I couldn't let the day pass without acknowledging the fact that today was supposed to be Season's original due date. I think about Season all the time, along with everything that her premature death has meant to me in the past five months. She has been on my mind a lot this month in particular. Maybe it's because I'm wishing I was pregnant again, but my thoughts have mostly been concentrated on my short pregnancy with her. I was thrilled when we found out we were pregnant- I already had felt like she was a long time coming, since I wanted to be pregnant at least a few months prior- but the excitement quickly took a back seat as the woes of the proverbial first trimester hit with full force. I barely had time to regain my excitement about being pregnant when we found out that she was no longer alive and I had to go through the hardest thing I've ever experienced- delivering a baby that would never cry out or smile in her sleep.
The Lord continues to tutor me by not only reminding me of Season's life, but He teaches me through my son, He teaches me through this PhD experience in Merced, He teaches me to trust in Him when our plans aren't working out the way we hoped. I'm grateful for His love that shapes me into what I should be. I will always value the lessons that Season's life has taught me. I hope to continue to let her life's work impact mine.
Dearest Season, Thank you for the things your life has taught me. I know you have much greater purposes than to just teach your mom a few valuable lessons. You are doing a great work where you are, and I know you'll have the chance to be resurrected someday and fulfill other, equally important purposes. God be with you til we meet again. Love, Mom.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Pinterest love
Some of you may have heard of Pinterest. It's the best website ever created for people like me who need just a little inspiration and can turn it into actual creations. Here are the Christmas decorations I've made from ideas off of Pinterest. I've made other items as well and gotten some great recipes. So between Pinterest and the new Hobby Lobby in town, I'm gone- hook, line, and sinker.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Family Pics 2011
I L-O-V-E these pictures! I just gotta put a plug in for my friend Susan who took these pictures: over 400 pics, 2 locations, DVD = $30. So...those of you who live in Merced, give her a call.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Tick-tock Trick-or-Treat
Mitchell was an alarm clock for Halloween this year. It was easy to think of it because he is our alarm clock every morning. This kid is an early riser! Todd helped me make his costume. People were impressed with such a creative idea and wanted to know where I got the idea or knew how to get the materials for the costume. Sheesh, talk about being underestimated! Me and original ideas are not that rare. I promise. It reminds me of the times when Todd is impressed that Mitchell knows how to do XYZ and wants to know where he learned it. I look at him and think, "Hello, I do teach him things during the 11 hours a day you are gone!" However, I digress.
Our ward hosted a trunk-or-treat on Saturday night. It wasn't very much fun. Mitchell was a beast. However, I took him trick-or-treating on Halloween night and he was an angel for me. He didn't fight wearing his costume or anything. He held my hand when I wanted him to. He didn't flip out for want of candy the entire night. He was a completely different kid than the previous Saturday night. I decided he must have a hard time with large crowds. He was overwhelmed or something. Speaking of parenting epiphanies, I am learning recently that Mitchell has a hard time with transitions. For example, leaving our house or anyone's house is usually a fight no matter the destination. So, I gotta figure out a way to prepare him for a pending transition. In conclusion, this Halloween has been a good lesson in parenting. Here's to you Mitch. We love your guts.
You may notice the time is set to 2:30. As in A-M. Yep, that's right. Most nights he wanders in our bedroom in the middle of the night and just wants to lay with either Todd or me. I think to myself, "aren't you afraid to walk through the dark hallway and find us in the middle of the night?" Mitch is definitely not your average kid.
Our ward hosted a trunk-or-treat on Saturday night. It wasn't very much fun. Mitchell was a beast. However, I took him trick-or-treating on Halloween night and he was an angel for me. He didn't fight wearing his costume or anything. He held my hand when I wanted him to. He didn't flip out for want of candy the entire night. He was a completely different kid than the previous Saturday night. I decided he must have a hard time with large crowds. He was overwhelmed or something. Speaking of parenting epiphanies, I am learning recently that Mitchell has a hard time with transitions. For example, leaving our house or anyone's house is usually a fight no matter the destination. So, I gotta figure out a way to prepare him for a pending transition. In conclusion, this Halloween has been a good lesson in parenting. Here's to you Mitch. We love your guts.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Lil' Pumpkin and Big Turkey
It's Thanksgiving all year round with this Turkey around. He's rockin' it Halloween style with this year's Reeder Family jack-o-lantern's.
Friday, September 30, 2011
To Chelsey
We've been doing well. September has passed with nothing too crazy going on. Just living the dream here in Merced. It's still pretty hot out here, but should cool down to the 80s soon enough. I'm on a Softball team that has been a riot. I look forward to each game. I play 2nd base- which, let's be honest- I'm rockin it. We are 3-3 right now. I have games each Friday night for a few more weeks. Mitchell has been bustin' my chops lately, but I think it's because he needs to get out of the house more. However, we stay pretty busy, but I guess I'll have to make more of an effort with kid-centered activities.
Todd is keepin' on-keepin' on with his constant juggling act between school and research. He's always a champ at maintaining a good balance and always makes his family feel like we are number one.
