My last blog post of 2013. My mumbled thoughts trying to make sense!

Greetings all! 

I pray you are in joy and good health when you read these words. I apologize it has been so long since I have last written. Please know it is not because I don't have much to share, I think its been more that I haven't had the courage to sit and write.  I have little notes in my phone, in my notebooks, on little random pieces of paper....just hadn't made the time to get it all together.

This entry may be a little all over the place, but I hope you bare with me because I think some of it is going to be really good!  These are the things that I have been going through as we are navigating through the holidays.

Living like Noah - in faith
It is believed that Noah spent 50+ years building an ark for a flood that would one day come. FIFTY SOME YEARS!  Imagine? Listening to the ridicule and people looking at him as if he were crazy. Living in FAITH that he was being obedient and doing what he was called to do.  I imagine there were times when he struggled. Doubted. Got frustrated and wondered what in the world he was doing this for...wondering if he would be made a fool of.

A few weeks ago, we had lots of ice where we live and work was canceled. We were home for about 5 days on lockdown. We couldn't go anywhere.  I got so much cleaning done. One morning, I woke up and told my husband I was ready to go through Crea's room and organize. He asked me if I was sure and I told him I was fine.

 When I returned from the hospital, my parents came to our home and put everything baby related in her room and closed the doors.  There were a couple of times that I ventured in but fell apart when I saw her crib or little onsies, shoes, or toys we had received. So on this day, I felt like I was ready to tackle her room.

So I began.

I sorted all her little clothes and put them in her dresser. I took all the diapers out of the holder and put them in a bag so I could donate them. I went through all her little toys and put them in a special place.  I cleaned up her crib and set it up to get it ready to go. I took her carseat and stored it in the closet. Piece by piece, I set up a baby's room. A room for a baby who isn't here. One that is in heaven and one that is a hope and a dream right now. I asked Terry, "does this make me look crazy?" As loving and supportive as he always is, he said, "No, we are going to need that room one day."

As I prepared a room for a baby who isn't here, I thought about how Noah must have felt.


Equally, Terry and I reminisced about when we bought her crib.  I found it and told Terry, "we need to go and get it right now."  We weren't even 10 weeks pregnant. He said, "are you sure?" To which I replied, "I am TIRED of living in fear! NO MORE!"

You see, ever pregnancy I have waited to "make sure" before I did anything so I wouldn't have to live with the hurtful disappointment. But this time, I was done with waiting. I knew that I knew that I knew that we were going to get through this pregnancy!  I never imagined we wouldn't bring our baby home. But in all, our little girl was born to us and were able to carry a pregnancy to term. We are grateful for that.  So for now, we are like Noah...living in faith and with a dream and hope of what may be one day. Our baby's rooms is ready!

Living like Noah - Learning to be a friend of God
Today at church, we sang an older song. It is a song that I remember singing when I was in high school.  There is a verse that says, "you're my closest friend, I'll never let you go" When I said those words, I couldn't get the tears out of my throat. You see, to say that He is my friend means that I trust Him.  The Bible says that Noah was a friend of God.  There was trust there. My goodness!  For 50+ years, Noah had to rely that his friend wasn't going to let him fail. He had to TRUST! 
I am not saying that I don't trust God.  I am saying that I think there is a difference between faith and trust.  Faith is my spirit.  My spirit clings to my Savior for dear life!  I think trust comes more from the mind.  I would be lying to you if I didn't admit that I have had moments where I have wondered what the plan is?  Why are we having to go through this? How come it had to be this way?  I am human...

My faith sustains me in that I whole heartedly KNOW He has a plan for us and that He will complete that which he has begun.  It is my mind that I  need to get into check every so often.  There are days that I am learning to trust and allow Him to be my friend again. Because ultimately, the majority of the time, I do trust Him.  I am learning to turn this next page over to Him...with all courage!

Getting thru the Holidays
In all, we are almost through the Holidays; one more left!
They have proven to be very difficult. As much as we had tried to prepare ourselves mentally for what was to come, it was still very difficult.  Both Terry and I have had moments where the pain seems too unbearable. But just as with anything, those moments pass and we breathe again. We are so grateful for our family and friends who are so courageous to press into us.

Our local newspaper had a "year in review". I normally read our local paper cover to cover (since it is only about 8 pages). As I looked through the pages, they listed all the obituaries and my eyes immediately found it.
Crea Jacqueline Rumbo, 0
Ugh!  It was like a 2x4 to the gutt!  My goodness!  I looked up the list and down the list and the majority of folks on the list were 60+ with many in their 80's and 90's.  I broke down and wept.  I was fine all day and then saw that.....too much!

I HATE that my daughter's name is on there. I hate that my daughter's name is the only name with a "0". Talk about breaking a mother's heart!!  I mean, I get it.  It is a tribute. I don't want to dishonor that. It just makes me sad. I don't like seeing her name on this list.

For now, we have one more holiday to go. New Year's.  Today our pastor spoke about 2014 and how it will be a year of Victory.  It was such a great service!  As hard as it may be to move forward, to dream again and make plans, we must.  To honor her. To honor our journey. To honor all.

So we are going to sit down in the next couple of days and as Habakkuk 2:2 says, we will "write the vision down". 

We will do this in faith, TRUSTING that He is ever faithful!  He gives us new life and new hope and in this, we stand strong.

Blessings all!

When is enough, enough? Believing in the dream.

When I was in the hospital, there was a nurse that came in to put a pic line in. Which is basically like a nasty, long sharp IV in your arm that is supposed to last longer than a regular IV....let's not speak further on that for it makes me shiver! LOL

But she came in and we began the regular hospital talk such as "How long have you been here? What are you having? Is this your first baby?", etc. She shared with me that she and her husband had tried two times ending in miscarriage and they decided they couldn't do it anymore and chose to not have children. When I shared with her that this was my 9th pregnancy, she was shocked to know that I didn't have any children. She asked, "how did  you do it?" To which I answered, "I just can't believe I would have such a strong desire and have to leave this earth without it ever being fulfilled." You see, there was a time when I spoke to God after losing so many babies where I said, "If this is never going to happen for me, then take this desire away."  The desire never left.

I have shared with many that truly, it has been an absolute miracle from heaven that I haven't gone completely crazy. I mean, how much heartbreak can one person endure? How many times can I step up, believe and be broken hearted when the outcome is not as I wished?

My pregnancy was a very difficult one from the very beginning. With no sleep because of MAJOR indigestion from week 4 to MAJOR nausea and vomiting for almost 10 weeks to dehydration, sore back, etc, etc...I honestly thought this would be our only child. I don't share that in a complaining way, but it was very difficult and wasn't sure I was ready to sign up again. My desire to have children and not just one child was there, but when I really thought about it, I had to be realistic as to what I could endure and quite frankly, what my family could endure, since we were all in it together.

