My faith is like shifting sand

Katherine rocked our world. My love for her was intense. I had a few years of parenting under my belt. I had learned from my 'mistakes' with my other kiddos. I had grown in patience and understanding in child development, I had mastered "in my own biased opinion" the art of balancing a multiple kid family. It had taken 4years but I had finally found my groove as a mother. I knew exactly what kind of mother I wanted to be like. I granted myself the gift of grace, patience and understanding, and that gift poured over into my children's lives. I had so much fun with Ellie and Zach preparing for our transition from a family a 4 to a family of 5. It truly was a beautiful, grace filled, 9months of pregnancy bliss. I didn't complain about my pregnancy with Katherine, I enjoyed every single moment with her. And I enjoyed every single moment with my other children as well. After years of struggle, doubting, questioning my mothering skills, I finally felt like I was good to go. I felt like I was made to have babies, and to be a mother, and it all finally felt so right. I saw Katherine as another stamp of God's approval of my life and what I had made of it.

So when Katherine died, somewhat from a direct result of my birthing choices, it was a significant blow to my heart. Everything that I had poured myself into for years now crumbling before my very eyes. If I couldn't make choices that would have brought my daughter safely into this world then how could I trust that I could make the right choices continually for any of my kiddos? I mean...I failed....I failed to believe that a rare thing could happen to me....I failed to believe that I could possibly fall into a 1-5% category...I failed to believe that God wouldn't allow a horrible tragedy to befall on me. I mean I had done, (what I considered) my fair share of suffering in life...surely God wouldn't allow more than the "usual" stuff to happen to me now. But he did....and how was I going to recover from this?

It's hard to learn to live again after child loss. Maybe that is true after any loss...but child loss, well there is something about that type of loss that just isn't right. For me the depth of guilt I have felt after losing Katherine has been so tremendous that even looking at my living kiddos at times surges more grief into my heart. Not only did I fail Katherine, but I failed these other two precious children that were counting on me to bring them home a baby sister. They spent months rubbing my belly, talking to the baby, giving her checkups, and preparing their rooms and their hearts for her. Zachary was so excited to enter a new stage of sibling hood...to get to be a big brother, he had the title of brother but not the title of "big" and it was so exciting to him. Sweet Ellie was excited that she was finally going to get to be like her other friends and have a little sister, a companion to share a room with, tell secrets to, play dress up, learn how to do make up, and experiment with each others hair, another little girl that, in her world, would actually enjoy playing dolls with her. My children lost all of these dreams when they lost their sister. I felt, like in many ways, pieces of their innocence were stolen from them that night Katherine died. I, especially at times feel as though their trust in me was broken that night as well.

I remember telling them over and over again between contractions to "go and play" the baby was coming and mommy was hurting but that everything would be "okay."  Ellie recently revealed to me that she was really scared during this time and that she felt alone, that she wanted to help but that she didn't know what she could do..I remember both she and Zach checked on me over and over again and while it was one of the most painful, alone times, I have ever felt. At the same time I had these two gorgeous little people that loved me so great that they endured their fear, they stepped up in courage, and they reminded me in my darkest hour that they, they of all people were still right there with me because they loved me. Looking back I can see how tremendously beautiful they were in that moment.

In the immediate moments after losing Katherine and waking up from my surgery I remember saying to God "Why, why am I still alive? Is it just to grieve over my dead baby? Why have you done this to me? Why am I not with you? I should be with you, I should be seeing your face, not this...not this...just not this." The thoughts running through my mind were no where near "Thy will be done." or"He gives and takes away, blessed be the name." No, the cry of my heart was one where I felt betrayed by the God I had been trusting in to bring my daughter safely to my arms. I was so broken, utterly broken.

People have this misconception that somehow having living children will minimize the ache a parent feels when they lose 1 child and while it can help to have someone to pour all the extra love you have for the deceased child on another; at times it can also feel like a cruel joke pouring your love meant for one child onto another. It makes one feel like they are betraying the other child. And it doesn't always feel natural. It's a strange concept to grasp if you have never lost a child of your own but it is very very real...it doesn't mean I love my other children any less it just means that each of my children have their own special unique love that I give to them and it doesn't always feel right sharing that unique love with the others. But hey, I don't believe anymore that it needs to make sense to you I just know that it is a reality for me and there is no simple way of healing from child loss. There is no "one size fits all" when it comes to healing after loss.