We still miss Season everyday. Unfortunately, I think I've hashed through every feeling and every thought that could be. However, I welcome anything that reminds me of her. I know for certain I will see her again, and I've let that peace settle with me. That is a welcome feeling. I denied it for a while in my grief. And while I still have some feeling of grief, I'm okay with the peace of trusting in God's love for me and Season.
By the way, Pinterest is the greatest website ever built.
Bye bye for now, thanks Chel for caring about our lives enough to ask! Talk to you soon.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Thoughts on clutter
I've been reorganizing the closets and drawers in my apartment. It's an exhilarating feeling to reorganize. I'm definitely the type of person that breathes easy knowing my home is organized. It may not be decorated the way I want it to be, my furniture may not match the way I desire, but I sure sleep easy at night knowing I'm organized. It's also been extremely satisfying to get rid of things that we don't need or aren't going to use no matter how many times Todd tells me, "maybe someday we'll need this for __________." Todd has a hoarder living inside of him. I am the opposite of a hoarder.
When I was making Todd clean out his big junk box and reduce it to a shoebox he said to me, "I can't wait to have my own shop one day so I don't have to do this." I loved watching the light drain from his soul when he realized I will never let his shop turn into the Reeder family dump.
However, Season's death has made me realize I'm an emotional hoarder. At least this experience has turned me into one. I may not always be an emotional hoarder, but I am right now. I may love donating old clothes or books that I'm never going to read, but I ain't donating or letting go or getting rid of any of the emotions that Season's death has activated. In fact, I'm holding onto them with a white-knuckle grip. I still take the time daily to reflect on her short life, I still write copious amounts in my journal, and I'm starting to feel scared because the time has come where I'm not reflecting on anything new about her life and death. Therefore, I'm rehashing the same thoughts and same feelings. See? I am an emotional hoarder. I feel that all these emotions and thoughts are my only link to Season. I don't get to make memories with her. So...my only memories are all the feelings that have risen since her death.
Season's death made a hole in my heart. I'm perfectly okay with functioning with a hole in my heart. She has her place and I don't feel the need to heal it or fill it. These were the thoughts I expressed to Todd the other night, and these were not new words to him. I've expressed this sentiment before. He has told me before, and he told me again the other night that he doesn't feel it's healthy for me to want to still be in pain. I asked him, "If I let go of the pain, what am I supposed to replace it with?" A thunderbolt of the Spirit must have hit him because he said something that rocked my world. He replied, "you are supposed to replace the pain with the joy of knowing that we will see her again."
Words cannot adequately express how much I needed to hear that. I told Todd, "I must not be ready at all to feel that joy because I never even thought about that. Ever." I've been so busy emotionally hoarding the pain of losing Season, that I never let the joy of Season fill my heart. Thank you Todd. I knew it before, but you are definitely Superman!
In conclusion, my emotional clutter has been becoming more organized the last couple days as I've been able to reflect on the truth that Season is my daughter. I may not be ready to let go of the pain just yet, but I trust that someday, when I'm ready, the pain will be replaced with joy and anticipation over a future reunion.
Additionally, I've been reading this book:
It's been helpful for me to read for a variety of reasons. Mostly I've enjoyed reading of another woman's experience and all her emotions. Her experience validates all the emotions I've had and helps me know I'm not crazy. Also, each of her chapters ends with questions to be answered. I've chosen to answer them in my journal which has been awesome. I recommend this book if you have the misfortune of going through a similar experience.
When I was making Todd clean out his big junk box and reduce it to a shoebox he said to me, "I can't wait to have my own shop one day so I don't have to do this." I loved watching the light drain from his soul when he realized I will never let his shop turn into the Reeder family dump.
However, Season's death has made me realize I'm an emotional hoarder. At least this experience has turned me into one. I may not always be an emotional hoarder, but I am right now. I may love donating old clothes or books that I'm never going to read, but I ain't donating or letting go or getting rid of any of the emotions that Season's death has activated. In fact, I'm holding onto them with a white-knuckle grip. I still take the time daily to reflect on her short life, I still write copious amounts in my journal, and I'm starting to feel scared because the time has come where I'm not reflecting on anything new about her life and death. Therefore, I'm rehashing the same thoughts and same feelings. See? I am an emotional hoarder. I feel that all these emotions and thoughts are my only link to Season. I don't get to make memories with her. So...my only memories are all the feelings that have risen since her death.
Season's death made a hole in my heart. I'm perfectly okay with functioning with a hole in my heart. She has her place and I don't feel the need to heal it or fill it. These were the thoughts I expressed to Todd the other night, and these were not new words to him. I've expressed this sentiment before. He has told me before, and he told me again the other night that he doesn't feel it's healthy for me to want to still be in pain. I asked him, "If I let go of the pain, what am I supposed to replace it with?" A thunderbolt of the Spirit must have hit him because he said something that rocked my world. He replied, "you are supposed to replace the pain with the joy of knowing that we will see her again."
