2nd Worst

{Continued from this post.}

We woke up on Wednesday morning, October 5th, hoping to find out this had all been a dream.  Or rather a nightmare.

The details are a little fuzzy in my head of this day.  I know that while we were getting ready for our doctor's appointments, I sat on the bed and wrote a Facebook message to a large group of our friends.  I needed to let everyone know what was going on and to ask them to pray.  Sometimes I look back on that letter and am amazed at my words.  Clearly the Lord had afforded us peace and comfort that could only come from Him.  During our whole time with Graham, He was so good to give us overwhelming peace and glimpses of Hope.  Here's an excerpt:

...

Being completely honest, I am so scared and also so very sad. Of course, this is not the way we would have liked all of this to happen, but we also trust in the sovereign plan of God. We are crying out to Him for a miracle, but we know that He loves and knows our precious baby even more than we do. And He will heal this baby. Maybe in not the way our flesh so desires, but our baby will be healed regardless.


I am not sending you this email for you to feel sorry for us. We are fine. We will be fine. We have the Prince of Peace. But I am sending you this email begging that you would join us in prayer. Our very specific request right now is that the tests would come back showing that the baby and I are candidates for the surgery. Please join us.

...

Even though, like I said before, the details are fuzzy from this day, I can still picture myself sitting on my brother's guest bed and crying big, fat alligator tears while writing this email.  It still didn't feel real.

We dropped Parker off at my niece & nephew's daycare (Sidenote: Another provision from God.  Their very nice and capable daycare allowed drop-ins and were more than willing to accomodate our situation.  They let Parker and Laurel see each other as much or often as they needed during the day so we knew Parker would feel comfortable). 

We made the long trek from Katy to the Medical Center in Houston where we first met with a genetic counselor.  There were no procedures to be done at that appointment, but this kind lady did want us to be familiar with all of the chromosomal issues that could be causing the baby's blockage.  Trisomy 13, 18, and 21 were all tossed around as possible issues.  There was a constant stream of tears as we looked through a book with her of the disorders and the fatality rates.  She told us that they could do a CVS placenta draw that day to test the chromosomes and see what is wrong.  It would also tell us the gender.  We agreed to the procedure, knowing it would give us insight in how to better treat our baby.

The next appointment was with our fetal intervention doctor, who did a very thorough ultrasound on the baby.  It lasted about 45 minutes, and then he asked us to go into the conference room next door.  Matt and I, along with about 5 other doctors, sat down at the conference table, facing an empty white board.  In the next 30 minutes, that white board became full of scenarios and percentages.

We were basically given 3 options:
   1) IF there were no chromosomal issues, and the bladder taps of urine proved that the kidney was somewhat functioning, and it was a boy, THEN we could go forward with a bladder shunt placement surgery.  However, it only offers a 60% survival rate.
   2) Do nothing, and let the baby pass on their own.
   3) Have a "procedure" done to "eliminate" the baby.

I remember sitting there, and every once in awhile, looking around at the doctors who were staring at the whiteboard.  Did they know they were talking about my baby?  Did they not see that this is a devastating conversation we are having?  How could they look so un-moved?

After the lengthy conversation, everyone left the room except for Matt and I.  They wanted to give us time to discuss everything, now knowing all of the information and all of the risks.

Can I let you in on a little secret?

It was easy not to choose Option 3.  We were not going to abort this precious life inside me.  BUT - there was a fleeting moment in all of it that I just wanted to choose Option 2.  The future looked bleak for this baby.  Why don't we just let the baby pass on their own, peacefully, inside my womb?  Do we really want to go through all of these procedures just to have a baby who would be so sick?  A baby who would need so much medical help for the rest of their life?

The Lord spoke to us during that time, though, and asked that we would walk this path - however long it took.  Whatever it looked like.  Whether it ended that day during the invasive procedures the doctors were about to perform.  Or whether it ended when this baby passed away at the age of 90 years old.

