3-14-15: The Pi Day of the Century

3-14-15 is the Pi Day of the century and the 3rd birthday that almost was.  This year, I'm choosing to spend my time celebrating it rather than letting it remind me of my loss.  I'm wearing my dorky pi t-shirt.  I am buying apple pie for dessert.  I'm trying to explain what Pi is to my kindergartener, even though I don't think she's quite ready to understand it yet.  But despite this, a part of me still feels like posting an update in honor of Miri today.

Today she would have been 3 years old.  It's hard to imagine.  Annalie is 20 months old, quite a bit younger than Miri would be, and despite never having seen her and having no image to hold onto, I still picture her in my head as a newborn.  I see friends' children who are about her age and wonder what she would be like now, but after that moment passes, I tend to default back to thinking of her as an infant. It's funny how other kids grow up and I see them for the age that they are, but I think Miri will forever be my baby.

I still silently think about her a lot, although it's not every day.  In fact, this year marked a first that I never believed possible.  I forgot about January 10th as a milestone.  It wasn't until almost two weeks later that I even realized it had passed.  We were taking a family trip to Kentucky, and Whitney got sick late at night on January 9th.  I was up all night with her, and we ended up taking her to the ER.  We were discharged in the morning, and I spent the day taking care of her and worrying about how sick she was.  I was so busy with her, that I didn't even think about Miri and the loss.  And I was perfectly fine with that.  When it dawned on me that I missed the anniversary, it actually made me feel good.  It's a sign that I'm still healing, living in the present, and moving on with life.

I do get reminded about it from time to time.  A question came up during my promotion case this year--someone asked if the time I took off recovering from the c-section would not count as time employed in my position.  (The rules for the promotion state that a candidate must spend at least 5 years employed in the position prior to promotion, and they were worried that I would be 7 weeks short of that.) But I'm happy to say that it wasn't an issue, and I just found out that my promotion was approved for the next academic year!

There are also occasions when I run into people I don't see often, and in catching up, I tell them about Whitney and Annalie.  And they will say "I thought Annalie was older than that", remembering my pregnancy with Miri rather than with Annalie.  Sometimes they'll say, "Only two kids?  I thought you had more than that."  And then I'll remind them that Miri died.  But these situations are definitely happening less frequently than they used to, and going through the explanation is pretty matter-of-fact.  There's not much emotion anymore with my explanation, and I don't feel bad making those acquaintances feel awkward for asking.  At this point, I've resigned myself to the fact that that's just what happens.  I don't feel bad about it, and they shouldn't either.

This past year, Joy bought a necklace for me that I wear almost everyday.  It's an infinity symbol with three beads hanging off one of the loops--two pink ones for Whitney and Annalie, and a purple one for Miri.  Ever since I lost her, I had wanted to get a piece of jewelry with some sort of symbol to commemorate her.  One friend of mine has an angel's wing charm on a necklace for her stillborn son, but I didn't want anything that would make my loss obvious.  I had thought of a pi charm for a necklace, or a ring with her birthstone.  But nothing that I saw really excited me too much.  And because it was never exactly what I wanted, I never bought anything.  As it turns out, Joy knows me so well--the necklace she found is perfect.  It's a little bit "mathy" and a little bit feminine.  I love it, and I can wear it without drawing additional attention.

This past year has also brought an end to my friend Lindsey's stillborn tragedy.  She gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl a few months ago.  The joy that I felt for her when she told me of her birth was incomparable.  In the same way that hearing of other stillbirth stories caused me to feel that pain again, experiencing her joy brought me back to that same feeling of pure bliss when Annalie was born.  And, in preparing her baby gift, I was overwhelmed with generosity, and my faith in the goodness of people around the world was renewed.  I found a piece of digital art that I fell in love with from Matej Kotula, a graphic artist in Slovakia.  I wrote him and asked how I could purchase a copy to give to Lindsey.  He was so moved by our stories, that he graciously just gave me the digital file so I could add text and print it off and frame it exactly how I wanted to.  Joy helped with placing the text, which was my favorite quote from Cinderella--the song Whitney sang to us as we brought Annalie home from the hospital.  "Have faith in your dreams and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through.  No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true."

And it has come true.  For myself and for all my friends who have experienced a stillbirth, we now all have been blessed with our rainbows.  And I am grateful that life is so good.

My Story--"The Dream That You Wish Will Come True"

I always have mixed feelings about leaving the hospital.  With Whitney, I remember thinking, "They trust me to take care of such a little helpless person?"  And although going home with Whitney was exciting, I wasn't sure I was ready to be home.  Having the safety of the nurses to teach me what to do in each situation was nice and reassuring, but being on my own as a first-time mom was scary.  With Miri, I felt somewhat protected from the real world in the hospital.  It was like a little sanctuary, and once I went home, I'd have a lot of reality to face.  And being wheeled to the entrance of the hospital with no baby in my arms was such a hard thing to go through.  And, similarly this time, I still didn't really want to leave.  This had been such a happy time, I didn't want it to end.  I wasn't scared about raising a baby.  I wasn't heartbroken like last time.  I just was really enjoying all the visitors, all the time to myself to bond with Annalie, and all the sleep!  When it was time to go, I told Andy not to bring the baby carrier up to my room.  I wanted to be wheeled out, holding Annalie.  He asked why, because one way or another, she would have to get in the carrier in order to go home.  And I just told him that last time leaving empty-handed was almost more than I could take, and I really needed to have her this time during that wheelchair ride.  Just thinking about being able to leave with a happy, healthy baby girl in my arms is so wonderful.

