What Should Have Been

February 7, 2017Leave a comment

They say time heals all wounds, but how much time does it take to start to feel some relief?

Lately my mind has been clouded with the thoughts of the should-have-been’s. Last week Friday I was scheduled for my 20 week ultra sound and should have been only just discovering that our beautiful baby inside of me was a boy. This weekend I should have been excitedly prepping our nursery for our bundle of joy, but instead I buried myself in my work. Each morning and night I’m reminded that there should have been a growing baby bump, but instead there is just the left over weight gain from all the shots, medications, patches and pregnancy weight gain. I should have been writing a happy blog, sharing ultra sound photos and updates on our boy, but instead I’m writing this.

Time has not yet healed this wound, but it’s slowly scabbing over. My days go quickly but the memory of Isaiah is never far from my mind, and when my world slows down, the pain creeps in again. I know it’s good for me to feel this pain, that I must in order to properly grieve and move forward. Honestly sometimes I cling to it, I feel closest to Isaiah when my heart is heavy with this grief.

Even though sometimes it feels impossible, Eric and I are still looking to the future. We met with our Reproductive Endocrinologist again about a week and half ago. She took lots of time with us, reviewed pathology and genetic results, and talked over our options moving forward. She was kind, compassionate, and honest with us that she unfortunately had no answers. She was as dumbfounded and shocked as us as to what has happened and tried her best to offer encouragement.

We reviewed that pathology found nothing wrong with Isaiah’s cord. There was no kink, there was no break. After discovering that there was nothing with the genetics, I had hoped and prayed we would find the issue lied with the cord, that this would provide us an answer and some type of peace. Instead, we have to accept that we will never know the reason for our Isaiah’s passing. Ultimately, the reasoning doesn’t matter, not really. What hurts more than not knowing the “why” is accepting that he’ll never be in our arms, he’ll never play with his brother, he’ll never hug us goodnight. Instead we must constantly remind ourselves that he is in a better place and that God has reasoning in this that is bigger than we can see right now.

Eric and I would covet your continued prayers as we walk through this. We continue to try to keep our eyes forward and are praying that God will grant us another miracle baby in our near future. Lincoln seems to be doing well, he will randomly mention Isaiah or ask a question about his brother, but his attitude and demeanor seems more like the Lincoln from before. We all continue to adjust and are still so grateful to all of you.

“I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.” – Psalms 40:1-2

Isaiah Michael

January 16, 2017Leave a comment

****Please be aware, I am sharing some very personal and to us, beautiful, photos of our precious son, Isaiah, in this blog. We realize that these photos may be disturbing to some and so please do not scroll all the way through if you feel this may affect you. Thank you for taking the time to care about our Isaiah and hear his story.

Isaiah Michael Reuer came into this world much too soon. He weighed in at just 2.8 ounces and measured at 6.5 inches long! He was already a tall little boy, similar to his big brother! We enjoyed several hours with Isaiah’s body, had a photographer capture his perfect features, and he was snuggled by mom, dad, an auntie and grandma. We shed tears, gave him smiles, and assured him he was perfect to us and we would always love him.

I am continually comforted by the life verse we chose for our baby boy, Isaiah 43:2. This verse was shared with us on Wednesday morning by my aunt and was surely God using her to speak directly to us.

When I read this verse that morning, I knew that if our baby was a boy, his name would be Isaiah. We had rushed to pick a name for our potential son, the evening before. We were anticipating a girl. My pregnancy had been so different from the last and if I’m honest, we hoped for a little girl. We have had a daughter’s name picked out for several weeks and had not really given much thought to anything else. We went back to the list of names we had picked out several years prior, the list that we had ready incase Lincoln had a twin brother in there, and agreed to one of those “back up” names. {We had Lincoln’s name picked out years before we were blessed with Lincoln!} The name was not necessarily special, it held no significant purpose or place in our hearts. But on Wednesday morning, when we needed some comfort and peace, God spoke to us using my aunt and through Isaiah 43 and provided that to us.

We envision our dear boy, laughing, running, and playing in Heaven. My very first image of him was being greeted by my grandma, holding hands between her and my grandpa, and my sister Michelle loudly announcing to anyone and everyone who would listen, that her nephew Isaiah was there! I know that he is surrounded in warmth, love and all things happy right now. I know that Jesus is holding him while I can’t. I know that one glorious day, we will be reunited and I can finally kiss him, hug him, and be with him for eternity. I know that this pain I feel now, is only temporary, and that God will use it for His glory.

