Eilian Brennan

It had, mercifully, been four and a half years since I last named a baby I would never hold. For the last 3 years, "miscarriage" was a word that belonged to the past, the before, the then. And then the worlds collided. I have struggled this last week and a half to put words to my grief in a way I never have before. Not in the sense that my grief is greater than before. It's sudden return was shocking, and came at a time when I was already emotionally and physically at my limits. And yet, it was an old friend, and we sat in silence taking in each others company again. Not necessarily uncomfortable, but a constant companion whose presence I have long since accepted and even welcomed. The lessons of my past flooded back to me. The ways that, over many difficult years, I had disciplined my thoughts and feelings to stay in line with what is true and what is helpful were pulled from the files in the backroom of my brain. Dusty, but there, ready to be called upon. In the past, Grief has often brought her unsavory friends along; Anger, Bitterness, Guilt, or Shame. But not this time. This time, it was just grief and me. It was steady, and pure. She's been coming and going the last few days. I know from experience that in time she'll be gone much more than she comes around. The door is open for her to come and go; sometimes I see her coming, and sometimes she drops in unexpectedly, but this time, I haven't asked her to linger, nor have I felt guilty for her absence when she's away.

I used to think grief was something to be "dealt with" and privately at that. I used to think there was shame in tears. And then I learned that grief is love with no place to go. Tears are a spilling out of that love that cannot be poured into the child I have lost. There is nothing more natural and right than the love of a mother for her child. To grieve deeply is to love deeply and to keenly feel the brokenness of the world and of our own bodies. Love in a fallen world and fallen bodies... there's a reason I have a necklace with my lost babies' birthstones with the inscription "Love is Brave"; to love is to risk becoming acquainted with grief. But I no longer fear grief. So when I am inevitibly asked how I am doing; I am grieving, and that's ok. I am crying, and that's ok. This is a sorrowful moment in time, but I am putting one foot in front of the other, and believing that better days will come, even as my old friend Grief joins me on the way. Better days will come; in this life, and the next, when I finally stand next to all of my children and worship the Lord with them fully, even as I worship him here and now in the midst of earthly trials.

Eilian Brennan. My fourth child gone before I ever had the chance to hold them, whose existence was discovered during one of the most chaotic and stressful weeks of my life, and yet dearly and deeply loved and wanted and rejoiced over. And so, so missed.

"When through the deep waters I call thee to go, The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow; For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless, And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie, My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply; The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine."

May the Lord use this child to further sanctify me and draw him to himself. May he be glorified, even by the brief moment of time that this child lived inside me. May he continue to use this child and my story to bless and encourage others in their own times of distress. May he help me to love and grieve this child well.

Ezra's Birth Story

 

Ezra is nearly 3 months old already, which means I’ve spent 88 days gushing over what an amazing experience his birth was, especially compared to Simeon’s! I started writing this story down when he was only a couple of weeks old, which means that this post was it's own labor of love. It's been so fun to sit down with it and relive it as I wrote it bit by bit. I hope you enjoy it too. Though, fair warning, I do go into a good deal of detail, if that's not something you're super comfortable with (particularly if I'm your pastor's wife, HA!) I won't be offended if you don't read it.

Moms are often told “all that matters is a healthy baby and mom” but I don’t think this is true. Of course a healthy outcome is the most important thing, but it’s not “all that matters”. How you get there and how you are made to feel on the way matter immensely too. Simeon’s birth was not the experience I wanted, of course I was happy that he was born healthy, but honestly I was made to feel very small and it was not at all the experience I wanted after 4 and a half years of waiting to welcome him into my arms. As soon as he was born, I began hoping that maybe next time would be the birth I wanted.

At 21 weeks pregnant with Ezra, my little family packed up, left Mississippi, and moved to Virginia, which also meant finding a new doctor, and the opportunity to be picky. Actually, I wanted a midwife hospital birth, and I had a midwife and hospital picked out before we even knew for sure we were moving here. I had my records sent, and I was excited! Then we got here and when I called to set up my first appointment, the midwives in the practice looked over my records and decided that my antiphospholipid syndrome put me at too high of a risk for them to take me as a patient. I literally cried. When I shared my disappointment, a number of our family and friends said they'd pray that it would work out, but I knew it just wasn't going to. But the midwife, Becca, called and talked to me personally, talked me through my options, and personally reached out to the other providers in the hospital and sent me a list of recommendations. There was one woman on the list, and she was a D.O. which immediately piqued my interest, knowing that D.O.s tend to lean more natural and holistic, so I set up an appointment. I hit her with every single hardball and all of my non-negotiable birth choices I could in my first appointment, and she absolutely knocked it out of the park. I left feeling confident that this was the best compromise of what I wanted and what I needed in a provider and a birth plan, and that my doctor truly cared about what I wanted and wasn't just willing to go along with it, but truly supported me every step of the way. I left every appointment feeling that way. We made our plans and contingency plans, and hoped and prayed I would go into labor naturally and not need an induction.

And so, we arrived at the hospital the night of October 5 to begin my induction, much to my disappointment. I knew my best chance at the birth I wanted did NOT include pitocin, but I also knew that, at nearly a week past my due date, we had pushed this baby and placenta as far as we were willing to with APS.