We were confident that the Lord was calling us to chase after life for this baby.  We knew that the whiteboard in front of us was nothing but bad news.  There was no hope.  The only place we could find true Hope was through God.  Isn't that what it all boils down to, anyways?  Christ Alone.

The decision was made to move forward with the needed procedures.  The doctors made sure that we knew that there was a risk with the following procedures, and that this could be the end right then and there if something went wrong. 

Believing the Lord was calling us to continue, I laid on a table with Matt on one side and a sweet Nurse Practicitioner on the other squeezing my hands while the doctors performed the 1st of 3 bladder taps.  It was surreal to be watching the ultrasound on the big screen TV mounted to the wall, seeing the same thing the doctors saw while they expertly inserted a needle into my belly, into the pregnancy sac, and into the baby's bladder.  They drew urine out to test and see if the kidneys were still working.  The next test was a CVS placenta draw where they went into my belly and actually clipped off a part of my placenta to send in for chromosomal testing. 

I remember that Matt and I were both praying, out loud, while the doctors were working.  I kept on repeating to the Lord, "You know."  He alone knew the days numbered for our sweet baby.  He alone knew what needed to be done.  He alone knew the issues that were causing the blockage.  He alone knew who the sweet baby was.  He alone was in control.

The rest of the day was a blur.  We set up more appointments with doctors in the coming days, and then headed back to Katy to see Parker and my brother's family.  All I wanted to do after those appointments was hold Parker.  I saw my baby up on the screen all day long and felt so helpless, unable to do anything to help him.  Towards the end of the day, and in the days (and months) to come, I found myself not even looking at the screen.  It is too much, sometimes, to see your sweet baby up there hurting while there is absolutely nothing you can do.

I know this entry is not the most upbeat thing I've ever posted on this blog, but I really did want to get all of this written before I forgot more than I already have.  If I count the Monday after Graham passed away - the day that we went to the funeral home - as the worst day of my life, then I count this day, October 5th, 2011, the second worst day.  It was such a very rough day for our family.

But know this - there were brighter days coming.  The Lord performed some miracles in our sweet baby's life.  Of course, we all know the ending of this story and we know that Graham is no longer with us.  But along the journey that started this day one year ago, there was still answered prayer and glimpses of joy. 

One Year

It is with such an anxious spirit that I write this post.  I've been dreading this day coming for a couple of months now.  I mean, I really have felt so much more emotional lately, and I think it's because of this "anniversary."

One year ago today, we were heading to the doctor to find out the gender of our baby.  I was 18 weeks along and finally feeling better than I had been.  The first trimester of this pregnancy was really rough.  I actually remember saying to Matt one day in the car, "I don't think I can do this again." 

We both felt like it was a girl.  Or maybe we just really wanted a girl, so we were being positive.  I did think that because I was so much more sick than I was with Parker, and because the heartbeat was pretty high at 14 weeks (172 bpm). 

We had to go to another office for the big ultrasound, and then we would head downstairs to my doctor's office to go over the scans.  As soon as the jelly was squeezed out onto my belly and the wand was waving around, I noticed something; the baby wasn't moving.  And there was a big, black spot on the screen.  The ultrasound technician asked me if I had been leaking fluid.  I told her I hadn't.  I said, "The baby isn't really moving."  She agreed and told me it worried her.  When I asked her what the big, black spot on the screen was, she told me it was amniotic fluid.

Ok, now I'm confused.

She told us that we needed to go ahead and head downstairs and see our doctor.  As we were walking downstairs I thought that maybe I was having some issues with amniotic fluid.  I told Matt that it worried me because usually that means you have to be on bedrest, and how would we make that work?  Can you tell that I didn't really realize how severe the problems were?  I don't know how or why, but I wasn't really freaked out yet.

We barely sat down in the waiting room when the nurse came to get us.  We walked into the room and there was our doctor, waiting for us.