Some would probably think me crazy to keep trying. The nurse expressed she couldn't understand where I could get the strength. In my mind I thought, "I believe in this dream more than I believe anything else."

Believe in the dream.

I read somewhere that Walt Disney filed for bankruptcy eight times. Eight times did he step out and put it all on the line. Eight times did he feel he had failed. Eight times did he walk away empty handed and broken hearted. And now...I don't think there is anyone in the world who doesn't know Disney.

When would have it been enough for him to hang it up and walk away?
When is enough enough for me to hang it up and accept that it just isn't for me.

You see, this is what I believe. I believe every great dream has a price. It may not be a monetary one but there is a price. In this dream to be a mother, my price has been learning faith. Pushing myself beyond the thoughts of what I think is real. Believing despite what looks impossible. 

Although the hits of disappointment have sometimes knocked me straight off my feet, as soon as I am able to stand up again, I am ready to fight again. Since I was a little girl, I have been this way. When I was 15, an opportunity opened up for me to go to Africa; a dream I had since I was 8. Everything around me was saying I wouldn't be able to go. In fact, the night before my trip, I still needed over $1000 to go. As I was packing (as if all were good to go), my sweet mom sat in her room crying, asking the Lord to help me deal with the disappointment. My parents had helped me all they could as well as everyone around me. But in my heart, I thought, "God didn't bring me this far to let me fail." So I packed my bags and readied myself for my journey. That night, a woman who had already given me a lot of money called me and said, "I can't sleep and I can't stop thinking about you, is everything alright?" I shared with her that I didn't have all the money. She met me the next morning, money in hand so that I could be on my way.

I was 15 years old. Moments like those have shaped my faith in believing in the absolute impossible.  As you may imagine, 14 years and having 9 babies in heaven has also had an impact on me. My getting up and dusting off for the fight has gotten a little slower and maybe not as strong. The difference between the faith of a 15 year old to that of an almost 40 year old woman is different in that more "life" has taken place...reality seems a little clearer as you get older. And sometimes that clear view of "reality" is harder to get through to actually believe in your dream.

But this is what I am meditating on and learning these days.
I must learn to believe my dream more than I believe anything else. More than I believe the last 14 years. More than I believe what science and medicine says about me being older. More than I believe what has just happened this year.

I don't know why Crea had to leave us so early. I may never know. But I do know that this desire is still there. I don't know how it will be achieved. These days I find myself wishing I could fast forward a year so I can see how everything will unfold for us. But since that is not going to happen, I must look at what I can do. And that is, Believe. Build my faith. Get through the grief. Stand up. Dust off. Fight again.

Enough is not enough when it comes to big dreams. I am learning to believing more in this dream than anything else. 

If you're reading this and you have also be hurt or disappointed in a great desire or dream, know this, you are not alone. There any many other broken soldiers like you and I. Pink says it best in her song, "we are bent but we are not broken" and there is another song that says, "keep on dreaming even if it breaks your heart."

I hope you will be encouraged this moment...let's keep on dreaming! Enough is not enough.

Will we try again?

This is our little Crea shelf at home.
 It has all the small gifts we received while we were in the hospital, the mold of her
tiny hand and foot and the small red sparkly jar is her urn.
 

This week was my first full week back at work. It was great to get back and get busy. The days at home were difficult as I didn't feel very useful. The doctors didn't really want to release me because it wasn't even 6 weeks from her delivery but I insisted citing, "I need it for my mental health". (o:

It was mostly good. A little hard at times and I had my moments where I sat in my truck and cried. But overall, it was good. When I left to be in the hospital, many of the folks I work with saw me big and pregnant when they saw me last.  There was one apartment I went to inspect and when the manager saw me, she welcomed me back warmly and asked, "How's your baby?" I tried to suppress my emotion and said, "She passed away, actually." She immediately started crying. I didn't know what to do or say. I said, "It's ok. She was strong and we are so grateful for the time we had with her." She composed herself and told me she had just lost her fiancé to a long fight with cancer. When I got in my truck after our conversation, I smiled and felt SO grateful. I had the opportunity to share some of our journey and encourage her on hers. Right before I left, she asked if she could give me a hug and I told her, "You are not alone in your grief."

Wow. I am so, so grateful that even through some of my hardest moments, God still sees me fit enough to use. Even in my brokenness, He brings people into my path so I may share His light. I can't explain it clearly, but I am truly touched and grateful that even at a moment that I thought would break me, I could still be strength to someone who needed that moment.  Our God...in His infinite mercy...I am humbled and proud.

Moment by moment we take it each day. There isn't a moment that goes by when I don't miss our sweet girl and miss the days that should have been. Today we went to Cabela's (one of our favorite stores) and Terry kept asking me if I was ok. I kept seeing all these things thinking, "I would have loved that for Crea".

It really isn't about getting through the days. It's more about getting through the moments. So, even if some are harder than others, we still get through! *smile*

Now, its time to answer the question that many think of and some have asked..."will we try again?"

Here is the long, unclear answer.

Our desire to have a family is greater than it has ever been. Now we know that we can carry a pregnancy. After 14 years of miscarriages, the hope and belief that we CAN is at its highest point for us. We would LOVE to be pregnant again.

However, the reality for us right now is that Crea was very, very sick. I haven't really shared everything to the extent that it was because I'm not ready yet, but when I say that it was a miracle we got to meet her...please know that I say that with absolutely zero exaggeration. She was amazing, strong and a true miracle. The hospital sent a bunch of her blood to a lab to look at a lot of different things, but part of that is the genetics. We are still waiting for the results and hope to get them soon. What we are hoping to find out is if any of her illness could have been avoided and what role did we play in it? Was it just a fluke chance that it "just happens" or were there different things we could have done before we got pregnant to provide what was needed for her? Oh! The questions are many, many! But ultimately, we want to know IF we try again, what is the chance we would have a sick baby? If the chances are high and there is nothing we can do to avoid it, we have decided we will not try to get pregnant again and will take the proper measures to insure it doesn't ever happen.

We have always considered adoption and surrogacy.  Once we get the answers of Crea's bloodwork, we will decide how we will move forward.

I keep having a dream/vision that we have a baby and find out we are pregnant. I don't know if that is just my made-up dream or if it is something that will happen one day.

The short of it is this, however. Terry's faith and hope are sustaining us today. My heart is still broken and my goal each day is to get through the holidays and start the year new. I KNOW I want to have a family, but right now, my hope gauge is running on fumes. I am grateful that each day it gets a little stronger, but I am just taking it a moment at a time. (This is just me being honest)

SO....long answer made longer...
We hope. We wait. We hope. We dream. We wait. We hope. We dream and we wait.

I pray this message finds you well. The weather is getting cooler and each day we celebrate this life! For the good and not so good, this life is truly beautiful!!!