 A side note of explanation of just one of the reasons I didn't want pitocin: pitocin is synthetic oxytocin. Oxytocin is made in your brain and is the main hormone that controls labor. It's also a bonding and "happy" hormone. When you have pitocin instead of oxytocin, that synthetic oxytocin doesn't cross the blood/brain barrier, so you don't get any of the mood boosting effects that you would during normal labor, creating a much harder "mental game".

So, we checked into the hospital. My birth plan involved a big fat tub, I knew this was going to make going unmedicated much easier for me; it was the reason I initially chose my hospital. The problem is, there are only a few tub rooms. When I had called earlier in the day to find out what time to be there, I asked and they hadn't had one available. Then when Matt and I were getting dinner before going in, they had called and asked us to come later because they didn't have a single labor and delivery room available, so I began to give up that dream. When we arrived, the nurse at registration said "you had wanted a tub room, right?" to which I replied that I did, but knew it may not be possible, and then she said some beautiful words: "Okay, Blair will take you right down!"

Y'all, LOOK AT THIS TUB.

So, we settled in, and waited. Remember, two hours earlier, they had no rooms. It was a busy night on the floor. Around midnight, I finally got my first dose of cytotec. This is a medication that is supposed to help with thinning and effacement, basically priming my body for labor, and it's taken every six hours. So Matt and I played some games, watched a show, and went to bed for a very uneventful evening. I had thought that we would start pitocin in the morning right away, but my doctor checked me and I was still not even 1cm dilated so she didn't think my body was ready yet, so we kept waiting a few more hours. Around this time, my birth class instructor from before Simeon was born was messaging me and I was letting her know what was going on, and she and my doulas helped me decide to request a foley bulb to try to help progress things along. A foley bulb is supposed to manually dilate you to around 4cm This wasn't something that had worked well for me with Simeon, but my hope was that in combination with the cytotec and also it being my second birth, that it would work better this time and it sure did! Where it had taken 20 hours with Simeon to get to 3cm, 3 hours later I had gone from not even 1cm to 6cm already!

I had been hoping that being at 6cm would mean I would enter active labor on my own, but it didn't happen soon enough, and we went ahead with the pitocin an hour later around 7:30pm. Hospital policy was to increase it every 30-60 minutes until active labor started, which they define as contractions every 2 minutes. At 9pm I asked my doulas to come in as I felt we were finally approaching active labor. They came and we chatted and just hung out as I was still not even really feeling contractions.

After a while, we noticed that the nurse hadn't come to increase the pitocin in over and hour, and I was a bit irritated by this, as I wanted to get things moving! When she came in she checked my iv but I didn't see her adjust the pitocin so I asked her, and she said she hadn't. Matt and my main doula, Shalene, were deep in conversation and hadn't noticed, but the doula student, Lindsay, who was there had, and she and I just looked at each other very confused, then let Shalene and Matt know what had happened. Lindsay was given the task of going out and asking the nurses why it wasn't being increased, and the nurse came in to explain that the monitor was showing that I was having strong contractions every 2 minutes and hospital policy said they couldn't increase it any more than that.

I NEVER went into this induction thinking I'd be ASKING for more pitocin!

After staring at the nurse in confusion for a minute I told her that it was news to me that I was even having contractions, as I wasn't feeling them. The nurse left and I was feeling pretty tired so my doulas left to try to let me rest some. When the nurse came in again I asked her what options were for helping labor progress at this point, since I was clearly not in active labor, and she said that maybe my doctor could break my water, but that was the only real option at that point. I asked to speak with the doctor and have her check my progress, and had the doulas come back in for the discussion. What followed was quite possibly my favorite part of this birth process besides actually giving birth.

Shalene and Lindsay came in, and so did my doctor, Dr. Barwick. She checked me and I hadn't progressed much in the last little bit, and she was surprised to see how laid back and calm things were for someone who was supposedly in active labor according to the monitors! We asked about options for progressing labor from this point, and she explained that hospital policy prevented a nurse from increasing pitocin at this point in order to prevent putting too much strain on the body and creating a potential for uterine rupture, but that she, as the doctor, could override that policy based on clinical findings (aka, a patient who was clearly NOT in active labor). My doulas asked questions for me, I asked questions, and my doctor answered them patiently, thoughtfully, and respectfully. Shalene asked which option was best given my desire for an unmedicated birth, and my doctor, agreeing that was the main consideration, recommended increasing the pitocin and leaving my water intact, the idea being that you could decrease the pitocin, but breaking my water could cause things to become intense, would increase the amount of pain I felt, and would be more stress on the baby, with no turning back. The amount of respect and camaraderie I witnessed in that conversation absolutely stunned me. Every person in the room was invested in what I wanted, in the choices I had made, and in preserving those choices as best as possible. In that moment it struck me that this was truly a team; it was MY team, MY birth, and MY choice how we proceeded. No coercing, no manipulating, just facts and considerations and support. Whereas Simeon's birth had felt like a bulldozer, telling me what was going to happen, this birth was in my control as much as it could be. It was in that moment that I thought to myself "we're really going to do this this time!" The confidence I felt in that moment would carry me through the next 8 hours.