I sat down, and I remember her patting my knee.  She told us that things don't look good.  It seems like there may be a cyst inside the baby.  I started crying, trying to understand what that means.  I told her it made me nervous to find out what was wrong, and she told me, "Me too."  That's when I knew things were really, really bad.  She told us that they had set up an appointment with a perinatologist later that afternoon, and hopefully we could get some more answers.

As we left that office, I remember that there were no hysterics.  Not much crying.  Just a lot of shock.  We walked to a quiet end of the hallway, and made some calls.  The bad thing about us going in for the gender ultrasound is that when people saw that we were calling them, they picked up excitedly, wanting to hear the gender.  I called my mom and explained what I knew.  Which wasn't much.  We called our friend Linda, because she was ready and waiting to find out the gender so she could make cupcakes for us to announce the gender that afternoon at work.  Matt called my office, to tell them I wouldn't be coming back in that day.

It seemed to take forever for us to get in with the perinatologist.  Even after waiting 2.5 hours for the scheduled appointment time, we still had to wait another 1.5 hours in the waiting room.  Once we finally got in and started looking at the baby on the big-screen ultrasound, it really didn't look good.  There was a heartbeat.  But no movement.  And a really big, black circle in the middle of the screen.  The doctor explained to us that it wasn't a cyst we were looking at on the screen.  The big, black circle was the baby's bladder, full of urine. 

Here's a bit of a confession:  Matt and I didn't know that amniotic fluid was basically just the baby's pee.  Babies pee into the pregnancy sac, then drink it, process it, and pee it out again.  One big, interesting cycle.  And a cycle that our baby was unable to do.

So, the doctor explained to us that it looked like there was a blockage somewhere that was keeping our baby from peeing.  Because the bladder was so swollen, they still were unable to see everything they wanted to see.  Including the gender of the baby. 

The doctor then gave us some options.  They could do a bladder draw that day on the baby, to help find out what was going on.  But I would also need a CVS draw on the placenta to see if there were any chromosomal abnormalities that were causing these issues.  She told us it was up to us, but that there were some doctors in Houston that dealt with these kind of issues often and would be able to do all of the testing needed.  She left the room and Matt and I just stared at each other.

Was this really happening?

We decided pretty quickly that we would go to Houston.  We would fight for this baby and do everything we could to preserve their life.

We came home and packed up our things as quickly as we could.  We had no idea how long we would be in Houston, so we were just tossing things left and right, hoping it would be enough.  We stopped by the local CVS Pharmacy to have the Ambien that my doctor wisely prescribed to me that day filled.  I am so glad we took the time to do that, because it ended up being invaluable.  I was a wreck and needed something to help me get some rest.

We pulled into my brother's driveway in Katy around 11:00 pm.  My face and eyes were puffy from crying.  I remember that my face literally hurt that day, and for the next week.  We put Parker down on the air mattress in Samuel's room, and then went straight to bed.  There was nothing left to do but rest and prepare for a full day of doctor's appointments.

{To be continued...}

Aware

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.  I really used to love October, and I think I still do, but it is just a bit heavier than it used to be.  Maybe you'll understand a bit more in some of my upcoming blogs.

Anyways, I wanted to post a couple of things about Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month right now, at the beginning of the month.

The first thing I would encourage you to do, dear reader, is to pray for those people you know who have lost babies - at any stage of development.  Sometimes it seems like we are grieving alone, especially for the mothers who had early miscarriages.  Someone pointed this out to me not too long ago, and it really resonated.  As Christians, we fight so hard against abortions.  We are Pro-Life - no matter how small the baby or early in the pregnancy it is.  Yet, when someone has a miscarriage, there seems to be a bit of an unwillingness to talk about it.  It's almost "taboo" to bring up.  If we fight so hard for a small baby to be saved, we should also grieve so much when someone loses a baby they wanted so badly.