Words cannot adequately express how much I needed to hear that. I told Todd, "I must not be ready at all to feel that joy because I never even thought about that. Ever." I've been so busy emotionally hoarding the pain of losing Season, that I never let the joy of Season fill my heart. Thank you Todd. I knew it before, but you are definitely Superman!
In conclusion, my emotional clutter has been becoming more organized the last couple days as I've been able to reflect on the truth that Season is my daughter. I may not be ready to let go of the pain just yet, but I trust that someday, when I'm ready, the pain will be replaced with joy and anticipation over a future reunion.
Additionally, I've been reading this book:
It's been helpful for me to read for a variety of reasons. Mostly I've enjoyed reading of another woman's experience and all her emotions. Her experience validates all the emotions I've had and helps me know I'm not crazy. Also, each of her chapters ends with questions to be answered. I've chosen to answer them in my journal which has been awesome. I recommend this book if you have the misfortune of going through a similar experience.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Hecka busy week!
Last week was one of the busiest weeks I've had in a very long time. It all started last Tuesday when we had the fortune to go to a local orchard and pick a ton of fruit. We picked about 60 lbs. of peaches, 15 lbs. of nectarines, and 25 lbs. of plums. Picking the fruit was surprisingly quick and easy. Mitch probably had the best time. He would pick any fruit he wanted and take one bite, discard, and pick another fruit for that one and only delectable bite. Do not reuse but repeat over and over.
When we got all that fruit home, it dawned on me how much work it was going to be to preserve it all before it could rot. Throw in Mitchell's birthday on Wednesday, an all-day wedding on Thursday, and Mitchell's birthday party on Saturday morning- my week was exhausting! I did have some help from Todd and another friend, but the great majority of the canning was a one woman job.
Here are some pictures of one hecka busy week.
Only the peaches. Plums and nectarines not pictured!
36 jars of plum & nectarine jam. 26 quarts of peaches. 4 jars of plum sauce. 8 jars of peach pie filling. 1 exhausted woman. Oh yeah, not pictured are the 3 big bags of peaches that I froze.
Lesson learned: Serve cake before opening new toys!
"Over the past two years, I've developed quite the shadow. I'm ready to shave!"
This guy and gal took me away from my canning, which is just great! It was a beautiful day and we were so happy to be there for a beautiful wedding!
So...I know no one should look better than the bride...but dang, I look pretty good!
"It's getting to be my nap-time and I will fall asleep here at the Oakland temple!"
Mitchell had a ball playing in the dirt and rocks at the luncheon/reception center.
Since we were at a wedding, Superman had to conceal his identity.
Mitchell's 2nd birthday cake. It was a "dirt -n- worms" cake. Thank you Todd for frosting.
When we got all that fruit home, it dawned on me how much work it was going to be to preserve it all before it could rot. Throw in Mitchell's birthday on Wednesday, an all-day wedding on Thursday, and Mitchell's birthday party on Saturday morning- my week was exhausting! I did have some help from Todd and another friend, but the great majority of the canning was a one woman job.
Here are some pictures of one hecka busy week.
Only the peaches. Plums and nectarines not pictured!
36 jars of plum & nectarine jam. 26 quarts of peaches. 4 jars of plum sauce. 8 jars of peach pie filling. 1 exhausted woman. Oh yeah, not pictured are the 3 big bags of peaches that I froze.
Lesson learned: Serve cake before opening new toys!
"Over the past two years, I've developed quite the shadow. I'm ready to shave!"
This guy and gal took me away from my canning, which is just great! It was a beautiful day and we were so happy to be there for a beautiful wedding!
So...I know no one should look better than the bride...but dang, I look pretty good!
"It's getting to be my nap-time and I will fall asleep here at the Oakland temple!"
Mitchell had a ball playing in the dirt and rocks at the luncheon/reception center.
Since we were at a wedding, Superman had to conceal his identity.
Mitchell's 2nd birthday cake. It was a "dirt -n- worms" cake. Thank you Todd for frosting.
Friday, August 5, 2011
In the time that has passed
Warning: very long post! I hope you have the patience to read it and enjoy it.
I've wanted to sit down and write additional thoughts I've had since our last post two weeks ago. I don't quite know what to say or how to say it. I think I was blessed from above when I wrote my last post. The last post was the most eloquent I've been in years.
My journal has been my steady companion for the last two weeks. I've written over twenty pages, and the only reason why I share the volume is to indicate to you how hard it is to filter through the hundreds of thoughts and emotions that have flooded my heart and mind in the time that has passed since we lost our baby daughter.
I want to share the most important thoughts, the most touching thoughts because I desperately need people to understand the overwhelming loss that it is to lose a daughter whose only memory one will ever have is that she was born without ever taking her first breath.
