Pioneer Women

On Pioneer Day, I couldn't help thinking of the women--my ancestors--who crossed the plains of America and settled Utah. I couldn't help thinking of the women that were chased out of their homes by mobs, forced to cross frozen rivers and give birth in tents just miles from their homes. I couldn't help thinking of the pregnant women that traveled miles on foot. I couldn't help thinking of the mothers that had to bury their children in the open plains, never to return to their graves again. Or even worse, to not know what wild animal would upturn the grave.

I remember holding Luke in my arms and feeling how sacred his precious body was, even without his spirit there. I remember on the day Luke was born, thinking back on these women who had gone before me and had to leave their precious babies and press on. I remember being so grateful that my son's sacred body would be laid to rest in a safe and protected place.

Some might think that it is just a body, but when it is your child . . . your loved one, I think you feel differently about the sacred tabernacle that we call a body.

I am grateful to the women who faced the same trial as me, but in what seems like much more difficult circumstances. I am grateful they had the faith to press on to the Salt Lake Valley and had the courage to leave their sweet children behind.

Fighting Fear During Pregnancy

Part of my decision to announce this pregnancy so early was because I wanted to be able to share my experience of what being pregnant is like after experiencing pregnancy loss. I, obviously, have not given very many updates on this pregnancy. In part, because the last two months have been a whirlwind of events--packing up, traveling for nearly two weeks across the country, and attempting to get settled in and all of the odds-and-end yet urgent things taken care of--and partially because perhaps I haven't wanted to write how I've really felt.

When you put your thoughts or feelings into words it solidifies them--perhaps making them a little bit more true and real than maybe you want them to be. I think that has been me lately.

In spite of being committed to loving my pregnancy it has been a challenge. I knew that it might be an experience that is laced with fear --and it has been just that. I haven't wanted to really accept that, so I think that is partially why I have avoided writing about it.

The first trimester was probably easier because I had a constant reminder that I was still pregnant--nausea. It was never too bad (I am so blessed with "easy" pregnancies) and I only threw up twice. And one of those two times I actually thought was quite a comical experience.

As I started into the second trimester the nausea was dissipating, which for most people is a great thing; however, for me not feeling pregnant was no comfort at all. I wrote about wondering if I was even still pregnant just before we heard our baby's heartbeat for the first time in April. In that post I wrote about the peace that I received from Christ's words in the scriptures.

It seems as though my life, particularly this pregnancy, is a continual ebb and flow of fear and pleading to God in prayer for an increase of faith and then receiving tender mercies, experiences and teaching moments which bring me to a place of comfort and then I fall into fear again.

I know some moms feel really connected to their babies from the moment of conception, I can't say that I'm one of those moms. Excited and thrilled and filled with love for this unknown spirit --yes, most definitely! But would I say I feel close to babies early on in pregnancy. Not really. Which is weird because no one else is closer--the child is inside of me!  But that's just the way it is for me. It was that way with Luke and it has been that way again. It's hard this time though because I have a very deep longing to feel close to this baby and to feel it now. What if this is the only time I have with this child? I need to love it and embrace it before it is possibly taken from me. So I plead and pray that I can feel close to my little baby.

It doesn't help that my body carries babies in a way that I can see and maybe close family members or friends who are familiar with my build can start to see about now, but to anyone else I don't even look pregnant for a long time into my pregnancy. I, of course, was hoping that that would be different this go-around. You're supposed to show sooner with each subsequent pregnancy, right? Well not me. My ribs widen and my hips widen and everything pretty much stays tucked inside all nice. I'm sure most women would love to carry their babies this way. You don't really feel fat, no bump gets in the way, it's easy to still sleep on your stomach, your regular clothes fit you for most of pregnancy. Sounds great right? Well it's awful!!! I would give almost anything for physical evidence that this little child is still alive and growing.

I am so grateful that I have a loving Father in Heaven that hears the pleadings of my heart and blesses me with sweet tender mercies. Some members of my family have already read this, but I've decided to share a very momentous experience that occured during this pregnancy. I wrote about it in my journal and will include a portion of that journal entry.

*****

May 19, 2012 

This morning I woke up early and prayed and read my scriptures and went back to sleep. (Tired pregnant mamma). The next time I woke up (around 8 am) I laid there thinking about my baby--wondering and wishing for more evidence.

The Lord hears our pleas and the prayers of our hearts.