This month, especially, I am praying for my friends who have lost babies:

Sarah, Sara, Kimberly, Candy, Christine, Leslie, Charlotte, Rebekah, Jenny, Sharon, Holly, Ginny, Amanda, Cynda, Valerie, Kimmy and Erin.

I know there are many more who I am probably forgetting, and some I don't know about.  If you have lost a baby, please leave a comment so I can pray for you, too.

Also, Mrs. Patterson, Southwestern Seminary's President's Wife, wrote a great article that was posted today about miscarriage.  I hope you'll read it here. 

If you've lost a baby, please know that you are not alone. 

If you haven't, but you know someone who has, please pray for them by name this month.  And if you do pray for them, please tell them you did.  There is no gift greater to a grieving mom than to know that someone remembered their baby.

Crafty?

Ugh.  My blog got too deep again. 

Here's the rub: My son, Graham, died.  I am overwhelmingly sad.  Jesus died on the cross for my sins, rose again, and is now seated at the right hand of God in Heaven.  I am thankful, grateful, joyful, and OK.

Does that make sense?  I think the byline on Angie Smith's book "I Will Carry You" says it best: The Sacred Dance of Grief and Joy.  Because that is now what my life has become.  It is a constant rollercoaster of emotions battling inside me.  I am grieving the loss of my son, while at the same time, seeing that there is oh so much to be thankful for here on this earth.  AND, more than that, the promise of Heaven is real.

I was telling my friend, Sara, the other day about how I sometimes feel guilty when I do something fun.  Or laugh at a joke.  I think it makes more sense when I can explain it to you in person (with my awesome voice inflections), but, in the midst of laughing or smiling I want to say, "But wait!  I'm still really sad about losing Graham!  I'm not OK - I am hurting.  BUT - that was funny!"

So, in an effort to tip the "scales" back the other direction, I wanted to tell/show you about my (possible) new hobby.  I've been looking on Pinterest at craft ideas a lot lately.  After a family trip to both Michaels and Hobby Lobby on Saturday I decided I wanted to make a fall wreath for our front door.

I started playing around with ways to make different kinds of flowers and rosettes out of felt, material, burlap and buttons.  This was on Saturday night.

On Sunday afternoon, while Parker was "napping," Matt helped me cover a D in burlap.  He also cut out circles of material so that I could make lots of different flowers.

The more I got going, the more comfortable I felt making it up as I went along.  I made all kinds of flowers, and then stuck them all on this wreath.

The thing is - the more I started working on it, the more I realized how fun it was!  And I kept on coming up with different ideas, but I could only do so much on one wreath.  Let's not get too crazy, right?  And since then, I've continued to think about what other things I could do and make.  Headbands, Clips, Frames, etc.

So, maybe I am "craftier" (if that's not a word, keep it to yourself) than I originally thought.  I have all these ideas floating and I'm ready to keep on working.  So if you want something - let me know! 



Grieving with Hope

I got in last night from a weekend in Austin.  One of my oldest and dearest friends - who I grew up with in school and church, who lived with me for 3 years in college, and who was my Maid of Honor - had a stillbirth.  Leslie and her husband, Harvey, were checking into the hospital for an induction when they recieved the worst news possible.  There was no heartbeat.  Their baby was gone.

Leslie texted me Thursday evening telling me what happened.  We got to talk on the phone, too, before she delivered her dear, sweet Wyatt.  It was a tough night, and I was definitely struggling.  In an exercise in full disclosure, here's what I wrote that night:

I can't sleep.

I've been tossing and turning in bed for the last 30 minutes, but finally gave up.  I need to "talk."

Y'all - I'm mad.  I got a text message this evening that I never want to get again.  One of my dearest friends lost her sweet baby.  She was going in to be checked into the hospital for her induction.  And 3 days after last hearing her sweet baby's heartbeat, it was gone.  No warning.  Just gone.

I am sick of babies dying.

I have vacillated all evening between extreme sadness and anger.