The most important thing to share is that we have decided on a name. Her name is Season Debbie Reeder. Perhaps the first thought that jumps to your mind is that scripture in Ecclesiastes that tells us there is a time and a season to everything. I woke up in the middle of the night with that scripture on my thoughts, and it kept repeating itself over and over in my head. I woke Todd up and asked him what he thought of the name Season. He was happy with it, and more than anything, he expressed that if that's the name I like, he likes it too. What a guy! Then, he is the one who suggested my mom's name as her middle name. I've often thought that I would want to name one of my children after my mother, and Debbie seems to fit with Season quite well.
It brings me great comfort knowing that we may not have her in this time and season, but we will have our Season again. At first, it was a struggle for me to trust that she has a home in heaven. I struggled with the idea that her real home was here on earth, so how could she possibly have a home in heaven? I especially was heart-broken over this one particular thought, "who can replace a mother's love?" So, no matter where Season is, could she really be at home? Can she find the same love where she is? In my head I have no doubts that she is surrounded by a huge network of spirits that have nothing but love to give. I also have to believe that when I say my prayers and ask God to let her know of our love, to give her a hug for us, that He is able to do what He can to share her parents love with her.
I also believe that the spirit world is closer than we will ever know. It brings me great comfort to believe that Season perhaps knows me, knows her father, knows her brother. Is it possible that she is a sister in heaven to other little spirits that will join our family in the future? I'm not sure nor am I overly concerned with that idea. I do believe that Season has a work where she is, and I know it's a very good work.
However, the thoughts have not ended there. Nor are they restricted to any one stream of thought. One of the more difficult things to cope with was the realization that came early on that not everyone wants to be the crying shoulder that I need them to be. I had an experience early on that made me realize this. You know what? It's okay. Most people don't know what to say or how to say it. Then, come to think of it, I've stopped needing everyone to be that crying shoulder. I know who I can talk to and that's enough for me. And let there be no question, I have plenty of people I can talk to and share every thought, knowing they won't try to say the perfect thing, but just to be a listening ear.
My number one person that I can count on is Todd. He has been such a source of comfort and strength to me. I know that not all marriages can benefit from a trial like this, but Todd and I have truly drawn closer together. We've always been very happy together, but this trial has added a very significant layer to our marriage. I tell him over and over again how much I appreciate his support. His ability to let me feel whatever I want at any given moment has made my love for him grow much deeper than I never knew was possible. I am not thrilled at the prospect of future trials we may encounter, but I am thrilled that Todd is my husband, because I pretty much can't live without him. It's a nice symbiotic relationship for me. Hopefully he feels the same kind of support from me now and in the future.
I really hope that this experience has refined me for the sake of other people. I hope that some day I can be the listening ear that someone else desperately needs. I hope that I have grown to be more feeling and compassionate no matter what people are struggling with. Each who reads of our experience has suffered in their own way over their own trials. I'm sorry if I haven't been there to understand. I hope to be more sensitive now.
Probably one of the biggest struggles for me has been not wanting to let go of the pain. People ask me every day how I am doing. Admittedly, I am doing a lot better than I was two weeks ago. However, I hate that I am doing better. I want to bawl my eyes out several times a day, and I'm just not anymore. I'm totally not ready to let go of the pain. The pain has seemed to dim without my permission, and I'm not okay with that.
The pain of losing Season is intimately tied with the only experience I will ever have, on this earth, with my daughter. I truly feel that if I let go of the pain, I am saying that it's okay that I lost my daughter. I will never be okay with that. And come to think of it, the majority of the time when I talk of Season is when her name is tied closely with the word "lost". I hate that.
Additionally, letting go of the pain makes me feel that I might someday forget her. There have been plenty of women willing to share with me that they too suffered with miscarriages, and, with the exception of a couple women, I find zero comfort in their words. They don't seem to be affected by their previous loss anymore. Granted, most of the women suffered miscarriages at different times in their pregnancy. I dread the thought of becoming one of those women who don't seem to feel the same loss I do even though we've gone through the same experience.
I fear the day when Season may not make it into a conversation that day. I greatly fear the day that I may not think about her. I know not too many days will pass like that, but it seems natural that someday I may forget to think about her. I'm not okay with that. Of course, we have things that remind us of her. We've purchased a beautiful Willow Tree figurine, we have a Precious Moments music box that my mom gave us. We'll have other things to remind us of her, so I don't fear that she'll leave my thoughts forever. It just makes me sad that she's not around to play a much bigger role in our lives.
It's been a difficult thing to realize that Season doesn't get to make memories with our family, and we don't get to make memories with her. I already mentioned this earlier, but it's incredibly hard that my only memory of her is the pregnancy, her death, and her delivery. I pray everyday that I won't forget her tiny little body, her cute little bum, and all her fingers and toes.
There have been far too many reminders to me of all the things we don't get at this time regarding Season. The waking up in the night, the first steps, the morning walks, the growing independence that starts much too young (as I'm learning with Mitch). And on and on the list goes. I broke down in tears the other day when I saw a little girl playing basketball. There's just a lot of never's. The fact of the matter is, Season is not replaceable.
It's sad to me that when people ask how many children I have, I only say "one". People don't want to know your whole life story with such a simple question, but still, I feel that ache that she doesn't even get to be counted by the world's standards.