The pitocin was increased, and I tried to lay down and rest, and the doulas went back to their post in the waiting lounge to rest and wait. No resting was done. Within an hour I was in full-on active labor. I texted the doulas and told them I wanted to get in the tub ASAP. They came in and filled the tub, and I spent the next 2 hours there. It was everything I hoped and dreamed! It was dark except for a purple light in the tub, Shalene set up some electric candles, Matt rubbed my back and squeezed my hand through each contraction. He and Shalene and Lindsay chatted a bit, but everyone's focus was on me, and I mentally retreated into myself, riding the waves, and amazed at how natural it felt for an induction compared to my last one. I started to feel a little nauseous but suspected it was from hunger, so I ate some forbidden peanut butter crackers and it helped a bit. Just before 4am the nurse came in to give me my antibiotics, and then told me she needed to see my line because the i.v wasn't working. It turns out that it had gotten bumped or knocked in the process of getting in the tub and I hadn't actually been on pitocin in hours! I was laboring naturally afterall! I laughed at the providence of it all, then announced I was starting to feel pushy and they should probably get me out of the tub! It was the fastest I'd seen the nurse move all night to get me out of there (they frown on tub births) ha! As I was getting out I asked for Zofran because I was feeling really queasy, even after my forbidden snack! I went to the bathroom, tried to get my robe back on while hooked up to the iv pole and monitors, so it took a few minutes for the nurse to get the Zofran and get a chance to push it through my (now functionining) iv. At that moment my doctor came in for the first time since agreeing to increase my pitocin, and was blown away by the change in atmosphere! She checked me (she insisted on being the only one checking me because I had told her that during Simeon's birth I was told I had progressed when I hadn't because of different people checking!). I knew things were moving quick at this point, but wasn't quite prepared for the next few minutes. If you aren't a birth junky you may want to skip the next few lines and start at the next paragraph...She checked and I was at an 8. As she helped me sit up I felt a pop deep inside and said really calmly, "there goes my water" everyone looked at me confused for about 2 seconds before sure enough, there it came! At almost the same moment I choked out "I'm gonna throw up" but it was too quiet and the only one who heard the first time was Lindsay, as everyone else asked me to repeat myself, my HERO Lindsay rushed to the nurses cart shouting "She said she's gonna throw up!" and sprinted back with an emesis bag just in the nick of time! It was the most overwhelming moment of my entire life. puking, gushing, fluid everywhere, continuing to have strong contractions through it all...

And I thought to myself for the first time all night, "WHY DON'T I HAVE AN EPIDURAL" which immediately triggered the thought, "ahhh I know what this is. This is transition. good, we are progressing! I can roll with this. The end is near!" Dr. Barwick headed out, warning me that if it was busy she may have to have the midwife on call cover for her later, and that was the last I would see her until Ezra was a few hours old!

Less than ten minutes afterwards I started feeling the irresistible urge to push and the nurse told me that since I was pushing she needed to check me instead of waiting for the doctor, and sure enough, at 4:25am I was 10cm! She called for the doctor to come in, but Dr. Barwick had been called into an emergency, and in walked none other than Certified Nurse Midwife Rebecca White! The midwife I had wanted to see when I moved to Virginia and wasn't able to. I think I may have actually laughed for half a second in between contractions.

It took my body about an hour to work itself into the right rhythm and for me to get into a good position. During that time I sat on what is called a birthing stool and laid my head on the end of the bed. Shortly after taking this position it occurred to everyone in the room that no-one would be able to see if Ezra started to crown. Instead of insisting I move, Becca and Shalene LAID ON THE FLOOR with flashlights to be sure they would be able to see and catch him if needed! A side note: not once the whole time did anyone even ask me if they could turn on a light, they just worked in the dim lighting that felt comfortable for me, using flashlights when needed. Honestly the absolute respect and courtesy of everyone towards me still makes me want to cry happy tears when I think about it!

As I sat there with my doula and midwife laying on the ground, Matt sat on the birthing ball to the side of the bed and held my hand. We were both utterly exhausted and falling asleep at this point. It was 5am, we'd barely slept in 2 days, and yet it was such a sweet time together in those moments. Eventually things got stronger, my body got the rhythm of pushing with contractions, and I decided to change positions and use the birthing bar on the bed. I could squat during contractions to push, then lay back on the bed and rest, which worked really well for a while, but eventually my legs were giving out from squatting and I just used the birthing bar to brace my legs on. I was beyond exhausted. It was pitch black outside. I couldn't in that moment fathom having to care for this baby once he did finally come out. I knew I would get a rush of adrenaline when he came, but it was so hard to imagine in that moment that I would do anything other than pass out the second he was born that I actually asked my team to confirm that was true and that the exhaustion would fade when he was born, which they assured me it would, so I kept going, not like I really had a choice at this point.

Just a few minutes later I heard the magic words "I see a head!" and after 2 hours of pushing, the relief I felt in that moment was like no other (at least for the next 15 minutes). They coached me through the pushing and the not pushing, cheering me on and after a few minutes, and the worst and yet best pain of my life, and because of the position I had managed to end up in, I saw the top of Ezra's head moments before he was actually born and it was the most powerful moment. I hadn't fully processed at any point during pregnancy that I was actually having another baby until that moment and I actually said out loud "oh you're really real!" A minute later, at 7:10am Ezra was born. I held my son as the sun, rising again after the long night, began to come up over the mountains and streamed through my windows; the sunlight and the adrenaline instantly wiped away my exhaustion and I was absolutely in awe. In awe of my son. In awe of my body that I have battled to give me healthy children. In awe of myself for what I had just done. In awe of the Lord for not only granting me this healthy baby, but also for giving such a merciful and beautiful birth experience, and for healing many old, stubborn wounds through it. 

