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Tuesday, August 27, 2013

A Mother's Love

Healing will apparently be an ongoing thing for me. This is not a hurt everyone can see. It's not a pain I would ever wish on my worst enemy. It's nothing that I was ever able to wrap my mind around before it happened to me.

I went from loving this tiny little person, this little one growing inside me and anticipating their arrival to grieving their death before I was ever able to hold them in my arms. As childish as this sounds, I feel like it's not fair. I hurt from the bottom of my heart, I hurt.

I feel the need to write down some things, not so much for me, but for friends. Friends I have come to find through one(or more) of the worst experiences in our lives. Friends who I have never actually set eyes on, but have read their words, felt their pain, and offered a shoulder to, as they offered theirs to me. It's a club none of us want to be a part of. One that holds one of the greatest sadness any person can experience in their lifetime.

While I physically may look fine, there is a gaping hole in my heart. One that nothing will ever be able to fill, or touch. As much as I want to think one day, it will be "okay", I just can't imagine I will ever get used to my child going before me. I just can't think of anyone who would settle into life so quietly after a piece of their heart goes to heaven.

I want to believe one day this pain will go away. Deep down I know that's never going to be the case. I'll always long for my children I've lost. Yes, children. That wasn't a typo. I thought it was too taboo to talk about, until now. Now I know "we" collectively need a voice. In silence we suffer. In silence we hide. In silence, we're alone. So my question is, why should we remain silent?

The answer is simple, we shouldn't. We shouldn't be ashamed, but sadly many of us are. Some people just won't understand. That's life. But the fear of them shutting us down and telling us our pain is invalid, it's paralyzing. I have been luckier than most, my friends and family have been very supportive. But sadly, that is not the norm. Some women are told they shouldn't be upset. Some are told it was "just not meant to be".

And what does that mean? What exactly does it mean that our child was not supposed to live? How does that settle the sadness deep down inside of us? Is that supposed to comfort us? NO. It hurts. I can tell you one thing, all of my babies that I lost FAR too early, were meant to be. They were mine. They ARE mine. And while I never held them in my arms, I held them in my body for a time, and now I hold them in my heart. Even if they were never destined for life here with me, they still remain. I won't EVER forget them.

Some may ask, "Why do you torture yourself? It's not healthy, you should just move on" . To that I must ask, if I ever forgot about ANY of my children living or not, what kind of mother would you think me? I won't ever stop loving ANY of my children. Even if it means a part of me hurts, always. That is what we are supposed to do as mothers. Love. Plain, simple, and whole. There are NO exceptions. There are no limits or ending to a mother's love for her child. That's what we were put on this earth to do. Love our children, unconditionally.

There's no time stamp to it. It doesn't expire, not even when I do. And that's the plan all along. I have been asked, much to my dismay "Well you have four children, you have so many! Why are you so upset?", how could I NOT be? The loss of a life I was carrying is not any easier because I have children. Death does not become easier to deal with simply because I have them. I love them with all that I am, JUST as I love my unborn children. Just as I loved them before I ever cradled them in my arms. A mother's love just is.

 As for our husbands, some understand, some don't. It's hard for them to completely know. As my husband said, he was sad to lose our baby but they become a true "father" when the child is born. That's when they feel that undying bond. Mother's experience that from the moment we know our baby exists. With this, I'm not suggesting that father's don't feel a love for their unborn child or that they don't bond in ways. It's just hard for them to grasp the depth of which our love goes for something so tiny. Something and someone who is so small within us.

I completely get that. It's a love only a mother can truly explain. It engulfs you, it is overwhelming, it's beautiful, and sometimes, it's heart wrenching. But as much as I hurt I will tell you this, not for one moment do I regret loving any of my children from the very start. And I will unconditionally love them for the rest of my life. I have loved them all from the moment I knew they were there, maybe before, and my love for them will last them an eternity.


So while some may feel alone in this sadness. In this hurt, please know there are many of us in this "club". And with each passing day, I understand that your love for any and all of your children doesn't fade. It's there with joy and with pain, every passing second. And you're not alone and you're feelings are valid. I know there's no fix for this, there's nothing to cure it, nothing to cure a mother's love. We love so hard, so much, so strong that it's almost a physical feeling. You, my friend, are not alone.