On the car ride home, Whitney surprised me with another joyous tearful moment.  Annalie was crying in the back seat, and the amazing big sister that Whitney has become in just a few days time, thought to sing a song to soothe her.  And the song that she picked was from Cinderella, her new favorite movie.  "A dream is a wish your heart makes...".  The line that just got me to the point of tears though, was the last line of the song.  It goes "No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true."  It couldn't have been more perfect.  She is wise beyond her years and such a blessing.  That song now has such a special place in my heart and will always bring me back to that moment--going home as a family after a long, tough, yet wonderful journey.  My dream finally had come true.

My Story--Happy Birthday!

Andy and I both woke up bright and early to shower and get ready for the big day.  As Andy drove me to the hospital, I thought about what my mom had said, and just felt so relieved...I had done it.  I made it through 9 months with her and I kept her alive and healthy.  As we were driving, I realized that the sun was just rising.  It was the dawn of a new day, the dawn of my daughter's birthday, and the dawn of a new phase in my life.  This was the last dawn I would wake up anxious to feel a kick.  It was a beautiful sunrise with shades of pinks and oranges, and one that I won't ever forget.  We checked in, were taken back to a labor and delivery room, and I changed into a gown and was immediately hooked up to a fetal monitor.  I could hear her heart beats, and with that stress gone, I was enjoying seeing how strong my contractions were.  They were coming every few minutes, but they were still just Braxton Hicks, but they were three times stronger than they had been just a few days earlier.  Soon a nurse came in, set up my IV and drew blood (just 3 vials this time).  Then all that was left was watching the clock and waiting.  Andy took a nap.  My mom came around 7:30, and then soon after, it was time to go.  When the anesthesiologist came in the room, she recognized my face, and I remembered her as one of my students from years ago.  One of the nurses in the room told her that I was a math professor, and then she put two and two together, and asked me my maiden name.  When I told her, she immediately said, "I had you twice!"  My husband then got worried--twice because I flunked her, and she'd be sticking a needle in my spine!?!  But actually, that wasn't the case.  She was a good student and just breezed through two different courses of mine.  It was nice to see a happy, familiar face.  And she is one of those people who just lights up a room because of her positive personality and smile.  I was so glad she was with me throughout everything.  Whenever anyone asked me how I wanted Annalie's birthday to go, my answer throughout the whole pregnancy was that I just wanted it to be the "happiest day ever," and her being there helped to make that wish come true.

The last person to come in the room before the operation was my OB.  He asked if I had any questions, but I didn't.  This was my third time with the same surgery.  You could tell he was excited for us and invested in getting a healthy baby and a happy outcome this time.  And right before he left, I remember telling him, "I made it this far...now it's up to you."  He smiled and nodded.

At 8:00, they wheeled me into the operating room, watched me shiver uncontrollably (It was freezing in there!), gave me the spinal, and tried to warm me up while they prepped me for the surgery.  My mom and Andy came in, then my OB, and once everyone was situated, they started.  My OB took his time and was very careful at each step along the way.  It probably took at least 20 minutes to cut through each layer of tissue.  Even the nurses and anesthesiologist were telling me while I was on the table that it's harder to make the incision with scar tissue, so that was why it was taking longer.  I don't know if that is true or if he was just being extra careful, but it did take a while.  And then I was warned that there would be some pressure that would make me feel nauseous and then she would be out.  And sure enough, in just a few seconds, I heard the OB welcome Annalie into the world, and then I heard her cry.  It was the best sound in the world!  I know that every mother thinks that first cry is the best sound, but there was so much riding on this.  All the fear, all the anxiety, all the worry just lifted away in that moment and what was left was pure joy.  She was here.  Finally.  And I felt at peace.  Just a moment later, they brought her around the curtain so I could see her.  And she was perfect.  

They quickly whisked her away to do all their tests--weighing, measuring, etc., and when they announced 7 pounds 10 ounces, I was shocked.  My OB had predicted her to weigh just under 7 pounds.  But once she was cleaned off, they brought her close to me so I could see her better, but it's hard when you are laying flat on your back to see her face.  It took my OB nearly an hour to meticulously sew me back up.  He did everything he could to make sure my scar looked nice and didn't keloid this time.  Once that hour was up and I was wheeled back to the ante-partum room, I finally got to hold her and to look at her.  She looked just like my husband.  And holding her in my arms was so nice.  I had been very patient in the OR watching everyone else get to hold her, cuddle her, kiss her, and finally it was my turn.  I can't even describe how wonderful it was.  Last time, I had that sense of semi-relief when I picked up Miri's ashes and I could at least hold her in a box.  But this time, I had my baby in my arms, and she was alive and healthy, and I was so in love with her.  And it felt like I was finally able to breathe for the first time in 9 months.

