Cassidy

I had all these grand plans for the first post on this tweaked and improved, shiny and new blog. This is not the post I thought I’d write.

I was pregnant. We were going to ride this rodeo one more time, and this time it all took on new meaning because we already had a little darling in our life that allowed us to see what a miracle we could create. When I heard that heartbeat for the first time, so loud and so reminiscent of our Rylie’s the first time we heard hers, I was smitten. No turning back, this was happening, I was in love, and we were no longer a family of three, we officially had two little darlings in our life.

I really felt this pregnancy. And by felt, I mean I was nauseous all day and never knew what fatigue felt like until a couple of weeks ago. I convinced myself that all this discomfort and sickness was taking away all the sickness from the baby. For the rest of my life, I’d wish that I could take my baby’s pain away, and for the only time in his or her life, I could.

God had different plans though, and I’m still struggling to understand them. At our 12 week appointment, with Rylie in tow (excited and repeating to everyone around her “baby’s heartbeat, baby’s heartbeat) the doctor turned on the ultrasound screen and we knew instantly. There was no longer a little flicker in the chest, and no movement like the doctor had predicted to Rylie that we would see. That moment is burned into my brain, hearing Rylie ask for the heartbeat, and to see…nothing, to hear…nothing.

I’ve never felt loss so close to home. As I write this, my vision is blurry because my eyes are filled with tears and puffy from no sleep last night. I’m angry, I’m devastated, I’m confused, I’m afraid, I want answers. I want to turn back time.

Tomorrow is the procedure where they remove him or her. At first I was angry that they couldn’t do it sooner, and now, I don’t want tomorrow to come. I’m not ready to let go yet. So I’m writing this post now, when the feelings are still so raw and fresh, so that I don’t ever have to let go and so that we will never forget. Before we found out, I made a video that I was going to use to announce our pregnancy. I was going to cut out the “baby” parts and change the music, but then thought to myself… “Why would I cut those parts out? In those moments, we were a family of 4 and you sweet baby, were still so alive in our minds and hearts.” So no, I’m keeping the video, and I’m going to watch it whenever I need to be reminded.

Sweet baby, I’ll never get to hold you in my arms, or kiss your eyelashes when you’re sleeping. I’ll never get to hold your hand, or kiss your booboos when you fall. I’ll never see your smile, or have my heart melt when you reach up to me. I’ll never hear you call me mama. But I will always be your mama. You’ll also never be cold, never be afraid, never feel lonely, never have your heartbroken. If you could hear before your heart stopped, the last thing you heard was my heart beating, and every beat was for you. I struggle with my faith, but if you are in heaven, and every part of me hopes you are…then instead of me holding you in my arms telling you about all the people that love you, I hope that God is holding you and telling you all about us. I want you to know that Rylie was so in love with you too. She already knew she was your big sister, and it broke my heart yesterday and this morning when she’d lift my shirt and kiss my belly, which has become a little ritual for us. Last night she asked me to read her the “baby” book, a book we got her to help her understand what being a big sister meant. It’s her favorite book. A part of me wanted to hide it last night, but I didn’t. We read it, and she still lit up at the part when the “Rylie” is holding “the baby.” It broke my heart, but I believe that for a long while she won’t let us forget, and that’s ok with me.

Your gift to us was that we will cherish your sister even more than we thought we possibly could now. You brought your dad and I even closer together yesterday, if that was even possible. And maybe one day, someone will need me to really understand their loss, and I will, because of you. My heart aches for you, and I already feel so empty. You have already left your mark, I promise. I love you, I miss having you, and I promise to never forget. I’m comforted in knowing that Rylie got her first guardian angel.

*update. A part of me didnt understand why my body would not miscarry on its own. A part of me thought that process would give me more closure in a way. We have the most wonderful doctor though. When I asked if I could see the baby one more time before the procedure, he said “you’re the boss.” In the operating room, right before they put me under, I got to visit with our little one, one last time. He spent so much time showing me the little hands, feet, and profile. It was the last thing I saw before drifting off to sleep as the doctor held my hand. Now THAT is the image I’m left with, and I’ll be forever grateful.

I had some painters tape, gold spray paint, and a boring old vase laying around. So decided to have some fun during Rylie’s nap yesterday 🙂 Here’s what happened!

Easy and fun!
xoxo

I’m sort of obsessed with gold these days. So when I came across some gold dipped barstools on Pinterest, I knew I just had to do it.

First, I bought these barstools from Wal-Mart. I didn’t want to get anything fancy, because I wasn’t sure if my gold-dipped project would turn into a gold-dipped disaster. Then I discovered that many folks had had success with this gold paintspray. I braved Home Depot (have I mentioned I have a weird aversion to Home Depot), bought all the supplies, and went to work! I love them!

Be prepared..it’s a long one 🙂
So Christmas Eve I peed on a stick. I stared at it for what felt like an eternity. Then, I danced. No one else was around, so I picked up my little furry ones and twirled with them in the kitchen. I decided to tell daddy-to-be Christmas morning…
Christmas Eve night, I told my sister-in-law and she helped sneak me virgin cranberry soda drinks all night long. I love her 🙂
Christmas morning I peed on another stick. It was just as amazing as the first time. I stuck that stick (kinda gross I know) in daddy-to-be’s stocking. He about fainted. On the drive down to my parent’s house he asked me, “are we always going to be this happy?” 🙂
Christmas day was a whirlwind, we hosted Christmas dinner, daddy-to-be kept following me around telling me to be careful and not to bend over or lift anything heavy 🙂

New Years came and went. I can’t believe no one could tell my “cosmo” was a fake 🙂 I remember thinking to myself, “our baby is going to be BORN this year.” This little fact made the 2011 countdown extra special.