And for my friends who haven't experienced a loss, please know I am very happy for you. I don't want anyone I care for to experience hurt, especially this. I would honestly love to absolve everyone from this forever. Please know, quite frankly, we envy you. We still love you so very much and are genuinely happy for you in all ways possible, through all your happy times. Sometimes we wish you would "understand" without ever actually having to know this pain. But you can't and that's okay. If you love someone who is going through this, the only thing I ask is that you hug them tight and let them know it's OKAY to feel everything that they feel. We need this. We need you.


Thank you again, for reading an incredibly long post.

Monday, August 19, 2013

Hardest thing I have ever had to write.

I usually try to keep my posting upbeat. I try to find the good. The messages I write down, I want the impact they have to be a positive one. Sadly, today I cannot provide that kind of post.

I'm heartbroken right now. I won't tell the kids just how upset I am, but I don't care if the rest of the world knows. I'm hurting. Physically and emotionally and I hate to be writing this post at all. I wish this weren't our reality right now. This just wasn't what I expected. I had hope. I was being positive. Sadly, sometimes that's not enough.

Saturday morning I woke up with mild cramping and a sharp pain on my right side. I noticed some spotting. I just knew something wasn't right. I did the best I could to wait and see if I could go in on Monday, but the pain got worse and so did my worries. I kissed Trav goodbye and he reassured me that everything was fine. That I was just over-reacting as usual. I secretly prayed he was right. I walked out the door, drove onto post, and told them everything so far. Then I began the longest wait of my life.

I arrived at just before 4 p.m. and I sat. They did triage, my mind was a blur with all the possibilities of what could be wrong. I felt too good. I just knew I had been feeling way too good with this pregnancy. Normally I am so sick, this time I felt great. Until this very moment. My name was called and I told my story to another person. Urine sample and back to waiting. I was called back at about 4:45. 3 vials of blood drawn at 5:09. No word on when I would know the results so again I waited. At just after 6 the doctor entered. And he said it. He said what I knew already, but hearing it out loud by a doctor somehow made it more real. Miscarriage, ectopic, threatened miscarriage. That's all I heard. He said several other possibilities.

Then it was on to possibly the second worse moment that day, a pelvic exam. Be aware, that if you don't want to know about my personal life in this capacity--stop reading here. I have never felt so violated in my life. It hurt. He opened and closed the clamps suggesting he couldn't find my cervix. I could tell it was making me bleed more. I closed my eyes tight and clenched my teeth and fists and held back the tears. This HURT. When it was finally over, they said my results would be back in an hour. And out of the room they went. I was now waiting on an ultrasound.

As I sat there, I couldn't stop thinking of all the things that could be going wrong. The minutes were dragging. I was watching as the sun sank down behind the trees. It was now 8:00. No one checked in. Finally, at 8:10 they pulled me back for an ultrasound. She was cold. She was calculated. She knew what I was afraid of. She didn't want to give me any cues, or get too emotionally attached. That's the moment I just KNEW deep down in my heart, something was wrong. She didn't speak to me the entire 15 minutes that she did the ultrasound. She turned the screen away so I couldn't see. When she turned on the doppler to hear a heartbeat........I heard none but my own. I started to cry. I already knew what that meant. I was praying for a miracle. Praying it was too early.

She finally finished. I wiped my tears and asked her "Is there anything you can tell me?" "No. You have to wait for the doctor". My heart sank. As many ultrasounds as I've had, I have never been given that answer. I've heard of other people getting that answer when there was bad news. I know they can't divulged medical info, but they are usually hopeful and comforting. This meant to me, there was no hope to be had. I asked "Can you tell me if this went good or bad?", she said "Nope. That's a good way for me to lose my job". She turned and walked out of the room saying she would be back to have someone wheel me back to my room. I sobbed in that stupid little chair. Staring at all the ultrasound pictures of healthy babies on the wall. Knowing that wasn't my fate.

