Marriage is wonderful.  And so very difficult.
I'm definitely no expert on marriage, and there are many reasons why it is so difficult ("God, could you have made men and women slightly more alike???"), but I think one reason it is so difficult is because communication is so very difficult.  And when you have difficulty communicating with the person you live with, things can get a little tough. Or terrible! 
So marriage and communication are hard in and of themselves.  Try adding a little grief to the pot!
Daniel and I have been struggling to keep our marriage strong through this difficult time.  We did really well at first.  Then, it got a little harder.  Why?  I'm not sure.  Maybe one of the following:
~It's hard for me to cry in front of Daniel (especially if he seems to be having an  ok day).  So, I just stuff my feelings.
~It's easy to feel just flat out irritated at Daniel over little things(like I cant believe he stopped at starbucks on the way home--didnt he know I needed help with the girls???)  
~I'm tired.  I'm tired physically. I'm tired emotionally.  I'm very tired.  And as soon as the girls are in bed, I want to go to sleep.  When that happens, we dont get a chance to even try communicating.
~I'm grieving differently than Daniel is grieving.  Another one of the wonderful differences between men and women. 
~I'm grieving the loss of different things than Daniel. 
~I'm too emotionally drained to fight.  If there's even potential for disagreement, we quickly retreat.  He goes into his cave.  I go into mine.  I guess it's a protective thing.  But it doesnt help in bringing us closer.

As you can see, our marriage is not easy right now. 
But we are committed to sticking it out.  To walking down this difficult path together. 
In the end, I pray we have a stronger, better marriage than ever before. 

Let me know if you have or are struggling with anything similar! (Then I wont feel so crazy!).

Guilt.   
I am struggling with it.
Majorly.
As of right now, we do not know why Isaiah died.  There is no known cause of death (which is completely crazy.  Seriously, shouldn't there be an obvious cause?  Babies don't just stop breathing for no reason do they? But that's a whole nother subject...).  Anyways, I think back to everything that I did that possibly could have contributed to my precious son's death:
~I flew across the country at 6 weeks.  Maybe it was the radiation.  I was scared to fly, but everyone said it would be ok.  I wish I had put my foot down.
~I ate some meat that looked a little under-cooked.  I was at a birthday party and tried to get the steak that looked the most "well-done."   But they were all a little pink.  I wish I had been brave enough to say "No thank you". 
~My girls had some crazy rash virus.  The pediatrician (2 of them actually) assured me that it was not fifths disease, and that it was ok for me to be exposed.  The OB's office said "well, just try to avoid contact" (ohhh ok, I'll go call my nanny.  Seriously, how in the world do you just "avoid contact" with your two young children who aren't feeling well??).  I wish I had pushed for lab work to test for antibodies. 
~We decided to put in hard wood floors.  The glue smelled awful.  So many chemicals.  I wish we had just waited.
~I had some stomach issues.  I asked to be tested for listeria.  They tested me.  Test  was negative but the stomach issues continued.  I knew something wasn't right.  I went to my family doc who said it was all normal and gave me stuff to keep me regular.  It didn't make anything better.  But she was adamant that it was normal.  I wish I had pushed her more.
~I suddenly developed a hole in my tooth.  I've never really had dental problems.  One small cavity my entire life.  They said I needed a root canal.  And a crown.  I was scared.  They assured me that it was ok for the baby.  I didn't want any metal--pure porcelain.  There was miscommunication and they gave me some metal.  I wish I had put my foot down and said no.  I wish I had done more research.
~And finally, the biggest source of guilt---I didn't have a c-section.  I had c-sections with both girls.  I was trying for a vbac this time.   If I had gone on and had a c-section, Isaiah would have been born alive.  (Not sure what would have happened after that, but at least he would have been born alive).  Oh how I wish I had scheduled the c-section. 

The guilt is so intense at times.  When I first learned he had died, all I could say was "I'm so sorry"  Over and over, I said it.  "I'm so so sorry." 

As a mom, you would do anything to protect your children.  Anything. 
I couldn't give my precious son life.

I wish I could have.  I wish I could go back. 

Oh Isaiah, I'm so sorry.  So so sorry.  I would do anything to give you life. 

