So, onto the Vermont pictures! I arrived on Friday. Stuart had already been there a week, and was leaving Sunday morning. So my trip coincided perfectly with seeing him for a few days (Dad's brilliance in ensuring). That's why he's only in the first two pics. :)

This was my first night there. Dad decided to have a real Vermont cheese tasting. All (cheddar) cheeses are white there, btw. They are serious about their cheese, even the most basic grovery stores carry about 20 different kinds. We were trying 8 different ones, by 2 different makers (Cabot and Crawley's). Their names ranged from Hunter's to Medium Sharp to Seriously Sharp. Each one had a paper next to it for our comments. We each tried various ones, then Stuart read aloud all the comments, and then we voted on the "best of the best." Incredibly enough, 7 out of 10 voted on the same kind! It was the strongest tasting cheddar. You know our father has had a huge influence on us (his opinion is there is never a sharp enough cheddar!). Many of the comments would be, "Disappointingly sharp" "Not distinguishably sharp enough" "Missing the sharp bite its name promises" and so on. It's hilarous. Even Fred agreed, and as he's not family yet, I'd say that's promising. Oh, and for the record, Carter obstained all-together because he "doesn't like cheese." Horrendous!

Stuart's last day there we went to Grafton to eat. This was an old barn/warehouse type place that's been made into a place for large gatherings. We've ambled here in the past and adore it. Dad wants to build one like this for our always-explanding never-under-30-people family gatherings. Seriously, even the most modest Sunday lunches can't stay small with us! It's (laughably) insane at times!

This was our Father's Day picnic! We've done this in the past too. We get near the falls, spread out blankets, and serve up sandwiches, fruit, chips, olives, and (of course) cheese and crackers. Dad loves sitting/laying down and listening to the peaceful sound of the waterfalls. We wade around too, but it was rather chilly.

This was Father's Day evening. Seth & Karen (from a distance) treated everyone to Ben & Jerry's ice cream (Dad loves that). And I, being the odd ball in the family who doesn't like ice cream, obstained. Dad looooved it!

Ok, 9 of us packed into the Sequioa for a 3 hour trip to Boston. Did you get that? 9 adults! The Sequioa advertises "seats 8 comfortably." That's not true, if the 8 are adults. But there aren't even 9 seatbelts! Sometimes the girls buckeled together, sometimes Fred&Mary. It was pretty fun, even so! And this is a picture of what 9 people packing for 3 days in Boston looks like. I am so doggone proud of our packing skills! (Laptops were mandatory as Dad & I had a 1-day business trip to Chicago.)

Noah, Carter, and Dad in the resting in the cemetary in Boston along the Freedom Trail.

This was us "kids" in the elevator of the hotel one evening we ate out in Faneuil Hall together. The hotel had lemon & lime water dispensers near the elevators & we were nuts over them! We'd come inside and rush to the water. It was pretty hilarious. And we were loud. So I got a picture of us in our mirth! Except my flash wouldn't work so it's a bit dark/blurry! I really have the best of times with my awesome siblings!

This was a snack bar about 3 miles from our cabin. Everyone except Suz, Mom and me jogged the 3 miles for lunch. We took the easy route. It turned out to be awesome food and great service (1 guy cooking it all!).

Suzanne and me after lunch that day!

Mary and Fred walked down Commerce street for me an unknown distance because I knew there was a Bruegger's Bagels "somewhere" down it. They were really patient and trusted me - and thanks to Jonathan's Iphone, he got us there without any wrong turns! So I treated them, the least I could do. I couldn't stomach Starbucks (haven't in weeks), but hey I wanted the picture.

And this is a lovely one of Mom and Dad at the waterfall. They're so cute toegher and I love them SO much! Their generosity made this ALL possible!

10 weeks, 5 days

I actually did not want to post this yet. I much prefer posting right after I've had an appointment and I know all is well inside. I have one Wednesday, as I turn the 11 week mark. I will post again then. But I figured I'd been silent almost a month, and at the very least I should let you guys know we're alive and well.

I continue to be amazed and humbled and sooooooo grateful that I am still pregnant! Never since the last miscarriage did I really, really, really think I could carry a baby without some sort of problem. I know, I don't have solid logic to cause this concern, but it just was a deep rooted fear. I am thankful every single day this baby is alive. And we are so grateful. Somehow even with my fears, I have held off asking for an earlier scan at the dr, but I'll be SO glad for Wenesday to be here.

I have been sick, a lot (week 10 has been the worst!). Sometimes whole days, sometimes only hours. The last 3 days, Jonathan has fixed us breakfast, lunch and dinner. It's so hard on my pride and self-sufficiency having him do what's suppose to be "my" duty. And yet he serves with gentleness and concern and love. He acts like it's nothing! And honestly, when I eat often, I get sick less frequently. I've even had the energy to clean some the past few days. Today he's back at work, so I'm back to taking care of myself for breakfast and lunch. But I'm grateful to know he'll be here to help for dinner. Since I depsise the smell of cooking food, he's been pretty amazing on the grill and thinking of things that don't create smells inside (baked potatoes always work!). I don't have cravings but I have tons of aversions. For example: I hate chicken and seafood right now.

We actually had to spend 14 days apart these last 2 weeks. Jonathan had a training exercise that was joint Air Force-Navy in Nevada. When my dad heard I would be alone, he SO generously offered to buy me a ticket to visit them up in Vermont (the family was vacationing there for the month of June). So that's where I headed to! He flew me out of a local airport, a mere 20 minutes from the house rather than the 2 hour trip to the Atlanta airport. Although the flying was horrible on my sickness and energy level (people should not be allowed to wear cologne/perdume at 6am), being in Vermont was so much fun! I loved hanging out with my family, going to our old favorite spots, having my mother cook all sorts of delicious and nutritious meals, and just plain relaxing with them. I missed Jonathan terribly(we all did, as he & I had joined them last time in Vermont in '05). Somehow we survived with lots of phone calls, emails, webcams, and texts. Next time, we agree I'm going with him (you can't know ahead of time what's do-able/allowed/feasable).

Anyway, I'll close with some pictures of Vermont (actually, I don't have time today, but I'll upload them Wednesday!) Back to work.

7 week Ultrasound

Well... we went in Wednesday for the 7 week appointment. I was scared the baby might not be alive. Afterall, I'd had two cramps the evening before, and cramps send me into panic mode.