My healing has been extremely messy. I have had moments of great faith, fully relying on the grace of God to get me through the day, and then I have had moments where I have wanted nothing to do with the God that allowed me to experience such a terrible tragedy. I have had moments where I have sang whole heartily "it will be my joy to say, your will, your way." and other moments where I have spent most of my Sunday morning in bed because the thought of worshiping God felt like nothing more than an empty emotion, and I hate empty emotions.

I am certainly not the poster child of suffering when it comes to the majority of christian culture. When we want to hear nothing but "God's got you. You'll never fail with him." I've probably uttered the hard reality of "God's got your salvation, you'll at least never lose that with him." My faith has certainly been changed by every wave. Sometimes the christian culture pressure of serving the lord in hardship with joy in your heart and a smile on your face really adds into my feeling so defeated on this journey. I fall so miserably short, every single time.

Recently, I have been reminded about how little the results of my faith aids in my right standing with God. Scripture tells us that in order to have right standing with God all we need to do is believe 1. That Jesus is the Son of God, that he died and rose again. Period...Yes, there is plenty of scripture that challenges us to not just stay dead in our sins, challenges us to grow more into the image of Jesus...but those things are the result of our faith not the the things that keep us in the faith. If I were honest I would say that my faith these past 2and1/2years as been one of clinging to the basic creed that Jesus is the son of God, that he died for the transgressions of my sins, and he rose again. Because all the other doctrines have been muddled in my brain. I can't seem to grasp how so many doctrines I once held to now fit in my 1less child world view. Some doctrines once comforted my heart and now they seem to only cause my heart more discomfort. I have wrestled and wrestled and wrestled and have come to find peace in only this...God's grace.

Because in holding to just that 1 basic creed, I have held on to more hope than I could possibly fully comprehend. Every time I fall short, every time, I don't say the right thing, worship in the right way, serve with the right amount of joy. Every time I doubt, every time I wander, every time I struggle to praise the God who is worthy of my praise, the grace of Jesus holds me steadfast in God's eyes. While I fully believe we must always be willing to lay aside ourselves, our rights, our perceived hurts, even when we refuse to do so Jesus steps in and covers us with his grace, not because I'm a great person and I've done enough to prove my faith. He is a gracious god who will keep his promises to me,  no matter how I may fail him. I believe that he is the son of God, that he died for my sins, that he rose again. That is tremendous hope during times when we feel like, and know, the results of our faith aren't quite measuring up. Here's the beautiful thing about this reality, it has put a spring back into my heart, taken pressure off of my soul, and truly aided in bringing me rest.

 So when my faith is more like the doubtful, double minded, man in the book of James being tossed by every wave, I know that I stand on grace. The foundation of Jesus that I stand on is strong and so while all my other bricks may have come tumbling down it is a beauty to know that my foundation is strong and ready to be built on again.

Hope, grace, Jesus, is a beautiful gift.

Killians birth

Now that I have finally shared Katherine's birth story. I think I am in a good place where I can share Killian's.

First off, why did we choose the name Killian. Well, on some level I think we wanted to honor Katherine still and so picking another K name just felt right to us. On a humorous level we are big fans of the T.V. series Once Upon a Time and we were watching the show one Sunday evening and it was revealed that Captain Hooks first name was Killian...I loved the way it was spelled and immediately turned to my husband and said "Killian, that's our son's name. It's Killian." Of course my dear hubby was skeptical naming our son after a pirate from a t.v. series. As we have always felt that a name can convey so much about a person, their character and who they can be shaped into...the thought of a naming our son after a pirate turned good didn't sit real well with him at first.  So once he realized that I was serious and not easily going to give it up he agreed to look into other potential meanings of the name Killian. When he found that one meaning was "little church" he realized it fit perfectly along with all our other kiddos names and their meanings. We had a "bright shining" one, a "God remembered" one, a "pure" one, and now it seemed fit to complete it with a "little church."

