Factory Closed...

Hi folks,

Just wanted to let you know that the Swisher Factory is closed for a while as Matt and I work (diligently!) on our next baby. Thank you for praying for us through our pregnancy and our miscarriage. Baby Squooshy was so special to us, and we love that he was able to touch your heart as well.

We look forward to God blessing us with a baby to keep soon!

I am blogging at http://allplaces.blogspot.com, and Matt is blogging at http://randomthoughtsinministry.blogspot.com. Come follow us there!

Love to you all,
Katie

A Prayer

I received a card from a PAUMCS friend today, and in it was a copy of the poem below. I thought I'd share it here.

Dear God,
Please hold my unborn child in your ever-loving embrace.
Please let my child know that my love can't be erased.
Please bless me on this earth and help to ease the pain.
Please plant a seed within my baby's heart of sunshine, not of rain.
Please help the days get easier and the nights go quickly by.
Please hold my hand when I can't do anything- but cry.
Please increase my faith so I believe my baby is with You.
Please forgive me when my sadness makes me come completely unglued.
Please let my baby know that there'll always be a place-
within my heart, just for my baby, full of Divine Grace.
And, when You call me Home to Your Kingdom up above-
Please let me hold the baby-
I never held...
but, always loved.
Amen.

-by Ellen DuBois
Ellen DuBois

Promise...

Maybe you know this, maybe you don't, maybe you don't want to, but there is a LOT of blood involved in a miscarriage. The doctor told me I lost LITERS of blood at the hospital. LITERS. I wasn't prepared for that.

Unfortunately the bleeding doesn't stop right away either. It takes 1-2 weeks to stop - dwindling a little every day until it's done. Because of this, the hospital sent me home with some HUGE pads to absorb this mess. You would not believe the size of these things. If you ever have a major head wound, you want these babies. They make those heavy flow, overnight pads look like teeny panty liners! Seriously - they're huge.

I know it's gross for me to be talking about bleeding and pads and stuff, but I do have a point here. The name of this particular brand of pads...is PROMISE.

That's right folks: PROMISE.

Hmmm...seems like even in the midst of a horrible miscarriage, God has found a way to remind me EVERY DAY that He is still with me and will fulfill his promises. As the last remnants of the life we lost leave my body, God is already encouraging us that there will be life in the future. A promise kept.

Below is some of the passage that was read at our wedding. Seems to be speaking to me today...

"For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it."
- Isaiah 55: 10-11

Tear free days...

It just occurred to me that I didn't cry at all yesterday, and haven't so far today either. I'm still sad, but I definitely think it's getting better with time. We had a lot of support at church today - lots of hugs from our members. My parents came to church at Hillsboro, and three of my awesome girlfriends came to church at both services. The girls even brought a taco bar with them for lunch, and we had a great time eating, laughing and enjoying each others' company. It was so good to see them...

I'm heading back to work tomorrow, but not sure if I'll be able to work a full day. My body is still in recovery, so we'll just have to see how much I can handle. It will be good to get back into my routine.

Dreaming?

It's been a few days since we lost Squooshy, and it's feeling more and more like a nightmare than reality. I'm sure that will only continue as we get farther and farther from Tuesday. I hate the sick feeling in my gut that encroaches upon me as images from that awful day flash in my mind, but part of me doesn't want to move any farther away from that day than I have already. Besides the nausea and exhaustion, the miscarriage was the only experience I shared with my baby. He was too small for me to feel him, and we weren't quite far enough along yet for me to start gaining considerable weight. The pain and agony I felt as he left my body was the only time I ever felt him physically.

Matt and I spent yesterday in Indianapolis having what I called a "Happy Day." I had become a little overwhelmed by the sadness of the week, and needed desperately to get out of the house and have a little fun. We did some shopping, ran a few errands, laughed together and held hands as we walked, had a little birthday party for Kamryn (our neice who turned three yesterday), and went to a big, extended family birthday party at my aunt's house. For the most part we felt normal - I didn't cry, we didn't really talk about the baby, and even seeing baby items for sale at the mall didn't make me emotional. I was proud of myself for holding my emotions together. Later in the evening when we were with my family, I even successfully held back tears as aunts, uncles, cousins and my grandma all hugged me tightly and asked if I was doing okay. I was so thankful to be with them.

It all came crashing down when we got back to Mom and Dad's though. As we got closer to bedtime, it sunk in more and more that we had lived an entire day and had barely thought about, cried about or agonized over our Squooshy. As I sat there watching TV, a part of my brain began to wonder if I had ever really been pregnant in the first place. Maybe the baby was never really there? Maybe you imagined it? Maybe it was just 12 weeks of daydreaming?