Ah, but no.... I caught the little "flashing" on the screen. Baby measuring 7weeks 0days (exactly what it should be). Heart rate 140. Wow. Could we be this fortunate?

After the ultrasound I had to have the regular OB first timers visit. It was weird! Most of the conversation with the midwife was about the nuchal fold test & triple screen, delivery options, forming a birth plan, and how good I'd feel in the 2nd trimester. I kept sitting there, wanting to interrupt her, telling her it was too early to talk about this. That she should save her time until it's certain I get that far. I know, that's terrible. But I do not take even one day of this baby's life for granted that it'll go on. The conversation was just so unexpected. Even Jonathan agreed to how weird it was. We assumed with pregnancy #1 = baby. This time, no such assumptions. Every day a blessing, a milestone, an accomplishment, a relief.

I have to wait 4 weeks to go in again. Booooooooooo. Then they'll try to hear the heartbeat with the doppler. If they don't get it, we'll do an ultrasound. She did tell me if I started to get too worried/paniced, they'd gladly have me come in earlier to do an ultrasound. It's reassuring I have her blessing on that, because I honestly can't see waiting a month and not going crazy.

And lastly.... just a little remembrance. Without any difference than any other day, June 3rd came and went. Our first baby's due date. That thought is sad, but being pregnant right now at least gives me a new perspective and some hope for anothe child. I try to focus on the possibilities ahead of me, while remembering what we've been through to get here. I miss that child not being in our life right now, but I am grateful to have renewed hope beating away inside me. I'm grateful God has given us Life for now. So very very grateful.

A Milestone Reached

Today was a milestone. I completed a day in this pregnancy when my last one ended. The last baby I lost 6w4d in the evening. Today I'm 6w5d and feeling good. The intense pains I've had over the last 2 weeks have generally subsided (determined by ultrasound to be caused by enlarged ovaries and lots of cysts and fluid from IVF). I have never had a single cramp (Praise God!), although the pains had me fearing a tubal ectopic (since IVF increases your chances of that to 3-5%).

Anyway, it's been so hard enjoying anything about this pregnancy as I have so worried about losing this one too. I kept thinking if I got to certain milestones, I'd stop fearing. Apparently fear is always there. It's a daily battle. Hourly at times. But I keep fighting. Praying. Asking for help.

I'm overwhelmed by all your love (not surprised, just overwhelmed). I appreciate ANY of the continued prayers - we feel so in need of them for this to keep progressing and this baby to grow. Literally. Thank you so much.

One more day until the 7 week ultrasound, where I can get the heartbeat measured, and we can determine growth accomplished since last week. Praying so hard it's good news.

Something Pondering...

A little mathematics here......

This (Prenatal Vitamins; times 1001 pills)

Plus this (33 months trying)

Plus this (Hysterosalpingogram; times 3)


Plus this (blood draws, not vials; times 30. I've had WAY more vials. 60 maybe?)

Plus this (all my IVF#2 drugs, IVF#1 had just as many, so just imagine this times 2, plus more from other medicated cycles)

Plus this (Daily Shots (3 per day); times 44 for IVF#2, times 82 all total)

Plus this (ultrasounds - those are follicles/eggs on screen; times 24)


Plus this (my beloved IVF Clinic; ~38 appointments)

Plus this (J & me in San Antonio, celebrating 4 yrs of marriage!)

Plus this (two 7-cell, Grade B embryos, transferred 5/3)

Plus this (Progesterone-in-Oil IntraMuscular shot, nightly, times 62 so far)

Plus this.... (Figure it out for yourself; times ~72, albeit 90% of those stark-white)

Plus more prayer, fasting, weeping, seeking Biblical wisdom and counsel, heart searching, and fervor than anyone not in our situation can know......

Equal this.....

a 6 week old Wilson with a beating heart..... Of course I'm crying. And praying it stays growing healthy....... please, oh please....

Our Marriage :)

After my last entry, Lindsay had mentioned she would like to hear more about how Jonathan and I have cultivated such a wonderful marriage. I have thought about it often, but seeing as it actually takes a while to write it, I haven't gotten to it until now. I'm going to dive right in.

Jonathan and I actually fell in love in July 2001, but my father asked us to spend time apart (what turned out to be 15 months) seeking God and pursuing other areas of growth in our lives. We saw one another maybe 4 times, but communicated little. That time apart was integral in us truly discerning the basis of our love. Was it Attraction? Infatuation? Fun? Enjoyment of the friendship? Through that time we learned it was God's Will we be together - he had joined us. And so we were able to withstand anything we'd come against, because there was a solid foundation of knowing this realtionship was not begun by us.

Once we started spending time together again, we talked extensively about how we would always remain "in love" - with him being away at college, with the military life that loomed ahead, with seeing so many other couples either fighting all the time, or satisfied with separate lives in their marriages. How could we keep this magical inloveness we had at this early stage when the pain and pressure of life assailed us too, somewhere in the future?

And here is where we gained wisdom vividly alive in written word. "A Severe Mercy" was Sheldon Vanauken's somewhat spiritual autobiography (although it encompassed entirely more). His relationship with his wife - before they even knew Christ - was probably the closest I'd ever heard of. They had this same desire and plan - to keep inloveness - forever. They carefully and thoughtfully talked about how they would accomlish this. So we gleaned from them. I include excerts below that we hung onto. We read this book together in our early months. Some may disagree with the statements below. They were founded by pagans, after all. But for us, they resounded with a deep truth and understanding of what we wanted our union to look like. It's not something we talk about to others ever - it's just our core beliefs. It is of course in addition to everything we know Biblically, in which I belive my audience and I are probably taught the same. We have Bibilcal principles for our marriage. Yet one can have a very solid Biblical marriage, and not have the emotional/actual closeness we were seeking/desiring. What I convey below is how we achieve the amazing closeness and inloveness and true best friendship we want with one another.
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What emerged from out talk was nothing less, we believed, than the certral ‘secret’ of enduring love: sharing.

‘What is it that draws two people into closeness and love? Of course there’s the mystery of physical attraction, but beyond that it’s the things they share. We both love strawberries and ships and collies and poems and all beauty, and all those things bind us together. Those sharings just happened to be; but what we must do now is share everything. Everything! If one of us likes anything, there must be something to like in it – and the other one must find it. Every single thing either of us likes. That way we shall create a thousand strands, great and small, that will link us together. Then we shall be so close that it would be impossible – unthinkable – for either of us to suppose that we could ever recreate such closeness with anyone else. And our trust in each other will not only be based on love and loyalty but on the fact of a thousand sharings – a thousand strands twisted into something unbreakable.’

