Adoption Announcement 2.0

Our family is very happy to announce that our family is growing through adoption again!

God continues to bless our family with children and love. 
{But this is most definitely the last baby Agui for us! }

Please pray for our baby boy, for his birth mama, and for our family as we make plans and changes in our home to prepare for his arrival next month. 

When a baby is born in Heaven

Again, as I start to write this, I'm teeter tottering back and forth about whether or not to actually publish.  But I know I will... even though it's already taken me two days. 

I wrote last week about our doctor appointment and the incredibly sad news we got there.  We were given an expectation of what was to follow and sent home.  My midwife is one of my favorite people in the world. How she does her job, when she has to give news like this to expecting moms, I have no idea.  I tried not to make her job (or day) worse by crying or breaking down. I did slip a bit. 

I did feel this news coming.  I think I had internally prepared myself for it.  At least for the news. 
I need to be clear.  I didn't WANT to miscarry. I was confused and worried how we would balance our quickly growing family.  I stressed. 
But I was also eager to see who this baby would resemble.  I was excited to see their smiles and hear their laughs.  I was nervous and excited. 

And as crazy as this sounds, hearing that my tiny little baby was no longer alive and growing was the easy part.  (This is not true for Dan, who took the news initially very hard.) 
But when my body started the process, and I recognized what was happening, I almost got physically sick.  Knowing this baby was disconnecting from my body.  It turned real.
My miscarriage hurt. I rocked back and forth in pain and begged God to take away the pain.  By the time, I finally asked Him, He did.  The physical pain ended early Mother's Day morning.

But my conversations with Him continued.  I believe this baby was a girl.  We had a name already picked for a girl, so I told Him her name.  I didn't want her playing with kids in Heaven without a name for the children to shout.  I asked Him to tell her how much I love her.  I don't get to hold her, so I asked that Jesus would.  
Sometimes I talk to her.  I tell her I'm sorry.  I don't know what exactly my body couldn't do to sustain her small little body. But I know previously having chemo, didn't do any favors to my reproductive system.

Listen. As I write these things, hell, when I am thinking these things, I know it sounds crazy.  This child never lived outside of me.  I never saw what she really looked like.  I didn't watch her personality develop.  I didn't really know this baby. 

I get that. 

But I don't care.  I think that makes it hurt that much more. 
I am left WONDERING. 

Would she have looked like A or P, Dan or me?  Would she have the crazy beautiful curly hair like my oldest?  Would she have been the one child who would get Dan's green eyes or be like A and P and have big blues?   Would she have talked too much like her mom, or kept it all in, like her Dad?  

Now I wonder what life is like today for her.  What does Heaven look like for her young self?  I know it's better there than here, so she is truly blessed to have bypassed the corruption of this world. 

When women have miscarriages or stillborn babies, our society tends to let them suffer alone.  We act like it doesn't hurt them as bad, that they aren't experiencing the pain that a parent would feel if their child had lived outside the womb.
We, as a society, say our apologies and move on.  It doesn't affect us until it affects us personally. 
I can tell you it still hurts.  As a parent, it's our job to protect our kids.  There are feelings that I didn't do everything I needed to help this baby grow and live.  There is guilt. 

This isn't a blog for sympathy.  My skin crawls when I think that people may take it that way. 

I just needed to recognize the tiny short life of my miscarried child.  I was NOT going to continue to live and blog without acting like this happened. 

I'm thankful that the first person who welcomed her into her forever life is my Savior.  I'm glad she's with Jesus.  When her eyes first opened, she saw Him.

And sometime, in the future, I will get my questions answered.  Someday I will see how beautiful she is.

{And if she is actually a HE, I will have more apologies to give having given him such a feminine name. :)  }

Aftershocks

As I write this, I'm wondering if I will actually take the risk of publishing the blog.  I'm fairly sure I will.  I usually find myself making myself translucent.  I usually want people to see through to the heart of me.  I don't want people to see just who I want to be, but who I really am. 

Our family has known for awhile now that we will be adopting a brand new, precious baby boy.  It is a private adoption, not through foster care,  this time.  He is due to enter the world late June.  Until recently, I wasn't prepared to make announcement because I wanted to make sure birth mama was sure of her choice.  And I didn't want to pressure her.  I wanted her positive that she wanted this. 
I can tell now she is ready.  She is sure.  And she's given her blessing to make the announcement that we are expecting.

But...

Then two weeks ago, after weeks and weeks of feeling absolutely exhausted, I started to worry about my health.  I was falling asleep by ten am, and doing my best to make it awake until eight pm with the kids.  As a vegetarian family,  I wondered if I was low in iron.  But that nagging feeling of cancers past also haunted me.  Was I getting sick again? 

Was my cancer coming back?

After a trip to Vegas, I came home exhausted and more sure that something was wrong.  I planned to make an appointment with a doctor for bloodwork,  but because I hadn't had my period for months, I told Dan to stop on his way home and buy a pregnancy test.