PS
If you are reading these blogs and have any commentary, questions, comments, I'd love to hear from you! It gets lonely in blog world when you don't hear from anyone.  (o:

I complained because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.

October 15 has come and gone. I take a deep breathe and exhale as I feel the clouds have passed and the sun begins to shine on my moments.

I went back to work yesterday for a little while and today was my first full day back. What a blessing having a good job with a great work family makes. I am truly grateful. I have enjoyed getting up and having somewhere to go and something to do. Part of my struggle has been that I felt that Crea left this earth and, as it should be, everyone continued in their every day. Everyone except me. Because I had a C-section, I wasn't allowed to return to work and the fact I had been in bed for 2 1/2 months also left me quite weary. I know it will take time to get back to "old" me, but it has been a struggle. I have felt so useless as I have been home while everyone continued to every day life. It feels good to be at work and feel useful again. It has also been good to feel a bit of confidence that I can be out in the "real world" and not feel I am "marked" as a grieving mother. Yes, moments have come when I  felt I was about to lose it and fall apart, but the busy-ness of work and having accountability to others  made it easier to rein the emotion back. Work is good for my soul.

On the drive home I was reflecting about Oct 15. On Facebook, I am part of many groups of women who have lost pregnancies and babies. Many of them were posting pictures of their candles and the different things they were doing to honor their angel babies. It was overwhelming to see how many are still with their arms empty or they also experienced not having babies here on Earth. As I read through some of the posts, my hearts broke for them and with them.

The night Crea was born and they told us of all the complications, I was laying in bed in between tears and the thought kept coming to my mind, "we are not the only ones." Partly, it was to remind myself that this was not just happening to me, but also because I realized that this journey is not a one family journey. There are so many others who have and will experience the trials of losing someone so dearly.

There was a nurse who took care of Crea and I that shared she had lost her husband, her soulmate about 3 years ago. When she shared this with me, I thought about Terry and I couldn't even imagine not having him in my life. As she shared her story, my heart broke for her loss as I tried to understand how she gets up every day and continues on.

In all of this, I realize that we are ALL living with a hurt, disappointment, loss and struggle. Very few of us are exempt from the trials of this life. It is amazing that we are not all falling apart! (She smiles) But, seriously, part of living this great life is knowing that if we haven't hit devastation yet, we may in the future. I'm not saying I hope it happens to anyone, but it makes me realize that we are all in this together....trying to find the great in this great life.

As I walk through my days, it makes me cautious of what I say. For instance, it used to really bother me (still does a bit) when women complain continuously about their pregnancy. All I could think was, "I WISH I had morning sickness, aching back and not sleeping because I had a baby growing inside me!" Now, having experienced the Nth degree of struggle in a pregnancy, I do understand where the complaining can come from. But every time I felt the struggle, I would think of the many sisters in this journey that were still waiting for their BFP. (That's a term we all know in the infertility world as Big Fat Positive) I thought of all those women who would share on our groups that they were on the 2WW (2 Week Wait) for a positive test that would reveal their dream was about to come true.

It doesn't mean that I won't ever complain about people, thing and situations, but it just makes me mindful how my struggle may be someone's dream point. Does that make sense?  I may run into times when Terry and I aren't getting along, but what if I am talking to someone like my nurse that would just LOVE to have her husband back and I'm sitting there complaining. (and probably about trivial things)

It reminds me of an old saying I heard once. "I complained because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet".

There are so many people dealing with life...some good, some not so good. None of us know what or to the extent of another's struggle. I am challenged more than ever to JUST BE KIND.

We are human. We are going to complain, get discouraged, feel disappointed...but we have a choice as to how we are going to behave.

I hope this encourages you as well to be cautious of words...we never know who might be listening.

I hope this message finds you blessed. I, for one, feel content and quite frankly, proud! My first day back at living was a good day.

Blessings all!

This is real... My broken Hallelujah

Behind that door is the baby's room. It is filled with a crib, diapers and all the makings of a dream that was to come home. For now, everything lays still and quiet behind that door.

This is the real deal. The raw, unedited side of dealing with the grief of your newborn baby taking her last breathes in your arms.

Today is Oct 15: Infant and Pregnancy loss awareness day.  I have been a part of this club for 14 years. It is a day that I have stopped to remember the 8 pregnancies that were miscarried. (As if I ever lived a day without thinking about them.) This year, 2013, I thought would be different. Having carried this pregnancy for 35 weeks, I thought I would be spending this day with my newborn daughter remembering her siblings...my arms would not be empty. But they are. Tonight, I will add another candle...a 9th candle for our sweet girl, Crea.

When I was in the hospital I was following and praying for a baby named Corbin. He was born very sick and was beating the odds of the disease that had consumed his small body. Every day I would follow his momma's posts and pray for them. I remember the day she said he had passed away from this Earth and gone home. My heart broke. From my hospital bed I cried for her and thought, "I can't even begin to imagine what she is feeling." Never, in my wildest dreams did I think that just a short month away, I would be experiencing her grief. It had never crossed my mind that our daughter would not come home with us. Terry and I had discussed how she may be in the hospital for a while and what that would look like, but we never imagined going home empty handed. That reality is painful.

Today, Corbin's mom posted something on Facebook where she is saying she wished she would not be a part of this day. How she never imagined being a mom with an angel. Everything she wrote resounded so heavy in my spirit. I try to go through my days with grace. I try to stay positive. But today, the day is bitter. I remember sitting in our hospital room after Crea was born and they had conducted surgery, the doctor had just drawn out diagram showing us everything that was wrong with our baby girl. He said the prognosis was bleak. I remember asking God, "Why are you going to break my heart?" FOURTEEN years I have waited. I have believed. Despite myself, I have stood in faith. FOURTEEN years it has taken me to get to experience the joy of being pregnant. Tho it was difficult, I absolutely LOVED being pregnant. I loved watching my belly grow and feel her moving. I happily handled the sleepless nights and the constant vomiting because I told myself it was the sign of a healthy growing baby. Through the 14 years, I grieved 8 pregnancies I desperately prayed would produce its fruit here on Earth. Eight times was I in total joy when I had a positive pregnancy test and in complete grief when I felt my babies leave my body...once more leaving me feeling that I possessed a tomb and not a womb. Now, here I was, having delivered a beautiful baby girl after 14 years dealing with the reality that yes, she was here, but we weren't going to get to keep her. It's like looking into the face of heaven and being told we can not stay. You can't imagine my heart break.

In that, I also remember thinking, "He can't let her die, there are way too many people that are believing for this miracle." Somehow, I thought that because the audience of believers was so great, it would be impossible for Him to take her. Surely, He wouldn't want to lose face. Ha! This IS God we are talking about after all! I know, I know, all silly thoughts. But these really are things that crossed my mind as we went through that long weekend.

So here it is. Today, I will light my candles but I regret my portion of grace given to me for this day is not enough. I am sad/mad. I can't believe I am still part of this club. I can't believe that my arms are still empty.