Total sharing, we felt, was the ultimate secret of a love that would last for ever. And of course we could learn to like anything if we wanted to. Through sharing we would not only make a bond of incredible friendship, but through sharing we would keep the magic of inloveness. And with every year, more depth. We would become as close as two human beings could become – closer perhaps than any two people had ever been. Whatever storms might come, whatever changes the years might bring, there would be the bedrock closeness of all our sharing. So we saw our way, horizon beyond horizon, ahead. And so it was to be. Later we looked back upon that day when sharing was born as the day when, we began to raise the Shining Barrier.

The Shining Barrier – the shield of our love. A walled garden. A fence around a young tree to keep the deer from nibbling it. A fortified place with the walls and watchtowers gleaming white like the cliffs of England. The Shining Barrier – protecting the green tree of our love. And yet in another sense, it was our love itself, made strong within, that was the Shining Barrier.

But why does love need to be guarded? We looked about us and saw the world as having become a hostile and threatening place where standards of decency and courtesy were perishing and war loomed gigantic. A world where love did not endure. The smile of inloveness seemed to promise for ever, but friends who had been in love last year were parting this year. The divorce rate was in the news. Were there any older people in love? It must be that, whatever its promise, love does not by itself endure. But why? What was the failure behind the failure of love?

We thought we saw the answer. The killer of love is creeping separateness. Inloveness is a gift of the gods, but then it is up to the lovers to cherish or to ruin. Taking love for granted, especially after marriage. Ceasing to do things together. Finding separate interests. ‘We’ turning into ‘I.’ Self. Self-regard: what I want to do. Actual selfishness only a hop away. This was the way of creeping separateness. And in the modern world, especially in the cities, everything favored it. The failure of love might seem to be caused by hate or boredom or unfaithfulness with a lover; but those were results. First came the creeping separateness: the failure behind the failure.

We raised the Shining Barrier against creeping separateness, which was, in the last analysis, self. We also raised it against a world of indecencies and decaying standards, the decline of courtesy, the whispering mockers of love. We would have our own standards. And, above all, we would be us-centered, not self-centered. Against creeping separateness we would oppose the great principle of sharing. We saw self as the ultimate danger to love. Still, we turned away from it, turned away because we loved our love. And we were determined that it should endure.

We sought closeness through sharing in order to keep inloveness; but such closeness was simply true union. We saw the process of achieving union as like two stones becoming one by grinding together, the hard bits of one wearing away soft bits of the other, until as last the fit is perfect: one stone.
-----

Jonathan and I naturally had many common sharings. We both loved the outdoors and adventures and family-life (doing things with our siblings/parents) and cooking and gardening. I had never been hunting. He had hardly ever cooked gourmet food or ventured to a gourmet restaurant. He loved primative camping. His idea of a beach vacation meant lots of fishing. I loved classical music concerts. And yet, we began to share those experiences together. We didn't find separate friends to do these activities with, we did not each do our own thing. We shared those experiences. Even when something might not obviously appeal to one of us, we love each other more and would rather be together than apart, even if the activity we're engaging in isn't naturally exciting to us. And we have truly become the best partners in each of our endeavors. We are inseprable. When we experience things separately, we cannot wait to share all kinds of intricate details to the other, where they can feel as close to experiencing it while having been absent. We just are. We have the kind of oneness we live and breathe for.

Maybe this has answered the initial musings, I hope it's been enjoyable to read a little more about us. I hope it doesn't come off as smug or proud - these are simply facts, decisions we've made for us. Thank you for your patience!

News

I know I've been terrible at this blogging thing. I've been told more than once. I really appreciate all you kind friends who come here to read how life is. I enjoy all your blogs so much, and so I should put more time into keeping mine up to date. Honestly, in the last 5 months with our lives going in such a drastically different direction than we ever could have foreseen, it's been hard to keep this up. Life is not all gloriously simple and easy and happy. Even though Jonathan and I have one of the most fabulous marriages ever, and we have such wonderful family members and friends and church, and both of our jobs have been such undeserved gifts to us, there has definitely been a cloud of confusion overshadowing our lives. Maybe it doesn't even daily come into our conversation, but it has been present in the background. When we don't even have understanding about a lot, it's hard to want to share on a blog like this. Things can be misunderstood too easily. I can communicate very badly at times, not giving the full picture, since my writing can be emotionally triggered. Anyway, I haven't felt like coming to this blog and spilling my heart, so I've stayed away. Because it also feels disingenuous to just post about all the lovely happy things going on, while tiptoeing around or ignoring the other stuff. I don't know that I'll get better at posting in the future yet, but I'll try to make efforts. And I just ask my dear friends and readers to bear with me.

So.... lots of news. The most exciting actually came on January 18th! My brother Stuart proposed in such a romantic way to his sweetheart of two years and asked her to marry him!!! Haley of course said YES!!! The wedding is set for July 19th and we could not be happier to finally have a sister-in-law coming into our family. Stuart is head-over-heels and they are extremely cute and loving together. Just thinking of gaining another girl in the family makes me giddy. It's exciting to have a great relationship with her, and with both of them as a couple, knowing down the road it will blossom as they enter marriage and we have even more to share in common. We are thrilled!!! This will the the first Graydon boy married, and the first marriage in 4 years (I was the last one in '04; Karen in '03, 9 months apart, poor Dad)! Here is the happy couple.

Right now, I have been visiting my wonderful friend Susi right outside of Seattle! I used some airline points and flew free over here a week and a half ago. Her husband is deployed right now, has been gone since last April, folks! And her with a 15 month old daughter. This is strength! Even with the love of our lives gone, we were such good friends years ago, and have really reconnected in an amazingly deep way for me. I rarely have friends in my life who I feel so much in common with in life-style, ideas about Christianity, teaching on submission/relationship to our husbands, love/closeness to family members, and appreciation for the finer things in life (i.e. music, chocolate, coffee, cheese, etc). (Understand, though, not necessarily more expensive, though, we are deal-shoppers!). Susi and her sweet-natured, obedient daughter Violet have been taking me to all sorts of delights the area offers. I do not have my cable to download pictures, so all those lovely details will have to wait! But for a teaser, visit Susi's entry complete with some pictures!