Tonight, I am so sad.  My arms feel so empty.  The house is so quiet. 
Oh what I would give to hear my precious son cry.  I did not get to hear him cry.  I will never ever get to hear him cry. 
Most people complain when their babies cry--I'd give anything to hear mine cry. 
What a precious sound--the sound of life.

I am on a crazy emotional rollercoaster.  (And I'd really like to get off)
Some moments are ok---these are few and far between.  During these moments, I feel like I really grasp the truths that God is in control, that Isaiah is in Heaven, that his life and death had purpose, that I will see him again.  I trust the God whom I love.
Some moments are semi-ok---these are more frequent, probably the majority of my moments would fall under this category.  During these times, I am just plain sad.  My heart feels sad, broken.  My arms feel empty.  I long to hold my precious baby.  But theres no despair.  The grief is definitely there, but it's not so heavy that it feels crushing.  I can go about the day and actually get something done.  I cling to the God whom I love.
Then there are the moments that are really bad---these happen at least once a day.  During these moments, I want to scream.  I want to throw something.  I feel angry at the God whom I love.  I feel shock and disbelief that my baby died.  I feel completely heartbroken that I will never hold my little boy this side of Heaven.  I feel jealous towards the millions of women that are pregnant or have precious newborns(I honestly believe that just about 90% of them live near me because EVERYBODY  i know is pregnant or just gave birth!).  During these moments, I want to crawl in bed and sob.  The world seems dark.  I dont think I will ever smile again.  The weight of grief is crushing.  These are very hard moments.
This rollercoaster is exhausting.  And scary.  The path ahead is hidden. 
And I cant get off.

I hate to make people feel awkward.  I know people feel awkward around me.  I went to a birthday party for a friends little boy and it was like I was wearing a huge scarlet letter (except it was a big black D for death).  It was like they were thinking--"Oh there's Julie, the girl who lost her baby.  Should I say something?  What if she cries? What would I say anyways?  Maybe I'll just avoid her."
How do I know people are thinking this, how do I know they are feeling awkard? Because I've been there!  I've never known what to say to those who are grieving--in fact, not sure I should admit this, but I've even AVOIDED people who are grieving.  So, yep, I know exactly how they are feeling. And I really hate making them feel that way.  I guess thats just one more horrible emotion that I'm having to deal with. 

A Normal Day. 
Wow--how I took normal days for granted.  What I wouldnt give for just one normal day or even one half of a normal day.  A day in which the weightiest issue I faced was what to make for dinner.  A day where the sky was blue, the girls laughed, and I checked things off my never ending and oh-so-important to do list. 
Now, those things seem so far away.
And maybe so un-important. 
Maybe I really dont want those days back. 
Maybe I was just living in a pretend world.  A world I struggled hard to keep "perfect", free of any pain, nice and tidy--like the sweet smocked dresses I put on my girls.  But that's not real life, is it?  The storms will come.  The tears will fall.  The dresses get dirty and wrinkled and worn. 
So what is normal life?  Is "normal" life a real thing?
Maybe normal life is good and bad.  Laughter and tears.  Sunshine and rain.  Smocked dresses and old ratty t shirts.  Right now, my day is filled with sadness, shattered dreams, and tears.  Unforntunately, I'm realizing that this is normal.  No more pretending that pain doesnt exist.  Sometimes, life just stinks.
So where does that leave me?  Do I let myself wallow in misery?  Do I curl up on the couch and dream of sunshiny days.  Do I look at the seemingly nice lives of those around me and let envy take over my heart?
Not if God is real.
And I always said I believed He was.
If God is real, I can take comfort in Him.  I can take comfort that there is a God who is in control of the good and bad. A God who loves me; loves me very very much. A God who weeps when I weep. A God who has a purpose and a plan. A God who has promised that this life is short and that eternity (with no pain, tears, or rain) is forever!

So, where are you?  What are your thoughts on real life? Is your life sunshiney or stormy?  Smocked dresses or ratty old t-shirts?  Please share.