I surprised myself at how much I was able to keep my emotions in check in the OR.  I had been through the scene in my mind so much, that I worked through all of it ahead of time (as seems to be my pattern), and I was able to be present in the moment and just enjoy the experience.  With Whitney, I was so drugged and exhausted from labor, that I have almost no memories of her birth, other than I remember telling myself "keep you eyes open...don't fall asleep."  And with Miri, I do remember the surgery, but there was not the happy outcome.  This time, it couldn't have gone any better.  I was awake, alert, and I remember her birth, and the best part was that the OR was filled with joy.  

My mom, on the other hand, was very emotional about her birth.  She teared up, the way I feared I would, and even though she was covered with a mask, I could see it in her eyes just how relieved and happy and excited she was.  She took a video for me, and so I can always go back and play it and hear that first cry, and on the video was her reaction...And it was priceless...All the things I had been thinking and feeling, she expressed, and it was lovely to hear.

In the ante-partum room, my dad, Whitney, and my grandmother came in.  Whitney's first reaction to seeing her sister was adorable.  She said, "Her face is so cute."  And with that, I think she fell in love too.  The nurses checked her vitals again, warmed her up, cleaned her off, gave us some skin-to-skin time, then they suggested that I try to feed her.  Since I couldn't nurse, they brought in a bottle, and Whitney asked if she could feed the baby.  As much as I wanted that "first", I let her do it, and it was so neat seeing her interact with her sister.  In that moment, I learned that no matter how much I wanted to do things, it's just as nice to let Whitney do it, because then I could watch those "first" moments through two sets of eyes--the mommy whose child is doing something new, but also the proud parent of an older sibling delighting in her baby.

With as much happiness and excitement as I was feeling, there was still some concern for Gabby, who was just undergoing her operation as well.  She was never far from my mind, and as the nurses were checking Annalie's vitals in the ante-partum room, I specifically asked them to do a pulse ox test.  Gabby's heart condition should have been detected at birth, if her hospital did that as a standard procedure.  But since it didn't, she went 4 months before it was discovered.  The nurses gladly did it for me, and told me that they'd be doing it again when the pediatrician came, but her level was 100%.  Phew!  Not that I was worried about her having a heart condition, but it was just one more thing that was going right.  Later that afternoon, I got word that Gabby made it through with flying colors, and that meant July 5th was a wonderfully happy day all around.  Both Joy and I will look back on this day remembering it started with nerves and anxiety, but that it ended with a smile on our faces.

After a couple hours in the ante-partum room, I was wheeled to my regular room and I settled in.  That first day, my cousin and her son came to visit, as did the cantor from our temple (also our neighbor).  When he came, we handed him the baby, and his eyes were flooded with tears.  He was so happy for us, that he couldn't contain himself.  And as the days in the hospital passed, we were met with that same reaction from half of our friends and family.  They couldn't help but cry tears of joy and that made the feeling in the room one of pure bliss.  And that was all I really wanted...just to have the happiest experience ever.

On Saturday morning, I was unhooked from all the machines, allowed to eat, and was feeling a whole lot better.  I posted on Facebook my room number and that I was happy to have visitors.  And that day we were flooded with friends and family.  My mom and Whitney had also planned a mini birthday party for Annalie that day.  She got a cake that said "Happy 1/365th birthday!" Whitney wanted lots of decorations, so there were balloons, party hats and necklaces, a Happy Birthday banner, princess paper plates and napkins, etc.  And, while we planned on a small gathering--just my mom, dad, Andy, Whitney, Annalie, and me--we had so many visitors, that her little party turned into a real celebration.  Both of Annalie's great grandmothers showed up.  Some of our friends were there, two of my colleagues came.  All in all, there were 12 people in my room right at her party time plus one FaceTime phonecall.  It turned out to be a wonderful party, full of happiness, laughter, and even complete with lots of baby gifts.  I couldn't stop smiling.  It was just what I had wanted to happen.  I reveled in how happy I was and how happy everyone else was too.  It couldn't have been more perfect.  I left all her decorations up for the rest of my stay just as a constant reminder of  how wonderful it was.  That impromptu party was my favorite memory from the hospital stay.

The next few days were filled with more visitors, and some down time.  Annalie was such a sleepy baby, and I didn't know what to do with her.  Whitney was so alert and fussy right from the start, that I spent most of my time trying to play with her, nurse her, and soothe her.  I didn't really have to do any of that this time.  So I just had fun with her.  I dressed her up.  I took some cute pictures.  I did an art project with her footprints and gave it as a gift to my mom and my OB.  And I did a lot of cuddling.  She was such an easy baby--easy to feed, easy to soothe--I couldn't believe how wonderful she was.  And, what surprised me the most was how calm she was after being so active inside of me.