When I got home from the hospital, after making arrangements for Crea's service, I went into Crea's room. I felt brave enough and having dealt with the week's events of getting her service arrangements in order and waiting for the service on Saturday, I thought I was ready. I was fine for a moment and as I walked out, I touched her crib. That was it, I fell to my knees and wept. I shouted at God. I begged God. "How can you break my heart? Why do you still leave my arms empty? I WANTED TO KEEP HER!!!!" Even as I scribe these words, tears fall down my face. These three statements run through my head at least once a day. Not always are they so desperate or painful. Sometimes, they are simple, kind statements in hopes that He will answer. But today, they are bitter and cold. I am sad.

In January of this year before we knew we were pregnant, I was sitting in church. I got to thinking about Hannah in the Bible. If you don't know the story, the short of it was that she was not able to give her husband children. He took another wife and she bore him many children. Every year, they would all go to the temple to make their offerings and give thanks and every year Hannah would go to the temple empty handed. She asked God to help her have a child. Year after year, she made that journey with her arms empty. I thought of how she must have felt. I thought about how I felt. In that service, I closed my eyes and whispered, "Don't allow me to continue to return to the temple with my arms empty." Little did I know that a baby was well on her way.

Fast forward to the Sunday after Crea's service. We went to church and during worship, I lifted my arms and worshipped. WOW! What a beautiful, painful moment. It is hard to explain. I lifted my arms and thanked the One who allowed me to carry such a perfect baby and at the same time, my heart grieved. Still today, when I go to church and worship, I can't help but cry. Here it is. This is my Broken Hallelujah. I will cry out to my God in my time of need. Equally, I will worship Him in this pain, in this grief, in these moments when I feel I can't breathe because it hurts too much. Just as I worshipped Him when I felt my daughter move in my womb or the moments I sat and listened to her heart beat strong. He is still the same. The only thing that has changed is my situation. And guess what? He knows it. I know that He is strong enough and kind enough to handle my broken hallelujah. He knows that it is bitter for me right now. He knows that in my mind, I believe there is hope but my heart's break hurts too much to believe it right now. He knows that I love Him and that I believe He sees me but He also understands that I am scared. He can handle that I have moments when I am mad because I don't understand. He also knows of the moments that I don't want to understand, I just want Him to fix it.

...I just want Him to fix it...

This was my Facebook status the day after Crea died and we were being released from the hospital::

At this moment, I am laying in the bed that served as my nest for the last 9 weeks. My faithful husband is downstairs unloading the first round of items into the truck so we can head home. The room is quiet now. No monitors letting me hear my sweet daughter's heart. No blood pressure cuff going off or knocks on the door from nurses or staff.

Just me.

I feel a physical pain in my chest that validates, "this. is. real."
The funeral home will be picking her body up in an hour.
We will be making our way to our real nest...home. There i will relearn to live again. To see my beloved Kota bear, my herd. After 2 months, I will slowly get back into a life.

I pause. Look out at the familiar scene of the brick building next to us.
I look at my still swollen belly and I can no longer feel her Ninja kicks.
At this moment, I lift my arms high with every sorrow inside me and in my spirit I cry, "I MISS HER!"
And in that same breathe, my arms fall to this bed and my heavy head lays on my chest and I whisper, "but I am so grateful that You made good on your promise to allow me to see her and be mom"

This sorrow will come in waves.
Our grief is real.
But our sincere gratitude is equally as real.

These 9 weeks have been difficult. I love what one of the nurses said to me this morning. She commented that maybe I was put on bedrest so I could be still and have time to get to know Crea so I could share her with the world.
...maybe.

For now, the tears will start and stop today.


I am still grateful. I know that hope is still present. I know this pain will subside and the questions formed by grief will be answered in its time.

These are just the ramblings of a grieved mother who is truly, truly, grateful despite.

 To close this post, I want to share something from a book a friend of mine sent me. Although, at times hard to read because of the emotion, this book has been such a blessing to me.

The book is called, "My Time in Heaven" by Richard Sigmund

Reunion of Mother and Baby
My attention was drawn to a group of about thirty-five people. They were standing in front of the veil, waiting for someone special to appear. I could tell that everyone was in an excited and joyous spirit.

There were those gathered who evidently had died many earth year ago, but here, it was only yesterday. I saw people who must have been this special person's children, sister and husband, who had long since become residents of heaven.

"There she is," someone said. A person in the group was carrying a baby. The baby had the full power of speech and was totally aware of all its surroundings. This baby cried with a high little voice, "Mommy! Mommy! There is my mommy. Jesus said that I could remain a baby and that Mommy could raise me in heaven."

How great is the love of God.

At that moment, an old, wrinkled woman, all stoop-shouldered and very frail, came through the veil. Instantly upon entering the atmosphere of heaven, she snapped completely straight-her frail, stooped over body became just as straight as could be. Suddenly, she was once again a beautiful young woman, dressed in her radiant, pure white robe of glory.

Everyone cheered with shouts of joy as the little baby flew into her arms. They had been parted at childbirth. The woman had survived concentration camp, but her baby had not.

Yet God, in His infinite mercy, saw to it that nothing was lost. The love of God is so great that no person could know it all. It truly is beyond finding out, and only eternity will tell it all.

Stood in the pasture and wept

Today I was out feeding and I stood in the pasture and wept. As I looked up at the sky I whispered, "I love you and I miss you so much!"

The rain has cleared the humidity  and everything feels so fresh. All day I was working on insurance and medical bill stuff, avoiding any of them with the name "Crea Rumbo" on them. They bring back the reality of 6 weeks ago when I got to hold our daughter in my arms and watch as she took her last breath.

Moving forward is what I attempt to do every moment. Some moments are easier than others. Standing in the pasture weeping was difficult. It's opening up and allowing myself get into grief. I know it must happen but the reality of how much it hurts is difficult. I have shared with my mom how sometimes I am afraid to allow myself to truly grief because I am afraid I will get into a spiral and not be able to get out of it. Alas, however, it is something that must be done.

While I wept, the animals came up to me and sniffed me. It's interesting how much animals can feel. They even left their food to come and make contact with me. ...God's little mercies, I think.

I know that the moments will get easier and moving forward won't feel like such a betrayal to all that was. These are the real emotions that come with losing someone so dear.

Now, as I scribe these few words, the door of her bedroom continues to make its presence known. One day soon, I will go I and sort thru all of our baby stuff. I'll put them all away in the hopes that I will one day soon begin to dream again.

All this is my reality right now. Not all moments are as difficult. I suspect when I get back to work and get into a routine, the moments will be easier.

Grief, you have my attention now. Be easy on this broken heart.

Til this lion roars again, we take each moment in stride, one foot I front of the other.