I had some trouble with the HSG done in Georgia (that hospital is a joke), so I had it re-done while I was out here (this base here actually is one of the 5-6 IVF programs in the US, incidentally, so they are fully equipt to perform it correctly). Went fine, and I applaud myself for continually learning the military system and how to get what you need when you can. It took a few hours to even get it ordered, but it worked. My IVF #2 is set for beginning April 16th. I will be gone until the beginning of May, and may or may not post while I'm there. All depends on how I'm feeling. I will again stay with my best friend there, which I am looking forward to. We've still got some things to be straightened out with leave, a couple more perscriptions I have to pick up in GA, etc. So here's to hoping it works out as smoothly as it can.

And for final big news, my youngest sister Mary turns 21 next Saturday! I can't believe that my "little" sister is already such an adult. I am SOSOSOSO grateful I'll get to be in NC for that and for my brother Carter's 19th bday a few days later! I'm planning a nice little "drinks and dessert" party for Mary with just the family, and hope I can make it sweet/special for her. It's hard planning something when it's not your home, but I'm sure I can make it work. :)

Jonathan has completed over half of his deployment. There's a new post up at his site. We miss each other more than words could say. But we are making it, slowly but surely. That reunion is going to be something else, lemme tell you!

J's Space

Here is a shout-out for my fantabulous husband's place online. He wants a way to keep people updated with how he is (in his words, which I think are so much better than mine!). So go visit, leave a comment to say hi, if you're praying tell him so... Obviously, I think he deserves that and SO much more! I can't express how much I miss that man!

www.xanga.com/rustvyper

He's Gone

Yep, my best friend & beloved one is gone now. Left Saturday. Those last 24 hours before he left were really tough on us both. But we made the very most of every day this last week, with wonderful things like buying a live lobster at the grocery to cook at home, enjoying wine & looooong conversations, many long hikes/walks in our woods, and special nights out to dinner/movie. We had a final Starbucks date on Friday and couldn't let go of each other. Such perfect times. We know the reason this separation is so very difficult. It's not because we need each other for practical things (like cooking or finances or fixing the car). It's because we are Soul Mates in the truest sense; we're best friends, lovers, and we share every part of our lives together. We miss the sharing, each other's company, input. As painful as separation is, we can't help but be reminded the only reason it's so hard is because our relationship is sooo good. While the last few months of our lives together have been anything but blissful in terms of outward struggles we can't control, it helps be reminded what gift of a marriage we have!

So for now, it's Day #4 of ~70 days. Here's two pics we got about an hour before he left. I love his DCUs with his new 1LT rank (yes, he was promoted a few weeks ago)!

news

So, the most recent news is that Jonathan will be leaving for the Middle East next week. Our first overseas deployment is here. I wonder what it will be like living alone? I wonder how frequently we'll get to communicate. I wonder if Jonathan will enjoy it. I guess I will find those answers out before I really want to!

In order to get uninterrupted, undistracted, romantic one-on-one time, we have booked a luxurious, cozy, beautiful little cabin up in the Georgia/North Carolina mountains for 4 days. We leave this Friday and I cannot wait! Though it's a signaling of "the beginning of the end" it will be a time to create so many sweet memories with each other.... We are very excited about this little pre-deployment trip, and I know I'll treasure every memory and picture we have of it as I think on and look at them when he's gone.

life

Tuesday was a difficult day for all sorts of reasons... Aside from the three new easily-obtained pregnancy announcements (one that, incidentally, happenes to be one day from my due date, reminding me anew of all we have lost)... Aside from the fact that once again I got the all-too-familiar crushing acknowledgement of another failed attempt at pregnancy... There were things in play this month that gave us hope we've never yet had naturally. Signs, words, convictions you may call them. We wonder if we even know how to hear the Lord anymore, things are that confusing.

Out at dinner last night, I thought we'd talked it over. And yet, as I was in the shower that evening, I dissolved into a heap of heart-wrenching, full-body sobs.... What was happening? What have we done? What in the world is so wrong in our lives that we must be punshined again and again with childlessness while almost weekly someone we know achieves pregnancy their first month trying - sometimes without even praying, it's such a natural assumption they'll conceive? What is displeasing the Lord so much? What is happening to our prayers? Why do we have no answers?

My weeping brought Jonathan rushing in... all the while knowing why I was crying, but wanting to just hold me as we asked the same questions all over again. In the end, you can't keep crying. After the tears comes a sort of resignation that we must just still press on. That one day, things may be different. Just not today.

*Hysterosalpingogram next Thursday. Dye shot up the uterus so floroscopic xray machine may take pictures of uterus & tubes, to ensure proper shape and open tubes. Already done this Aug06; 22 hours of pain. CCCT, again, too. All necessary for IVF #2 to proceed. Never saw myself doing these a 2nd time.*

