bear and the clothed bear.

As time went on, I began to wonder when or if I could give up my bears. I had gone on several trips for work in that first year and each time, tiny bear traveled with me. Each morning, I would tuck tiny bear's pink blanket into the safe where we keep Sydney's things because when I took it out each night, it smelled like her. But tiny bear went with me. I would put him in my pocket or in my purse. Needless to say, I was pretty dependent on my bears.

When Sydney's first birthday came, I felt like that was a good time to finally put away my bears. I felt so guilty, like I was trying to forget her or that I was replacing her (as I'd just found out a few weeks before that I was pregnant again). But it was my first step toward taking control over my grief. For that first year, the grief controlled me. I realized that I couldn't begin to heal unless I tried to control the grief. I know that Sydney knows she's never far from my thoughts. There have been so many things that have shown me that she's still with us, but I'll save that for another post.

A must read

I've never read an article that summed up infant loss so well. This is amazing and a must read.

The heartbreak of infant loss

Another June Angel

Post 4 of 31 for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month

“Miscarriages are labor, miscarriages are birth. To consider them less dishonors the woman whose womb has held life, however briefly.” ~Kathryn Miller Ridiman


After Sydney died, I knew right away that I wanted another baby. I physically ached to hold my baby. From a realistic perspective, I knew I wasn't getting any younger. I was 30 when Sydney was born. Eric was sort of on board, but needed some more time. I had some immediate health concerns after delivering Sydney, which ended up being caused by retained placenta. I refused a D&C, not wanting to further damage my cervix, and the medication I could've been given isn't used in women with a history of high blood pressure and pre-eclampsia. Fortunately, I passed the tissue on my own about 3 weeks after Sydney was born.

I started getting my ducks in a row for another pregnancy. First, Dr. Simckes suspected a bacteria called mycoplasma might have caused my pre-term labor, so he did testing for that, which came back negative. I also requested a full panel of bloodwork, specifically an anti-coagulant panel (for blood clotting disorders). This showed that I have a heterozygous mutation for MTHFR . Due to this, I was put on a daily baby aspirin and Folgard, which is a high dose of folic acid, B6, and B12. Finally, I consulted with a maternal fetal medicine (MFM) specialist, to get his opinion on what had happened and if another pregnancy was advisable.

After our appointment with the MFM, we were given the okay to try again when we were ready. Physically, it was fine to try again, but emotionally, we needed to be prepared for the roller coaster of a very high risk pregnancy after loss. I'm not the world's most patient person, so we decided to start trying in May. Amazingly enough, on June 10, 2009, Sydney's four month birthday, I found out I was pregnant on our first try.

I wasn't completely shocked that I got pregnant so quickly. Sydney was conceived during a time that I never would've guessed I would get pregnant. I was scared though and I only told a couple of close friends that I was pregnant. Eric and I were nervously excited. I calculated my due date and it was February 18, 2010, one year to the day we laid Sydney to rest.

Only a week later, I was at work and started having some very painful menstrual type cramps. I tried to ignore it because I've always cramped in early pregnancy and I wasn't bleeding at that point. Late that evening, though, I started bleeding very heavily and I knew that I was miscarrying again.

I was in disbelief that this could happen. Why did I have to have a miscarriage on top of losing Sydney? It only worsened my grief and convinced me that I would never have another living child. At that point, I'd had more losses than living children. I prayed and told God that I'd rather not get pregnant again at all if I only had to endure another loss. I was broken, emotionally. I felt broken physically.

It was an odd feeling, but having a miscarriage seemed to only deepen my grief for Sydney. Maybe it was because I felt like she was my last chance to have another baby and she was already gone. Maybe it was just the added grief of another loss and I was so focused on Sydney that I couldn't separate the two. Lately I've thought a lot about my two tiniest angels. I regret that we never named them. I suppose it's never too late and perhaps naming them could give me some closure or peace over losing them.

Sydney Alexis

(I'm so behind here, thanks to a complete cable/internet outage at home. I'm planning to catch up in the next couple of days.)

