About a week or so after this pregnancy was confirmed, I started to “feel” pregnant.  I was waiting on the nausea, fatigue, heightened sense of smell, et al. symptoms.  These little pleasures began arriving, as did the feeling of “it’s a boy”.  I felt my center of gravity a lot lower in my torso than normal, and more-so than with my last pregnancy.  They “say” boys are carried lower, and because I was feeling low (literally), I thought we may be dealing with “snips and snails and puppy dog tails” (a poem of which my husband had never heard of before, so the effect of that poem with the announcement did not go over as I planned!).

We have known our newest bundle of joy is a BOY since 12 weeks into the pregnancy.  While we had a “normal” 12 week ultrasound, we still decided in favor of the genetic blood testing (MaterniT) just in case.  The test results for the genetic conditions also reveal the gender of the baby, which is something both Charles and I wanted to know (I wish I could wait for the surprise, but I just can’t!).  I had planned to work from home the anticipated day the test results were supposed to come back.  POB’s office called around 11 that morning and told me that the results were normal — THANK GOD!  I had actually completely forgotten about the gender part of the test because I was so consumed with relief over the genetic segment.  The office then asked:  “Do you want to know what you’re having?”  OH YEAH, there’s that!   “Well, yes, I would like to know, but I’d like for my husband and I to find out at the same time…” So I asked that they leave the envelope at the blood test results with the front desk for me to swing by and pick up.

As I was driving my brain was racing – how are we going to “read” the gender?!  Charles was leaving to go out of town for the weekend the next day, so it had to be THAT NIGHT (I couldn’t wait!), and there wasn’t a whole lot of time to plan anything.  It was already noon on Thursday at this point, and I thought any bakery would need days — not just hours — notice.  I tried my luck at calling the BEST bakery in town, Plehn’s, and they said it was no problem to have a cake made (with appropriate filling) by the end of the day.  *Ironically* because Louisville is the smallest big city in the world, our neighbor works at Plehn’s and was there when I came in with the envelope.  No one besides our families knew we were even pregnant at this point so the conversation went something like — “Yep, I’m pregnant.  Yep, we’re far enough to know the gender.  Yep, please don’t say anything!”  The sweet and wonderful woman that she is, not only didn’t say anything to anyone, she hand delivered the cake to our house when it was ready (thanks, Katie!).

We took the cake over to my parents’ that night, and while FaceTiming with Charles’ parents, we cut into the cake.  **Spoiler Alert!  The cake had brushed up against the box in the car, leaving some icing awry.  Charles told me not to look and he would plug the hole…slash see that the inside was blue and know it was a boy about two minutes before the rest of us.**

Because anything from Plehn’s is absolutely delicious, we couldn’t deprive others of the delicacy, so we visited a few more friends that evening to “reveal” the baby’s gender, and to make their taste buds extremely happy.  But, because nothing ever goes as planned. we arrived at a friend’s house and realized the cake was gone.  I had left it on top of the car briefly, and, well, you can guess what happened.  So, we improvised (as we always do when things don’t go according to plan)!

As I’ve mentioned about a million times, we are EXTREMELY and INCREDIBLY thankful for this miracle, whether it was going to be a boy or a girl.  Our baby boy, Charles Stephen, is another precious blessing that has been bestowed upon us and we are so thankful.

{Charles Stephen is named after both of his grandfathers.  Charles (my husband) is also named after his grandfathers, so Charles Stephen will not be a “Junior” as their middle names are different.  To avoid confusion in the Abdelahad household, the newest “Charles” will go by Charlie.  Just in case you were wondering!}

I always joked with Charles when I was pregnant that AJ was never going to listen to her daddy.  She and I would be lying on the couch (she in the womb, me on the couch) and she’d be kicking up a storm.  I couldn’t wait for Charles to get home or make it into the room to feel her moving and shaking in my tummy.  Without fail, EVERY TIME, he would put his hand on my stomach and NOTHING.  Daddy was home and no more movement.  RADIO SILENCE.  It was definitely a source of comic relief; something we could joke about in our not-so-jovial situation.