He weighed 8lb 4oz, which was my exact guess and he had the hair that the ultrasound tech had been promising me for weeks, it was even dark, just as I had imagined it, even though I had absolutely no basis for that assumption given that Matt, Simeon and I were all blonde at birth. Ezra was instantly an extension of his near perfect birth experience. I have no internet appropriate pictures from the first hours because as soon as his abnormally short cord was cut and I was able to lift him above my belly button, he latched immediately and nursed as we did skin to skin while the midwife and nurses finished working on me and then as we chatted with the midwife, and as the nurses gushed over how amazing I had done and how perfect he was. One would later tell me that I was even the talk of the nurses station because I'd done an induction with no pain meds and "didn't even scream like a banshee!" ha! I knew I was impressed with myself, but for a hospital with midwives on staff and giant labor tubs, I was surprised to learn that this was apparently still impressive to them as well!

Dr. Barwick came in looking very battle-worn a couple hours later to check on me. She apologized for how long the induction took, but I told her it didn't matter to me that I was there a long time before active labor, what I'd been concerned about was being in prolonged active labor without progressing again. Because she had been willing to wait and to work with my body instead of against it, I only spent 8 hours in active labor, and my body had been able to take over from the pitocin and labor on its own for most of it! I told her it was amazing, and thanked her profusely for listening to me, for hearing me, and for helping me. She cried a bit as she left the room and went home to get some much needed sleep, having rescheduled all of her clinic patients for the day. I think she was as glad to see the dawn as I was.

We spent the remainder of the hospital stay gushing over the experience, my doctor, the nurses, the midwife, my doulas, and how the Lord answered prayers we had long given up hope for; my iv had providentially stopped working and I was able to labor naturally, and Ezra was even delivered by the midwife I had initially wanted and then cried over not being able to have. It blew us away. God's grace and care were so evident as we rehashed labor and delivery over and over and over and over. Simeon's birth was healing in that we finally had a living child, Ezra's birth was healing in the sense that my body, after an initial push, was able to do what it needed to, I was working with my body instead of against it for the first time in my entire childbearing experience, and I was so respected and heard every step of the way by everyone in the room. It was how it was supposed to be; not something that I have been able to say of many things during my pregnancies and deliveries. And I'm no longer terrified of needing an induction again; if each of my future births go like this one, I'd be one happy momma. 

 

 Ezra Joel:

"The Lord our God has helped."

Indeed he has.

 

_____________________________________

 

 Now, enjoy some pictures!

 

We played a lot of rounds of Jaipur while we waited for labor to start!

In the tub. This ambiance was amazing!

The doula and midwife on the floor so they could see

We were so tired by this point, but it was so sweet!

There's a fuller version of this picture that I adore, but won't post here given my audience.
@graceinbirthing posted it on her instagram though for you fellow birth nerds.

Screenshot of a video, so it's blurry, but this face sums it up.
Total shock and elation through total exhaustion.

My sweet, chunky Ezzie!

Seriously in love with him and his birth!

Redeeming Cookies: 6 Years of Love and Grief

I made peppermint mocha cookies today, but not to celebrate Christmas. No, I made them for my firstborn's birthday. It may seem an odd choice, but I can explain.

Two days ago I scrolled through my facebook memories and came upon this one from 6 years prior. It read:

"It took two ruined bags of chocolate chips, a temper tantrum, and a trip to Wal-Mart, but I finally  figured out how to melt white chocolate and finished these darn cookies."

I didn't really need a facebook reminder; that night, and the following days are burned deeply and forever into my memory. The "darn cookies" in question were Peppermint Mocha Cookies for the seminary's Women in Ministry Christmas cookie exchange and contest. Matt loved these cookies, but I can’t even think of them without a flood of sad memories, because for some reason in my mind, this exact moment was the beginning of the end of life as I’d known it. The temper tantrum I had was because I was 6 weeks pregnant, I was exhausted from early pregnancy, had come down with a cold I couldn't take anything for, and was nannying 6 month old twins, yet I had chosen to participate in the cookie contest at the last minute because “moms have to make fancy Christmas cookies” and since I could not for the life of me get the darn white chocolate to melt without seizing, I was clearly a failure as a mother in my mind.

 

The next day we saw Brighton’s heart beating. The day after that, 6 years ago today, there was silence and hollowness and excruciating physical and emotional pain where there had just been life and joy. I had much bigger problems than seizing chocolate, but it still feels like it all somehow started with a finicky cookie recipe and 2 ruined bags of white chocolate chips.

 

I haven't made those cookies in 6 years and 2 days. I couldn't even think of them without feeling angry and sad for 5 years. But when I thought about them the other day, I decided I would make them today. I wanted to take a painful memory, appreciate that it is one of the few earthly and replicable things that reminds me of my child, and redeem it. After all, the only reason I ever made them to begin with was for Brighton as a totally unnecessary attempt to say “I’ll be a good mom to you.” and suddenly it seemed like a fitting way to honor Brighton's life.

