Entering a new era

And that would be?

One where I am never pregnant again, unless we fall into the .05% failure rate for vasectomies. Yep, Adam went "under the knife" on Thursday. (Don't worry, I won't give TMI about it...and he's totally fine with this information being thrown out into blog-land, by the way!)

This has been a decision we've thought and prayed and talked a lot about over the past several years, and probably the most difficult decision we've ever made. We've perhaps never made a more permanent decision than this one, either, other than the decision to get married (which was made when we were quite young and tended to think less about decisions), and the decision to have our children in the first place (all of whose pregnancies were very much planned).

Growing new life is truly miraculous, and I don't have the eloquent words tonight that are necessary to convey my feelings about how precious and beautiful and magical it is to carry and give birth to a child. But pregnancy is also difficult for me. I have pretty severe morning sickness (which makes me nearly useless for well over half the pregnancy), and I've suffered some nasty post-partum depression, as well.

Given those reasons, as well as many other factors, we've decided to bow out of the child-bearing arena, but not without some longing glances behind and a lot of incredible memories. Being forever thankful to God for the four opportunities I've had to carry His precious creations within my body, I praise Him again for the two incredible little people we've been entrusted to raise! What an amazing privilege, and yet a great responsibility, to be Drake and Levi's parents.

We're also not completely sure we won't be adding any more children to our family, as we're considering the possibility of adoption and whether or not the Lord may have another little person in mind for us. It's an exciting prospect, but either way, we praise Him for the glimpse into following His will that this decision-making experience has given us.

Oh yes, one last comment... After much discussion about how to approach the subject of the vasectomy with Drake (and oh, it's a loaded topic if you've never thought of the implications on the mind of a 6-year-old), we were leaning toward explaining the surgery and its purpose to him...we tend to be pretty up-front type parents and have never shied away from tough topics (death, suffering, childbirth, private parts, etc.) in the past. But finally, we decided this might not be the best way to introduce the birds and the bees, as it could possibly leave a small child wondering if Mom and Dad were having second thoughts about babies because of him or his brother.

Sooo, the plan was that Daddy was going in for an "appointment," and then for a few days, Daddy would "not be feeling so well" and would be resting in bed a lot. However, when we were all leaving for the clinic early Thursday morning, Drake asked me, "So when are you going to pick Daddy up after his surgery?" Surgery? What? Where did that come from? I tell you, little ears don't miss a thing. We still don't know when it was that we slipped up and said the "s" word in front of him. So anyway, I found out later that his class at school heard that his daddy was having "eye surgery" and then he apparently told a neighbor that it was "stomach surgery"! So Drake ended up with a crash course in the mechanics of a vasectomy, but thankfully the question of why someone would want to do this was never posed.

Oh, my sweet Drake, you are adorable beyond words!

October 15th

Today was a very busy day for us, as we are so blessed right now to have my parents visiting us from the other side of the country! In fact, in a few minutes I will be posting more pictures of our visit to the beach this afternoon. However, amidst all the hustle and bustle, I found a small amount of time to reflect on all this day means to me.

As I'm sure most are aware, Adam and I are actually the parents of four children, two of whom are quietly missing from our lives on this earth. Our first two babies, Sam and Clayton, were miscarried and stillborn, respectively. Their story can be found here.

The movement toward making Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day "official" began shortly before our losses occurred. I found myself becoming involved in this cause as a way to channel the love I had for my babies into something constructive. It was a way to validate the feelings I had, to keep me from going crazy when something so deep and real as a mother's love seemed completely out of place in a home with no children living there. My reasons for involvement were almost completely selfish, and once the wound was no longer gaping, I was happy to move on to more tangible things, namely caring for baby Drake. But whatever the reason, and for whatever timeframe, the portion of my life devoted to Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day will never be forgotten.

I've never been in contact with a governor before or since, but for two years in a row after Clayton's death, I had personal e-mail correspondence with the governor of the enormously populated state of North Dakota! And we have in our home two official proclamations from the State of North Dakota, signed by the governor, stating facts on pregnancy and infant loss, and that October 15th of those two years was to be officially set aside as a day of remembrance. It was a bitter, yet sweet time in my life.

I remember the sweetness of God's hand upon me, and though I was only beginning to recognize Him and to know Him, He was (and of course, still is) ultimately patient with me, leading me gently to a greater understanding of His glory and goodness.

I am very much out of the loop now with Remembrance Day, and aside from quietly remembering my little ones, I don't really do anything special on October 15th. However, I know that several years ago, a resolution was finally passed by the U.S. House of Representatives making Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day both national and permanent, removing the need for annual state proclamations, like the ones I was able to secure for North Dakota in 2002 and 2003. It is a cause that is - however quietly - very dear to my heart, because it marks the most difficult leg of my journey into motherhood.