So, RADIO SILENCE.  I realize that’s what it’s been in the life of this blog for the past few months.  After my last post, I was going to follow-up with an entry entitled “On Getting Pregnant Again”.  I knew exactly what I was going to write about:  our thoughts on having another baby, potential timeline for trying to conceive, our feelings and emotions regarding the possibility of moving forward, etc.  But, if you’ve been following the life of this blog you know that I try to live minute by minute, and in those minutes of my life, PLANS CHANGED.  Imagine that.  Plans for this blog changed because plans for our lives changed.  While I was going to write about our THOUGHTS on “getting pregnant again”, I actually GOT PREGNANT AGAIN.

On Tuesday, December 16^th, Charles and I learned that we were expecting Baby Abdelahad #2.  Praise be to God!

In the process of ensuring my body was “back to normal”, we were blessed with a wonderful, and scary, surprise.  Based on my history of conceiving, I was not prepared for how fast this actually happened (physically and mentally).  One of the first thoughts that went through my head was, “POB (my doctor) is going to be SO mad at me!”  POB instructed me to wait three months before “trying” again.  Don’t worry – she said she wasn’t mad at me! 😉  I called the doctor’s office the morning I peed on the stick, and they immediately wanted me to come in for blood work, which I learned is customary with two pregnancies extremely close in proximity.  I didn’t know that was considered SOP (Standard Operating Procedure), so I was FREAKING OUT.  Thank God, the results came back fine (within just a couple of days).  But, they wanted me to come back the next Monday for the same test again.  {When the office called and said to come back (again), I was driving to my friend Katie’s house (who went through a similar situation).  Almost as soon as I sat down on her couch I had to ask – WAS THIS NORMAL?  Were these blood tests normal?  Oh, by the way, Katie, I’m pregnant again!}  After the second set of blood tests came back normal, I was scheduled to have an UltraSound on New Year’s Eve.  At 7.5 weeks we got to see our second baby for the first time.

By the grace of God and through the many, many prayers of basically everyone we know, we have been blessed again.  Currently at 24 weeks into this pregnancy, we are all doing great.  Most importantly, we want to thank you all for your prayers, and kind words and gestures, over the last year plus.  We humbly ask you to continue to pray for us along our journey.

I get it.  This type of thing is NOT easy.  It’s not easy for me, and I know it’s not easy for you (the “you” being anyone out there reading this that knows me and is forced to communicate/interact with me, i.e. friends and family).  I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last nine months regarding what I would say to someone in this, or a similar, situation.  I know that I would probably never say the right thing; not because I don’t have the best of intentions, but because it’s uncomfortable and awkward and pressure-filled and you want it to be perfect and it’s just not going to be.

Unfortunately, I have two close friends that have experienced similar situations as me, and another great friend who has recently written about this topic on her blog (www.wurtthewait.com).  Over the past few months, I have been going through the process of figuring out what I need:  what is helpful and what is not.  From my experiences and also my fabulous sources, I have attempted to compile a “How to Navigate a Grieving Mommy” conversation.

So, on behalf of mommies everywhere who have lost their babies, I’d like to offer some advice.  {Fair warning:  I apologize in advance if you find what you are about to read as hurtful, abrupt, brash, etc.  It is the absolute honest truth, as everything else has been in this blog.  I hope you still like me just the same after reading.}