We went to bed, and I collapsed tearfully into Matt's arms. He was quick to reassure me that I was not going crazy. That we indeed had a little baby growing inside of me until Tuesday. That it was okay to move on and have fun. That we don't have to spend the rest of our lives grieving. That we will continue to remember our pregnancy and grieve our loss, but we're also going to continue having fun and living our life...

I'm so afraid of forgetting that little baby...

Moving Forward...

The past few days have been hard for us. For some reason I have spent a lot of time lately remembering our wedding vows. "For better or worse." This week we have definitely experienced the "worse." I know that things could certainly get worse, but I'm not lying when I say that I think this has been the worst experience of my life.

To lose a baby - even a baby I've never held in my arms, kissed, hugged - has been harder than I ever thought it could be. I know that there are many people I know who have had a miscarriage, but I never imagined the pain they were going through. It makes me feel a little guilty for not knowing how to care for them - not understanding a little about the horrifying loss they were experiencing. Now that I have gone through it, I want to hug them all. I want to hear their stories. I want to mourn the loss of their little babies with them. I hate that there are so many families out there that have suffered a loss like this, but it's nice to know that there are so many people out there who can relate to us.

Matt and I have been staying at home most of the time the past couple days. We have been sleeping weird hours for sure. Our near-sleepless night at the hospital really threw off our sleep schedule. We have been clinging to each other a little bit more, and we have definitely been crying a lot. I am really struggling with my own thoughts and feelings. When we were in the hospital I seemed to feel peaceful about what was happening. I was sad and shocked, but I knew that God was there with us. Somehow I felt peace - maybe even a little joy - to be served by such caring nurses and doctors. They really seemed to get how I was feeling, and they did everything they could to make us comfortable and encouraged. They all assured us that we did nothing wrong. That nothing we did or didn't do would have changed the outcome of our pregnancy. I felt calmed by their assurance then, but it seems like since we've been home Satan has somehow slipped into my thoughts and started to convince me otherwise.

What if I was in better shape? What if I had eaten better? What if I had put my feet up more? What if, what if, what if???

I've also been starting to hear other questions pop into my head: Why did God do this to me? Why did God take my baby? Why couldn't God just let us have it easy for once? Why does everyone else get to keep their baby, but I have to lose mine? What is God punishing me for?

I know that these questions are WRONG. I know that what the doctors and nurses told me were true. There was nothing I did or didn't do that caused this miscarriage. I know that God isn't punishing me for anything. Of course I don't want other people to lose their babies just because I lost mine. I'm not the person these questions make me out to be. I KNOW THAT SATAN HAS STUCK HIS BIG, FAT, JERKY, BUTTHOLE SELF INTO MY HEAD IN THE WORST TIME IN MY LIFE! I hate him for so many things, but today I hate him most for that.

Jesus has already won this battle, so I think I'm just going to claim His victory for myself. I am dealing with enough this week to take some guilt on too. That's that.

My sister and niece came to the house for the day. Our house is a WRECK, but they didn't seem to care. At least I cleaned the toilets before they came over! I seriously need to clean...anyway. We spent the day just hanging out, scrapbooking, playing with toys, and had lunch at Hershey's Drive-In in Veedersburg. Kamryn seemed to enjoy our cherry slushies. I'm not sure if she had ever had one before. I think she was impressed by the magic of the slushy, and I was glad to share with her. I was thankful she didn't ask about Baby Squooshy. I'm not sure if her parents have talked to her about what happened or not. I think we decided that if she asks about Squooshy, we'll just tell her that Squooshy went to live with Jesus. I don't want her to forget about her little cousin, but I'm glad she forgot to talk about him today. Tomorrow Kamryn turns 3, and I am looking forward to celebrating with her.

We're going to my aunt's house tomorrow night for a big family birthda party. I know that people are going to give me that pitiful "I'm so sorry" look. I know that people will hug me a lot, and want to console me. I love my family, and their support means so much, but I have to admit that I'm nervous about going. I don't want to be a big bummer at the party. I don't trust my emotions enough right now to say I won't break down crying at some point tomorrow night. I can't bear the thought of people feeling sorry for me. We'll see what happens tomorrow...

August 11, 2009

I'm not sure where to begin here. I know that I need to just write about what happened yesterday, but I don't know where to start. Let's start here:

We lost our baby Squooshy yesterday.

Whew.

It hurts just to say it.

I have been spotting on and off throughout the pregnancy, so when spotting starting up again the other day, I wasn't incredibly worried about it. During work on Monday I noticed it was getting just a bit worse, and Monday night at home it was worse still. Tuesday morning I woke up with fear in my heart, and I think something inside of me knew what was going to happen.