This cookie recipe is one of those finicky ones that takes most of a day. Usually that bothers me, however, I didn't mind it today; I typically take December 9 to spend reflecting and grieving and loving, but with two little ones at home it was very business as usual today, so having to take time throughout the day to work on these cookies gave me moments to remember and reflect and pursue an act of love, however symbolic it may be, and as I did I realized that just like the first time I made these cookies, being Brighton’s mom didn’t turn out how I expected; something that should have been sweet and lovely turned out a big mess with frustration and anger and tantrums, and in the end, after a long, difficult, confusing process, it was a whole lot of sweet after all.

 

Yes, there is still grief. This was our child, and they aren't here with us, it's not the way things ought to be and it stings, sometimes it's still more of a stab than a sting, especially as I see my living children grow and realize all that we have missed through the death of our first three children. But there is a deep and rich sweetness as well that I've recognized this year more than ever. The grief I feel is really a mother's love and that love looks a lot different when the object of it is not here to receive it; that's why we find ways honoring Brighton, Keelan and Addison's places in our lives. I find that the more we do that, the less I feel the grief, and the more I feel the content, easy, every day love for them that I experience with my living children. Baking cookies for my kid's birthday is one of the most normal things I've ever done out of love for this child, and this year this date passed with an easiness that it never did before, so much so that it made me uncomfortable when I first realized it. For so long heavy grief was the way I showed my love for this child and the way that I defended their humanity to myself and others. But I've reached a point where I no longer need to convince myself, my husband, my family or my friends that this child was and is real. I've spent years advocating for my child's humanity. Today, I rested in that reality and in my and the Lord's love for my child and channeled that into making them some cookies, knowing that heaven is far, far sweeter than even an award winning peppermint mocha cookie, which it is, by the way; because after all of the mess and the tantrums, I won best overall cookie at that Christmas cookie contest.

Happy sixth birthday to my beloved Brighton Grey. I don't have to wish, it, I know it's true, for there is no greater joy than Christ in whose presence Brighton lives each day.

 

 

 

"We must judge concerning the will of God from his Word, which declares that the children of believers are holy, not by nature but in virtue of the covenant of grace, in which they are included with their parents. Therefore, God-fearing parents ought not to doubt the election and salvation of their children whom God calls out of this life in their infancy."

-The Canons of Dordt, Article 17

 

 

Pregnancy Update

 My last post on here was Simeon's birth story, so it's hard to believe that in the next 5 weeks we will be living another one! I thought I'd give a detailed update on baby boy #2!

A little back story for those who may not have been following along for the last 6 years: we first began trying to have a child back in 2016, after quickly conceiving and the miscarrying, we went on to experience infertility and recurrent miscarriages for the next three and a half years, ultimately resulting in the loss of our first three children; Brighton Grey, Keelan Sabbath, and Addison Jordan. After losing our third baby, I was tested for many different possible causes and diagnosed with Antiphospholipid Antibody Syndrome, also known as having "sticky blood." Basically, tiny blood clots were preventing blood flow to our otherwise healthy babies, and also putting me at high risk of blood clots and deep vein thrombosis that could be extremely dangerous. The good news is that this is fairly manageable through a regimen of twice daily heparin injections and baby aspirin during pregnancy, though it does not entirely mitigate the risks, and the medications come along with their own risks!

9 months after delivering our healthy "rainbow baby" we were shocked and thrilled to discover we were expecting again! I'm now 35 weeks pregnant and everything has gone incredibly smoothly so far. I'm officially at the point where my doctors have a hint of surprise in their voice when they say "baby looks great!" We now do weekly ultrasounds to be sure that he continues to grow appropriately, that the placenta is staying healthy, and that he's active and healthy! These are the concerns we can monitor for, but as pregnancy progresses, the risk of blood clots also increases, which isn't something that can be predicted or monitored, so the closer we get to my due date, the more it becomes a weighing of risks; staying inside and growing while the risks from APS increase, or delivering early by induction, which comes with it's own risks, especially as it increases the chances of needing a c-section and as you can imagine, serious surgery isn't ideal with a blood clotting disorder! Many of you also know that my induction with Simeon did not go well at all, and it's my feeling that we narrowly avoided a c-section with him, and I'm not eager to repeat the process. If I don't go into labor by my due-date, the risk/benefit balance tips to make it wiser to induce than let him stay inside. So the least risky scenario, and what we pray for, is that I go into labor on my own somewhere around 39 weeks; long enough that he's had plenty of time to grow and gain strength, but soon enough that we avoid the added risks of an induction, and also allowing me the natural birth that I would love to have!

Please join us in praying for protection over baby and me during these last few weeks of pregnancy and during the birth and for me as I continue to parent a high energy toddler while I have very little energy myself!

A Birth Story for Mother's Day

 This is a story that is in one way four and a half years in the making, and in another, a lifetime, because for as far back in my childhood as I can remember I dreamed of and looked forward to being a mom; nearly every night of my childhood as I drifted to sleep, I imagined what it would be like, but I never imagined just how hard, long, and rewarding the process would be. 

The last four and a half years of this journey are well documented here. The loss of our first three children, our struggle with infertility, our decision and calling to become foster parents, the 5 children who we had the privilege of parenting and seeing safely leave to be with their families. When I was pregnant with Simeon I never knew quite what to say when I was asked if this was my first child; in one way, I suppose so, but in some ways he is my 3rd if you count children in my home for any length of time, my 4th if you count my biological children, my 6th if you count the number of children who I have had in my home, my 9th if you count them all, but yes, in the end, he is my first forever baby. 

