Merry Christmas.....Maybe?

For weeks and weeks I have been reading on facebook about all of the people in my neighborhood who have had the stomach flu, but we were stomach flu free. I am sure the reason was because my younger children are home schooled and we have pretty much stayed inside since my surgery. I even thought about staying home from church last week to keep it away. In the end it wouldn't have done any good. My oldest daughter brought it home. She first felt sick Sunday evening and was sick through the night. She felt much better around noon. I was hopeful that maybe it was a bit of food poisoning, but no.

Yesterday, right in middle of a marathon baking session, someone reported that my seven year old son was sick. Half hour later it was my 3 year old son. An hour later my 11 year old daughter started and my 15 year old son was right behind her. It was 4 AM when my husband bolted out of bed. So far the only hold outs have been my 5 year old daughter and myself. The good news is that all of the sickies from yesterday are feeling better. The bad news is that it may still hit the ones left. I so don't want to be sick. I want to go to church on Christmas. It is so rare that we get that opportunity. At least hubby doesn't have to go back to work until Tuesday.

Pictures of Angels

It has been less than a week since I posted about my stillborn son Nathaniel and included a picture of him. Since that time a well known television family, the Duggars have come under fire for pictures of their baby, who was about the same gestational age as my son. This makes me so sad. The pictures I have of Nathaniel mean more to me than any earthly item I have. If there was a fire, once my living children and husband are safe, chose to safe my photos of him. Everything else can be replaced. They can not. Once of the reasons why I did chose to post a picture of him was so that there would be a place where his picture could be retrieved if my physical copies were somehow lost.

I think what people need to understand most is that these pictures are precious to the parents who have lost a child. We don't view them as gross or disgusting or horrendous, any more than we would think those things of pictures of our living children. I honestly wish we had more pictures, not less. I wish we would have taken pictures before we dressed him and of the tiny details like his hands and feet or even his chin or his ankles. Anything that would help me remember everything about him. I still have the tiny cap from his burial gown and it reminds me of how small he was.

Nat

Normally I do some kind of tribute to my Son Nathaniel on his birthday, October 28th. This year was two days post-surgery and unable to even get out of bed, much less to the computer, so it is coming a little late. Fair warning, I will be talking about my experience of pregnancy loss in detail.

It was 13 years ago. Hubby and I were excited to be expecting our third child. It was really one of those incredible times in our life when things just seemed "right." We had recently moved out of our tiny apartment and were searching for our first home. We were staying with my parents. Hubby had a great job that he loved. Our two small children were well and happy. Life seemed storybook perfect. Every morning when Hubby came home from work, we would lay on the bed together. He would hold his hand on my belly and talk to our tiny child inside. More than my previous two pregnancies, Hubby was deeply involved and had formed a strong attachment to our sweet baby. Maybe it was because you could sense his spirit so strongly. I often spoke to my baby throughout the day. It felt like he was already in the room with me.

We had decided on names for our baby, Nathaniel Jacob or Natasha Elaine. From the time we first found out we were going to have another baby, we had called him Nat. Every prenatal appointment went beautifully well and we were expecting to bring home another happy healthy baby. I had horrible morning sickness (as I did with all 7 pregnancies) but honestly I didn't mind. I loved being pregnant. I loved feeling the little flutters of life inside of me.

I was almost halfway through my pregnancy when one evening I remember feeling a horrible sense of dread. I remember saying out loud "Where are you, Nat. I can't feel you." The next morning I woke to the tiniest splotch of blood. I called my doctor who told me to meet him at the hospital. They took me right back to the ultrasound room. I remember the image of my tiny baby popping up right away. but he wasn't moving. The US tech searched and searched but she couldn't find a heartbeat. I was in shock. I remember Hubby making the call to our family waiting at home. It seemed like a bad dream. It couldn't really be happening. I told my doctor, "There has to be something your can do. Fix this!" I was sobbing. My husband was crying. The doctor was crying. At some point my MIL who worked at the hospital came in, and some one brought the Elders (From the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) in to give me a blessing. The grief counselor from the hospital came in. She was asking me about the baby. Had we chosen a name. All of the sudden I was certain. My baby had been a boy. Nathaniel Jacob.

The doctor explained what was happening. The tiny splotch of blood had been my cervix starting to dilate. My body was preparing for labor. He sent me home to wait to labor to get stronger. He thought I would be more comfortable around my family than alone in a hospital room. All day we waited. We started to make funeral arrangements. It was further complicated by the timing. My birthday was Oct 30, and Halloween on the 31st. My sisters Birthday was Nov 1st. I didn't want bad memories attached to those days. I went to bed that night exhausted and grief stricken. In the early morning hours I felt contractions start. I still in bed when my water broke. Things went crazy after that. I went into the bathroom to clean up and get ready to go to the hospital. Instead the contractions got stronger and harder. I called for my husband and he grabbed my mom.

It was only a few minutes later, on the floor of my mom's bathroom that I delivered my son Nathaniel. My husband picked him up and handed him to me. He went to call the hospital and see what we needed to do. I was sitting on the edge of the tub, holding the baby when my mom noticed that I was hemorrhaging. She screamed for my husband, who rushed me to the hospital.