A nurse came back and didn't look at my face, he wheeled me back to my room and adjusted the bed and told me I would be waiting a while. He was right. He slipped back out of the room and began to talk to the nurses at the nurse station. I could hear my nurse "I think she said something to her in ultrasound", another nurse "why?", my nurse "She's crying", another nurse "Maybe she just knows something is wrong, her test results didn't look good. Why don't you ask her what she said about the ultrasound". My nurse entered my room again, "So what did they say in ultrasound?", "Nothing" I said. "They never do" he muttered as he walked right back out the door.

I was now waiting again. Waiting and crying as quietly as I could. I knew how paper thin the walls were. I waited and cried until I got a migraine. I was alone and I wanted to go home RIGHT then. at 8:55 I went to the nurses station asking them to take my I.V. out. I wanted it out, it was hurting, it had been there for so long and I just wanted to walk out before they gave me the bad news. I wanted to RUN out of that hospital. I felt as if somehow, I could leave right then that none of this would be real. I wouldn't hear the actual words. I would get to be blissfully ignorant and happy again. They refused to take out my I.V. and said someone would be in to talk to me soon. Another hour ticked by slowly.



I was pacing the room and seriously considering taking the I.V. out myself. It was freely strung into my arm. I wasn't receiving medicine. I hadn't had any medicine, that I knew of. I would later find out what purpose this awful thing served and that I had already received medicine. I went back out to complain again about the I.V. and told them that my migraine was so bad that if I didn't get some tylenol or something soon, I was going to get sick. I had been there for 5 hours at this point and never offered water, or told where I could get some myself. I was pregnant, as far as I knew, and I was getting dehydrated. The crying was worsening that, I'm sure.

Finally my nurse came back, he wanted to give me some really strong medicine. I said "I'm pregnant and I can't take that". He looked puzzled and said "Are you?" and flipped through my chart, "so you are" he answered himself. I asked if my numbers looked okay and he told me the doctor would have to tell me. Another bad sign. He finally left the room to get some water and tylenol and some zofran that was going to be administered through my I.V. He informed me they had already given me some earlier. I was under the impression they would ASK me if I wanted any medication. I thought they were flushing it out with saline.

I asked my nurse to PLEASE take the I.V. out now. He said that he couldn't, he might need to give me more medication after the doctor spoke with me. He left the room again. I covered my eyes, tried to breathe in and out the best I could. I tried to will my migraine away. Every set of footsteps that passed by the door made me nervous. I heard my name called out. I don't know exactly how long it had been, far too long from when I heard my results were available, but sometime after 10 p.m. a new doctor came into my room. He didn't look like he was about to deliver a crushing blow? I was so confused. I tried to sit up, and he asked me to lie back down. That sick feeling came back.

He said "So I have your ultrasound results. They got in about 1 second ago. The ultrasound looks good. Normal. 7 weeks 1 day. No heartbeat. And your levels were tested on August 3rd or August 5th, I can't remember...." I chimed in "it was on the 5th, they were..." , "yes yes, 1400. Today they are 1000. The only thing that this could mean is that the baby has passed and you are miscarrying. I'm sorry if this isn't the news you wanted to hear". Without skipping a beat or giving me time to process that information, he continues "So can you please get someone to come and pick you up? We can give you pain medication through your I.V. the pain will stop immediately". I was sobbing harder now. I couldn't think. He kept asking questions. He wanted to sedate me. I began to feel like I was just another room number and "issue" for them to take care of.

My head was spinning but I know that I got out that no one could pick me up, my kids were at home in bed and my husband was with them. He then asked how I wanted my medicine. I think I said that I would take it at home. He hurried out of the room. I cried and cried and screamed and I didn't care WHO could hear me. My heart was just shattered into a million pieces. I felt so helpless. So hopeless. My poor baby, why? What did I do wrong? What did I do to cause this? My mind was running away with all the things I MUST have done wrong.

The nurse comes back and says "I have your medicine. So how is your migraine? Did we get rid of it?" then he finally looked at me. My face and part of my shirt were covered in tears. My room had no tissue, so I was a complete and total mess. He says "oh...you got bad news". I wanted to SCREAM, but instead I just nodded. he went over my discharge papers, my medication, and FINALLY went to take out that awful I.V. He asked me if this were my first child, I told him it was not. He asked how many I had and I answered 4. His face was twisted in shock and he said "well you've got a lot anyway". He suggested he walk me to the front desk, making sure we avoided public areas, and then asked the front desk if they had a phone number I could have in case I needed to "talk" to someone. I mumbled my way through the conversation, side stepping and nodding so I could just get out of that room. Once outside, the tears came back.