For a baby who was so prayed for and desired for so long, he sure was quite the surprise. After 3 miscarriages, a clotting disorder diagnosis, and 18 months of failed infertility treatment, we had reached the point of either choosing to stop treatments, or pursuing a route that would require serious financial investment with no guarantees. We decided to take a step back before deciding, we decided to pursue contentment in our current situation and discern where our priorities ought to lie before making an emotional decision. And I came to be at peace with continuing to be foster parents, and knowing that at some point we would adopt through foster care, and knowing that having become pregnant 3 times before, it was likely to happen again, eventually, and that next time, hopefully, we would be able to protect that child from the blood clots that claimed the lives of Brighton, Keelan and Addison. Just two months later we found ourselves listening to a heartbeat of our living child for the first time in nearly four years, it was one of the most incredible experiences of my life, but not quite as incredible as what I actually came here to write about; Simeon’s birth! (Longest intro ever...)

I wanted a natural birth, this is important to know. After four and a half years of pain and heartache, and learning to live through the pain, I wanted to experience every last second of this journey to my forever baby, and I desperately wanted my body to do something right when it came to childbearing. Towards the end of pregnancy I found out that because of the risks associated with covid during pregnancy and their striking similarities to the risks of antiphospholipid syndrome, an induction seemed to be the safest option.

 Day 1: Despite my best efforts to go into labor naturally (I did acupuncture y’all, I was determined!), I arrived at the hospital on March 30th at 3:30pm (having stopped and renewed my expired drivers license on the way) to begin the induction process, which meant having a Foley bulb inserted. I’ll let you google that if you want the details, but basically it forces to body to dilate to 4cm overnight and it is not comfortable. Also not comfortable: beds in labor and delivery rooms. In addition to the Foley bulb, I started low dose Pitocin overnight (the drug used to cause contractions).

Day 2: After sleeping poorly, I was roused at 5am by a very strict seeming nurse to shower and get ready to finally have a baby. My amazing doula, Erika arrived, followed by my doctor, and we started the actual induction, thinking that surely I would have my baby in my arms by 5 that evening. The Foley bulb hadn’t done what we needed it to by that point and I started the day at only 2-3cm dilated, an hour later I was able to have the Foley bulb removed and felt a lot better for a bit. At the same time my doctor broke my water, increased my Pitocin levels, and labor really picked up. We managed okay for a long time by walking around, sitting on a birth ball and using the TENS unit Erika brought, and things seemed to be going okay. After a few hours though I started to feel really tired, but kept pushing on, knowing the pain was necessary and was bringing me closer to meeting my baby. 

By about 3pm I was absolutely exhausted. I was falling asleep between contractions which were coming every one to two minutes at this point and each one brought excruciating pain, but still, I knew we were getting closer. At some point during the afternoon a nurse checked and told me I was about 5 cm dilated, so we were making progress, even if it was slow. At 3:45 I tried to lay in bed, and continued to fall asleep between contractions which actually started to taper off at this point; my body was so utterly exhausted by this point that it actually started to override the Pitocin and shut down labor to some extent. When my doctor came in to check me at 4:15, we found out that after being in hard active labor for 8 hours, I was actually still only 4cm dilated, the same as I was at 11am. I’m fairly confident I broke down in tears around this point feeling that all of my pain and exhaustion over the last 5 hours had been worthless. We asked the doctor to go over our options at that point, because continuing for hours more wasn’t feasible or at this point physically possible since the Pitocin was as high as it could go and my body was no longer responding to it. After hearing the options from the doctor, I asked for a few minutes to discuss it with Matt and Erika alone, and we were all in agreement about which one seemed to be the right choice, so at 4:30, we stopped the induction, and decided to start again the next morning. Unfortunately I had to maintain my clear liquid diet, so the most substantial thing was able to consume after a long day of labor was broth and popsicles. I think I ate something like that at that point and requested stadol through my IV to help take the edge off the pain as well as help me sleep, and by 6pm I was asleep. 

I rested as well as one could expect for still having contractions and sleeping on what was essentially a 3 inch mattress on top of a table. I had the sweetest night nurse who was really compassionate and took wonderful care of me. I was awake for about two hours at one point and honestly had a really sweet time bonding with Simeon, praying for him, praying for me, and trying to mentally prepare to “re-enter the arena” the next morning. At some point during the night Simeon’s heart rate started dropping slightly during contractions, and I had to stay on my right side the rest of the night to prevent it happening.

 Day 3: I started off the day by trying to walk and bounce myself into active labor before starting Pitocin again, quite unsuccessfully. I then begged to be allowed to eat something, but that was equally unsuccessful due to the anesthesiologist  being very strict about his guidelines; this did not set me up well for success. At 7:30am we restarted the Pitocin and labor took off again very quickly and very strong. My doctor came up to check me when she got into the office around 8, and I was still at 4cm, and I was getting really discouraged and a bit scared. I started to become really concerned that I was going to end up having a failed induction and need a C-section. It was around this point that the word “epidural” entered my mind, and it was all I could think about with each contraction. I was crying and moaning “nooooo” with each one, and the idea of continuing to labor and be in that much pain again all day was overwhelming. I decided to try stadol to see if that might take enough of an edge off the pain to let me bear it, knowing the risk was that I was already tired, and stadol was likely to make me more so, but it was my last ditch effort. The nurse accurately described it as “margaritaville” and I soon found myself half asleep dreaming I was in a field of lavender, watching contractions happen to someone else who was standing against a brick wall. It may have taken the edge off the pain, but the disorientation was just as miserable, at one point I asked Matt to tell me with each contraction that I was NOT in a field of purple flowers, that I WAS having a contraction and that “there was only one room” which, I have no idea what that one was about nor any recollection of saying it, Matt told me later. 