My pregnancy with Killian was a far from easy one. I was wracked with guilt over Katherine, wrecked with grief, worries, and nervousness, and the what if's were constantly plaguing my mind.  I wish I could say great words of faith and wisdom, that I secured myself on God and his love but truthfully I did not. My faith was so weak when I was pregnant with Killian, and if I were to be honest it still is weak. At least it is weak in the ways that many Christians would think and yet I've been told by "experts " it is stronger than I realize. Anyways....I had trusted God with Katherine, that he would deliver her safely into my arms, that I would walk away with a baby to hold, and God did not do any of those things that I had trusted him to do with her...and so for me to say "I trust God....to do ...with Killian...." just wasn't going to be in my vocabulary because if Katherine had taught me anything it was that God owes us nothing and doesn't have to do anything the way that I want him to do it. No, the words "I have faith, and trust God..." were not used often in my pregnancy with Killian.  But what I can say is that I fell to my knees moment by moment at the feet of the Lord in prayer, begging him to help me continue to believe even if he chose for me to not get to take Killian home. I remember praying on behalf of my other children that God would please spare them the pain of losing another baby, and that my eldest daughter would see that pregnacy doesn't always end in death and loneliness.  For every moment of despair that I had while pregnant with Killian I would turn to my God and ask "Please, not again....but if so......" and maybe it takes a strong faith to do just that....

On another  note:  I remember telling Carl "I don't want to take maternity photos, I feel fat, ashamed of the weight I have gained, again,...ashamed that I failed our daughter, that my body failed, and every part of me is screaming to not celebrate this little baby's life right now. To not get attached because it's going to only end in heartache, BUT....I don't want sadness and despair to win. I don't want our baby growing up wondering if we ever really wanted him/or her...I don't want this baby wondering where the baby pictures are and why we didn't.....so I want us to fight for joy and do this maternity shoot/baby reveal. I want us to celebrate as much as we can now because we may not be guaranteed to celebrate it tomorrow...."

So I have this incredible photographer friend of RebeccaLaurelPhotography that said she would donate her photography services and give us a gender reveal shoot if we wanted to do one and so I jumped on the opportunity and said "Yes," and with the help of a couple of other great friends the greatest gender reveal of all time came through and we found great joy in knowing that Killian would be a Killian...

I think one of the biggest differences between my pregnancy with Killian and Katherine was that there would be no doubt, no question, at all about having a repeat C-Section. Can I just say though I hate surgery. With women being sent home 2days some times after having surgery, and being required to get up and walk almost immediately after surgery, the media, and vaginal is best movement make it sound as if a c-section is taking the "easy" way out of child birth. That somehow forgoing the immediate labor pains and laying on a cold operating table, while many strangers tug at your belly fat, expose your innards, and remove a human being from your mid section is so much fun. It isn't...it's scary, completely trusting your life, your child's life, with someone else is anything but easy and you just lay there hoping someone doesn't clip the wrong organ, leave something bleeding or worse yet leave a tool behind.  But, obviously, in my case, this really was the best and only option at delivering a healthy baby so there was no waiting for my water to break, me to dilate, ect ect ect.  Killian's birth is the one and only birth where we picked out in advanced what day we would deliver him on. We had a few choices but not ones far from each other...we had to deliver early so we couldn't go any later than week 37....which happened to fall on Leap Day...February 29th...we couldn't really deliver the day before because that would still fall into week 36 but if we wanted to do it the day after we could have done that but I really wanted a February baby as I already have a March so we stuck with Leap Day....and we will celebrate it on the 28th every year except on Leap Year of course ;)

My same, amazing friend made the trip up to see us and helped get us out the door and to the hospital by 5:30am. This was the exact same hospital where I gave birth to Katherine so the last time I was about to deliver a child I arrived via ambulance in the rain, and funny thing about history repeating itself we drove to the hospital on Killian's birthday as well in the rain. It was little PTSD of a moment for me I had a flash back of flashing red and blue lights, it seemed as though I could hear the ambulance workers talking to one another again, thankfully, my friend helped me back to the reality of "today" by playing a comforting song which helped me remember that what I was remembering was another time, another story, not here, not now, not today, not this moment.