Lastly, this experience has been one of the most powerful reminder's of God's love and His role in my life and in my family. If nothing else, losing Season has been a very powerful spiritual awakening that I needed in my life. My testimony certainly wasn't weak before, but it just hadn't been treated as the fragile thing that it is for a long time. I'm grateful that I'm on my knees a lot, that I truly feel the need to pray. I'm grateful to find comfort in the scriptures, rather than just check them off the daily list. It's been wonderful to not be as involved with the world's entertainment, but to be nourished by the comfort of God. I keep praying that I won't lose the spiritual sensitivity that this experience has begged. I'm profoundly grateful for the good friend that said the exact right thing in the exact right time that I'm validating Season's life by turning to God instead of away.
That's it for now. I'm feeling very vulnerable right now. I realize that this is a very long post, and nobody has to read it thoroughly or even at all. Furthermore, this is by no means a comprehensive soliloquy of all my thoughts, and I may have more to post in the future. I hope you understand that even if you have moved on, I have not. In some ways, I never will. I'll always need someone (Todd certainly) to be willing to listen, whether it's a week from now, or 52 weeks from now, or much further down the road.
I also realize that not everyone that reads this will be in a mindset to understand everything I am saying, and therefore may treat it cheaply, even if you never tell me your thoughts. I suppose the only thing I hope for is that each who reads my personal thoughts validates my daughter's life (even if you don't comment) and that my experience has touched your heart in someway that makes you a more caring person, and more able to "mourn with those that mourn."
I've wanted to sit down and write additional thoughts I've had since our last post two weeks ago. I don't quite know what to say or how to say it. I think I was blessed from above when I wrote my last post. The last post was the most eloquent I've been in years.
My journal has been my steady companion for the last two weeks. I've written over twenty pages, and the only reason why I share the volume is to indicate to you how hard it is to filter through the hundreds of thoughts and emotions that have flooded my heart and mind in the time that has passed since we lost our baby daughter.
I want to share the most important thoughts, the most touching thoughts because I desperately need people to understand the overwhelming loss that it is to lose a daughter whose only memory one will ever have is that she was born without ever taking her first breath.
The most important thing to share is that we have decided on a name. Her name is Season Debbie Reeder. Perhaps the first thought that jumps to your mind is that scripture in Ecclesiastes that tells us there is a time and a season to everything. I woke up in the middle of the night with that scripture on my thoughts, and it kept repeating itself over and over in my head. I woke Todd up and asked him what he thought of the name Season. He was happy with it, and more than anything, he expressed that if that's the name I like, he likes it too. What a guy! Then, he is the one who suggested my mom's name as her middle name. I've often thought that I would want to name one of my children after my mother, and Debbie seems to fit with Season quite well.
It brings me great comfort knowing that we may not have her in this time and season, but we will have our Season again. At first, it was a struggle for me to trust that she has a home in heaven. I struggled with the idea that her real home was here on earth, so how could she possibly have a home in heaven? I especially was heart-broken over this one particular thought, "who can replace a mother's love?" So, no matter where Season is, could she really be at home? Can she find the same love where she is? In my head I have no doubts that she is surrounded by a huge network of spirits that have nothing but love to give. I also have to believe that when I say my prayers and ask God to let her know of our love, to give her a hug for us, that He is able to do what He can to share her parents love with her.
I also believe that the spirit world is closer than we will ever know. It brings me great comfort to believe that Season perhaps knows me, knows her father, knows her brother. Is it possible that she is a sister in heaven to other little spirits that will join our family in the future? I'm not sure nor am I overly concerned with that idea. I do believe that Season has a work where she is, and I know it's a very good work.
However, the thoughts have not ended there. Nor are they restricted to any one stream of thought. One of the more difficult things to cope with was the realization that came early on that not everyone wants to be the crying shoulder that I need them to be. I had an experience early on that made me realize this. You know what? It's okay. Most people don't know what to say or how to say it. Then, come to think of it, I've stopped needing everyone to be that crying shoulder. I know who I can talk to and that's enough for me. And let there be no question, I have plenty of people I can talk to and share every thought, knowing they won't try to say the perfect thing, but just to be a listening ear.
My number one person that I can count on is Todd. He has been such a source of comfort and strength to me. I know that not all marriages can benefit from a trial like this, but Todd and I have truly drawn closer together. We've always been very happy together, but this trial has added a very significant layer to our marriage. I tell him over and over again how much I appreciate his support. His ability to let me feel whatever I want at any given moment has made my love for him grow much deeper than I never knew was possible. I am not thrilled at the prospect of future trials we may encounter, but I am thrilled that Todd is my husband, because I pretty much can't live without him. It's a nice symbiotic relationship for me. Hopefully he feels the same kind of support from me now and in the future.
I really hope that this experience has refined me for the sake of other people. I hope that some day I can be the listening ear that someone else desperately needs. I hope that I have grown to be more feeling and compassionate no matter what people are struggling with. Each who reads of our experience has suffered in their own way over their own trials. I'm sorry if I haven't been there to understand. I hope to be more sensitive now.