While he was at the gym, with the three kiddos, I decided to take that test, rule that out quickly, and probably planned to start googling my symptoms. 

But as soon as the pregnancy test started to change colors, there was a clear positive sign.  I stood there.  Shaking.  Not believing. 
But it made sense.

But it made no sense!

I took a picture, sent it to Dan with a text, "come home. "

He was home very shortly after.  He met me where I still stood shaking, with that small stick that is an indicator of life, in the bathroom.

We didn't have words for eachother. 

We both knew me being pregnant meant something much different than someone else being pregnant.  It meant a risk to my health.  It meant a risk to the baby's health.  My cancer had been both progesterone and estrogen positive, meaning it grew and reacted to an increase in those hormones. 

We also knew we had a baby boy joining our family in less than two months. 
And a just one year old little girl. And our four and five year old. 
A rapid change in the numbers.

My thoughts went to me getting sick, and leaving Dan with so many children to raise. 

I am a Christian.  I believe in all the Bible says.  And even though, I kept getting whispers "DO NOT FEAR." I posed the question to Dan, "Do we even do this?  Should we even do this? "
I am against abortion.  I am.  I am soo against it, and in favor of adoption.  But in this case,  I was afraid I would die if I carried this baby.  It wasn't about not wanting or not being able to love and provide for this baby.  It was about not being here for the ones I have now. 

But Dan solidified what I already knew we would do.  We would carry this baby.  And we would pray.  And we would consult the ob gyn, who would need to work hand in hand with my oncologist.

I immediately text our pastors wife and asked if they could meet to talk.  I needed some Christian counseling.

The next day I made an appointment at the obgyn for the soonest I could get in, which was a week later.  I figured I was at least eight or nine weeks along.  But it didn't sit right with me.  I didn't feel the same.  I didn't feel at all like I did with my last pregnancies.  I was tired.  Exhausted. 
And I chalked it up to fear.  And possibly changes from previously having cancer, having my breasts removed probably changed the hormones, I guessed. 

I rented a fetal heart doppler, like I had done in my previous pregnancies.  But I was concerned when I couldn't make it work.  I couldn't find a heart beat on my own.  But I thought I must be too early.

I pulled out the old 100,000 BABY NAMES book and started to make lists.  Dan and I talked about changes we would need to make.  And I told a few friends.  I needed to hear others be happy for us, to feel that it was ok to be happy too.

Then I came down with the flu.  Nasty.  Terrible.  Three day. All day.  Flu.  At first I thought it was morning sickness.  And realized it couldn't be.  I was miserable.  Wondered if I had a stomach ulcer.  I couldn't keep anything down.  So I just didn't eat.

Quickly it was the date for my first prenatal check up.  I did all the medical history with the nurse, while running to the bathroom a few times so I didn't get sick in her office. 
Dan,  G and P were with me.  My dr had told me we would have an ultrasound to have the due date determined. 

So we all went back into that dark room to get our first glimpse of the next baby Agui.  P played Angry Birds while we got situated. And then the ultrasound tech turned on the machine. 
She moved the device around and around until I was terribly uncomfortable.  I thought I would be sick again.  And I knew there was something not right.  I was pretty far along.  Far enough to get a good picture.  She pointed out the amniotic sac.  She measured it.  She showed me a small form.  She said she didn't know if that was the baby.  She asked if I could be just four weeks along.  I said I didn't know.  She said there was no heart beat.  Usually she finds a heart beat by week six. 
She said something wasn't adding up, and took us back into a room to visit with the doctor. 

I waited.  And waited.  The kids were tired.  G needed a nap and was unbearable trying to manage in a small room. I told Dan to go to the car with them. 
And I waited alone.  Knowing what I was going to hear.

The dr came in, sat down.  

I said, "It just didn't develop right, did it?"
She said no. 

The amniotic sac measured at about seven weeks but the baby wasn't developed. 
I asked when I would miscarry.  She didn't know for sure.  

I asked her what to expect.  

I cried a bit without meaning to.  

She told me I could come back in a few weeks for a d & c if it didn't happen naturally at home. 

Then I walked out to the minivan, and drove a completely silent thirty minutes back to Waverly. 

Today is the next day.  I will be home.  I am trying to just go on about the day with the kids.  I am trying not to think about what's going to happen to my body soon.  I feel like I've just gotten off a rollercoaster.  Completely disoriented.  I've been shocked beyond belief several times in a short amount of time.

And I have faith.  I don't know what the reason for any of this is.  I probably don't need to.  God has reiterated to me in the last few weeks DO NOT FEAR.  I AM WITH YOU. 
And He's with our baby.  What I couldn't do for that baby's life, He could. 
I'm ok with that. 
I typically write when something is fresh.  It helps me process. 
I do not want sympathy.  I'm not feeling bad for myself.  But here I am today. 

Yesterday, I thought I would soon be announcing that we are doubly expecting.  Next month and in December.  Now we are expecting one. 

Still blessed.  :) Still loved.  There's still a reason for joy