Post 3 of 31 for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month

How very softly

you tiptoed into my world.

Almost silently;

Only a moment you stayed.

But what an imprint

Your footprints have left

On our hearts.

--Author Unknown

We didn't plan on having another baby. My pregnancy with Hailey was awful, with so many complications--high blood pressure, pre-eclampsia, HELLP Syndrome, Gestational Diabetes, pre-term labor, and enough fear and worry to age me several years in the seven or so months I was pregnant with her. Hailey was delivered at 33 weeks on the dot, and about 8 hours after she was born and whisked away to the NICU, my perinatologist came into my room and told me I should consider permanent birth control because another pregnancy would likely have a tragic outcome. Of course, she was thinking of the pre-eclampsia and HELLP Syndrome, and neither of those things contributed to losing Sydney.

But she was coming and after some adjustment time, we were happy. My pregnancy was smooth, at least up until the day I ended up in the hospital. I never imagined that I'd ever hear those words--we have to induce, the baby isn't viable, there's nothing we can do for her, you'll die if you don't deliver soon. It was my worst nightmare. I didn't know how I'd survive losing one of my children. I didn't know how I'd ever forgive myself for signing the papers to allow the induction, essentially signing her life away before it even began.

My pregnancy with Sydney was different than the others. At about 12 weeks, if I laid in bed very still at night or in the morning, I could feel her fluttering around. Eric felt her kicking at about 19 weeks, long before he felt any of the other kids too. When I was in labor with her, she positioned herself very high up in my uterus, as if to say, I don't want to go and you can't make me.

February 10, 2009, at 4:30 am, that beautiful little girl came into this world far too soon. I was so scared to see her, to have this monumental responsibility of saying hello and goodbye and ensuring that whatever time she had on Earth was full of love. When I pushed and she was born, I was looking at Eric. His face was a mixture of disbelief, fear, but most of all, love. I asked him, Is she alive? and he nodded. I want to hold her, I want my baby, please, let me see my baby, I pleaded. The doctor cut her cord and she was placed on my chest.

I've never seen such a tiny baby. She was so completely perfect. She gasped for breath and Eric said she squeaked a couple of times, but I don't remember. I was crying so hard and telling her how much I loved her and that I was sorry. So very sorry that I hadn't been able to do better for her. Eric quickly held her for a moment, and then my mother in law held her for a moment. As she was passed back to me, I opened my gown and held her skin to skin on my chest. She settled in peacefully, as if she knew her place was right there in my arms. At one point, while I was caressing her and examining every inch of her, I rubbed her upper arm, near her shoulder. She snapped her little arm away from me, as if to say, stop it already, mommy. She would've been a stinker just like her sisters. She also grasped our fingers in her hands, moved her legs around quite a bit, and moved her arms around some more. It was amazing to see how developed and coordinated she was for being so early.

They told us Sydney likely wouldn't survive the delivery. If she did, we'd have only a few minutes with her. She lived for just over two hours. I thank God everyday that He gave us that gift. I am so grateful I was able to have those memories of her. I have no regrets for those two hours of her life. I tried my best to give her a lifetime of love in those two hours. And I did. I am confident in that. She knew my touch and my arms, she heard my heartbeat under her head just as she'd heard it inside of me for the previous 20 weeks. It comforts me to know that she went from my arms directly to Heaven.

On Sydney's first birthday, I resolved to make that day about her life. It wasn't about her death. Her birthday has been a hard day both years, but we celebrate the fact that, on that day, she lived. We want her to live on. Through us, she does and she will as long as we do.

The First

Post 2/31 for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month

Eric and I were married on May 27, 1998. He had just turned 20 and I was 19. We both knew that we wanted a family, but we also wanted to wait a while. We lived with my parents for a few months, then moved into our own apartment. Within a few months of being on our own, baby fever hit me. We talked it over, went back and forth, and finally decided we wanted to have a baby.