Probably one of the biggest struggles for me has been not wanting to let go of the pain. People ask me every day how I am doing. Admittedly, I am doing a lot better than I was two weeks ago. However, I hate that I am doing better. I want to bawl my eyes out several times a day, and I'm just not anymore. I'm totally not ready to let go of the pain. The pain has seemed to dim without my permission, and I'm not okay with that.
The pain of losing Season is intimately tied with the only experience I will ever have, on this earth, with my daughter. I truly feel that if I let go of the pain, I am saying that it's okay that I lost my daughter. I will never be okay with that. And come to think of it, the majority of the time when I talk of Season is when her name is tied closely with the word "lost". I hate that.
Additionally, letting go of the pain makes me feel that I might someday forget her. There have been plenty of women willing to share with me that they too suffered with miscarriages, and, with the exception of a couple women, I find zero comfort in their words. They don't seem to be affected by their previous loss anymore. Granted, most of the women suffered miscarriages at different times in their pregnancy. I dread the thought of becoming one of those women who don't seem to feel the same loss I do even though we've gone through the same experience.
I fear the day when Season may not make it into a conversation that day. I greatly fear the day that I may not think about her. I know not too many days will pass like that, but it seems natural that someday I may forget to think about her. I'm not okay with that. Of course, we have things that remind us of her. We've purchased a beautiful Willow Tree figurine, we have a Precious Moments music box that my mom gave us. We'll have other things to remind us of her, so I don't fear that she'll leave my thoughts forever. It just makes me sad that she's not around to play a much bigger role in our lives.
It's been a difficult thing to realize that Season doesn't get to make memories with our family, and we don't get to make memories with her. I already mentioned this earlier, but it's incredibly hard that my only memory of her is the pregnancy, her death, and her delivery. I pray everyday that I won't forget her tiny little body, her cute little bum, and all her fingers and toes.
There have been far too many reminders to me of all the things we don't get at this time regarding Season. The waking up in the night, the first steps, the morning walks, the growing independence that starts much too young (as I'm learning with Mitch). And on and on the list goes. I broke down in tears the other day when I saw a little girl playing basketball. There's just a lot of never's. The fact of the matter is, Season is not replaceable.
It's sad to me that when people ask how many children I have, I only say "one". People don't want to know your whole life story with such a simple question, but still, I feel that ache that she doesn't even get to be counted by the world's standards.
Lastly, this experience has been one of the most powerful reminder's of God's love and His role in my life and in my family. If nothing else, losing Season has been a very powerful spiritual awakening that I needed in my life. My testimony certainly wasn't weak before, but it just hadn't been treated as the fragile thing that it is for a long time. I'm grateful that I'm on my knees a lot, that I truly feel the need to pray. I'm grateful to find comfort in the scriptures, rather than just check them off the daily list. It's been wonderful to not be as involved with the world's entertainment, but to be nourished by the comfort of God. I keep praying that I won't lose the spiritual sensitivity that this experience has begged. I'm profoundly grateful for the good friend that said the exact right thing in the exact right time that I'm validating Season's life by turning to God instead of away.
That's it for now. I'm feeling very vulnerable right now. I realize that this is a very long post, and nobody has to read it thoroughly or even at all. Furthermore, this is by no means a comprehensive soliloquy of all my thoughts, and I may have more to post in the future. I hope you understand that even if you have moved on, I have not. In some ways, I never will. I'll always need someone (Todd certainly) to be willing to listen, whether it's a week from now, or 52 weeks from now, or much further down the road.
I also realize that not everyone that reads this will be in a mindset to understand everything I am saying, and therefore may treat it cheaply, even if you never tell me your thoughts. I suppose the only thing I hope for is that each who reads my personal thoughts validates my daughter's life (even if you don't comment) and that my experience has touched your heart in someway that makes you a more caring person, and more able to "mourn with those that mourn."
Friday, July 22, 2011
In loving memory of our daughter
Dear family and friends,
We went on Tuesday the 19th to find out the gender of our baby. It was an exciting prospect to see our baby and learn if the baby would be a boy or a girl. We walked away disappointed because the ultrasound was quite short and the technician could not determine the gender at the time, telling us the baby was still measuring a bit small and she was sure the doctor would send us in again in a couple of weeks.
We got home and there was a phone call from the doctor's office saying to come in right away. Heart stops. Tears sting. Mind registers immediately why we would be going to the doctor's office at 6:30pm to discuss the ultrasound with the doctor.
The mood in the doctor's office is reverent and somber. I get no answers from the nurse, but thankfully the doctor comes in quickly and delivers the heart-breaking news that our baby had no heartbeat. I was 18 weeks pregnant, but the baby was measuring more in the 16 week range, indicating that the baby had been gone for some time.
We asked many questions, and the doctor was very kind and compassionate in doing all she could to answer our tear-filled inquiries. She told us that I would need to go to the hospital the next day to deliver the baby. The baby was too big for a D&C, which was okay because with a D&C we would not be able to see or hold our baby.