While we wait for that reunion, we are holding each other. We are finding praises for God and begging for comfort. We are so fortunate for our Lincoln and realize even more, how miraculous his life is and we know, God has such a big plan for him! We are also thanking God for all of you, for your support and your prayers. We know with all certainty, that we are getting through these days because of your prayers, because of your kind words and messages, because of your love for us and our family of 4. We are hurting, but we will adjust to our new “normal” and though time may not completely heal this wound, it will help.

Lincoln is processing as well. Yesterday we received a gift from a friend, the children’s version of Heaven is For Real. We read this and looked at the beautiful pictures. It brought some questions up for Lincoln, but he is fairly quick to move on. I don’t think it’s out of avoidance, I think it’s purely because he’s 5 years old! This morning he expressed a small amount of anger over the situation, asking why God “stole Isaiah”? He was upset that God would “steal” him from us and he wanted to see Isaiah here, in our home. He doesn’t quite understand how he could still be a big brother without a baby to show off. Please keep him in your prayers. He was so excited to be a big brother finally and often would share with people that his mom was pregnant! He’s already asked if we can try again, for another baby.

As I look forward into this next week, I’m not yet sure what it looks like for me. Physically I’m still healing. I have all the soreness you would expect after a delivery, just on a much smaller scale. Today my milk came in {TMI for any of you guys, sorry!} which feels like such a cruel joke. It is a reminder though, of how incredible God has created our bodies and that mine is responding like it should. I guess that’s a good sign, but it still hurts!

Eric and I both have to face getting back into the routine of work and home life, without a growing baby belly. We have swimming lessons, work schedules, school activities, and bills to pay. Life moves on and so must we.

Isaiah Michael, you will never be forgotten and you are always in our hearts. I feel blessed to have carried you for 16 weeks and we are fortunate to have held you in our arms for the few hours that we had. You are loved and your short life is not insignificant, but rather holds a much bigger and beautiful purpose. I’m honored to be your mommy always.

The worst day of my life

January 13, 2017January 13, 2017Leave a comment

I was finally able to sleep a combined total of 2 1/2 hours Wednesday morning. It wasn’t great sleep, I was restless, and the first time I woke up I had to remember why my eyes were so puffy and my head was throbbing…because I had been bawling all night the night before. Because my baby had no heartbeat. Because in a few hours I would be going in to deliver his lifeless body.

I got up around 6, began to pack my bag, get dressed in comfy clothes, and put on makeup I knew would smear off later. Eric also got up and we cried together a little. I checked all the kind comments that came in on Facebook and emails. A few new texts to read and respond to. I went to the bathroom and discovered a small amount of blood. The tears flowed slowly and I thought, my body is confirming what is going to be happening today.

My parents came a little before 8. We talked together, they offered support and listening ears mostly, and before they left my dad prayed over us. It’s so amazing having a family that believes together and prays together not just in the good and easy times, but in the really hard, dark, angry times. That’s what holds us together.

We said our goodbyes to Lincoln, he was off to play hooky from preschool for a couple of days and instead give farming a try with Grandpa. It was a no brainer when we asked what he’d rather do, school or the farm! That boy loves his grandparents and the farm!!! We acknowledged to him that we’d be going to the hospital and that baby would be taken out of me. I don’t recall him asking too many questions, he was too excited to go!

We headed out a little before 8:30. We were told to check in at the front information desk when we got there and someone from registration would take us up to labor and delivery. We expected that there would be a note in our file, an asterisk next to our name, or something indicating why we were there so there would be no probing questions, no insenstive mentioning, just kind smiles and understanding nods.

I was holding myself together pretty well. My eyes were swollen, yes, I showed of weariness and exhaustion, but I was able to carry myself upright and I saw that as a huge win.

I informed the older, sweet lady at the front information table that I was directed to check in there today, gave her my name and date of birth. She sweetly asked, “Ok, for labor and delivery?”

“Yes”

“Ok, are you in active delivery?”

My first thought was, “really, do I look like I’m 9 months pregnant?” But I didn’t say that, I couldn’t possibly say that. Instead, I began to loose my control over the tears and they streamed down my face. I shook my head and faintly whisper, “no”, shaking my head so I knew she wouldn’t need to ask again for lack of understanding all the devastating responses I was giving.

Eric took over and I covered my face. I realized there was no indication behind our name, advising we needed gentle hands working with us. That we would have to be strong until we could break apart in our private delivery room.

She asked a few more questions. Eric was getting annoyed I could tell. The receptionist did gentle her approach with us, she understood why we were there without us verbalizing it, and once checked in advised someone with the registrar would be down to take us to our room.