• Keep the support coming! On behalf of all grieving mommies, we are positively overwhelmed by a wonderful outpouring of love and support.  While our journeys are still in progress, we appreciate your continued support and prayers.
• (Please) Don’t tell me how hard this is for you. Please don’t tell me that it’s hard for you to see me, talk to me, read my blog, etc.  Even if this is the case, this is something that mommies like me would like for you to keep to yourself.  We are very sorry that it is hard for you, but until you’ve walked a mile in our shoes, it’s probably best to keep those thoughts to yourself.
• Don’t assume that anything will be the same or “go back to normal”. Just because as a family you’ve “always celebrated this mommy’s birthday by going to the same restaurant” or you “always go to Grandma’s on Christmas Eve” – THINGS HAVE CHANGED.  My friend Courtney said, “people need to know that you’ve made progress. As if they need you to feel better so they can feel better…particularly with close friends and family that want you to be normal again. I get it:  no one wants me to be normal again more than I do- but I’m not going to be my same self because this has changed me forever.”  She was talking about it in a different context (regarding grief), but it also applies to this situation.  My advice is to take cues from the person who has experienced the loss.  Do not assume anything.  Do not make decisions for them.  DO ask them what they want (or don’t want).
• It’s not about you. I’m sorry, but it’s just not.  Please do not make these mommies feel bad because you don’t feel like you’re getting what you need/want/deserve.  What they (we) are dealing with is tremendous, and they (we) deserve it to be about them (us) for awhile.  While we understand that it’s extremely hard for people that love us have to watch us go through difficulties, we humbly ask that you continue to support what the mommies need, which is just your love and support.  And, those three women that have suffered (and have contributed to this post), ALWAYS make it about everyone else.  They are the most selfless women I know.  So for as long as they need, they (we…ME) get to grieve and manifest that grief however they need to.
• It’s OK if you don’t say anything at all (on the topic of losing my baby). Chances are, I know that you know what happened.  That said, it’s totally OK if you don’t say anything on the topic.  I know that you know and it’s perfectly fine if you don’t address it with me outright.  I won’t think that you’re rude or dismissive and go cry about it in the bathroom.  I will appreciate you and love you just the same.
• On the flip side, be cautious of saying too much. You don’t have to go into stories of people that you know in similar situations (also echoed by my panel of “expert” friends).  Preferably, please don’t.  Additionally, it hasn’t been helpful for me to hear what other people will miss out on by not knowing my baby.  I need to figure out how to heal and navigate through those feelings, and I’m still very early in my journey in that regard.
• (Please) Don’t tell me how hard it is to be a mother/father. I am jealous of mothers/fathers that grow tired of constantly cleaning, feeding, changing diapers, or sleepless nights.  My sleepless nights are filled with tears, prayers and feelings of defeat over how incredibly hard it is to not be a mother/father. I know the role is difficult, but be thankful. You’re blessed.  (Almost all of that was stolen from www.wurtthewait.com)

In closing, I’m going to quote Courtney again because she said it better than I ever could:  “It’s just not easy for anyone involved.  Often I don’t even know what I need myself, let alone be able to ask someone for help. It’s complex and it’s messy. But I think the simplest and kindest words of support might be, ‘I am sad with you, and I love you.’”

Healing.  The hurting and healing process actually began a long time ago.  It began the day we found out there was something wrong with our baby.  We were hurt.  And we continually healed, everyday.  We had to heal a little bit everyday in order to function — we had to go to work and church and hangout with our friends and family (aka — we had to socialize with other human beings!).  So we’ve been working on our healing throughout our journey because we were forced to in order to continue living our lives.

The healing that has been most evident to those participating in this journey with us is what has taken place since the passing of our baby.  We have done things, made things, read things, seen things, and felt things that I’ll document here, so you can see some of those “things” that have helped us on our healing journey.

Pictured below is an “Open House” we had for our friends to come and see us six days after AJ’s birth.  I set up a memory corner (on the right) of gifts we had been given, as well as mementos from the hospital.  On the left is a picture of our amazing friends that all begged to see the slideshow of Baby AJ (which you can see here).  Just as we cautioned in an earlier blogpost, we warned our friends as well — some of the images might be difficult to view.  {My friend Gloria told me that “the video will be hard for me to watch, but if this is your cross to bear, then I will sit right next to you and watch too.”  I can’t even describe how much that meant to me, and still means to me.}  Having (most of) our best friends in one place at one time was the perfect medicine.  We love them so much.