We went home completely devastated. Sleep was elusive. We had to wait until the next evening to go to the hospital because the special rooms they have for patients like myself were occupied. It was difficult to sit around all day not knowing when the hospital would call to let us come in. The doctor indicated that she didn't want me to wait for the baby to pass because infection could set in, causing great harm to myself. I never considered this. I can't imagine waiting for my body to stop trying to nourish and keep my baby safe, and then switch modes and begin to reject my baby. I would never want to know what that feels like- I was anxious to get to the hospital.
They started my body on powerful, labor-inducing medicine, but my body still took some time. I was in labor for about 11 hours. This was very difficult for me, knowing what was coming. I still hadn't come to grips with so many questions that would soon need to be answered- namely, "do I want to see my baby?" My mind raced with so many questions. The contractions were painful, but in-between contractions was just as bad. I was very uncomfortable and the medicine was making me quite ill. I threw up, spiked a fever, and just could not find much comfort. Thankfully, I was on pain-relieving medication that did eventually do some good. I still felt every contraction, but the medication let me rest somewhat comfortably between contractions.
The doctor came in and broke my water, and the baby came within an hour. In fact, the delivery was quite unexpected. No longer restrained by the amniotic sac, our baby came out on her own. I was grateful to not have to go through intense pushing. Emotionally, that would have been too much.
It did not take me long to decide that I definitely wanted to see our baby. Todd was wonderful in that he prepared me for what I would see. It was no longer a question, I knew that for the sake of my emotional journey to recovery I had to see our baby. By this time, we knew we had a daughter. It was heart-breaking to see our baby so lifeless, but joyous to see 10 fingers and 10 toes and a cute little baby body.
In the very short amount of time that has passed since Thursday morning, so many questions have come to mind, and so many feelings. We know it will take time to emotionally recover. We both feel this way. Many people focus on me as the mother losing the baby inside of me, but Todd is just as sorrowful over the loss of our daughter, and with her, so many hopes and dreams.
People have been very kind and understand that even though our baby was still so young, that her life is to be accounted for and not simply brushed aside because she was not a full-term baby. Many people speak of the joyous reunion we will have someday with our daughter. I believe that she is with God. However, I have not let that peace settle with me at this time.
Mostly, we feel robbed. We feel she was robbed. We are a loving family. We wanted her very much to know us, to know her big brother, for Mitchell to know her and love her. Sure, it's great to think of having a daughter waiting for us, but really I just wanted her this year. Not July, but December. She was supposed to be a very special Christmas gift this year.
Some people have lovingly said that we will be successful in having more children. There is no need to fear that we can never have more children. I believe that, but right now, I'm not thinking of our future children. I'm only thinking of our daughter. Our daughter that we will really never know. Our daughter that cannot be replaced by other children. Our daughter that we won't see grow up. Our daughter that would grow up to be so beautiful. Our daughter will always be a part of our family, and until we see her again, we will never forget her. She will always hold a special place in our hearts and in our family.
We went on Tuesday the 19th to find out the gender of our baby. It was an exciting prospect to see our baby and learn if the baby would be a boy or a girl. We walked away disappointed because the ultrasound was quite short and the technician could not determine the gender at the time, telling us the baby was still measuring a bit small and she was sure the doctor would send us in again in a couple of weeks.
We got home and there was a phone call from the doctor's office saying to come in right away. Heart stops. Tears sting. Mind registers immediately why we would be going to the doctor's office at 6:30pm to discuss the ultrasound with the doctor.
The mood in the doctor's office is reverent and somber. I get no answers from the nurse, but thankfully the doctor comes in quickly and delivers the heart-breaking news that our baby had no heartbeat. I was 18 weeks pregnant, but the baby was measuring more in the 16 week range, indicating that the baby had been gone for some time.
We asked many questions, and the doctor was very kind and compassionate in doing all she could to answer our tear-filled inquiries. She told us that I would need to go to the hospital the next day to deliver the baby. The baby was too big for a D&C, which was okay because with a D&C we would not be able to see or hold our baby.
We went home completely devastated. Sleep was elusive. We had to wait until the next evening to go to the hospital because the special rooms they have for patients like myself were occupied. It was difficult to sit around all day not knowing when the hospital would call to let us come in. The doctor indicated that she didn't want me to wait for the baby to pass because infection could set in, causing great harm to myself. I never considered this. I can't imagine waiting for my body to stop trying to nourish and keep my baby safe, and then switch modes and begin to reject my baby. I would never want to know what that feels like- I was anxious to get to the hospital.
They started my body on powerful, labor-inducing medicine, but my body still took some time. I was in labor for about 11 hours. This was very difficult for me, knowing what was coming. I still hadn't come to grips with so many questions that would soon need to be answered- namely, "do I want to see my baby?" My mind raced with so many questions. The contractions were painful, but in-between contractions was just as bad. I was very uncomfortable and the medicine was making me quite ill. I threw up, spiked a fever, and just could not find much comfort. Thankfully, I was on pain-relieving medication that did eventually do some good. I still felt every contraction, but the medication let me rest somewhat comfortably between contractions.