I talked to her on the phone.  They were starting to get things ready and organized to have a c-section, and she was just hours away from seeing and holding her baby for the first time.  And the last.  I told her to spend as much time as she wanted with her baby.  To not be scared of him.  But to love and kiss and hug all over him.  To take tons of pictures.  And after she thinks they've taken enough, take more.  Because this it.  This is your one and only chance.

I realize that all of this sounds dramatic, and I probably won't even post this, but I don't care.  It's the hard truth.  Losing a baby is about the stupidest thing in the world. 

So, yeah. 

I drove down to Austin on Friday after work, and didn't get to the hospital until 9:00 pm.  Leslie and I sat for 2 hours talking about everything.  And crying.  I got to see pictures of sweet Wyatt and hear a momma talk about her son. 

After everyone got a good rest on Friday night, we settled in for a long day at the hospital on Saturday.  And I kept on looking at Leslie and wondering if this is what I was like just 6 months ago.  Making small talk with people as they came in.  Seeming to be able to have things "under control."  It's amazing what someone in shock can do and say.  And that is where Leslie and Harvey find themselves - in absolute shock.

I told Leslie it will slowly wear off, but thankfully, it takes time.  I think that is God's way of protecting you from completely losing it.

There is a lot to Leslie's story that is hard for me to reconcile.  This was her first child.  Wyatt was completely healthy.  She was going in to be induced with her bags packed and the carseat in the car.

I spent some time out in the waiting room on Saturday afternoon so that Leslie could visit with other visitors.  Our group kind of took up a corner spot.  And there were a lot of people looking to me for wisdom.  Oh, that makes me laugh.

People were asking, "How in the world do you get over something like this?  What are you supposed to do?"

I told them that trusting that the Lord is still on His throne is the only thing you can count on.  It's the only thing that makes sense when a tragedy like this happens.

Someone said, "So that's it?  We trust that Lord is in charge and we know He has a bigger purpose?"

ABSOLUTELY that's it.  What else is there?

After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him. So Jesus said to the Twelve, “Do you want to go away as well?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have alone have the words of eternal life."  John 6:66-68

At this point I started crying.  Not because I was sad about Graham or Wyatt or Leslie, but because I was so passionate about what I was saying. 

This is not the way it was supposed to be.  The Lord is grieving alongside us.  He is heartbroken that Leslie and Harvey will not get to know their son this side of Heaven.  But when we put an eternal perspective on things we realize that this is also not all there is. (I'm Amen-ing myself over here.)  Let me say it again - this is not all there is. 

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed⁽ about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.  For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14

We can grieve with hope.  And we can rest in the promise that we will see Wyatt and Graham again.  Our sweet little red-headed boys are OK.  It's just us here on earth that are grieving the time we've lost with them.  But knowing that an eternity together in Heaven is on the horizon helps you wake up each day.

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.  John 16:33

6 months

I'm writing this blog from the "road." We are on our way to a family reunion and are just now passing through Waco. Which means we just passed Collin Street Bakery.

I told Matt that I will always think of Graham when I see Collin Street Bakery. Back in October, on our way back from a week in Houston, we were waiting on a call that would tell us the results of Graham's third and final urine tap. If you've been a part of our story from the beginning then you might remember that everything hinged on those results. If they came back positively, then we could continue on towards surgery that would hopefully save his life. If not, then there was nothing we could do to keep him from passing away.

We stopped at Collin Street to get dinner, our hearts still heavy while waiting for the - literally - life and death results. After getting dinner we got back on the road to Fort Worth. Not 10 minutes later we got the call we were waiting for. Graham had normal urine results, therefore allowing us to continue moving forward to surgery.

That was a good day. We were so excited and right after I hung up we stopped and prayed. The Father had been so gracious to us and the prayers of so many were answered.

So while I'm saddened by that memory, knowing now what happened at the end, it is also a sweet time to look back on.

And yet, here we are. 6 months since I last saw, held, and kissed my sweet son.