We have been given so many wonderful gifts of food (the best medicine!), keepsakes, cards, picture frames, flowers, wind chimes, necklaces (a few with AJ’s monogram), and many more items that we are inexplicably thankful for.  We received quite a few blankets for our baby that I wasn’t sure what I would do with once she passed.  I saved a few for, God-willing, our future children, but I used all of the blankets with AJ’s name on them to create one big blanket.  All of the credit for this blanket goes to my cousin Natala and Katie, owner of Sew Cute by Katie.  I get to snuggle with this blanket every night and that heals my heart.  (Thank you to everyone who gave us blankets that are now apart of this wonderful collage!)

Below are a couple of things that helped me “immortalize” my baby girl.  The plate on the left is a Louisville Stoneware original because every Louisville-born baby should have one; I have one, my brother has one, and lots of other people have them too.  The plate is her official birth record for me because a birth certificate was not issued in our case.  The monogram on the right labels AJ’s bin of goodies (other blankets, clothes, the breast pump, etc.) that needed a home.  Because I’m anally organized, I had to properly store her belongings, and what better display than a pink monogram!

The most healing part of our healing journey so far has undoubtedly been our trip to Belize.  We are forever indebted to the wonderfully kind individuals that helped make this trip possible.  It was unbelievably relaxing and was EXACTLY what we needed.

Last but not least (that I’ll share on the blog), is a picture of the memorial wheat for AJ’s 40 Day Memorial that was celebrated in Norwood, MA.  Charles’ Tete (grandmother) and two aunts prepared this beautiful tray for AJ (thank you SO much!).  In the Orthodox Church, Memorial Services to remember the departed are celebrated at three, nine and forty days, and then annually after that (there are some variations, but this is generally the custom).  While these special services are especially tough for me, we are extremely blessed to be a part of such a wonderful faith and community where everyone is praying for us and with us altogether.  We thank you for continued prayers and have so much love for all of you reading.

From goarch.com regarding Memorial Services in the Orthodox Church for the departed:

Death alters but does not destroy the bond of love and faith which exists among all the members of the Church. Orthodoxy believes that through our prayers, those “who have fallen asleep in the faith and the hope of the Resurrection” continue to have opportunity to grow closer to God. Therefore, the Church prays constantly for her members who have died in Christ. We place our trust in the love of God and the power of mutual love and forgiveness. We pray that God will forgive the sins of the faithful departed, and that He will receive them into the company of Saints in the heavenly Kingdom.

The Orthodox Church remembers the departed in the prayers of every Divine Liturgy. Besides this, there is a Memorial Service in which the Church also remembers the dead. According to tradition, the Memorial Service is offered on the third, ninth, and fortieth day after a death, as well as on the yearly anniversary of the death.  When the Memorial Service is offered, it is customary for the family of the deceased to bring a dish of boiled wheat to the Church. The boiled wheat is placed on a table in the center of the nave during the Service. The wheat, known as kollyva, is a symbol of the Resurrection. When speaking of the Resurrection, our Lord said: “Unless the grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24)

Hurting and healing go hand-in-hand.  You hurt and then you heal, and then you hurt some more and heal some more…and by “you” I mean me, because I can’t speak for everyone.  The first part of “Hurting and Healing” will be about hurting.  Unfortunately, hurting is a very real thing which garners very real emotions; emotions, thoughts and feelings that I would like to share with whoever is out there reading.

I won’t know my daughter.

I don’t know what my daughter would be like.  I don’t know what would make her tick, what would get her excited or scared or happy or sad.  Would she be creative or athletic?  Would she be both?  Would she be sarcastic like her mommy?  Would she be mild-mannered and sweet like her daddy?  Would she have a passion for learning?  Would she hate school?  Would she be a Christian?  I won’t even know what she will look like at different points in her life.

I don’t know what my daughter would like.  What would she like?  Would she like sports or shopping?  Would she like dance or basketball?  Would she like the Colts or the Patriots?  (She would obviously like the Kentucky Wildcats so that’s not even in question.)  Would she like math or English?  Would she like to travel like her mommy and daddy?  Would she love animals?  (That one is also a given — she would love Sawyer & Hank!)