The doctor came in and broke my water, and the baby came within an hour. In fact, the delivery was quite unexpected. No longer restrained by the amniotic sac, our baby came out on her own. I was grateful to not have to go through intense pushing. Emotionally, that would have been too much.
It did not take me long to decide that I definitely wanted to see our baby. Todd was wonderful in that he prepared me for what I would see. It was no longer a question, I knew that for the sake of my emotional journey to recovery I had to see our baby. By this time, we knew we had a daughter. It was heart-breaking to see our baby so lifeless, but joyous to see 10 fingers and 10 toes and a cute little baby body.
In the very short amount of time that has passed since Thursday morning, so many questions have come to mind, and so many feelings. We know it will take time to emotionally recover. We both feel this way. Many people focus on me as the mother losing the baby inside of me, but Todd is just as sorrowful over the loss of our daughter, and with her, so many hopes and dreams.
People have been very kind and understand that even though our baby was still so young, that her life is to be accounted for and not simply brushed aside because she was not a full-term baby. Many people speak of the joyous reunion we will have someday with our daughter. I believe that she is with God. However, I have not let that peace settle with me at this time.
Mostly, we feel robbed. We feel she was robbed. We are a loving family. We wanted her very much to know us, to know her big brother, for Mitchell to know her and love her. Sure, it's great to think of having a daughter waiting for us, but really I just wanted her this year. Not July, but December. She was supposed to be a very special Christmas gift this year.
Some people have lovingly said that we will be successful in having more children. There is no need to fear that we can never have more children. I believe that, but right now, I'm not thinking of our future children. I'm only thinking of our daughter. Our daughter that we will really never know. Our daughter that cannot be replaced by other children. Our daughter that we won't see grow up. Our daughter that would grow up to be so beautiful. Our daughter will always be a part of our family, and until we see her again, we will never forget her. She will always hold a special place in our hearts and in our family.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
We're alive!
I'm back! Sorry about the great dearth of blog posts recently. I haven't been feeling myself, and the first picture here is the culprit! Aha! I'm pregnant. Fifteen weeks today actually. That puts us at December 21st as a due date. Many of you already know the good news, but for those that only check up on our lives via blog or Facebook, you haven't heard yet. I don't know if this is the case for all pregnant women, but for me, the first trimester is characterized by a monstrous lack of motivation to do anything. It's quite depressing actually. However, I've made it through and have been feeling like the ol' Haley the last week or so. Thank goodness.
Here are some pictures that sum up April, May, and June nicely.
I highly recommend the Dollar Store brand of pregnancy tests. Just as accurate and only a buck!
I took Mitch to feed the goats at the local zoo. I adored how uninhibited he was at feeding them. He showed absolutely no fear at all.
I'm in love with my son...most of the time.
A little bit of hard labor. Isn't he hot?
The supervisor was hard at work. This is a typical scene for California DOT. Lots of people hard at work. Ha!
The local Kiddieland park. Great for young children.
A quick jaunt to Yosemite.
Mitchell's favorite accessory. He wears a helmet for a portion of every day.
A strange habit. This is not restricted to mom's bathroom supplies. He lines up cars and books too.
A nice visit with my grandparents who came to Livermore for my cousin's graduation.
Waterskiing in Idaho. The boat died before I got my chance to tube.
Mitch and Grandpa Reeder. Mitch loved "driving" the boat.
This picture was taken shortly after a lecture given to Todd by yours truly about the lack of Mom and Mitch pictures. I told him he'll regret this should I meet an early demise.
p.s.- We were in Idaho last week for Todd's 10-year high school reunion. The reunion was a great success and we had a nice trip.
Here are some pictures that sum up April, May, and June nicely.
I highly recommend the Dollar Store brand of pregnancy tests. Just as accurate and only a buck!
I took Mitch to feed the goats at the local zoo. I adored how uninhibited he was at feeding them. He showed absolutely no fear at all. 
I'm in love with my son...most of the time.
A little bit of hard labor. Isn't he hot?
The supervisor was hard at work. This is a typical scene for California DOT. Lots of people hard at work. Ha!
The local Kiddieland park. Great for young children.
A quick jaunt to Yosemite.
Mitchell's favorite accessory. He wears a helmet for a portion of every day.
A strange habit. This is not restricted to mom's bathroom supplies. He lines up cars and books too.
A nice visit with my grandparents who came to Livermore for my cousin's graduation.
Waterskiing in Idaho. The boat died before I got my chance to tube. 
Mitch and Grandpa Reeder. Mitch loved "driving" the boat. 
This picture was taken shortly after a lecture given to Todd by yours truly about the lack of Mom and Mitch pictures. I told him he'll regret this should I meet an early demise.p.s.- We were in Idaho last week for Todd's 10-year high school reunion. The reunion was a great success and we had a nice trip.
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