Getting pregnant wasn't an easy task. In June 1999, I was diagnosed with PCOS. We tried Clomid and it did nothing. My doctor added Metformin to the mix and I finally started ovulating. On our second wedding anniversary, I finally got that long awaited second line on a pregnancy test. It seemed so perfect, to find out I was pregnant on our anniversary.

I called our fertility nurse and told her that I'd tested positive. She had me come in right away for bloodwork. I was nervous because the test result had been very faint. The next day, the nurse called and told me that my hcg level was only at 12. But it was still early, so I needed to get checked again on Tuesday to see if the level went up.

We didn't tell anybody what was going on. I went in on Tuesday for my blood test and waited. And waited. And waited some more. On Wednesday, I called the nurse and she told me that the level had gone down to 7. She called it a chemical pregnancy. All I knew is that I'd been pregnant and soon, I wouldn't be anymore. I was so upset, I had to leave work. I went home and cried all afternoon.

A few days later, June 2, 2000, I started to bleed. It was over. I had feared this happening when I finally got pregnant, but was in disbelief that it had actually happened to me. My little June Angel, barely a whisper and then s/he was gone. I've never forgotten my first little one and I never will.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month

"Awareness breeds compassion and support. Please don't judge grieving parents; please don't expect them to get over it or move on. Don't tell them how to grieve or criticize their grief. Don't expect them to hide their grief to please others because it is too hard for you to deal with. If it is too hard for YOU to deal with, imagine how we, the parents, feel." ~Me

My goal this month is to blog everyday, about a different aspect of pregnancy and infant loss, my losses, and how they have shaped who I am.

When these months come and pass and people talk about breast cancer awareness, childhood cancer awareness, autism awareness, pregnancy and infant loss awareness, we often think, why do we need awareness? We're aware of these things. Yes, we are aware they are out there, but are we really aware? I love the Faces of Loss I Am The Face campaign because it shows us the real people that have experienced pregnancy and/or infant loss.

I've been an "awareness" mom for many years now, with a child on the Autism spectrum and a parent of preemies. Sure, we all know what Autism is, but how many of us see a child misbehaving in a grocery store and think, he needs some discipline? The true issue may be that he has Autism and the lights, sounds, and other sensory input in a grocery store are too much for him, or his mom had to make a quick run and he was torn away from his 2:30 Thomas the Tank Engine video. No, we just think, My child would never act like that, his mother needs to swat him on the butt.

I digress. There are so many women out there who have lost a baby and never spoken of it. Until a few months ago, I had no idea that a very dear friend had lost a baby almost a decade ago. Our babies are like this dirty little secret that society wants to sweep under the rug and pretend they didn't exist. After all, a dead baby is far too tragic and sad to speak of, right? We have family members who don't speak of Sydney, who refuse to even acknowledge she ever existed. As my quote above says, if it hurts you to talk about her, how do you think *I* feel? She's my daughter and she's gone. I will carry that pain with me for the rest of my life. I've learned how to live with my grief, how to give into it, how to co-exist with it. My grief has shaped who I am. I used to say it changed me, but really, we're all ever changing and evolving. It is shaping who I am today. Yes, that means I'm some times angry and bitter. Wouldn't you be if one of your children was taken from you?

Awareness is about more than knowing something exists. We need compassion, understanding, and support. We need people to freely speak of our babies and to feel that they can tell their own stories. Grieving parents need acknowledgment and do not need to be told to move on, get over it, appreciate the children they have, or just have another baby. Nobody would dream of saying such things to someone who lost their older child or to someone with cancer. Why is it okay to say them to baby loss parents? Somehow, people believe that our tragedy is less than other losses. I was once told, "People believe the grieving period is in proportion to the size of the corpse."

I want people to be aware of Sydney. She was, in a word, amazing. I find it hard to describe the two living hours I had with her, but to put it simply, an angel was in our midst. She fought so hard for those two hours, to stay, to live. It is my greatest desire that Sydney's spirit lives on, through us and through others who have been inspired by her.