A few minutes later, a 20 something young man came to greet us and take us to our room. English was not his first language and he too had not been given any memo that we were there on the worst day of our lives. I had settled my tears by that time and when we heard my name, Eric grabbed our overnight bag. He asked how we were, but again because English was not his first language, didn’t attempt to make much small talk other than to ask Eric if we were staying a few nights. This was a relief because I didn’t want to make small talk.

When we arrived on the floor and there were thankfully no pregnant women in the hallways that I could see. I could not hear anyone celebrating a newly arrived baby. I could not hear anyone screaming in pain as they delivered their full term bundle of joy. This was a gift. But then I looked up at the walls and saw how they were lined with beautiful photos of newborns and infants. My knees got weak and I again lost the ability to control my tears. I stepped away from the nurses station and allowed Eric to sign whatever needed to be signed. The registrar gentlemen did not need English to be his first language to figure out why we were there at this point. He was very uncomfortable and very quickly told Eric and myself what to sign and then walked us back to the furthest corner of the floor to our private room. He quickly gave me my ID bracelet to confirm it was me and wrapped in on my arm. He was out the door quicker than he came in. {We shared a laughed with the nurse about this later! 🙂 }

We met our nurses and I had a few more breakdown moments. Emily, our main nurse, was so sweet, almost too sweet in my moments of anger, but was just exactly the person who needed to be there with us in that moment. She was soft-spoken and kind and took so much time to explain what would happen and answered so many, what seemed like odd questions, that we had. She told us about different services that were offered in this situation and different options we would have after baby was born. There would never be any rush on us to decide anything or do anything. Everything would go at our time and our choosing.

My OB came a little while later. She too was perfect. She was a new OB for me. When we discovered we were pregnant and I graduated from my fertility clinic for OB care, I called my original OB and discovered she was not taking new delivery patients anymore and was working towards retirement. I was so disappointed, she delivered Lincoln and I loved her. Her nurse gave me my new OB as a recommendation and I had already heard good things about her, so we gave it a shot and luckily she had an opening for me. Anyway, my 16 week check up was only my 2nd time ever meeting my OB and having to go through that with me, she was an absolute Godsend.

We discussed several options again and the whole process. She did not anticipate that I would deliver until likely after midnight, maybe 3-4AM, so it was going to be a long day. We reviewed how the medication they would give me vaginally would dilate my cervix slowly. I would only need to get to a 6 due to the tiny size of my baby, but that it would still contract and feel like a regular labor and delivery. It was going to hurt and I would be offered the IV pain meds and the epidural if I wanted this and that too would be my decision. We discussed the genetic testing afterwards and that the genetic counselor would come in to discuss that with us in further detail. We discussed after baby is born and what that looks like. We discussed the following morning and that she would be back at that time, she would not be able to deliver me but she assured her very sweet partner would. We took all the information, a deep breath, shed some tears, and waited for the next step.

Genetics came in shortly after and discussed all that that entails. We discussed the testing, the timeline and the cost. She and our doctor both confirmed to us that if we had tested our embryo during the IVF process and before we implanted this one, it would not have caught whatever happened to he or she now. That the genetic testing they would do on baby would most likely discover a fluke thing, a cord issue or possibly a virus/disorder I was carrying and we did not see, and that had we tested our embryos, we would likely still be in this situation. This did give me some peace. We agreed to have the genetic testing performed after delivery to see if we could determine the “why”.

They were finally able to get my IV in a little after 11AM. I have terrible veins after all of the procedures I have had done and am a tricky poke. They had to poke a few times before calling the IV team in to get the job done. Once that was in, they started the cervical medication and the clock began to tick down to delivery.

It was a really long day. Eric and I shared tears together randomly, we shared our story with the sweet nurses we had, we laughed about other things together. Laughter was such a sweet gift in the few moments we had it. We received so many amazing texts, messages on Facebook, emails….we felt so supported and loved and I cannot express the highest amount of gratitude we have to all of you for that enough times.

We had a few amazing people come visit us. It’s weird maybe, but it was so nice having visitors on our worst day ever. It was break from the loneliness and honestly, it was nice to chat about something else other than the obvious at times! Our amazing pastor visited and gave comforting words, told us we wouldn’t know what it looked like on the other side of delivery until we were there and likely God would grant us peace we would not be able to understand where we were in that present moment. He was right, I envisioned myself being a wreck, being angry, flailing my arms in distress and being all ‘whoa is me’. I couldn’t see a peaceful version of myself. But he prayed over us and the situation and it was so comforting having him there.

