Grant Timothy and Mom Updates

Well it’s April 17th, which was my original due date, according to my calculator. The hospital had me at the 18th but I think my own experience from conception to birth should trump their wheel, and this was the date I had in my mind as Grant’s ‘upper threshold’ birthday, since I knew even if everything went perfectly my team would never let me go overdue. Not with my history, anyway.

It’s raining today, the temperature and weather almost identical to the day we buried him. Thankfully, even in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic craziness the cemetery is open, so I could visit properly.

The baby garden section is quiet and pretty, though profoundly sad. Something about this section just seems so unfair. The cemetery is filled with memorials to hundreds of people, but something about the babies being gone seems harder to process. Maybe just because it’s me, and he is mine. But I find myself crying at even the thought of this little triangle patch of grass, bushes, and stones.

We haven’t had the time or money to get a headstone yet, but the little yellow flag marking where he was laid is still here. The grass patch was replaced over the top of the dirt, but you can still see the outline where his little box was placed and filled in. That feels a little better, in a way? That it’s not just blank like nothing happened, not just dirt like only death is there. Marked, but still living and fresh above. I don’t know why that matters but somehow it does.

I haven’t cried much where anyone can see or hear, only at night or when friends say something that stabs at the raw places in my heart, however well meaning. In so many ways I’m fine. But I won’t lie to myself here - as much as time moves forward and the demands of the day wait for no one, I cannot say I am unchanged by the loss and pain and emptiness in my arms where my baby should be. Not today. It doesn’t help that another sweet friend who was due around the same time just safely had her baby yesterday, or that the doctors won’t even let me try again until next year. It just reinforces the empty, aching loneliness that seems part and parcel of being a mother without her child.

I’m going to smile. But I’m not all right. Not even close.

Still, God is good, even in this. Even when we don’t understand. Even when my arms are empty and my heart is broken. I don’t feel it right this minute. Right now I don’t feel anything but agony and sadness. But the rain today won’t last forever and neither will the storm inside my mind. Just as it has in the past few months, the loss will slip further inside and the ache will recede from my mind a bit. The schedules will fill back up, living children will need food and naps and worksheets graded, and I’ll continue on as this person carrying such a jagged mark on my soul that nobody sees but me and my precious Jesus.

I can’t really think of scripture right now, except the refrain I tell myself nearly every day. The Lord gives, the Lord takes. Blessed be the name of the Lord. That’s enough for me, even if I can’t bring myself to talk the proper Christian platitude game at the moment, to anyone who asks. Deep inside all the painful places this has exposed, I know with certainty that He is here with me, even though my baby is not. That is all I have. No coping, no nice words, no bible studies and sermons. Just this piece of myself that is left, when everything else is stripped away, that knows His promises are true even if everything else perishes.

Right now I’m sitting in my car weeping. Today is a day for mourning again, even though it isn’t Grant’s birthday or death day. This is still a time for grief, where I’m making space away from life and the kids and Peter to just be with what’s left of my baby. I feel like there will probably be many days like this to come, where I smile and perform and act the way everyone expects while quietly losing it in the safe places like this cemetery or my bedroom where I don’t have to hide. So if you’re thinking about it, pray for my peace. Or healing. I don’t event know. But April 17th, 2020, has been a very hard day. My God is with me, and it feels like he is the only one right now.

Thank you everyone who is keeping us in your prayers.

We have a lot of planning and organizing to try and manage today with the actual arrangements, but I know people have asked how they can help.

If anyone wants to send flowers to the service or our home we are using Far Hills Florist with the graveside, you are welcome to call Barb and Jeff and send arrangements if you’d like.
Far Hills Florist

Beyond that, a donation in Grant’s name to the Preeclampsia Foundation would be wonderful. This disease is so poorly understood and there are no cures or even treatments that improve outcomes consistently, just symptom management to try and buy time. This side of heaven we know we suffer the effects of the fall, but I pray God would ease the pain of myself and thousands of other mothers who have been afflicted with this condition, once or multiple times. Research is happening, and I’m grateful for any more that can be done.

Peter and I very much appreciate the concern, prayer, and outpouring of love you are sending our way. We do need some family time to process and grieve and just don’t have a lot to say right now, but the warmth of your care is definitely being felt. Excuse the radio silence on our end, it’s just a lot to manage and move through.

Details on a memorial service with the church will be forthcoming as we arrange it. We just aren’t there yet. Thank you for giving us some space and time, each comment is read and cherished even if we can’t really find words to respond.

Another little blessing - my pain is well managed and I’m feeling really good on the mag sulfate.  Just the smallest of hot flashes in some specific areas of my body and slight dizziness.  This is a drug some people do very poorly on so I’m grateful it’s not making me feel like garbage.

The surgeon had to reef on me pretty bad to get Grant out without hurting his delicate bones, but I’d say that retractor/pulling was where most of my pain is coming from and it’s only like a 2 at the moment with pain meds.

At this point we take our wins where we can.

My blood pressure has also gone back to normal without two med doses. It could still swing pretty wildly here over the next few days and weeks, but now that the placenta is out and isn't causing continued chemical signaling/autoimmune issues for me, my whole blood chemistry has improved drastically.

Delivery day is today, heart strip was okay but not great and we won’t gain anything by waiting another few hours. Please pray for our peace and safety in this and that our little boy would be strong enough to make it. It’s dicey, but God has this in his hands. C section should be done by 7:00 tonight, maybe sooner.

More monitoring tonight but he has reverse end diastolic cord flow and is still growth restricted. They estimate he’s just over a pound but the restriction means his outcomes are more poor for gestational age than they’d otherwise be, but if he takes too much of a metabolic hit internally then that’s also a problem.

If the monitoring today looks reassuring we can probably make it through tomorrow, one day at a time.  If it’s not reassuring I’m going back for a c section tonight.  

Hanging out and doing okay at the moment, thankfully.

Biggest prayer request right now is for baby’s growth and placenta health. He fell off his last growth curve and they can’t keep me pregnant if the placenta isn’t doing its job, so we really need that to be working properly. I have an appointment in about an hour to check his growth and blood flow and decide from there. My blood pressure has stabilized with a different med routine and that’s a huge blessing, we just need him hanging in there for a few more weeks too!