I won’t know what would make her laugh or make her smile.  Would she laugh at absolutely everything like me?  Or would she be like her father and genuinely laugh when something is really, really funny?  Would she be ticklish?  Would she laugh when she’s actually sad?  Would she cry when she’s happy?  Would her smile light up a room?  Would she need braces to perfect her smile?  Would she laugh so hard she pees in her pants, like her mommy?  Would she double over from laughing so hard like her daddy?  Would she be happy?

I won’t know what would make her sad or what would make her cry.  Would she cry when she gets a bad grade in school?  Would she cry when a boy breaks up with her?  Would she be sad and cry when she struck out in the bottom of the 9th with two outs and runners in scoring position when her team was losing?  Fortunately, none of these earthly things will ever make her cry, but I wonder about what those little tears would look like streaming down her face before I wiped them off and gave her my shoulders to lean on.

All of my friends are having kids.

So not all of my friends are having kids, but a lot of them are, and a lot of them already have.  When we struggled with being unable to conceive and friends of mine were getting pregnant very easily, I was sad.  I was the one that had been married for five years and I was the one who had been trying to have a baby for awhile.  I have never, ever resented or been upset with any of my friends (I hope my friends read that statement and believe it!).  I have never been anything but overjoyed for those friends.  And then, when it was my turn to be pregnant and have babies with them, I was on cloud nine.  I was excited to start planning (in my head) what our life would be like with our baby and our friends’ babies.

Then, well, you know what happened, and all of those ideas stopped.  Our next child (God-willing) will be a year, if not more, younger than my friends’ first children.  They’ll be moved on to walking and talking and play dates with new friends, and we’ll just be starting on our baby journey.  Those have all been thoughts that have gone through my mind at one point or another.  They are things that I need to work through in this hurting process.  I don’t really believe most of what my mind tells me, but it still tells me those things nonetheless.

I don’t want to wait to have another baby.

Selfishly, I want to get this show on the road.  No, I don’t know if my mind and heart are ready for it.  No, I don’t know if my body is physically ready for it.  And no, I don’t know that my body will allow me to conceive naturally.  No, I don’t know if I will start on my medicine again.  I honestly have no idea what to expect moving forward.  If it’s all about me, I don’t want to wait.  But we still have not made decisions as to how we are going to tackle this beast.  (And it is a hormonal, moody, emotional beast!)

I know this is hard.

Believe me– I know this is hard to read.  It’s hard to write!  And it’s hard to live it.  I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading and sticking through this with me (and Charles).  Your support and prayers continue to strengthen us on our hurting and healing journey.  I promise Part II, “Healing”, will not be as much of a Debbie Downer as this post.  (Healing will include happy thoughts and fun pictures of some of the cool things we’ve done for our baby in the last 2.5 months.)

Today has been 10 weeks to the day that we met our angel and we haven’t stopped thinking about her for a minute since.

For the average nineteen year olds in a dating relationship, they are not thinking about being engaged or even married, they are just nineteen and dating and having fun.  (The caveat to that statement is that the female is always thinking about getting engaged and having a wedding, but not super seriously planning at 19.)  Further, they are definitely not thinking about life after said engagement and marriage.  They are probably not thinking about employment, mortgages, pets, car payments, taxes, life insurance, any insurance, and probably, especially not, children.

When Charles and I began dating in 2005, at the age of nineteen, we were definitely not thinking about any of the aforementioned things.  We were nineteen and having fun and dating.  A few pictures of us circa 2005 are included for your enjoyment.

Little did we know, our decision to date in the summer of 2005, July 31 to be exact, would lead to further decisions, like becoming engaged to be married.  Over the past few years, at the wise-old-age of my late twenties, I have come to realize that the more decisions that you make in your life such as choosing to be engaged, voluntarily getting married, deciding to buy a home, purchasing a pet (or two, in our case), having a baby, etc., come with big responsibilities.  You don’t really realize what exactly you are signing up for with these binding agreements.  In my case, I thought that through the bonds of marriage I was agreeing to love my husband in spite of how loudly he chews his gum or how many times a day he goes to the bathroom or his love for the New England Patriots.  I certainly did not think (seriously) about the “For Better or Worse” clause that is included in so many marriage services.  When we got married at the age of 23, I was not concerned of how my husband would act as a parent to our two dogs or how he would deal with the stress of home buying/owning or how he would walk through a journey of infertility and certainly not how he would be there for me during the pregnancy and birth of a terminally ill child.