I was going to call the doctor first thing, but didn't because I didn't want to be "that woman." You know, the one who calls the doctor over every little thing. I decided to get up and get moving and get some work done. I cleaned out my closet and drawers, building an impressive "Goodwill Pile" in the middle of the bedroom floor. Then I went into the guest room, and began clearing some things out in order to facilitate the coming transformation to a nursery. I cleaned out that closet too, and cleared out the bookshelf in order to have a place to store all the baby things we have quickly acquired. I looked through the baby clothes we have received - smiling at each little outfit. I opened the St. Louis Cardinals sippy cups my cousin Jessie bought for Squooshy, and displayed them proudly on the top shelf. I dreamed about our little baby as I began preparations for his little room in our home.

I worked for a few hours, and then decided to lay down and rest a while. The spotting hadn't gotten any better, so I called the doctor just to ease some anxieties. She didn't seem too concerned, but we scheduled an ultrasound for today at 1:00 to ease my fears. I had to go in for a blood draw anyway, so we were going to do it all in one appointment.

A couple hours after that, as I laid in bed watching lame daytime television, I noticed that I was cramping. I tried to shake it off - ignore it - but it wouldn't go away. After a few minutes, I turned off the television, and called out to Matt. "Honey...I think I'm cramping." I went right to the bathroom to see if anything had changed. When I wiped, there was a large amount of dark red blood on the toilet paper. I immediately knew that we needed to get to the hospital.

I called the doctor's office to let them know what was going on, and they encouraged me to go to the hospital. I initially thought that we should try to get to Methodist hospital in Indianapolis, but decided that we didn't want to drive for over an hour just to save the money (they have great benefits for Methodist clergy). We chose to go to the hospital in Crawfordsville instead since it was only 20 miles away.

Once we got to the hospital and got checked in, I was thankful that we had made that decision. By the time I was in triage, the cramps were AWFUL. I was sweating profusely, and had a hard time sitting still as they took my vitals. They got us to an OB room in the ER quickly. I told them that I had to use the restroom. They pointed me to a door just a few feet away, and I made Matt come with me. I peed there, and when I wiped, there was a lot of blood and quite a few clots. I just looked at him, and said, "This is not good at all."

We went back to the room, and I paced/groaned/cried as the cramps just kept coming. I felt like some kind of animal. I was perturbed by the unshaven older man across the hall who kept staring unapologetically. Didn't he have any couth at all? Jesus - here I am losing my baby, and he's watching like we're at the zoo. I wanted to scream at him, but thankful I kept my cool.

The doctor came quickly, and I changed into a gown. As I was changing out of my clothes, I saw blood dripping on the floor, and I knew that I was in trouble. I laid down on top of a large pad on the bed. The doctor came in for the exam. It didn't take him long to calmly say, "Okay - you're miscarrying. Here's what is going to happen now..."

I don't even know what he said next. Matt was standing next to my head just holding my hand, and when the doctor said that, he fell apart. I tried so hard to comfort him, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I just laid there as the doctor pulled my baby out of my body, and I felt Matt's tears falling on my face and on my gown...I have never felt so helpless in my entire life. There was so much blood, and each time I felt the warm stickiness of it, the realization that our baby was gone sunk in deeper and deeper. I kept saying, "Oh Lord. Oh Jesus. This can't be happening. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." I didn't know what else to say.

They wheeled me off for an ultrasound to make sure everything was out of my uterus. Matt and I watched as the technician looked inside of me. The image of that blank ultrasound screen haunts me still. Just weeks ago I saw our baby on a screen just like that one. He was thriving - his heart beating, his limbs moving. He was alive and well inside of me, and now - in an instant - he was gone. I am so thankful that Matt was with me at our first ultrasound - that he was able to see the baby. He was the first to see the heart beating! I ache for him that he wasn't there for the second ultrasound that I had in Atlanta. I know that he wants to badly to have heard the baby's heart beating like I did. It seems to still be beating in my head today. I can hear the rapid "Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh" as I type this harrowing memoir. I hope someday the sting of not being able to hear that heartbeat lessens in Matt's heart. At the time we figured we would be able to hear the heartbeat together at future ultrasounds. Now I know that Squooshy's heartbeat is a sound that Matt will never hear. I hate that...

As I'm writing this, I'm staring out the window above my desk, and I'm watching Matt pick tomatoes in our garden. My heart literally burns and aches for him right now. He would have been such a good father to our little Squooshy. I wanted so badly to give him a son or daughter. He is the most loving and caring person I have ever met, and I know that this baby would have been loved more than any other baby in the world. Squooshy's Daddy is by far the best man on Earth.