The Blank Space in Our Family Album

By CATHERINE MACRAE HOCKMUTH, Published: January 6, 2008
Every once in a while I am clunked on the head by one of the many baby books we’ve shoved into the upper corner of our future child’s closet. Given the shortage of space in our 700-square-foot apartment, I probably should have given them away by now.
But when you’ve been trying without success to have a baby for four and a half years, books aren’t the only things you have trouble letting go of.
Among the titles are “The Expectant Father,” “The Girlfriends’ Guide to Pregnancy,” “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” “Secrets of the Baby Whisperer” and my personal favorite, “The No-Cry Sleep Solution.” I wonder if it has any “No-Cry” solutions for a grown woman who occasionally can’t hold it together at bedtime because she has no one to put to bed.
Some of my friends post sonogram images of their thumb-sucking fetuses on their refrigerators. It’s their baby’s first photo, the one that is sent by e-mail to everyone with cheerful subject lines like “It’s a girl!”
We have sonogram photos, too, years’ worth, but there are no tiny hands or perfectly shaped noses in ours. The sonogram image that’s furthest along features two promising little marbles that stopped growing at seven weeks, which was three weeks before we knew anything was wrong. The most recent is of a blank, black space with the caption: “Empty Uterus.”
I wonder how people would respond if I were to e-mail that to everyone with the subject line: “It’s an Empty Uterus!” I know — not appropriate. But in the world of failed fertility, you learn that a little gallows humor can help you through a lot of heartache. A companion photo of my ectopic pregnancy looks perfect except for the fact that the embryo is in the wrong place. Another potential e-mail message, subject line: “Embryo in the Wrong Place!”
That pregnancy was last May, after our second round of in vitro fertilization. My husband had taken off work to go to my appointment because there was a chance we would see a heartbeat. We had even talked about going to see “Knocked Up” afterward to celebrate.
Then the nurse didn’t see anything. I just figured she needed to adjust the gain a little. But then she said, “It might be ectopic.”
I said, “So you’re saying it’s nothing or it’s ectopic?”
“Yes.” Then she left us with a box of tissues. I had some blood drawn to confirm that there was a pregnancy somewhere. The medical assistant struggled to find my vein and pricked me again and again as I sat there sobbing. Then they kindly offered that we could leave through the side door. I did honestly take it as a kindness, though it also occurred to me that it’s probably bad business for a fertility center to have a sobbing woman walking through the lobby.
A few weeks after the surgery to remove the wayward pregnancy, my husband and I met with the doctor to discuss our situation. We hadn’t even known an ectopic pregnancy was possible because the embryos are transferred directly into the uterus. And the possibility is extremely low; the doctor said the chance was less than 1 percent, which is less than among the general population.
“The worst luck you could possibly have,” he said.
Our first year of trying, when my husband and I were 30 and 31, was a time of assumptions: that we would conceive like everyone else, that having a child was the most natural thing in the world.
The next year brought tests, anxiety and doubts. Then came fertility treatments, followed by our two cycles of in vitro fertilization, and finally, three months of acupuncture and herbs from a Taiwanese doctor. And now, nearly five years since we started, we have nothing to show for any of it.
Except our photos: grainy images of all the embryos we created in a laboratory. And I can’t bring myself to throw them away, these artifacts of our fertility science experiment and our gamble with luck. Though they are nothing more than blobs of cells, I can’t help wondering whom they might have become. They may not have gotten very far in life, but they are the only life we’ve created.
Like the photos on our walls and in our albums, they are part of our history. It’s just that we would probably be violating some social norm if we were to frame them and hang them on the walls. Not that we have any desire to do so. Instead, we tuck them away in nooks, stuff them into drawers, shove them into the corners of our closets and our minds, along with the books, clothes, furniture, expectations and dreams. Occasionally we bump into them and remember, “Oh, right, there’s that.”
In the closet with the books is a Target bag containing baby clothes and an “I love Daddy” bib that I bought in a fit of hope around the time of our first pregnancy. In our cabinets and refrigerator, we also have prenatal vitamins, prescription folic acid and in vitro fertilization drugs. Somewhere in our apartment is a Consumer Reports checklist of must-have nursery furniture and baby gear.
As for child care arrangements, we’ve already worked out several plans, each with its pros and cons. We’ve decided on cloth diapers and flexible 529 college saving plans. We’ve ruled against using Baby Einstein before age 2, having a family bed and allowing mobile phones in high school.
We even have names, which don’t take up any space except in our heads. We have first and second choices for each gender and haven’t wavered on them in two years. Last month over lunch I asked my newly pregnant sister not to steal — er, use our names. But I had sounded so grave when I announced that I needed to “discuss something important” with her that she smiled with relief when she realized it was only baby names. “I thought you were going to say you and Bill were getting divorced or something,” she said.
In the end I think she believed I was being unreasonable about the names, one of which was her choice as well, particularly in my request that she not take our second-favorite names, either. But how could she have known how precious those names are to us? We’ve been carrying them around in our hearts for years, if not in our arms.
Most of our friends and family don’t know we have all of these books, photos, names and parenting philosophies. I doubt it occurs to people with real babies that we have prepared exactly as they have, if not more. The only thing we don’t have is the baby book. Hallmark doesn’t carry a version for people like us to preserve our “Empty Uterus” and “Embryo in the Wrong Place” pictures. (Instead of “Our Baby” embossed on the cover, I suppose they could put “Well, It Was a Long Shot Anyway.”)
It’s time for us to move on, I know. But how do you move on when every month brings a new cycle of hope? When your first reaction to a new period is to add ovulation predictors to your Target shopping list? When you can’t stop yourself from feeling a corrosive bitterness toward every family parading by with the babies they seem to have come by so easily?
Conventional wisdom tells us that hope is a good thing. Hope is what gets us through difficulty. But over these years I’ve come to realize that hope is sometimes slow torture. When hope keeps you anxious and bitter and stuck in some fantasy of the perfect nuclear family, then maybe hope isn’t what you need anymore. Maybe the most hopeful action one could take would be to abandon hope altogether.
Turns out I’m not alone in thinking this. When The New York Times Magazine recently published its list of the most innovative ideas of 2007, I got some satisfaction out of the inclusion of a study claiming that in certain cases hope can be an obstacle to emotional recovery.
I imagine a lot of people would call our years of fertility treatment and our $20,000 in vitro fertilization bill, which we paid with a loan, nothing more than vanity anyway, or selfishness. But it’s not so simple.
It’s not vanity to want a child with my husband’s laugh and spiky blond hair, or for him to want a long-legged girl with brown hair, freckles and gaps in her teeth. It’s love. And of all the baby items we’ve had to find places to store in this apartment, that unspent love is the most unwieldy. Unlike our books, furniture, clothes and pictures, it can’t be returned, given away, or shoved into the corners of our closet. And unlike hope, it probably won’t be found through scientific study to be an obstacle to emotional recovery.
SO we are pursuing an adoption in China. Some of our friends are surprised we’re O.K. with the fact that it takes about two years to complete an adoption in China, not including the three to five months it takes to put the paperwork in order.
But by now we are used to waiting. And we chose China because it offers something that fertility doctors, Mother Nature and plenty of other adoption options can’t: a predictable schedule and the closest thing possible to a guarantee.
We don’t know how to stop hoping for a biological child. But that doesn’t mean we can’t look forward to our adoption. Slowly, books on adoption and attachment like “Are Those Kids Yours?” and “A Love Like No Other” are finding a place in our closet alongside still relevant titles like “The No-Cry Sleep Solution.”
After all, no-cry solutions are useful no matter what the circumstance. Not to mention “I love Daddy” bibs.