Guys, I picked a winner.  Seriously.

And thank God because that “For Better or Worse” thing is completely real.  Everyone “knows” their world can be turned upside down in a matter of minutes, seconds even, and when it was for us, I’m glad I had my husband by my side.  It was easy for me to know and love this guy during the good times, but what would it be like during the bad?  From the minute we knew something may potentially be wrong, Charles took complete control of the situation for me so that I didn’t have to do anything — I didn’t have to deal with phone calls or questions or stressors — he took it all on for me.  That was exactly what I needed.  I’m not sure if I knew that I needed it at the time or not, but Charles did.  He was loving me at my worst, and probably at his worst too, but you could never tell.  It was all about me and what I needed.  It was never about him or what he needed.  This continued throughout the entire pregnancy and amplified once AJ passed.  When I was feeling overwhelmed with decisions or questions or people, Charles stepped in and took it all away from me.  My husband, who is a quiet, kind and mild-mannered (to name just a few traits) guy, definitely went out of his comfort zone for ME during our “worse”.

Truthfully, I never really had a doubt in my mind that my husband and I would be even better together during challenging times than during happy ones.  But I certainly thank God everyday that even though this married couple at 23 years old were not thinking further down the road except where our next vacation was or what sporting event we were going to next or what wine we would have with dinner, He was.  So here’s to my husband, and to all of the married couples out there, who may have to go through their worst to further understand that they truly have the best.

Today, in honor of my original due date, October 29, 2014, we invite you all to share in the story of our pregnancy.  Our journey through pregnancy and the birth of our baby is documented via pictures-in-video to continue to share our story with others, and to remember the beautiful year we have been blessed with.  A huge thank you to our brother, Nick, for compiling this for us!  Your niece loves you!

{Please know that there may be some images that are difficult to see.  While we think our angel is the cutest thing that ever lived, we understand that there are some physical abnormalities that are not “normal” compared to what healthy babies look like.}

Enjoy!

Baby AJ in Video

A few more highlights from Labor & Delivery:

• I went from 2 to 10 centimeters dilated in 2 hours.  Yay, uterus and cervix!
• While I was napping after the epidural, Charles was sitting at the table next to my bed eating Fritos.  The sound of him crunching those deliciously delectable chips while I had been starved for the last 16 hours was especially repulsive so I politely asked him to “finish the bag already!”
• When I expressed feeling intense pressure the second time, the nurse checked me and her eyes got really wide – she told me she needed to call the Doctor immediately because the baby was practically out.  I replied to her reaction by saying, “Have you ever done this before?”  But I didn’t mean it like that!  I meant, had she delivered a baby by herself before?  If not, there was a first time for everything, I guess!  Thankfully, she had, so I grabbed her hand and said, “Let’s do this!”
• When AJ (literally) flew out of me, I yelled, “What was that?!” because all I could feel was exactly what I felt after POB broke my water – like I was sitting in a puddle of pee.  Charles thought my comment was hilarious, and laughingly responded, “It’s our baby!”

Post baby delivery, the medical team did everything for me that they’re supposed to do before the baby comes, and the “after” stuff too.  While POB was doing her thing, Charles and I got to hold AJ and spend time together as our new family of three.  Once I was all fixed up, our team took AJ to weigh, measure and bathe her, and Charles and I picked out an outfit for her to wear.

Once Miss AJ was all fixed up our family came in to meet the little princess.  It was very emotional for us to see our family, and for our family to see us with our stillborn angel.  As soon as each person entered the room and saw Charles and I holding our baby they began to cry, and we cried with them.  And we smiled, too!  We were all sad, of course, but happy to have been blessed with a beautiful baby and first grandchild on both sides of our families.  After our family had all met AJ, our priest recited the Trisagion Prayers with our families and nursing staff in the room.  My dad stood next to me (lying in the bed) and held my hand the whole time.  My Aunt and Godmother, Tammy, held AJ during the prayer service, as she was AJ’s Godmother also.