The stadol wore off quickly, thankfully, and I overheard Matt and Erika discussing how to bring up the option of an epidural to me. I heard Matt telling Erika that he just didn’t want me to regret it later. I was so relieved to hear them talking about it, I felt like I had the permission I needed to finally voice what I had been thinking all morning; this was more than I bargained for, I wasn’t wimping out if I needed it. I walked out of the bathroom and said “I won’t regret it.” Erika suggested that a we try to make it to noon before deciding on it for sure, I think this was about 11:00. We requested anesthesiology come talk to us since they hadn’t the day before like they were meant to, and I was able to pull myself together long enough to get my questions answered between contractions and feel more at ease with the process. We continued to discuss, and it came down to two things for me; first, I had been in the induction process over 40 hours, and my water had been broken for over 24 of them, and Simeon’s heart rate was continuing to dip with most contractions; the risk of infection or a failed induction or Simeon destabilizing was increasing, if something went wrong and I needed an emergency C-section, I was going to find myself under general anesthesia and miss my son’s birth entirely; the very thing I was trying to fully experience. Secondly, I found myself in the position of actually hating every moment of labor by this point. I was exhausted, I was hungry, I was cranky, I was in so much unceasing pain, I was scared; this was not how I wanted to experience the birth of my baby. And so the decision was made, and I felt confident in it. I chose not to get checked before hand, my mind was made up, and the checks were more painful to me than the contractions, I wasn’t able to make a decision that was going to cause even more pain at that point. Every contraction I had while waiting for the anesthesiologist to come somehow felt even more painful; the purpose of the pain had been removed with the decision to get the epidural. At 11:40 I got the epidural, and it was bliss. I texted my family to update them and said I was hoping to get a nap. I did not get a nap.

It took about an hour for the epidural to be placed and take full effect, at 12:40 the nurse checked me and I was at 8cm, 20 minutes later my doctor came and and decided to check me again while she was there, I was caught on baby’s head and she was able to manually fix it and she pronounced me fully dilated! That process alone made me grateful for the epidural, I can only imagine how unbearable that little procedure would have been without it, we would have had to wait for it to resolve on it’s own because I would have been throwing punches by that point (I had screamed at my doctor during a check the night before, we were all a little afraid of me after that I think, ha!). And so, the pushing began! 

It was such a surreal experience, it was nothing like I had imagined it would be like when I planned my natural birth. We chatted with the nurse between contractions, pushed for 30 seconds when one came, and picked back up where we left off. Simeon’s heart rate was dropping significantly with each contraction by this point, but it picked back up as soon as it passed. There was concern, but not panic as long as he kept popping back up. Eventually it started taking a bit longer, and we pushed a ton of fluids through my IV to try to perk him back up and he went back to stabilizing quickly after each contraction again. The nurse was concerned enough about it that when it came time for him to actually be born my Dr. was called out of a C-section to come deliver him, she came in, gloved up, and two pushes later, at 2:18pm, Simeon Azariah Pinckard was born with his cord wrapped around his neck, and was placed on my chest as we cried tears of joy and relief and thankfulness. I turned to Matt and all I said was ‘Four and a half years” and then I just sobbed for a minute while taking in the reality that the child I had dreamed of since childhood, the child I thought may never come, the child we had pleaded with the Lord for was lying safely in my arms. He was mine forever. It was a moment like none other.

A couple days after coming home I happened to place my hand on Simeon’s chest and it was the first time I had felt his heartbeat. Immediately in my mind I was back in the ultrasound room at the fertility specialist hearing his heartbeat filling the room when I was only 7 weeks pregnant. And then I was back in my first OB’s office the day we heard Brighton’s heartbeat for the first and only time. Then I was in the ER as doctors after doctor tried to find Brighton’s heartbeat, and again two days later when our worst fear had been confirmed. Then I was at Keelan’s ultrasound when our excitement had become shocking grief all over again when there was no heartbeat to be found. And I was on the phone with the nurse as she confirmed what I already knew; my levels had dropped and we had lost Addison too. And I felt the heartbeat of my living, breathing, healthy son, and I cried more than ever before, praising the Lord for the life of this Child, and for the certain hope that we have in Jesus Christ’s life, death and resurrection for the covenant children we never held and whose hearts no longer beat, but who we will one day meet face to face in the presence of our savior.

Simeon: God has heard. 
Azariah: God has helped. 
Pinckard: This child is ours forevermore.

May he also place his trust in the Lord’s help and provision and belong to him for all eternity. 

Matt was so incredible the whole time!

So. Many. Wires.

I borrowed my friend's gown for day 2!

After the epidural, right after I started pushing, the nurse is keeping a close eye on his heartrate

The moment I've dreamed of my entire life

We were all 3 crying

So tiny in daddy's arms!

Recovering from his "procedure"

They let my mom in to see him the first night!

Grandma K. brought us dinner and swaddles!

The boys managed to get some sleep!