I really loved the period of time between finding out we were having a baby, and telling everyone we were having a baby. We were the only ones in the world (besides my sister-in-law and God) that knew this little wonder was growing inside me. I remember one night we talked about our favorite childhood memories. Mine…were the forts I used to make in our living room with my brothers. So, we built a fort in our living room.

I would make Dave take pictures of my “bump.” I seriously remember him taking this picture, I was so excited because I thought I was “showing.”

I laugh now looking at that picture. That was no bump.

Now THIS was a bump.

One of the best moments of my pregnancy was finding out Ry was a girl. I took that whole day off of work, and went…shopping, duh.

Telling everyone was a lot of fun too 🙂

I loved being pregnant.

If you know me at all, you know I am a planner, and while David did his best to remind me that this was the one thing I could not exactly plan, I did my best to do so anyway. One of the first things we did was hire a doula. Having France, from Rightful Birthing, as a part of our birthing journey was one of the best things we did.

France helped me come up with a “birth plan.” In my birth plan (which let’s be honest, was several pages long), I clearly laid out exactly what I hoped my birth experience would look like. I made several copies and forced, I mean asked, my OB/GYN to scan it into my medical record so that everyone would read it. I hoped to avoid pain medications, I was adamant against a cesarean, and the most important part of my plan (which was bolded highlighted and italicized) was that I wished to hold baby Rylie skin-to-skin immediately after she was born.

So, 40 weeks came and passed and still no baby. By this point I was getting impatient and so incredibly ready to meet this little life in my belly that had been hiccuping, twirling, and bruising my ribs for the last couple of months. I seemed to have a lot of practice contractions while in the car, so a couple times Dave and I would jump in the car, stick in an old burned CD I’d made him in highschool, and just drive…hoping that the practice contractions would decide to get a little more serious.

I had been seeing Jamie my acupuncturist from Whole Family Wellness for a couple of weeks, and at my last visit with her she asked, “are you ready to meet her yet?” I was VERY ready to meet her, and on my drive home from that visit my contractions started.

They started around 5 PM on Labor Day (no pun intended), and I spent that night at home bouncing on a birthing ball watching Real Housewives of Beverly Hills while David slept (I told him to sleep, he had a long day ahead of him). We went into triage early the next morning. They told me the last thing a 41 weeker who has been having contractions for 12 hours wants to hear, “you’re only one centimeter dilated, go home, come back later.”

We went home. My water broke. We went back.

The next 12 hours are a bit of a blur. I do remember one thing though, I never pulled out the birth plan. I eventually got an epidural. I was so exhausted from laboring for so long, and in so much pain, I needed some relief. They gave me a low dose, so I was still able to move my legs and feel the contractions, but without the intensity.

Poor Dave. It must have been the hardest thing in the world for him to watch, and not be able to do anything. One of the only things I remember about the 12 hours of laboring in the hospital was when David tried to feed me ice chips. He didn’t realize that cranberry juice had been in the cup. He spilled it all over me. Luckily, we all laughed.

After 24 hours (O.M.G.), I finally got to start pushing. I pushed, and I pushed, and the epidural wasn’t working, and I pushed, and screamed, and cried. Two hours of pushing later, I knew in my heart that our baby was not going to enter the world the way I had imagined. I was pushing with everything I had, and she wasn’t moving. My doctor gave me 3 options, 1) Keep pushing, but I don’t guarantee she’s going to come out this way, 2) forceps or vacuum, but I can’t guarantee that will work either, or 3) cesarean.

Cesarean. I cried. My mom stroked my hair. I remember David having a look of relief. I closed my eyes and did a little self-talk. “I can’t have a cesarean. I don’t have any other options. I won’t get to hold Rylie right after she’s born. This is the safest way for her to be born. I won’t get to see her take her first breath. All that matters is that she comes out and takes her first breath.”

I kept my eyes closed while they wheeled me away. The room was really cold. David looked cute in his scrubs. It all happened very fast, and before I knew it, I heard her. My daughter. I heard her! She cried once. Dave later told me she just kept blinking, looking around at everyone. I remember someone (I don’t remember who) saying, “She’s a big one!”

I remember having the hardest time opening my eyes. I was so exhausted. Then David said, “Cass…look.” There she was. I already knew her. It was like seeing an old friend. Before I got pregnant I had imagined her, when I wanted to get pregnant I had prayed for her, while I was pregnant I had spoken to her. We were soul mates. She was perfect. She was chubby. I was in love.

I’ll never forget when the last nurse left our little hospital room and we were left alone, just the three of us for the first time. Dave and I would just study her, and hold her, and kiss her perfect little nose. I loved those first couple of nights in the hospital. We never slept, we were exhausted, we had never been so happy.

It didn’t happen how I imagined, in fact, it was kinda the opposite of how I imagined. I didn’t get to hold her the moment she was born, but I get to hold her for the rest of my life (at least until she breaks my back or turns into a teenager and doesn’t want me near her). She has completely changed everything. I’m so blessed to be her mother.

Happy Birthday Rylie 🙂 09/06/2011

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