A note from Momma to Crea

 

 

I believe in the sun, even when it does not shine.

I believe in Love, even when I feel it not.

And I believe in God, even when He is silent.

 

If you have known me for any length of time, you have heard me share this. Today, I want to share with you where it is from. These words were etched on a wall of a container that was used during the holocaust.  It is believed that families were forced to strip all their clothes and were then put in these containers, much like railroad cars and they were left there to parish. When I first read these words and realized the situation this person or persons were in and they etched these words on the dark walls of what would become their tomb, the impact on me was profound. These families lost everything. Many of them were forced to watch their loved ones parish, including their husbands, wives and, yes, even their children. All earthly possessions, up to the clothes on their backs had been stripped from them. From a place that could not be more dark, more hopeless, more lonely and more silent, they wrote these words.

Today, I stand before you as a mother. I can’t express to you the pride I feel to say that. Last Friday, at 11:49am I got to look into the eyes of our most precious daughter as she blinked her eyes at me. From the table I was laying on, I reached over and touched her tiny hands as tears fell from my eyes. All I have drempt of for 14 years became a miraculous reality at 11:49 September 6.

On September 7, we held our daughter as she took her last breathes.

We have had and will continue to have many moments of sorrow and tears. But equally, we have had and will continue to have moments of great gratitude.

This journey has not been easy. But we never despised our journey.

In these few moments, if you will allow this proud mother to share, I would like to share with you some parts of the journey that you may not have known. I pray that in these next few moments, you will be inspired to believe for the extraordinary in  your own life. That you may be challenged to believe despite all obstacles for the miraculous. And most of all, that you may see and know that the God we serve IS a good God and that He is FAITHFUL, faithful, faithful!

Febuary 7, we discovered we were pregnant! What you need to know about this is that Terry had been told that he would never have children. I had been told of how difficult it would be and I already had 8 babies in heaven whom I will meet one day.

March 3, Terry and I were out in the pasture and while standing there, blood started dripping down my leg. Terry took me inside where the bleeding continued. He asked me, “do you think? Do you think?” I said, “No, I don’t think so but I don’t know.” I had a small group of friends I had shared our news with and called on them to pray. Terry and I spent the entire night praying, crying and yes, even grieving.

The next day, we went to have a sono to see if our baby was ok. And there she was, heart beating strong. We knew then that our baby was a warrior. We, here on the outside in utter panic, and she, steadfast…without worry and strong.

April 29, we had another scare with more bleeding. Another sono would reveal Crea still without worry, strong.

May 28 we received the news that she had omphelecelle and spina bifida. We were left speechless. But because she was still fighting, we were going to fight with her. At that moment, as a family, we knew we were going to believe.  That afternoon, on our way home, there was a small homemade sign on the side of the road that read, “Believe”. There was no doubt in our minds that we were in this for the long haul. We shared with everyone the diagnosis and we all prayed, believing for a miracle.

June 25, we returned to the doctor and they mentioned NOTHING of the Spina Bifida. Our prayers had been answered and Crea was still fighting, still strong.

July 8 at 4am my water bag ruptured. This would begin 9 weeks of bedrest.

Crea was physically on this earth, outside my womb for 25 hours. It was only 25 hours that we got to see her face, touch her hands and kiss her face. But in the last week, I have reflected on what made her impact on all of us so profound. This is what I believe. Crea never knew worry. She never knew fear. She never thought of the what if’s. She never experienced doubt.

It is through her life in my womb, without worry. Strong. That we have learned true faith. We have learned to believe despite. No matter what the situation was around her, her spirit was steadfast. Through her beating heart, we continued to believe in the impossible. Terry and I continued to dream of what Thanksgiving and Christmas would be for our little family this year.

Crea was a dream come true! Every step of the journey, she defied odds and helped us believe in this miracle! Crea lived as she had been named! It is thru her incredible strength and purest trust and reliance in God that I can stand here today, even in the deepest of grief that I can tell you with uncensored boldness that there is a God who loves us and desires to give us our desires. The wait may seem too long. The journey may seem impossible. The disappointment may be to great or the fear too overwhelming. And in the end, it may not look like we thought it would look, but if we can BELIEVE He is good and He is faithful, we will see his promise unfold before us!!!

He did what He said he would do! Terry and I are parents. We held our baby girl and a small part of each of us in her. What an absolute honor to be her parents.  To a little girl that has impacted so many. Crea, my sweet, sweet girl, doctors told us of all your physical imperfections but your spirit and your life and what you have taught us were all so perfect!!

How can I stand here and be mad? Will I have moments that missing her seems too much to bear? Absolutely.  I think about the mother's days and father's days to come. The holidays that Terry and I had already planned out and it hurts me to think of walking thru those days. But inside, I know that her incredible legacy will strengthen us because we will not allow the promise that was fulfilled Sept 6 to be dishonored.

Terry is an amazing father. My love, my love, what words can I ever find to express the good, kind and noble man that you are?  You are God's restoring hand in my life.
And iIam a mother. I thank Him. I am so grateful. So honored.

In the many moments that are to come, no matter the emotion I must walk thru, gratitude will be constant in my life. I am truly, truly grateful for this journey.

If you do not believe our God is real. Is good.  And is faithful because you feel He has disappointed you or didn't answer the way you wanted, let me challenge you today. His goodness and faithfulness are not bound by what is fair. "Fair" would mean my daughter would still be here on earth. It would only be fair to expect that this would have turned out differently...the way I saw it should be.

But after all my selfish motives have melted away, and I allow anger to also make its way out of my life, the situation is this...
We get to be parents to an amazing little girl who is forever pure and innocent and is probably up in heaven riding Zoe, playing with Flinty and her 8 siblings.

We can look back at this journey and know our faith is being built beyond what we could imagine.
And most of all, we are so grateful. Terry and I spoke about if we knew how it would go, we would still do it again. She has been worth every moment!

There was a sign hung in the room where we got to spend our moments with her. It read, “Life is not measured by the breathes you take, but by the moments that take your breathe away”

Crea, you took your last breathes in that room while taking our breathe away. Mi niña, my love, my heart manifested on this earth, we love you. We will miss not having you in our earthly moments. We look forward to seeing you again soon, my sweet sweet girl!  En todo el mundo, no aye otra como tu! Siempre estare agradecida que fuiste mi hija. Te amo. Te amo.

Thank you for showing us to believe despite.

 

Tired of crying

Grief is an interesting thing. It comes out of no where.  At any moment, I am mozing along my day feeling pretty good and all of the sudden, I feel it; a large knot in my chest that makes its way up to my throat. Then all of the sudden, out of no where, a thought comes to mind and I am fighting back tears.

Here's the thing...