Anyway - the ultrasound showed that my uterine walls were still pretty thick, so they decided to keep me overnight. They hoped that I would expel what was left on my own, so they wouldn't have to do a D&C. They gave me morphine for the pain (I was still cramping badly), and gave me Zofran so I wouldn't puke. The morphine kicked in, and immediately made me feel better.

Soon after the drugs calmed me down, my Mom and sister were there. The pained look on there faces will not leave my memory soon enough. I wanted so badly to comfort them. I wanted to tell them that it was all going to be okay. I wanted to hug them tightly to me, but was frustrated by the fact that the IV wouldn't let me bend my right arm very much. They sat with us for hours last night, and their presence really made me feel better. They allowed me talk about the horrific events of the afternoon as I needed to , cry as I needed to, laugh as I needed to, and just helped me feel encouraged and loved. We got settled in my room for the night, and they left late in the evening.

The nurses and doctors that cared for us were FANTASTIC. I can't even begin to tell you how great they were. They were so caring, loving, gentle, etc. I know that God placed them all there just for us. A few of them were Christians, and were excited to be able to care for us in a Christian way when they found out we were as well. Our nurse in the ER and the OB doctor had both experienced miscarriages in their own life, and they both shared how God was able to sustain them through it. I can't tell you how comforting it was to know that the people who were caring for us knew the Lord. It was as if Jesus were right there with us taking my blood pressure, bringing me ice, etc.

The doctor didn't want me to eat or drink anything in case they had to do a D&C this morning. I wasn't too hungry, but BOY was I thirsty! I think I went through 7 cups of ice chips. I felt a little victorious every time they had melted down enough to let me take an actual drink of water. I felt a little rebellious doing that, but I was so thirsty, I didn't care! Matt and I tried to get comfortable in our room, but I don't think either of us slept very well. I was really thankful they allowed him to stay. He said that he would have liked to see them try to get him to leave anyway. He wasn't going anywhere. I don't think I could have stayed there without him. I almost wanted him to crawl in my bed with me. I just wanted to be able to hold on to each other. Even though his little bed was right beside mine, I felt like he was a mile away from me.

We woke up this morning to some one drawing my blood. They came in and did vitals after that, and I don't think I got much sleep from that point on. The doctor came in an hour or so later to tell us that my blood count looked "beautiful" and that he wasn't going to do a D&C. (whew!) He had breakfast sent right up for me, and said I was free to go when I felt ready. We shared my breakfast, got me dressed, and went home.

As soon as we got home we took a few minutes to catch up on our voice mails, e-mails, Facebook messages, etc. I can't tell you how blessed we feel by each message we have received. It's so overwhelming to know that we have so many friends and loved ones praying for us, hurting for us, etc. from all over the world. I want to call each of you back, write you each an individual e-mail, etc., but I don't think that's going to happen for a long time. It just hurts too much right now. Please just know that I love you for loving us and our baby. Squooshy would have been so blessed to have such a community of people loving him and praying for him if he had been able to live here with us. You all are amazing...

We have been able to rest today. We slept through lunch, but ate a good dinner. I have had a few cramps today, but they're not bad. The doctor just has me taking Tylenol for pain. I don't need much more than that. The bleeding should continue for a few more days, but I should be back to normal after that. We will be able to try to conceive again once I've had a normal menstrual cycle. I'm not sure how quickly we will get back to trying, but I know that eventually we will. We just have to see how long it takes our hearts to heal.

We are still very sad. I think we will be sad for a long time. We tried for so long to get pregnant, and we were hopeful that our infertility journey had ended with this pregnancy. We don't know when we will get to have a baby to keep and raise and love, and we don't know how our next pregnancy will end. BUT we do know that GOD IS WITH US.

He has brought us so much peace throughout this miscarriage. I don't know how else to explain how we feel. We feel sad for what we have lost, but we are so joyful that our baby is with Jesus right now. That our baby never had to experience the pain and hurt and frustration and hate that fills our planet. We know that Squooshy is singing with the angels like he would have sung with me, that he is loving us and learning about us with Jesus, that he is rooting for the Cardinals with his Daddy on Earth and his Father in Heaven (God likes the Cardinals best, you know), and that he is being loved by his creator. There is only one place I'd rather Squooshy be than in our arms, and that's exactly where he is now.

I wish so much that I could have seen his (or her) little face. That I could have loved him and cared for him and held him. I wanted to show him so many things! I will never know what his voice was like, what color hair he had, what his smile was like, etc. Geez - I don't even know for sure if Squooshy was a boy or a girl! Something inside of me thinks it was a boy, but we'll never know. No matter what though, Squooshy was loved by so many people. I am so thankful for that...