And that is WAY too long. And it will only get longer.

It's been a hard time for me lately. I am back to the mad stage. I don't know if I was supposed to have it once and then be done. But I am mad again. And not mad at anyone or anything in particular. Just mad that Graham is gone.

It's also very frustrating to start thinking about expanding our family again. I hate to think of having another baby, and it not be Graham. He's all I want.

I had really hoped this would be a more positive post, but I want to be honest, too. So I will just wait out this stage of grief, looking forward to the future one of acceptance. Not that I'm OK with it, but that I accept it as part my story.

That just isn't today.

October

I can't believe we are more than halfway done with the summer.  Weather-wise, it has been surprisingly nice.  That is, until this past Saturday.  We reached 108 degrees on Saturday, and it felt like stepping into an oven.  It also brought back some memories of last summer.

Last summer was a tough time for the Dugans.  In June, Matt had another kidney stone surgery.  Short story: He is very talented at making large kidney stones and not being able to pass them on his own.  This is nothing new for us, but it was the first time for Matt to have surgery with Parker here.  So, he had to stay on his own at the hospital while I went home and took care of Parker.  The end of June we found out that I was pregnant.  And it was an absolute shock!  We went to youth camp and I was only 5 weeks pregnant.  And it was HOT.  And I was tired. 

When we got back from youth camp I began experiencing the "fun" first trimester issues - especially nausea.  And it was pretty bad this time around.  The second week of July Matt had another surgery, this time for a hernia on his side - where his kidney stone removal surgeries had taken place in years past.  This surgery was not an easy recovery - it required Matt to be out of work for 4 weeks.  And no lifting.  Did I mention I was early pregnant and really nauseous?  Or that Parker was 2?  Or that we lived on the second floor?  Or that we had to, you know, buy groceries and carry them up stairs?  And that it was blazing hot?  And that I was working full-time?  And training a new person?  And that it was really, really hot?

OK - I am complaining about stuff that happened a whole year ago.  Sorry about that.  But, there were many times last summer that I kept on saying, "I can't wait for October!"  You know why?  Because it wouldn't be hot anymore.  And I would be done with my first trimester and over the nausea.  And Matt would be healed from his surgeries and able to help out around the house again.  And Matt would also be able to work again.  And I would actually look pregnant, not just pudgier than normal.  And the new person at work would be trained. 

Y'all, I was pining away for October.  I spoke of it with such adoration.

Do you know what happened in October?

Well, let's back up a week.  The last Sunday of September Matt, along with our Pastor, were fired from our church.  And it was yucky.  And hurtful.

And then the next Monday, October 3rd, Matt had to have another kidney stone surgery.  Thankfully it was only day surgery, because the next day, Tuesday, October 4th, we were going to see my OBGYN in order to find out the gender of our baby.  And we will always remember that day, for our world was shaken and forever changed when we found out about how sick Graham was.  We ended up spending 2 weeks of October in Houston having multiple tests done, along with a shunt placement surgery on Graham while he was in utero.

So, as it turned out, October was one of the worst months of our lives.

This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

Matthew 6:34

I don't know what your "October" is.  It may be a new job, or a new house, or when your debt is paid off, or when you're done with school.  But here's something I learned - looking to the future and putting perfect expectations on it doesn't jive with scripture.

What does God have for me today?  What do I need to be focusing on, working on, or telling others about today?  Because if I'm looking toward October, and not today, then I may find it come up empty.  October may be awful.  October may not look the way I planned.  And, October may never even come.

Truthfully, I don't have this whole "focusing on today" thing down.  There are some things that Matt and I are looking to in the near future, and I am thinking, "As soon as this happens, then I'll be happy and content."  I am ready for Matt to be done with school.  I am ready to see where we end up after graduation.  I am ready, and this is a hard one to put out there, to have another baby.

But here's my prayer: More than that, Lord, I am ready for what you have for me today.