I am mad/sad.  We are being honest about this process, right?  So there it is. I am mad/sad. I read something the other day that said something to the effect of how God can handle my mad.  At the time when I read it I thought, "I'm not mad." But today, I am mad/sad.  I am mad that I a sad.  I am not normally a sad person.  In fact, my periods of sad are often tempered with the moving on of life. However, today I find that because of my physical limitations and the fact that I don't get to go back to work yet, my "moving on" is incredibly limited.

Today, I ran into town to get Terry's new glasses and I sat in the parking lot for 15 minutes.  I looked all around watching the parking lot to make sure I wouldn't see anyone that knew me. What in the world?!?

For the most part, our moments have been good lately. I guess the moments today are just part of it. We have an appointment coming up where I will get to see if they release me for work. We are also hoping to get results from bloodwork they took on Crea. We are hoping it will give us some answers as to what, why, etc.  I have set in my mind there is a chance we may never know the why. 

Today, my mind has been scattered (if you can't tell by this post). When I started crying, I got mad and said, "I'm so damn tired of crying! You are going to be ok woman!"  (Yes, I call myself woman.)
I know that this too will pass. I think once I get to work, it will make it a little easier.

For now, pardon my not so cheery post. But we've got to take the good with the not so good....and this is part of the latter.

Mad/sad comes in waves. For now, I just buckle down til it passes and as those around me have said to me, I "must be patient with myself".

PS
Amazingly, thru my mad/sad day, this song has been in my head all day.  I shared it on FB today and if you have a chance, what the video. The song is SO powerful!  She wrote it for a friend of hers that was pregnant when she found out she had breast cancer. She went thru chemo while pregnant and delivered a healthy baby, but she is still fighting.

Also, they have footage of one of my heroes, Robin Roberts thru her fight. There is one part that Robin Roberts is in her hospital room crying...I welled up with tears because I remember sitting in my hospital room at times crying. There were such hard days. It also got me to reflecting on the day we were getting ready to leave the hospital without our baby girl.

I'd like to share the status I posted that morning....

At this moment, I am laying in the bed that served as my nest for the last 9 weeks. My faithful husband is downstairs unloading the first round of items into the truck so we can head home. The room is quiet now. No monitors letting me hear my sweet daughter's heart. No blood pressure cuff going off or knocks on the door from nurses or staff.
Just me.
I feel a physical pain in my chest that validates, "this. is. real."
The funeral home will be picking her body up in an hour.
We will be making our way to our real nest...home. There i will relearn to live again. To see my beloved Kota bear, my herd. After 2 months, I will slowly get back into a life.
I pause. Look out at the familiar scene of the brick building next to us.
I look at my still swollen belly and I can no longer feel her Ninja kicks.
At this moment, I lift my arms high with every sorrow inside me and in my spirit I cry, "I MISS HER!"
And in that same breathe, my arms fall to this bed and my heavy head lays on my chest and I whisper, "but I am so grateful that you made good on your promise to allow me to see her and be mom"

This sorrow will come in waves.
Our grief is real.
But our sincere gratitude is equally as real.

These 9 weeks have been difficult. I love what one of the nurses said to me this morning. She commented that maybe I was put on bedrest so I could be still and have time to get to know Crea so I could share her with the world.
...maybe.

For now, the tears will start and stop today.

The extent of her strength

(Our sweet girl, Crea, in Momma's arms)

 

 

When we found out about Crea’s disabilities, the doctor told us not to go online. He said there was so much information out there, some right, some not so right, it would overwhelm us. We accepted what he shared with us and we never went online.

Fast forward to the other day.  I was home and curious. I searched Omphalecele. Boy!  After just 10 minutes of clicking on link after link, I was overwhelmed! I shut the screens and sat at my desk. As I sat there and tears filled my eyes, I smiled. “Thank you baby girl. Thank you for being so strong”, I whispered.

Here is the thing, as I read through the words on these screens, I realized Crea was 1 in a million. Not in a good way. All the words on the screen where laying out the severities of omphalecele and all the other possible things that could be wrong but weren’t “common”. In fact, many articles shared how “rare” the chances were of having this, this and that. As I read through all the possibilities and realized our little girl had all the other possibilities of complications, I realized how absolutely miraculous it was that we got to meet her! Not only did she fight and stay strong in a womb with no water bag for over 10 weeks, she was born alive, went through 3 hours of surgery at just 2 hours old and still fought to allow us to hold her and spend time with her.

She fought all the odds.

She won.

We won.

I knew that she was a warrior. I knew that she was a miracle. I knew spending time with her was a miracle manifested on this earth especially for us. But reading through all the possibilities and how impossible it was for her, my heart overflowed with gratitude. To her. To her maker. To our journey.

Tonight, as I scribe these words and I reflect on a weekend well spent with my faithful husband, my heart is so content. I have spent the weekend talking about our journey and our baby girl with no tears; only joy, gratitude and pride. I look at her pictures and I am so, so proud. No, these earthly moments aren’t always easy living without her, but truly, without reservation, my heart is content. My dream came true because of her strength. I am grateful.

Waiting to find my Cadence

Today I went to lunch with my sis-in-law.  What a blessing it was to sit with her and my adorable nephew!

Lately, when I get in the shower to get ready for a day where I know I will be venturing into the big, wide world, I hear a song in my head. It’s a country song, of course. I’m not sure what all the versus are, but the chorus says, “this learning to live again is killing me.” I try not to allow myself to think about it, but when I am putting mousse in my hair and getting my makeup on, there it is…”this learning to live again is killing me.”

Today, when I started hearing it, I said outload, “I don’t accept it!” My thoughts overloaded into all the reasons I am going to be fine. All the reasons I can’t let that become my mantra. 

As I sat with my sister and we were talking, I started sharing about how I struggle to get out and about.  I know it is necessary and normally, I am Miss Social. But these days I find that getting ready means that I am going to go out which also means I am going to see people which also means I may see people I know that don’t know which means I may have to share our news. I explained to her that as hard as it is for me to share this news, it is harder for me to see their faces and know they will struggle with what to say. I feel bad for them. (I know, this may all sound crazy, but this is my reality right now.) Going out also means that I may have to speak to strangers and because I still look pregnant, with all good intentions, they may strike up a conversation asking the typical “pregnant questions” such as “is this your first?” etc. etc…

I don’t look forward to those awkward encounters and it isn’t so much about me, but about others. Terry and I have spoken about how hard it must be for folks. I mean, what do you say? We don’t know what we would say if we had friends that had to bury their new born child. Equally, it is hard for me because I have to fight with the fear of facing folks that know us, know our story and look at me with eyes that feel sorry for me. Before we got pregnant, I shared with my mom that one of the hardest things about being so open about infertility is I always felt that people looked at me and all they could think about when they saw me was how sorry they felt for me. I know with all my heart that it wasn’t that they were being ugly, but it was always out of a genuine heart of care and concern. Now, I feel I have a banner over me that reads, “Bereaved Mother”. Now I feel sad that they will see me and feel even more sorry for me. Both my mom and sister shared how it all comes out of a place of deep love for us. I completely agree. It is still hard.