From my journal~

April 24, 2012
Dear Isaiah,
On Saturday, we did your burial and memorial service.  Your burial was so hard.  I had to continually remind myself that although that was your body-it was not you-I had to continually remember the image of God holding me in His right hand and you in His left.  I wanted to scream and run away though.  I did not want to hear any "good" that your life and death were bringing-- I just wanted you in my arms precious one.  Then we had dinner.  I really didnt want to be there--it was so difficult to even look at my 2 sweet pregnant sister in laws--struggling so much with jealousy.  Why God--why did you have all three of us be pregnant at the same time.  And all three pregnant with little boys...
Then came the memorial service.  Wow--so many many people came.  What a huge blessing.  During the video, I think everyone cried.  Your daddy did such a good job speaking--God helped him.  The recieving line was so long but people were so compassionate, crying with us (although by then I was no longer crying-which felt kinda weird-like we were comforting others).  Everyone said it was beautiful. 
Your sisters are doing better.  AG will finally say your name. 
Each day is getting slightly better I think, less dark feeling, more trusting that God had/has a plan for you.  So thankful for Him GIVING His only son that I may live-that you may live.
But there's still the overwhelming weight of grief that just hits and smothers me.  Then guilt hits sometimes.  And Daddy and I both still struggle with "WHY?"  Heaven seems so much more real though.  So close.  This life is such a vapor.  God is truly in control.  I always try to gain control, but I cant this time. 
Oh sweet boy, your life has truly had a huge impact.  As John B was saying--some people can live 90 years and have no impact, but others, like you, live only a short time (9months) and have a huge impact. 
I love you so dearly.
I long to see you again.
With love,
Momma

So here's my story:
I was so excited to be pregnant again.  A little nervous because my youngest had been born at 33weeks via emergency c-section due to a very low heart beat.  No one ever told me what had caused the very low heart beat.  They just said it would probably never happen again. 
This time around, I decided to buy a doppler for home use.  Just to make sure the baby's heart beat stayed ok.  And it did.  The pregnancy was very uneventful.  The baby was growing well.  I was trying for a VBAC and everything looked great.  The Monday before my due date, I had an ultrasound just to make sure baby wasnt breach.  He wasnt.  The ultrasound tech told me "If you werent trying for a VBAC, you'd probably be holding your baby right now."  Oh how those words now hurt and bring such guilt. On Thursday before my due date, baby didnt seem to be moving as much.  I checked his heart rate--142bpm--great.  On Thursday night, I checked again--just to be sure.  Still great.  On Friday, baby really was not moving much.  At 2:00, I checked his heart rate--low 140s again--still looking good.  Contractions were starting to pick up.  I was thinking that labor may be getting close.  Yea!  I'd never been in labor.  We didnt know the gender of the baby.  But we were ready.  The room was ready.  The children were ready.  Our families were ready.  Any moment now and we should be meeting our baby and beginning a lifetime of getting to know our precious one.  Well, by Friday night, baby was not moving.  I tried to find the heart rate before going to bed.  Couldnt find it.  I was worried. Got up and stayed up for awhile. Changed positions. Prayed.  Got on the the internet. Checked heart rate again---silence.  Went to bed and didnt sleep well.  In the morning, I got up, ate breakfast and had some coffee (that always woke baby up!).  Checked for heart rate--silence.  Called my mom and told her to be on standby, I was calling doc.  I called and nurse said go to hospital.  We did. 
Well, I cant write all the details of what happened next--still too painful.  A very horrific nightmare.  Baby had died.
At 4:17ish, Isaiah was born via c-section.
You never imagine that you will have to hold your dead child.  Those things dont really happen, do they?
They do...and they are worse than you can imagine.
In the midst of such horrific pain, though, there was a glimmer of light, a calm, a certain peace. 
God was there.
He held me through the arms of my husband and my mom.  He spoke to me of Eternity and of His good plans through the words of my Dad.  He showed me that He was weeping with me through the many tears of friends.   
Dont get me wrong....at some points I felt very angry towards God...how could He?!  How could He?!
But mostly I felt, I knew, I believed that He was there with me.  He really was in control.  Isaiah really was with him. 
Again...I dont want to appear like some super spiritual person...I'm not.  I've had to wrestle.  What is true? Is heaven really real?  Is God really real? If He is real, is He good?   Hard stuff. 

What about you--what's your story?  Please share.   

Losing Isaiah

On April 14th, 2012, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Isaiah.  Joyful, right? No--it was the worst day of my life.  Why?  About 8 hours before giving birth, I learned that Isaiah had died. 

This journey has been so very difficult.  So very, very difficult. 

I wanted to start a blog as a way to connect with other women who may be going through the same nightmare.  To encourage one another.  Please leave a comment if you are walking a similar path.

julie