My Sito holding her first great-grandchild.

My mom, Charles’ mom & Aunt Tammy with AJ.

After we spent some more time with our family the hospital photographer was there to take AJ’s picture.  We had so much fun with the amazingly talented photographer and the nurses who hung around to help us pose AJ and give her cute props.  This time was extremely special for Charles and I to be able to spend it with just the three of us, documented.

At one point during our family meeting AJ and our pictures being taken, Charles said to me, “I think your friend Katie is in here…in the hallway.”  Although Charles had never met Katie, he was right!  One of my newest but dearest friends had come to the hospital just to check on us, with no intention of seeing us, but I certainly wanted to see her!  (Reminder:  Katie is also the mommy of a T18 baby boy, Brantley, who passed last year).  While we were having our pictures taken, Katie was hanging out in the waiting room with my family…whom she had never met…for like an hour.  (Later that day, everyone told me how awesome she is and how lucky I am to have a friend like her, which couldn’t be more true!)  Katie visited with us in our room and got to hold AJ (my one regret of the day is that we didn’t get a picture of them!).  It was indescribable to have someone there with us that had been a rider on this exact rollercoaster.  She is the strongest woman I know, and I am beyond blessed to have her present in my life and in AJ’s.

Finally, in the early evening, we moved out of our Delivery Room to a regular room (in the nice tower!).  We said goodbye to AJ for the time being, even though we could see her any time we wanted, we just had to ask.  It was hard seeing the nurse wheel her away, but we knew that what we had was just a body.  Our AJ was no longer confined to her incomplete body; she was bigger than her body and this world.  While I could have held her little body forever that day, I knew everything I had and needed of her was in my heart, and she was with the ultimate protector.

In our new room Charles and I ate dinner, walked a quarter mile (around the Nurse’s Station) to get things moving and healing, and were surprised by some visitors.  My older brother and sister-in-law brought milkshakes from Graeter’s (praise these people!), and Charles’ youngest brother flew in from Boston that night to see us.  It took a village before, during and after our pregnancy, and it especially did the day of delivery.  We are so thankful for our village – you guys rock!

{I didn’t sleep well that night, for two reasons – the obvious being the constant poking and prodding hospitals are notorious for.  I can thank my mind for keeping me awake the rest of the time.  I knew I was going home the next morning and was hopeful that sleep would be better there (ha, not so much, my friends!).  Thankfully, the Doctor did discharge me the next day, and we arrived home around 1pm.  We knew we would have a busy next couple of days preparing for AJ’s funeral and burial, which I will write about next.  For now, some more of Mommy & Daddy with AJ.}

**Warning:  This post is a little lengthy!**

At 30 weeks along in the pregnancy, I joked with POB that I was “ready to get this show on the road!”  But, I was really half joking and half serious.  The anticipation of childbirth and meeting my baby girl was killing me, like most other moms who have been pregnant for almost eight months.  I was also anxious for other reasons specific to our situation — I wanted to know what was really going on with this baby whom we had only seen through UltraSound, and how much time we would have with her.  Despite my half joking and all of these feelings, we stayed the course to plan to deliver at 35 weeks.  At the end of August we picked September 23rd to be induced.  It was one day shy of 35 weeks, so we could have waited until the next Tuesday (when POB was back in the hospital again), but like I said — I wanted to get this show on the road.

At our 30 week appointment, when we picked the induction date, was the last time we saw AJ on an UltraSound.  Because we had so many of these, we were spoiled to see her very frequently.  POB explained that there was a lot of fluid surrounding her and that she was small (both commonalities of T18 babies).  The plan for me at this point was to begin taking a medicine in the next couple of weeks to “ripen the cervix”; because this was my first pregnancy and I was five weeks ahead of schedule, there was no telling what my body would, or would not, do to prepare itself for labor.  And, the drugs worked!  Five days before my scheduled induction I was 70% effaced and one centimeter dilated (hooray!).  Because this was awesome news (my body was actually making progress!) I stopped at Plehn’s Bakery for a doughnut on my way to work to celebrate myself.