As I sat there and shared some of my thoughts with my sister, I found the words I had been looking for regarding learning to live again. I kept saying, “It’s just going to take time.” But in my talking about how I feel ready to get back to work, I said, “I’m just waiting to hear my cadence again.” There it is! I feel like my life’s cadence, the beat that made me move each day, that motivated my pace and kept me above the fold is silent right now. It may all be part of the grief process. I don’t know. But I feel that once I can start hearing my life’s cadence, I can begin to really move.  

I have dealt with grief and disappointment before. When I miscarried the first, second, third, fourth and straight to the eighth time, I dealt with grief; with the disappointment and my heart being broken. This time is different tho. There was a nurse that I was speaking to in the hospital about miscarriage. I told her, “Loss is loss and grief is still grief.” This, of course, was before I knew we would have to say good-bye to our sweet daughter so soon. Yes, I still believe loss is loss and grief is grief,  but I do believe there is a different level of loss and grief. This grief has overwhelmed me more than I have ever felt before. Maybe its because when I close my eyes I can still picture her chubby little hands or smell her. Maybe its because there are times that I still catch myself holding my stomach as I did when I was pregnant every time I told her I was “hugging” her. I don’t know.

But for now, tonight, I still wait to hear my cadence. I know when I can begin to hear this again, it will be easier to move. I can’t say move on because I am still dealing with things surrounding that. (more on that in another scribe) But for now, I have to take the successes of getting out, having a wonderful lunch with my sister and some great laughs with my parents and accept this day as a victory of learning to live again.

I miss my sweet girl. And although life is not as I imagined it would be for us, I am grateful for the wonderful family and friends around us that are God’s goodness and grace manifested on this earth.

You are stronger than you think!

This journey has not been an easy one.  But our decision to accept has been the difference between us falling apart and standing.

I am reminded of the Serenity Prayer. It says , "Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference."
I have heard those words so many times, yet they never resounded as much as they do these days in my life.

First off, serenity means to be in a state of no stress or emotion and to have steadiness of mind. WOW! What an absolutely amazing state to live in...even for just a moment. I can't say that we have lived in the state every moment, but when I reflect on the past year, considering the moments that were filled with so much uncertainty and many moments of great fear, I truly believe that there was a consistent Voice in us saying, "It's going to be ok, don't give up." At 18 weeks, we were so excited to have our sonogram that would reveal to us if we were having a boy or a girl. We made it a family affair and had Terry's mom and my parents go with us so we could all see our little miracle. That day, in a day that we thought we would walk out in great joy, we walked out of that appointment in a great grief. The doctor could  not see if Crea was going to be a boy or girl because her organs were outside of her body and her spine was crooked and undeveloped. It was that day we were told of her diagnosis of Spina Bifida and Omphelecelle; our hearts were broken.

 But even in that moment, we saw Crea moving around, kicking her little ninja legs, listening to her strong heart. Yes, we accepted what the doctors were saying, but more than that, we accepted, received and owned that she was still fighting, still strong, and still showing hope.

In the past few months, we have had many people comment to us about our strength through it all. We have heard things like, "I don't know how you do it" and "I couldn't be that strong". Where we are blessed for the encouragement, the last week has had me thinking. Terry and I never imagined that this would be our story. If someone told us what this year would look like before it happened, we would probably have said, "No thanks! That is way more than we have the strength to endure."

This is what I believe to be true.

 We are all stronger than we think. We all have something inside of us that causes us to endure more than we ever imagined. We all have something inside of us that will fight for joy and hope. I believe the key to gaining this strength is our willingness to accept. I don't mean accept everything. Terry and I never accepted the birth defects doctors said our daughter would have. We fought and believed to the very end that she would be exception. Even tho we would be set back for a moment with bad news, after we dealt with the blow, we shook it off, stood back up and continued to believe in the miraculous.

But when all was said and done and our daughter passed away, there was nothing left we could do to change it. We had to hit a point of acceptance to our reality. And our reality was this - We experienced a miracle. With all our believing, our daughter had been born to us. We got to see her face, hold her chubby little hands, kiss her head and smell our newborn baby girl. We did it. We three fought. We won. Some would look at our reality and say that it was all for not. Some would be disappointed because it would all seem like a failure. The question we were asked to answer is "what are we willing to accept?"

So I say all this to say what?

 We ALL have experienced and will experience tragedy, heart ache and disappointment. Regardless if we like it or not, it is part of this life. We have endured because we had to. When we were making arrangements for Crea's service, my dad and I were at my house and he was standing there as I was gathering my things so we could leave. I turned around and he looked at me and said, "You are so strong, mija." My response was, "Pues que hacemos?" (Translated - Well what do we do?)
As much as I wanted things to be different, our situation this time was not going to change. What I could change, what I still had the power to influence, was my response.

No matter what you are going through, know this. We may not be able to change our situation, but we can always change our response. Believe me when I say, "You are stronger than you think!"

God's Little Mercies

The days go by and every single day different events from the past few months replay in my head. As I replay them, in the typical Elisa/Lizzie form, I analyze them.

The other day Terry was sharing about how he regrets he wasn’t there at Crea’s birth. When he said that, I told him that I wondered if that was one of God’s little mercies. Because I was laying on a table with a curtain between my head and the rest of my body, I didn’t see when they pulled Crea from my womb.

The doctors later shared with us that she was born not only with all her organs outside her body, but the bag that normally holds all the organs in place had ruptured. They took her to surgery and it was there that they would place all her organs in a bag to help keep moisture to them til we could figure out what the next steps were.

…at a later time, I will share what they found in surgery and what transpired the hours after that til she took her last breathes.

For now, in thinking of God’s little mercies, I also thought about our very first day at the hospital; July 8 2013.

At 4am, my water bag ruptured. It was a Monday morning. Sunday, after going to CareNow, they started me on antibiotics because I had strep throat. On Sunday, I told Terry that I felt bad for Crea because I had been coughing so much and so hard she was probably in there wondering what the heck was going on.

Terry and I drove to the nearest hospital which was in Denton and by 7am we were well on our way to Ft Worth in the ambulance. I have never made it faster in Monday morning traffic! I smile when I think about looking up at Terry; he was like a little kid. He kept looking out the front window telling me how all the cars were moving over…he was so excited! (I love this man of mine.)

When we got to the hospital, our doctor met us and said there was a chance that we would be delivering that day. We set into prayer mode. We were only at 24 weeks and we knew that delivering her that early wasn’t a good thing. He told us that normally, when the water bag ruptures, delivery is eminent within 3 days. We prayed and believed we would make it passed the 3 days. Then the 7 days. Then the many weeks to get us to week 28 which was the week they said they needed her to be at before they could even consider operating. We actually made it to 34 weeks!