Open Letter

(*Note, I did not create this piece of writing. I do not think I have the courage to write such thoughts down. But the sentiments are mine, and would be those of any woman sturggling with years of infertility and a recent miscarriage.*)

To the many expectant and soon-to-be expectant mothers in my life (with love):

I know this is a very special time for you – a time filled with excitement, anticipation and unbounding love for your baby soon to enter the world. This time is for you – a chance to celebrate, to contemplate, to prepare. This is your moment to delight in the joy of expectancy, to embrace the promise of parenthood, to exude radiance. To rejoice in feeling life grow inside with every fluttering heartbeat, every kick. Soon you will enter the sacred sisterhood of women who become mothers, forever transforming their lives. Soon your arms will hold new life, as you bask in the warm glow of your child’s beaming eyes. Soon your heart will fill when you hear his/her laughter, the tight grasp around your finger. You will marvel at the wondrous little being you created out of love, in an act more natural than any in the world.

And yet. As you enter perhaps the most magnificent time in your life, we are finding our way through crisis, trying to navigate a life-altering journey with persistence and grace. We don’t know where it will lead us, how it will end. Our future is uncertain. I don’t expect many people to understand what we are going through. But I would hope that you would try to appreciate that it is real. It is crushing. It underlies and permeates every aspect of our lives, everything we do. As impossible as it is to imagine, as hard as it is to see, and as challenging as it is to live, it is our life and our story. And it is staggering. Such a primal urge, a natural instinct, a deep desire – unmet, unfilled, unlived…

The truth is, unless you’ve experienced the deep sorrow of repeated failures or a devastating loss in your quest for a child, I don’t think you can know what I feel. Unless your dreams for a family have been shattered time after time, no matter how hard you pray or will them to come true, you can’t know the tremendous sorrow that lives deep in my heart. Unless you’ve been defeated by the consistent betrayal of your own body, unless you’ve felt broken to the core, you can’t know the ache of my empty womb as time moves on…

But as my friend and loved one, I would hope that you can open your heart and mind to try to appreciate where I’m coming from, where I am. That you can understand I may need time and space to heal, to deal. That you will not take it personally or take offense. That with love and compassion you might try to understand this is not about you. (I know, I said before it’s all about you, but this part is about me.) I sincerely hope you can accept that my actions and emotions reflect my own affliction, and not my feelings about you or your child.

I will wholly embrace your baby into this world with blessings and an open heart. But just as my joy for you is not diminished by my own suffering, my pain is not diminished by sharing your joy. My heart still aches, my arms long to be filled, and my womb lies empty, still…

Perhaps we’re both incapable of seeing beyond our own experience at this moment in time. Understandable. But as I find joy in my heart for you in my time of crisis, please have compassion in your heart for me in your time of joy.

Happy New Year 2008

Wishing you all a very Happy New Year.

God of Miracles & Thoughts

My friend Anna, who I've mentioned on here before, called me yesterday. She told me, "I'm here to say God is a God of miracles." Now, coming from her, that's what her very life is a testimony of. She has had cancer twice(Hodgkins Lymphoma Stage IV - cancer of the lymphatic system) by the time she was 21. She pursued many avenues of treatment. The first time low-dose chemo plus a miracle took it completely away. Yet within 2 years is was back. This time it took taking her immune system down to nothing (read: isolation & white blood count of zero) to harvest & transplant back her own stem cells. Years of fighting this, immense pain, praying, hoping, and hanging on... With the cancer gone the second time, the Lord brought a husband into her life (a longtime friend), Glenn. With Anna back to health, the lingering effect of the cancer on her was devastating: she was told her body had already gone through menopause and she would not produce any eggs normally for a pregnancy to ensue. She is one of 10 kids herself and loves children (spending months in Romania ministering to orphans). Yet she still prayed. She and I have prayed and cried many hours for one another in this common desire.

About a month ago, while being prayed over, God gave her a specific child to pray for - Faith Joy. So she did. And within this time-frame, God has poured out His love for her and Glenn and given them this longed-for pregnancy! God is a miracle-worker. She is evidence of that in numerous ways! And so we rejoice with her for this! She has been my prayer-target, when I've felt hopelessly burdened with my load, I have cried out for her, as I did for my friend Lis. And God has answered both those cries. I guess I need a new prayer-target now. Yes.

So though it's not me, God has shown a miracle this day. And as part of my family, I rejoice for my sister Anna and God's working!!
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Aside from that, I have been thinking. Not long ago, someone posted about a charming little tradition of writing out the year's events on an ornament to hang. My frist thought, though, was about how that tradition is only quaint when the years have been blissful. I quickly figured 2007 could say: "IVF, Dead Baby, Granddaddy's Altzhimers, 'Unspoken Devastation', Step-Grandmother's Cancer/Stroke". I was glad we'd never had such a tradition. And then, realizing it could say much worse, I made a point to think it could also say: "GA move, Buying Our First House, Stuart's college graduation, Michael/Carter's HS graduation, Fred courting Mary, Achieving Pregnancy, Bahamas Cruise, 7 yrs at my incredible job, 3 yrs of marriage, 34 yrs of marriage for Dad&Mom, Suzanne's Great Semester at PCC, 2 beautiful healthy-nieces...etc"

My point? Though there are some serious things that have been unbelievably painful this year, there have been many more things to praise the Lord for. So even through the blinding-tears I have right now, I will praise the Lord for the "blessings" and the heart-wrenchingly painful times, because He Loves Us. That's a truth no event changes.

(P.S. I remain very scared of posting either my peaks or pitfalls. I am afraid if I post too much of my pain that I'll be ignored and thought faithless, childish, and ungrateful. I am afraid if I post of the encouragement I receive in my spirit, everyone will breathe a sigh of relief that I'm finally all right and have "gotten over" it. I know there's a balance, I've yet to find it. Thank you unspeakably Juli,Karen,Lisi&Susi for the emails/comments. Responses soon.)

newpost

I know it's been almost a month without a post, but I have not had much to say. We had a wonderful time visiting our families around Thanksgiving (always sad for it to end). My friend Rebecca & her 21 month old daughter came to visit me last week (yes, she had a free ticket & of all people came to see me). Couldn't have had a greater time with them. Jonathan & I got all our Christmas decor up, & it's gorgeous (only our 2nd Christmas we've actually been able to decorate for, what with moving the last two Decembers).

Other than that, nothing else new is going on. I've honestly been entirely too sad and discouraged to post anything, and in trying to watch what I say I will not here post how I am feeling. Yes, it was 7 weeks ago our baby died, but it still hurts immensely. Today I'd have been 14 weeks, and I don't have to count to know that, it's ingrained in my mind. We've been left with nothing to pursue until Jonathan's deployment is over, so it feels like 6 months of wasted time ahead. I try to believe it isn't, since it must be God-ordained. Perhaps if you don't understand, you can read musings on Lisi's or Molly's (who I don't know personally) or Ellen's blog entries, and know in different ways they all express places I've been (or maybe still am at).