And I just cried. All the way to the car, all the way home. I don't know how I drove home. But I got there. And there Travis was holding the baby at the top of the stairs. He came down, and I put my head on his shoulder and cried again. I don't honestly remember what he said at that point exactly. I was just so ready to be there, to be with him. For him to wrap his arms around me and let me cry without judgement.

He helped me up the stairs and into the kitchen. He asked me what happened and I couldn't say it. He asked if he should just read the papers I held in my hand, I nodded and pretty much blurted it out. I lost our baby. I recounted my story to him, the best I could, and cried more.

I guess that's the point of this awful story. Baby Hogan number 5 grew it's wings. I lost him or her. All those amazing feelings of the unknown future, all the baby thoughts, our kids smiling faces so happy to add one more to our big family. All gone. Totally gone. It hurt worse than I had ever imagined. It stung deep down into my core. As it stands right now, we are going through the process of making sure everything levels back out. As bad as Saturday was, Sunday night was worse.

In all of this, the only thing I know is that I am married to the right man. Sometimes he doesn't know what to say. Sometimes he doesn't always say the right thing. But he always, ALWAYS tries. He never stops trying. And he hugs me when I need it and can hardly stand on my own. He worries and he would never let me know it. And I'm thankful for him. Without him, I wouldn't get through this. I still feel like I won't, but then there he is.

As I write this I'm crying again. I'm so sorry it's so long, but it feels like it needed to be. This baby is so loved. It is wanted. And now it's gone. I hope these simple words can do some justice. Some type of healing even though right now it hurts so much I feel like I've lost a part of my heart. Please don't for one second think I'm ungrateful for my four already amazing girls. I love them with every tiny bit of me. But just as I love each of them, I loved this child before it was ever here.

Letting go is so hard. Harder than anything I could have ever imagined. I suppose I will end this here. I honestly don't know how to close this other than saying, thank you for reading if you managed to get all the way through this.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Newness!

Hello everyone!

Writing today with a lot of excitement and a little bit of nervousness! If you've met our family, I know you've said to me, or yourself "Oh goodness, they have their hands full!". And we do, SO full. I can't complain, we love it! This is our life, crazy, beautiful, hectic, amazing, and full! Well we have some news to announce and I bet at this point you may have guessed it........


















BABY HOGAN NUMBER 5 IS ON ITS WAY! Oh goodness, it's a surprise, but we're all SO excited! We told the girls after dinner this weekend. We took them to their favorite restaurant, daddy gave them ice cream, and then we played hangman with a special message!

The kids were SO amazing! Of course Lucy and Evie obviously don't know what's going on. Sophie and Mady do though and it's fun! Madelynn is SO excited to be a big sister again, while Soph is dead set on the baby being named after her(one of her name suggestions was "Sophied"). I can't help but laugh!

We are stunned, excited, overwhelmed, and just hoping for healthy! So to answer some questions before they are asked, no we aren't trying for a boy. We will likely wait until birth to find out what this baby is in fact. I know, I'm impatient too, but there are FAR too few surprises left in life and I'd really like to give "team green" a try! My gut says girl(my odds are good right? haha), but either way, we've got the basics so no worries! The girls are split on what THEY want, Sophie says she needs a boy to play the prince, Mady wants another sister because sisters are just too cool!

As for Travis and I, we want to make it to full term! So if you can say some spare prayers for that, it's very much appreciated! Other than that, girl or girl(i kid, i kid), girl or boy, we are going to love it just like our favorite four girls in the world! Did I mention how amazing they are? So stinking sweet about all of it, I'm such a proud mommy to these sweet girls!!!

Here are some  cards that Mady and Sophie made us and some name suggestions they had for us the morning after we told them :)






And then here are the tests that I couldn't believe....we took 13 in total & had a blood test done. I think we were in shock ;)









live

live like someone left the gate open

love

like you won't get another tomorrow

laugh

like you're giggle box tipped over