Friends brought us dinner around 6 and cared on us for a while. By that time, I had been having some more significant cramping and had already had 1 dose of the IV pain meds early in the afternoon….boy did that take the edge off! With that, I didn’t know if I would take the epidural or not, if the pain meds would be enough. Shortly after our friends left, my contractions intensified. I called the nurse in requesting another dose of the IV pain meds and asked that they also order the epidural. I decided the pain was too intense and I didn’t want to feel any more pain that I already was emotionally and mentally. The epidural certainly wasn’t going to affect baby and it would bring me physical comfort in the most distressing time of my life.

This time, the IV pain meds did nothing. Maybe they took the edge off a teeny tiny bit, but really, nothing. The contractions were getting more intense and I was only at a 2 at 7:30. It was going to be a really long night and I was going to have to endure the contractions a bit more because the anesthesiologist had another epidural inline ahead of me. I gritted my teeth and breathed through. The nurses got everything ready to go, got me in the gown and prepped for the epidural in the meantime. The contractions were getting so intense with little break between and I just prayed they would get there soon.

The nurses were having issues with my IV and so that was a hold up too. All the while, the pain intensified and I regretted not asking for the epidural the second I felt my first contraction. This was hell knowing that I was going through this pain and there was no living human on the other side of it.

Another friend was schedule to come a little after 8:30. I told Eric to tell her to hold off until after the epidural because I was in no condition to talk. Eric sat by my side, trying to console me through this. He offered to hold my hand but I said no. I instead gripped the rubber case on my phone, digging my sharp nails into that knowing I couldn’t hurt the phone but I could hurt Eric and I didn’t want to do that, not really. However, at one point I looked at him and blurted out “i just want to slap you in the face right now!” I’m not sure where it came from, well, I do, it was from all the pain I was feeling, but I wasn’t angry at him really! He kind of smiled and said “ok”. I kept my hands to myself though, like a good little girl should.

The nurse checked me again as we waited for the anesthesiologist to confirm that I could still get the epidural. The uncomfortableness of all of this was getting way over the 10 scale and I looked forward to the peace I know the epidural provides. She wasn’t sure though, she thought I might be too far at that point and called for her charge nurse to check me. {Oh, in the meantime, we had gone through the first amazing nurse, Emily, and the 2nd amazing nurse, Erica, and were now on the amazing nurse Becca}. The charge nurse too wasn’t sure if I could or could not have the coveted epidural or not and was going to call the delivery doctor in.

A few minutes later, while still waiting on the doctor and anesthesiologist, my pain subsided completely and in an instant a gush of warm fluid released from me. My water broke and when I realized what happened, I cried and cried and cried, knowing I was getting closer to loosing my physical baby forever. The nurse confirmed and cleaned me up, calling the charge nurse once again and her once again calling for the doctor. Meanwhile, the anesthesiologist showed up ready to stick me. I informed him I didn’t have pain anymore, at least not what I had been experiencing and so he could hold off until later. I could feel the sensation to push but I didn’t want to. Instead I held things together down there. I wanted to hold this baby in until the middle of the night that we had been prepared for. I needed a few more hours of being pregnant.

The doctor, the sweet doctor I had been told of, arrived and asked that I spread my legs a little so she could check me. When I did this, she asked me to bear down just a little and in that moment our baby was born.

I whaled like I could never have imagined possible. It felt so good to bawl uncontrollably. I knew there were happy moments happening in that hospital at my moment of complete and utter devastation, but I bawled for my situation, for the loss to Eric, for the death of our child way too soon. I cried for the year it took to get pregnant, for the painful shots and procedures, for the embryos lost before this one. I cried for the first trimester symptoms I went through, the discomfort of that. I cried for the future we lost.

They wrapped our beautiful child up as gently as they could. They body was so small and so fragile. They lifted baby to me to see and I asked what it was. The nurse told me it’s kind of hard to tell at that age, and then we saw the legs spread. The doctor agreed with what we were seeing….this was our son.

Eric held me and we cried together. We just lost our child forever, never having heard him cry, never seeing him take a breath, never smelling that sweet, amazing baby scent. We lost one of the greatest gifts ever given to us.

We held our son together and marveled at his body. He was so tiny, some of him still translucent and we could hardly move him without fear of him breaking. But he was beautiful and perfect. He had all of his fingers and toes, we could see his big biceps and long legs. His ears and his nose and his eyes were so precious. He was absolutely perfect in every physical way.

Isaiah Michael Reuer arrived in our arms at 8:27 PM on 1/11/17. He is loved by his parents, his older brother Lincoln, his 3 living grandparents and so many more relatives. He is joined with so many loved ones who have gone before us and he is rejoicing our creator in Heaven where we will meet him one glorious day.