I wish you all a wonderful, blessed, merry Christmas season!

Friday

I'll take a break from actually talking about my emotions and thoughts of late, although overall they are good. I had a friend send me a sermon her husband preached where he talked about the parable about the unjust judge and told us to "keep crying out." He said, "And when God seems distant, deaf, and silent, when our prayers are not answered with the swiftness and response that we desire, there is really nothing I can say to make things better. Instead, it is what God says to us. In the silence, while we wait for the justice we think needs to be served, we hear God calling to us, promising to us that he is not like a father who tries to sleep through his child's crying, or like an unjust judge that ignores the needs of others. We hear God calling to us, "Keep crying outto me! I hear you, I feel your pain, and I cry with you! Keep crying out to me, I hear you, and I am with you always! Keep crying out to me, you are my child, I hear you, and I love you!" How my heart needs that reminder (thank you Adam & Karen)!

So, for the time being we are visiting our families in North Carolina! We have not been able to visit them since July 4th weekend. Little Shiona is supposedly talking a lot now, so I cannot wait to hear that! Katrina is all excited about the girls doing a "tea party" with her, where she gets to wear a "pretty dress." I get to see Carter's new 'Stang, get to hear all about Suzanne's classes this semester, and Mary's final days working at Lancome... I could say something about everyone, but that'll just have to hold until later. Just getting to visit my family, Jonthan's family, and see friends at church will be sweet indeed.

I am, however, so sad to be away from Georgia this week, because my best friend there is probably having her baby this week! She is due the 18th, but it's her 3rd so she may go a bit early. I have been doing stuff with her multiple times a week to squeeze in as much time as possible. On Thursday we packed the baby's going home bag and picked out the cutest outfits (it's a girl!). So... it's sad, yet her mom and sister will be in town anyway, so my help won't be needed, but the fact that the baby will be a week old before I see her possibly is sad! Kristy has been so kind, the day after the miscarriage she offered to come by with Starbucks, and I really needed to not be alone. I acepted, and she brought the most thoughtful presents and stayed for as long as I needed her and has cried with me many times (who will do that for someone else's baby? she will). She has listenend to me many hours, prayed with me, and offered so much empathy and wise advice. She is such a wise, Godly woman, and one of the truest friends I have had. And she is the Life Group leader's wife. Isn't is amazing how God has lead us again and again into such real relationships with our Life Groups at all three churches? No coincidence. I love our church the more we are there, and our Life Group is really solidifying too (we haven't been meeing that long).

I would love to do some photo entries soon, but I left my cable at home. However, if I feel like it I'll update while I'm in NC. I hope people still read this, I know I'm getting ~30 hits a day on each website, but my comment level is horribly low. :/ So hopefully the more upbeat entry will prompt some of you silent people into saying hello.

More Quotes

If you aren't fond of reading quotes, I apologize. But when I simply can't put into words the depths of pain and questions and confusion that are in my heart, this is all I can offer right now. Take them as my words, because they speak what I cannot.

“Bridge players tell me that there must be some money on the game, ‘or else people won’t take it seriously.’ Apparently it’s like that. Your bid – for God or no God, for a good God or the Cosmic Sadist, for eternal life or nonentity – will not be serious if nothing much is staked on it. And you will never discover how serious it was until the stakes are raised horribly high, until you find that you are playing not for counters or for sixpences but for every penny you have in the world. Nothing less will shake a man – or at any rate a man like me – out of his merely verbal thinking and his merely notional beliefs. He has to be knocked silly before he comes to his senses. Only torture will bring out the truth. Only under torture does he discover it himself.” -C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

"Christ says ‘Give me All. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want You. I have not come to torture your natural self, but to kill it. No half measures are any good. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. I don’t want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked – the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours.’
That is why He warned people to ‘count the cost’ before becoming Christians. ‘Make no mistake,’ He says, ‘if you let me, I will make you perfect. The moment you put yourself in My hands, that is what you are in for. Nothing less, or other, than that. You have free will, and if you chose, you can push Me away, understand that I am going to see this job through. Whatever suffering it may cost you in your earthly life, whatever inconceivable purification it may cost you after death, whatever it costs Me, I will never rest, nor let you rest, until you are literally perfect – until my Father can say without reservation that He is well pleased with you, as He said He was well pleased with Me. This I can do and will do. But I will not do anything less.’" -C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Quote

In Piper's Suffering and the Sovereignty of God, one of the chapters is written by a man whose son was born premature and lived only 20 minutes. He had some piercing observations that just bring me to tears with how true they are right now. No one likes to talk to or be around someone who is sad or suffering very long (I've seen this). It makes them confront the fact that if my suffering is not a punishment or explainable, they too may one day feel the pain. It's scary and uncomfortable. And yet, my life right now is one of suffering, trials, and brick wall after brick wall. When we think we've had all the trials heaped upon us we're ready to bear up under, something else comes like a swift blow and I'm left dizzy with the implications. It's just a time of intense hardship. A season, perhaps. But here's the book's quote:

“I believe this avoidance of grief in our culture results from not knowing how to deal with pain. We get uncomfortable when we hear people question God. We like to give easy answers to try to minimize the pain. When someone says that they feel God has forsaken them, we think we must quickly preach the truth that he will never leave us or forsake us (Heb 13:5), or they will fall away and lose their faith.
Part of the problem is that we do not see such pain and deep grief as normative in the Christian life. Yes, we all know that suffering is normative, but we don’t take the time to really talk about the pain involved in suffering. After all, it isn’t suffering if it doesn’t hurt.
When we read about great saints of the past, we hear about their suffering, which is immediately followed by their triumph through Christ. Rarely do we truly enter with them into their dark night of the soul, when all around them nothing makes sense. "

He then tells the story of nineteenth-century theologian Robert Dabney, who lost his two sons at different times. He said, "The great truths of the Gospel fell flat after his second son died and he remined 'numb, downcast, almost without hope and interest.' He says this makes us uncomfortable! Yet he DID triumph later & God carried him through faithfully. But he says, "Let us not so quickly go from the affliction to the deliverance and thus minimize the pain in between. God's promises of deliverance does not mean that he will immediately deliver us. For many, deliverance only comes with death."