But when we were in the room that very first day, waiting to see what would happen, they had one of the NICU doctors come and speak to us.  He had been briefed about Crea’s diagnosis’ and he wanted to explain what all this meant for him. During that time, he also talked to us about what they are capable of. He said they had amazing machines who could support life for as long as we wanted. He said the question you have to ask yourself is, “are you prolonging the inevitable or are you helping to get to the next step of healing.”

At the time, when he shared this, Terry and I felt that it would never apply to us. The doctor spoke so tenderly, we received his words but never thought they would return to our minds.

Fast forward to the night of Sept 6, 2013. Crea was out of surgery and we were waiting to see if her body would respond. Her NICU doctor told us, “I need to see that she is still fighting.”

It was a long night.

Terry and I spoke that night about all they had told us they found during the operation. The entire 8 months that we had been going through this journey, we did because she did. We knew that the fight started and stopped with her. When we went to see her after the operation, it was a difficult visit. She had an entire section of the NICU separated for her because of the amount of machines she needed. It was overwhelming…more on that later.

Now, Terry and I speak of how that doctors words resonated in our minds that night. Words we thought would never apply to us. Here we were, thinking we would have to make a decision no parent should ever have to make. But because those seeds had been planted two months before, they were not foreign to us nor were they harmful to us.  We were blessed that we were not forced to make that choice…in her typical, strong form, Crea chose. She had no fight left within her and she was ready.  Yet another one of God’s mercies…

We have had many people tell us they don’t know how we have done it. How we have gone through this journey. This is what we say.

You never know what you are able to get through until you are forced to go through. The human spirit is an amazing thing. The love of a parent is an amazing thing. In the end, Terry and I made a choice. We knew that this journey could make us better or bitter. We had a choice. And as Terry said, “I will not dishonor my daughter’s life.”  I believe the ability to live a life of excellence and a life of joy is in all of us. Despite what happens. Despite our circumstance. Despite our past. We have a choice to believe that there is good and there can be good brought out of any situation. It is a choice…to believe despite.

We are grateful for God’s little mercies along the ways that have protected us and is helping us get thru each moment.

Waiting for 11:49am

It is Friday, September 20, 2013, 11:42am. This morning, I found myself up early, kind of tinkering around the house doing a little of this and a little of that. Mostly tho, I have been sitting outside rocking on my chair on the front porch listening and watching the rain. I inhale deeply and sigh. The rain is so refreshing. As I sit outside, I look at my clock and I think, "Just a few more minutes."

The last few days I find myself waking up at night and almost resenting the fact that I am sleeping through the entire night. I feel things should be different. In the mornings I wake and try to find things that will occupy my day. That sounds easier than it is because since I had the C-section, my mobility is still limited. That, coupled with the fact that I have been in bed for 2 months, I find that even the smallest of tasks leaves me winded. I tell Terry that it adds insult to the injury sometimes because I do feel somewhat useless right now. My husband, in his loving way, looks at me tenderly and says, "It's all part of it, momma. It won't be long."

11:49am.

Exactly two weeks ago, our daughter, Crea Jacqeline Rumbo, was born!! My heart smiles.

When she was born, there was a doctor that was sitting beside me, holding my hand the entire time. You see, that morning had been full of all kinds of excitement. I guess I should start at the beginning. I will share more about the weeks leading up to her birth, but this morning, I wanted to share about the very first time I met her.

  That morning, I was up early because I really hadn't slept much. We had been having contractions on and off and let's just say they weren't very fun or easy to sleep through. Every time a contraction would hit, Crea would wiggle around. Because she was #1, bigger and #2, there was no water bag, the discomfort was no fun. My nurse that day, Tracy, came into the room and asked how we were doing. I told her I hadn't slept much and I felt the contractions where getting closer and longer. She went ahead and put Crea and I on the monitor so we could see what was going on. I liked being on the monitor because I could hear my sweet girl's heart and movements. Even at this moment, videos I have of her heartbeat soothe me. Without going into the exact details of the next few hours, it turned out that I had dilated from 1 to 5 that morning. When the doctor came in and found I was at 5, I was on my way to delivery.

I called Terry. I asked the doctor if we could just wait one hour for him to get there. "No, we've got to deliver now", she said. As they wheeled my bed through the halls of the third floor and we made our way to Labor and Delivery, I prayed and asked God for peace and I asked him to help my husband and family get there with no incident. This had been what I was afraid would happen all along. I had hoped we would all have time. In that prayer, I immediately felt peace.

They prepped me for surgery and we were in the operating room within 15 minutes. When they rolled me in, I was overwhelmed at how many people were there. I knew there would be many because they had told us they'd have all the specialists, etc there for Crea, but it was overwhelming. Within a few minutes, they had begun. The doctor beside me, who never let go of my hand, stood to look over the curtain and tells me, "she's almost here." I hear, "Birth time 11:49am" when he informs me that she is here.

 I don't hear her cry. I ask him why she isn't crying. The entire time he is calm. He tells me they are all working on her. I don't know if the moments where seconds, minutes or hours, but I don't think I took one single breathe til I heard her cry. OH! THAT CRY! My heart leapt! Three small cries. Enough to make this mother fall into pieces. I hear one of the nurses say, "Goodness! She is so alert. She is looking around at everything." I smile through my tears and think, "She's nosey like her momma!"

The next minutes seemed to drag. The doctor next to me says that they are going to have to take her downstairs to NICU where the other doctors are waiting, but they will bring Crea to me before they take her so I can see her. I can still feel the doctor on the other side of the curtain working to get everything sewn back up. I can't stop crying.

When they finally brought her to my side, she was in a glass case. She already had tubes in her nose and mouth. There was a little door they opened so I could reach in. I grabbed her tiny hand. It was so chubby. When I did, she opened her eyes and blinked at me a couple of times. "Mi nina. Preciosa."

I cried. His Promise manifested in our lives. There she was! Strong. Perfect. 11:49am.

  It's been two weeks. There are moments it seems like it has been months and then moments it seems like just yesterday. I have spent much time writing through the ups and downs of this experience. I plan to share blogs I wrote in the hospital, thoughts before I was in the hospital and the weeks to come as we sort through our joy and our grief. I tell Terry that the next year is constantly going to be bittersweet. We will be happy about certain things, but they will also sting. Just last night we were talking about hunting season coming up. I hadn't planned on going out at all this year since we would have a newborn. That plan is now altered. We don't know why. But this is our reality. For the good and the bad.

In all of it tho, even the moments that are hard, I think about her chubby little hands and her blinky eyes and I am so grateful for the hope, the strength and the belief she has inspired in me. I can't say enough...this little girl has taught this momma a new way to live. The days of grief and missing her will become more distant with time and I am grateful for that. Equally, the days of living in a new joy, a new, greater expectation will also increase. For this, Terry and I are grateful.