At the hospital (they do dumb things.) the nurse had me stand up to take my blood pressure. I felt like I was going to pass out. I kept telling myself I only had to stand up a minute longer. The next thing I knew, I was laying there with the doctor, nurse , and hubby screaming my name. The IV had already been hooked up and they were prepping me for surgery. At the last minute the retained piece of placenta finally let go and my uterus was able to contract enough to stop the bleeding. I was grateful to not have surgery that day.

Later in the evening we were able to dress our son for burial. We spent some time just staring at him. We examined each tiny finger and toe. We noticed that he definately had my chin, and Hubby's nose. He had Hubby's long legs. I memorized the feel of him in my hand. His little legs dangled across my wrist. We placed a tiny teddy bear and sweet little blanket in with him. We tried to say everything you would want to say to your child over a life time in only a few moments. The next day, Oct 29, we buried him next to his great great grandparents. Before the services we allowed a few family members to see him. Mostly my mom and Dad, my brother and his fiance (now wife) and my grandparents. We had a small service at the church in the Relief Society room. Dear friends came to sing "I am a Child of God" and "Families Can be Together Forever." A friend of ours talked. We carried his tiny coffin in our own car, on my lap to the cemetery. My paternal grandfather provided his cemetery plot. My maternal grandfather provided the coffin. Hubby dedicated the grave.

Sometimes it seems like just yesterday that I said goodbye to my sweet son. At first I went every Sunday to his grave. Then one Sunday I missed it. At first I cried, but then I realized it was OK to go on. We still talk about him. In fact one day I asked my seven year old son, who had broken something. I could tell by the look on his face that he knew he was in trouble....until he finally figured it out and said "Nathaniel did it,Mom." Grin....I don't think so. We were blessed to have a few pictures. My kids can look at them whenever they want to. They talk about Nathaniel, not with grief and pain, but wonder and curiosity. I am thankful that my family has been sealed for all time and eternity. That we can be together forever. I am thankful for the time, however short that I had with my son. I am thankful that knowing him made me a more loving and compassionate person. It helped me to grow and look outside myself. I am thankful for a loving Father In Heaven, who comforted my grief, and helped me find joy in life again.

Santa Claus

Growing up, Santa was very real to me. You see, when I saw Santa, he knew my name. He knew the names of my parents and grandparents. He knew what I wanted. Sometimes he would even show up at our house in the days before Christmas to visit with us. You see, I grew up in a fairly small community, and the same man was Santa for years and years. I was 16 years old when Santa stopped me at the end of the Christmas parade to stay and help him hand out candy canes to the children who came to visit him. I was still dressed in my marching band uniform complete with the huge plum on top of my hat, so I am sure I looked a bit like a tin solider. He then asked me to run around the building and pick up some more candy canes from "Mrs. Claus." As I rounded the corner, I saw the wife of one of my Grandfather's best friends standing there with a box full of candy canes. Then suddenly it made sense that Santa Claus knew me so well, because HE KNEW ME! I had known and loved this dear man for many years.

Sadly when West Nile Virus hit our state a few years ago, it claimed the life of this sweet man. My Grandpa died of cancer a few years before that. My heart ached when I heard the news. The world lost a kind and giving man. They lost someone who always greeted everyone he saw with a smile, someone who was forgiving. The loss was felt keenly throughout the small community that loved this man. He was the kind of man Santa should be.

I have been sadden hear of so many who choose not to have Santa as part of their life and traditions. For me Santa symbolized unconditional love, generosity, happiness, laughter, kindness and hope. Our Savior taught us all of the time through the use of parables and symbols. While the things that happened in the parables may not have been "real," it does not lessen their significance in any way. In fact the truths that they hold our treasures for anyone who wants to look for them. I believe that there are many great truths to be found in the legend of Santa. I hope more people would be like my friend and live their lives spreading joy and happiness. If it takes a red suit and a Santa hat to make that happen...I don't think that would be such a bad thing. :D

Grateful

My poor hubby has been sick with a cold the last several days. He almost never gets sick. I think that out of the last 17 years, I remember him being sick maybe three times. This is the most sick I have ever seen him. It has given me a whole new appreciation for everything that he has done for me over the last year and a half. I don't think that anyone outside of this house knows how very hard he worked to take care of us, because he never complains. While I had the opportunity to stay home and sleep in or take a nap when I wasn't feeling well, Hubby has not. He has to pull himself out of bed in the cold early mornings, work all day long, and a couple nights a week he has had to go to his second job. Once again, he doesn't complain. Last night we went to bed at 9:30, because he was exhausted. I think of all of the ways my sweet husband serves my family and I am so grateful for him.

Tonight, a friend of mine posted on facebook that she is feeling stressed and overwhelmed. She is a single mom to a large family. Honestly, I don't know how she does it. I know that I could not care for my family nearly as well without the love and support I receive every single day from my husband. He picks up were I leave off, time after time. He supports me and loves me, even when my failures are especially visible.

In other news, I am feeling SO much better. Today I walked with my 4 homeschool children around the block. Yes, It was slow (It took about a half hour.) but when I got home I wasn't out of breath. My heart wasn't pounding. My arms and legs didn't hurt from fatigue. It was such an exciting thing for me. I haven't felt this good in almost a year and a half. I am still anemic, but I am getting better every day and I love it!