Now & Our Story

Two weeks now. Two long weeks since we lost our baby. I wanted to write more in depth about that fateful night, but before going into that I would like to say something first. Amazingly, after a horrible first week, this last week has been much better. Better in that I am now able to receive some measure of hope and peace in my heart. Each day the first week there was something that came to remind me we weren't alone in sorrowing, we were remembered. It helped just to know that when I felt too overwhelmed to choke out anything in my prayers but tears, somehow other believers were lifting us up.

I took some time one evening to specifically seek out Truth, Biblically and Intellectually, about suffering. Outside at Starbucks alone, I read A Greif Observed, the chapters 'Is Christianity Hard or Easy' and 'Counting the Cost' in Mere Christianity, the chapter 'Waiting for the Morning during the Long Night of Weeping' in Suffering and the Sovereignty of God (written by a man whose son died shortly after birth). I gained fresh perspective, again having the truths I knew made unambiguous in my mind again. I had all the tools for battle and had been given fresh vision, yet I felt so weary knowing we're still in the trenches. God still requires much of us. But he knows how frail and weak I am, and without shame I can tell Him I don't feel I have the mental energy and spiritual stamina for this battle. He will be gracious not to rebuke, but to enable. Just a little at a time though, I know enough to be aware God wants a daily reliance on Him to be the cornerstone of my existance.

So, whoever has prayed for us, the Lord is answering. I can't thank you enough. I feel a bit shy sometimes that we need SO much prayer, but that is pride.

So, without further drivel, I wanted to tell our story. It is sad, but I'm not depressed in writing it.

Two weeks ago today Jonathan woke at 5 so he could go hunting. I reset the alarm for 7 and slept until then. I didn't feel great upon waking, I had a sore throat that threatened to become worse. Once up I showered, took my vitamins, ate breakfast and started about cleaning the house. Feeling better and especially productive, I pulled out the vacuum. It was terribly hard pushing it and I felt I shouldn't be vacuuming. But I did. I brewed myself a pot of tea and started about writing my cousin Lauren a letter. Jonathan walked in midway through it, so I set it aside.

I really don't recall what we did that day. We may have gone out for some errands. We definitely just had a relaxing and fun Satruday with each other. I think I practiced shooting arrows on my brand new bow outside in the target. We agreed to fix "breakfast for dinner" together. Around 6 we started preparing an English fry up, hash browns, cheese grits, and so on. We set a table outside on the patio and ate. It was a lovely 70 degrees and balmy and we enjoyed it so much. We were so happy to be pregnant and living our lives together. We felt good. Toward the end of the dinner the cramps started again with force. I mentioned them to Jonathan and he insisted on my laying down while he cleaned. That's when I headed to the bathroom and found the shocking, horrifying, scary blood. Not much, but any amount in pregnancy is reason for worry. I tried to tell myself it could be nothing, but I couldn't just let it be. I called the ob and was told it was normal in early pregnancy. My ultrasound was scheduled for Tuesday, but they said I could try to get in Monday morning. She mentioned that if I was really in trouble I could go to the ER and get an ultrasound.

Well, I knew the night was already ruined in terms of my mental wellbeing. I told Jonathan I would not rest assured even if I stopped bleeding unless I got an ultrasound. So off we went shortly after 7 to the hospital.

At the hospital I expected a wait. It took 3 hours until we were called back to a room of our own. In that cold waiting room, we watched football, Jonathan dozed, yet I don't recall a single thing but unnerving fear in the pit of my stomach. I'd go to that small, cramped bathroom every half hour and find blood still there, but so little. I kept hope against hope that things were ok. Maybe I'd exerted myself too much. I had cramps that were getting intense. I began timing them and at worst they came every 5 minutes, at best every 37. Though I wouldn't admit it, I was having contractions.

As we got our room, again it took hours to be seen. I got blood drawn at 11. Cramps, doubling me over in pain, came and went. I stopped watching the clock. We hardly talked. I continued to see blood, sometimes more and sometimes less. Every time I returned from the bathroom, Jonathan would ask how things were. I kept hoping.

Around 1am I went to the bathroom... As cramps came painfully, something slipped from my body... Our little one (I assume it was only one, I really am not totally sure, it could have been two). You don't have to look, but this is a picture of what a 6 weeks old fetus is.... Yeah. So sad. I came out, calm and unbelieving, and told Jonathan, "I think I just miscarried our baby" and I showed him. He cringed and grabbed me in a hug. I just kept hoping, saying "Maybe there are twins and one is ok." I knew it was unlikely, but I just couldn't believe it would be all over.

We quietly waited and in 10 minutes were wheeled to the ultrasound room. The lady said she'd been waiting half an hour for us. I didn't care, I knew seeing it earlier would not change the outcome. As she started taking pictures, I didn't know what to think. I knew I didn't see her measure a heartbeat. I've never seen an ultrasound of my uterus, so I didn't know what to look for. I've seen hundreds of my ovaries, but never this. I didn't think I saw a baby, though. She couldn't tell us anything, but had to send the pictures to a dr in India. Said we'd hear back in an hour. I remember feeling dread being wheeled back to the room. We waited, not long it seemed. The doctor came in and I think I prompted her with, "Bad news?" so she'd have a way to break it. She said, "Well, we didn't see a yolk sac or fetal pole or heartbeat. Your HCG is already at 42. I'm sorry." Tears just streamed down my face. I don't know what Jonathan did or said. The doctor asked if I wanted an exam, but I said no, I just wanted to get out of there. She told me I should, and I just didn't care. I remember lieing there and just weeping, tears pouring down into my hair, not hearing her go on about how I'd get pregnant again and I just needed to relax and not think about it. I gave her the remains of the baby, so they could do karotyping on it if possible. She told me to wait for her to give me discharge papers.

As she left the room, Jonathan and I just grabbed one another and cried. It felt like a Biblical mourning and weeping aloud. I remember hating seeing this hurt him. I said something dumb about not needing to cry anymore. I just wanted to be gone. I said, "I want to leave, get away from here" and Joanthan agreed. I dressed, but we had to wait another half hour until we were released. We drove home in mournful silence, I don't remember if I cried or not, but it would have been soft weeping. The outright angry, hurt, painful weeping was to come later. The drive took forever.

We got in bed near 3am, exhausted and dumbstruck. We didn't have a baby with us anymore. Suddenly, we had grown up so much. We now had a dead child. When did we become adults? Sleep was a mercy we both wanted, to put aside the fresh searing-hot pain this night had brought us. And so we slept.