I laid on my back and began to feel my stomach--pressing ever so slightly to try to feel if my uterus was actually indeed still growing and getting bigger (in spite of me not really looking very pregnant at all . . . even at 3 and a half months!). I could feel it and continued to press gently, but firmly around feeling things out. I slowly increased the pressure to see if I could feel my baby. Not at first, but with time I could begin to feel what felt like our baby! I thought back to when Brindy (Sherri's apprentice) would press firmly and feel around to locate Luke and recognize what direction or position he was in. I proceeded to do as she had done feeling around and acquainting myself with what has going on inside of me. It felt as though this baby was near the top of my uterus and acquainting is just what happened! As I poked and prodded ever so lovingly I felt a little nudge back at me!

A gasp of excitement and almost disbelief. My heart raced with excitement and joy and gratitude greater than words could express.

"Hi baby"

I continued to prod some more for reassurance that it wasn't just my imagination, even though I had felt it more sure than ever! I felt another movement in response to my nudge and tears were simply flowing from the corners of my eyes as I laid on my back. I have never wept so much from joy and happiness. I couldn't have been more thrilled. I couldn't have--in an instance--felt more connected to my baby. I continued to cry and gently nudged around some more just pleading for a third little acknowledgment that this baby was really here. Really still alive and really still with me.

A third movement! 

*****

After that sweet experience I did not continue to feel my baby regularly. And actually didn't really start feeling regular flutters of movement until this past week. This, in a way, sometimes caused me to allow the fear cycle to begin again, but I have tried to not forget this experience of reassurance which I was blessed with. I have tried to remember it and to share it with others. I have tried to remember that God gave me a sweet gift when I needed it most of being able to feel my baby move and to feel the life that this baby, who is currently in me, has. I have tried to remember that this child's life is in the hands of God and that I need to have the continued faith and trust in His will --the faith that I have had in acknowledging His control and plan for Luke. He has a plan for this child too and I need to trust Him -- even if sometimes I worry and fear and dread His will, because it may not be what I want for me. 

Oh what an increase of faith I still need!  But even though my faith is not perfect I am so grateful that our Father in Heaven loves me enough to bless me with comfort and answers to my prayers. In spite of my weakness and lack of faith He has made His Hand visible in my life. I am so grateful to Him for this!  

Baby Shower Thank Yous

I was given a couple wonderful baby showers when I was pregnant with Luke. I felt so blessed with the abundance of gifts that I received. I was prompt (which isn't usually like me) to send out thank you cards to the majority of the generous gift givers. I ran out of cards and needed to still write to some of my closest friends and family members. There were also a couple people whom I needed new addresses from, so their cards were not sent.

One day in August or maybe September, I finally got around to tending to all of the paper work that had piled up in our office. Amongst unpaid bills, there was paperwork about grieving from the hospital (which I glanced at and also threw into the trash), explanation of benefits (or lack thereof) from my insurance company, an application for ordering a death certificate, and beautiful sympathy cards given to us by an assortment of friends, acquaintances, family members, and even strangers. Many of these things seem like they would be difficult to sort through and deal with, but I looked at each item and dealt with it almost as if it were any normal paperwork or mail. As I continued sorting I found a couple unsent thank you cards.

The discovery of these cards sent me into an unforseen fit of tears. I grabbed the cards and shoved them deep into the garbage. I wept more for feeling ungrateful for the kindness and generosity that had previously been bestowed upon me. But how was I to send those cards now? Should I just rewrite them? Should I just write a PS that explained that I had written them before I knew that I wouldn't be bringing my baby home from the hospital? I couldn't do either, so in the garbage they remained as I knelt on the floor and wept.

Wept for guilt of ingratitude, wept for my son, wept for my aching arms that longed to have him with me. It hurt. The pain was strong, but I needed this moment. Looking back I think I hadn't cried enough yet and I think it's what I needed at the time. So I let the hot tears flow as I mourned.

I eventually managed to calm myself and continue sorting through the array of papers I'd accumulated only to discover Luke's ultrasound pictures from the day that we found out we would be having a boy. The tears came again and I didn't try to stop them from flowing.

Oh, the excitement and hope that these pictures used to hold. And now they're some of the only pictures and memories I have of my son. It didn't feel fair. It didn't feel real. How I wished I could exchange those pictures for what they used to be--anticipation and excitement of a future day, but now that dream is gone and there's no going back to that hope that they once held.

But there is still hope. Hope for a different dream. Hope for a different day. Hope that I will live my life in a way that will allow me to be worthy to live again in the presence of God, with my son and with all of my family members.

*****

“Hope is the anchor of our souls. . . . 

“Hope is trust in God’s promises, faith that if we act now, the desired blessings will be fulfilled in the future. . . 

“The unfailing source of our hope is that we are sons and daughters of God and that His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, saved us from death”  

(“Hope, an Anchor of the Soul,” Ensign, Nov. 1999)