Today, I thank the Lord for all four of the children I have carried, some longer than others. We are so blessed to be raising two of them. While we were at the beach this afternoon, I helped Drake and Levi each make footprints in the sand. The tide was high, and washed their footprints away not long after I took this picture. I was thinking today that the picture will help me remember details like the color of the sand, the brightness of the sun, and the small size of their feet. And having a day like October 15th will always help me to stop and remember the details of a couple of years of my life that I might otherwise want to forget, but for the hand of God upon them.

Our story of Clayton

This is what it means to be held,
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved,
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.

- the chorus from Held by Natalie Grant
(to hear this song, scroll down to the bottom of this page and click it...it’s the last one on the playlist)

Today is the seventh birthday of our firstborn son, Clayton Wyatt. Clayton was stillborn prematurely on July 29, 2001. For those of you unfamiliar with the story of Clayton’s short life on this earth, I’ll give a brief recap. The year before, in 2000, we had a miscarriage at only 5-1/2 weeks. I’d only known I was pregnant for a couple of days before we found out I was miscarrying, but it was still a rough time. We decided to name that baby Sam, for Samuel or Samantha, so we could refer to him/her by name, as a real person. Then about six months later, we found out we were expecting Clayton!

Clayton’s pregnancy was riddled with problems from the beginning, and we were told on several occasions that the baby would not survive. But then, the next ultrasound or blood test would always indicate that all was well. (There were a lot of ultrasounds and blood tests.) At 21 weeks, a routine ultrasound revealed a much smaller baby than expected for his gestational age, with almost no amniotic fluid. I was scheduled to be flown across the country to see a military perinatologist (high-risk pregnancy doctor), but the day we were to leave, the MedEvac plane broke down and could not leave the base. That evening, I had a very strong feeling that something was really not right, and so I called my doctor and he reluctantly agreed to meet us at the hospital. Once at Labor and Delivery, an ultrasound confirmed that our little one’s heart had stopped beating. My labor was induced that evening, and at 2:10 in the morning on Sunday, July 29th, little Clayton was born still, weighing only 3 ounces and measuring 17 centimeters (about 7 inches long). Then began our winding road out of grief.

Through the experience of losing my only child - and living with the lonely dichotomy of being a mother, but having no child - God was working. One week after Clayton’s stillbirth, we attended church at the base chapel. Now, Adam and I had not been going to church all that often at that point. (Church attendance isn’t the issue, of course, but for us, it was an indication of our priorities at that time.) So we were at the base chapel that day only because our hearts were broken. And that very day, I met another woman named Melanie who had also experienced a stillbirth. Because she knew exactly what I was going through, she was able to reach inside me somehow and help the very slow healing process to begin. Melanie invited me to come to a ladies’ Bible study that she was about to start at the chapel, Beth Moore’s Jesus, the One and Only. It had been years since I’d done any kind of studying the Bible, but I was suddenly hungry for the Word of God and also just lonely beyond anything I’d ever felt before. So I went. And it was absolutely out of my comfort zone, by the way. But I loved it. And they put up with me too. I remember how my poor little small group had to hear the story of my loss so many times, and how I connected it to everything, and how I saw the world through that experience. Seeing the world through the tragedy is how people going through grief begin, I think. And that can last a long time.

But the Lord was drawing us out...out of a long spiritual sleep, and out of the crushing pain of losing a baby. Shortly after Clayton’s death, Adam met a civilian at work who introduced us to his family and his church. The more time we spent with these people, the more we loved them, and the more we learned about the love of Jesus. Sunday became my favorite day of the week, just for the joy of hearing teachings about God and getting to hang out with the loving people of our new church fellowship. I kept going to the Bible studies at the base chapel and learning more.

The Lord took something terrible and used it for good - for teaching and correcting us, so we could truly know Him and feel His goodness and love and forgiveness. When I think of Clayton, I feel a deep sadness at never getting to know him. But no longer do I wish to change something that fell within the will of God. We have not been promised an easy road. But for those who are in Christ, He will never leave us nor forsake us...and He does truly want to bless us and grow us through the pain. God is always good, even when circumstances are not. Now, years after our loss, I can see clearly how this is the case, even in the death of our son. I hope and pray that someday my first response will consistently be thankfulness and the recognition of God's goodness - in everything, not just when things go the way I want them to. May He be glorified in all things.

Romans 8:28: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose."

Our sweet Clayton, we love you always. You are remembered and dearly missed.