Over the weekend some family had begun to arrive and final preparations for our hospital stay were underway.  We celebrated my cousin Danielle’s wedding the Saturday before the big day, so these are the last preggo pictures of me!

I was supposed to call the hospital at 4pm on Monday, September 22nd, for a 6pm check-in, and to make sure they had a bed available at that time.  I was eating a late lunch around 4 on Monday with our dear friend, John, sitting with me as I called.  The conversation went something like, “Hi…I’m supposed to be induced…bed available?  Great.  Thanks!” — like, what the heck do you say in this kind of conversation?!  Since John has awkward tendencies like I do, he totally understood the uncomfortableness of the situation.  So we laughed, finished our chicken nuggets, and prepared to move out.

I’m pretty sure our car ride to the hospital was silent.  I was just really nervous for everything at this point, similar to any new mom, I would imagine.  When we got to Labor & Delivery, the nurses knew exactly who we were (yes, we were the couple who was supposed to be there at 6, but they knew everything about our situation).  They let us know they had read all of the history in the chart, and asked if we wanted to add anything that they should know, but they had it covered.  I was so impressed by this that I took 400 breaths of relief.  We were going to be in great hands.  To come full circle, I started more of the same induction medicine I had been taking in the hospital and was relegated to being horizontal (no peeing for TWO HOURS after getting a dose of medicine, and certainly no more eating!).  We were pleasantly surprised by a visit from our parish priest who comforted and prayed with us before the real deal.  We also enjoyed the company of our brother, Nick, and friend, John, who brought the necessities — food for Charles…and the icons we had left at home.

After a long night of tossing and turning (and carrying the IV cart with me to and from the bathroom), POB checked me, broke my water, and administered the Pitosin around 9am.  They told me it would work fast (about 15 minutes) and they weren’t lyin’!  I was doubled over in pain quickly.  My uterus was working hard.  It was working so hard that I remained in a contracted state — that translates to NO RELIEF.  I just stayed contracted for about 20 minutes.  The longest 20 minutes of my life.  In that 20 minutes, they prepped me and the room for the epidural, and administered it.  Poor anesthesiologist.  He was really nice and trying to talk to me every step of the way, but I wasn’t paying him a bit of attention.  I was trying to focus on breathing, while crying and feeling nauseous, and wanting to rip every cord attached to my body straight off.  But, once the epidural was in and working, I was OUT, as in, asleep.  I slept for about two hours when my fluid monitor started going off because it was empty.  A nurse (that was not mine) came in to change it, and I told her I was feeling a lot of pressure.  She called my nurse, my nurse called POB, and POB said I should “labor down” for an hour and then we would push.  Well, about 30 minutes went by and I was feeling more intense pressure.  The nurse checked me out and the baby was right there – ready to come out (practically out, but that’s a minor detail).  She called for another nurse and POB to come ASAP.  The other nurse made it, but POB didn’t.  Without any pushing, more of just a relaxing of all the muscles in my lower body, AJ was there.  As soon as AJ was there, POB came running in with the Neonatologist, Women’s Health Specialist, and a few other assistants.  My amazing nurses delivered my amazing baby with my amazing husband by my side the entire way.

As you know, Alexandra Jude was born at 1:06pm on Tuesday, September 23rd.  Coincidentally, she was born on a Tuesday and so was I.  We were both born during football season the morning after a Monday Night Football game.  My dad watched MNF 28 years ago (almost 29 – eek!) with the Doctor before I was born (at 2:01am).  Also, coincidentally, because of my tomboyish-ness having been blessed with two brothers, I acquired the nickname “Icebox” from my dad when I was kid (this from the movie “Little Giants”).  Going well with the births/football theme, I knew this was the biggest “game” of my life (Charles’ too), and it was the best “game” we have ever played.

Daddy was the first one to hold AJ.

Mommy introducing AJ to her brothers, Sawyer & Hank.