I was SO ready to go home after 4 nights in the Hospital!

From Last Year to Today

I took a picture of my calendar a few weeks ago and I wondered what would happen if my pictures app on my phone showed me pictures from a year in the future, instead of a year in the past. What if I’d seen a year ago, what life would be today? I would have been blown away, would have broken down in tears of joy.

A year ago, I didn’t know if I’d ever have a biological child.

Today, my calendar says I am 3 weeks away from holding my son in my arms, and we talk and plan as though more will follow with hardly a second thought. It’s more than I dared to dream most days.

A year ago, we were just finding out about Jellybean’s daddy; we’d been told he wasn’t in the picture, but there he was, and we were scared about what kind of man he might be and what would happen with this precious child.

Today, JB is written on my calendar at least once a week. Jellybean is loved by so much of her family; parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins; some biological, some step, and of course, some former foster. She comes to visit often, and at the end of the day, she goes home to her wonderful daddy, exactly where she belongs. It’s everything we’d hoped for.

A year ago, the monotony, exhaustion, and torn feelings of the working mom schedule were getting to me on top of everything else. I decided I didn’t want to work full time after Matt graduated, which meant leaving entirely, because part time wouldn’t work for my office on a long term basis.

Today, my calendar is marked two days a week with “work”. When I was going to leave again after filling in for a maternity leave in Fall, I was offered the exact amount of work I wanted each week. When it didn’t seem like it would work out for the clinic for me to keep this schedule, my bosses made an effort to find a place for me to stay when I asked. From the very start almost 4 years ago, this job has been everything we needed, exactly when we needed it.

A year ago, Matt was moving to virtual classes for his last semester of seminary. We didn’t know what he would do after because we couldn’t move out of state until Jellybean’s case was closed.

Today, he works for the seminary that we both love so much as he looks and waits for the Pastoral role God has planned for him. It’s the perfect job as we wait.

A year ago, we were trusting that though things were so uncertain, the Lord would provide and lead and care for us and our family. 

Today, I look at my calendar and see that every. single. day. is marked with a reminder of God’s faithfulness, love, and goodness. It takes my breath away.

Last year, today, in every season of life, in every sorrow and every joy, morning by morning and year by year, “great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.” 

Update

This is a much more practical post than I usually write, but I wanted to give a picture of how things are going with baby #4! Our last ultrasound was a week ago and I was able to see our healthy baby moving around during the ultrasound, it was an amazing experience! Sadly Matt wasn't able to be there, so we are looking forward to the next ultrasound even more because of that!

As expected from my past experience, I've felt pretty horrible for most of this pregnancy so far. It's hard not to throw myself a pity party most days when I think about just how hard everything about pregnancy has been for me so far. I get so frustrated that I couldn't get pregnant, couldn't stay pregnant, and now that I am pregnant I can't even enjoy it because of how sick I am. My body just hates pregnancy. On top of that, every twinge sets me on edge wondering if something is wrong with the baby, and it just becomes physically and mentally exhausting. I've gone back to work temporarily to fill in for a maternity leave, and thankfully I tend to feel okay at work, but once I get home in the evenings and on days that I'm home my body just crashes and I spend most of my time in bed. Going back to work also means that Jellybean has gone back to daycare where she, and by extension I, catch every bug that goes around the classroom. On top of all of this we have been dealing with some difficult things in Jellybean's case that have taken up time, energy and emotion beyond what caring for her normally requires. It's just been a really hard couple of weeks, I'm hoping and praying the second trimester will bring better things and allow me to fully appreciate and enjoy growing this baby that we've longed for for so long!

On a brighter note, I was able to stop two of my medications this week, bringing my total down to four instead of six daily, which is really exciting to me! The progesterone was a precaution we took for the first 9 weeks, and was by far the most expensive of my medications (a month's worth was more than our rent!) so we are looking forward to not having to pay for it anymore, but I am also hoping that some of my fatigue and nausea will ease up now that I've stopped it. I also had a thyroid check-up this week, and found that the smallest dose of the medication for my hypothyroidism was too much and was causing me to swing in the other direction. I'm hopeful that this is what was causing some of my rapid weight loss and that correcting it will help!

Stopping those two medications leaves me with just my heparin injections twice a day along with baby aspirin to counteract my blood clotting disorder that was responsible for the miscarriages, zofran to try to ease the nausea and vomiting, and my vitamins to make sure baby gets everything he/she needs even though I haven't been able to eat well.

Something we are extremely grateful for right now is that I was able to qualify for medicaid, and even though my OBGYN doesn't normally take medicaid patients, she agreed to make an exception in my case. Initially we were concerned because she was no longer in network with our health sharing group, and we thought we may have to choose between paying out of pocket to continue seeing the doctor I trust, or going to a new doctor who didn't know me or my history and who I hadn't already established trust with, so we are thrilled with these developments and grateful that we won't have to be concerned with medical costs along with everything else, and that I can continue seeing the doctor whom I adore and trust completely with my life and my child's life!

Of course above all we are just thankful that baby is doing well and appears perfectly healthy, and as miserable as the day-to-day is, it really will be worth it to hold this child in my arms! Please continue to pray for all of us; that baby stays healthy, that I start feeling better, that everyone will make the right decisions for jellybean and that those decisions will be made quickly, and for Matt as he has taken on so much to care for all 3 of us during this time and does it so well!