We arrived to the hospital and I think I remember all of us walking quietly down the hall, we all realized the sensitivity of this moment, and I feel as though we all held our breaths not wanting to disturb the beauty and holiness of it all. I was walking with a living baby in my womb, who was about to take his firsts breath, precious breaths that his older sister never had, and I would get to hold a living baby in my arms in a few short hours. Those moments that I knew I would most likely not get to have again, Katherine made this walk more precious, more beautiful and more redeeming than it could have ever been if she had not existed. The weight of that knowledge, that gift, did not go unfelt by us feeble and frail humans entrusted to experience it.

We went to the front desk where I was greeted by two wonderful nurses that helped us with Katherine's birth as well. I sometimes wish I could be a fly on the wall and experience the redeeming moments that were granted to them in getting the privilege of walking us through this live birth of Killian.

We were shown to our room and the surgery preparation began. I was scared...it was hard, and emotional, and I held back tears. I half expected to be hooked up to machines and be delivered horrible news all over again...and instead I got beautiful smiles, peaceful voices, quietness,  a wonderful photographer to capture beautiful redeeming moments full of joy, and laughter, and silliness....a striking difference between the chaos that was Katherine's birth....and all at the same time...all of us feeling the difference and thinking....this...this is how things should have been all a long.

One of my favorite pictures is this one of our Pastor praying with us...He came at 6:30in the morning and just was with is and prayed with is and it was one of the most wonderful moments to share with him. He was there for us when he hardly knew us, at 2:30am when he heard that Katherine was gone, and for Him to be a part of something joyful with us was truly special.

We finished signing away my life and the nurses came and took me away to the operating room. In the hall I met my doctor and he held my hand, said a few words, and both of us shed some sweet tears (he was the same amazing doctor that saved my life with Katherine.) This moment was good, not life threatening in the same way that Katherine was, and we both were reassured that today, today was going to be different. It was beautiful.

Pretty soon both doctors (Yes, i had two ob's in my operating room as my uterus was/is a very delicate organ and I was proned to heavy bleeding) were cutting me open...I had my husband by my head, and a wonderful anesthesiologist...a stark contrast to Katherine's birth. It took them a little longer to get Killian out. I am a big woman and on top of that I had significant scar tissue built in my abdomen and on my uterus. However, we made the right decision in delivering Killian early. My uterus along my rupture area was paper thin and wouldn't have lasted through any significant contractions. Killian was coming at the right time. I remember the silence that filled the room as we all anticipated his birth and I remember my Ob saying "He's here, He's here, He's a big boy.." and then hearing Killian crying his first cries...it was beautiful. The nurses cleaned him up a little and the anesthesiologist worked out a way to monitor my vitals and still allow me to hold him. I spent a good 5mins with him before they ushered him and daddy out the door.

The rest of the time in the operating room was filled with some laughter and many tears. My doctor came over to me afterwards grabbed my hands again and with tears in his eyes said "You can't believe how extremely happy I am for you right now. Thank you for letting me be a part of it."

In the mean time Carl was, once again, given the privlege of giving one of our babies their very first bath.

 Although I have been told by my husband that Killian was not a very big fan of his first bath. He really just wanted his mommy back and that made me feel so very special. My baby boy loved me and wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

Holding my son after 37weeks of not knowing if he would be okay or not was one of the most rewarding feelings I have ever experienced. He was a risk worth taking and a risk that I'm glad turned out to be in our favor.

But I think the most joyful moment came when his brother and sister who had yet to meet a living baby sibling of their own got to meet him. The looks on their faces say it all.

 On the way down the hall I could hear Carl saying..."Come meet your baby brother..." and Ellie asking "His he alive?"

"Yes, he is" daddy humbly replied.

"Really, really, daddy?"

Really, really, alive, Ellie."

 And unless your child has experience the loss of a sibling at birth that is rarely a sentence the average sibling expresses at the announcement of a baby sibling.

 Killian's birth brought us all much needed joy, and comfort. And we are so very glad that he is here.