Wrapped in a Blanket

Evan came home from his audition rotations for the weekend. He had been gone 6 weeks and has 6 more to go, but I guess he couldn't stand being away from us, so he came for a visit. :) We loved having daddy home and it was such a great weekend! (and I got some much-needed housework done!)

While Evan was here, he told me all about his rotation in Michigan and how much he loved it! The residents, the attendings, the academics, the hospital-he raved about it all. Then, somberly, he started to tell me about an instance that I've been thinking a lot about ever since:

While talking with another student, there were people standing in the hall joking and laughing around him. He noticed a man and a woman, both nurses, walking toward him. They had a different air about them. Ignoring the people laughing and talking, they walked through the hall. The man had what seemed like a bundle of blankets in his arms. Evan knew immediately what was inside. The other student said, "That looks like a baby." Evan said he turned toward her and said, "It is. They're going to the morgue." 

I cried for an hour after he told me about this experience. We talked for awhile about it and how it made each of us feel. It flooded memories into my mind of the hours I spent in my hospital rooms after handing my babies to nurses that I barely knew. Those nurses then walked through the halls of the hospital with my babies, wrapped up in blankets, and handed them to someone in the morgue. They were laid in a cold, sterile, metal room. They were examined. They were measured. Samples of their tissue were looked at under microscopes and sent off to labs. They were sent to the mortuary where they were laid in a box. My sweet babies were wrapped in blankets, where they have stayed ever since. 

I couldn't help but feel heartache for the family of that little baby. They were sitting in a room somewhere in that hospital feeling the same hurt and pain that still plagues me today. 

It's a good illustration of how the whole world buzzes around you when your world has come to an abrupt halt. You feel a deep, palpable, ache and you don't know how you're going to keep going. All the while, everyone around you continues on with their life. Eventually, you do too. It takes awhile, and the hurt returns when you don't expect it. Tears flow freely when you hear a mother calling to her son with the same name as yours. There are a few times a year when I pull out the box of Scotlin's and Kayden's things and crumple into a mass of tears as I look at their tiny handprints and the outfit still stained with blood. It sounds masochistic, but it has a healing power--to feel close to my sons when they aren't here. 

It's a sweet feeling to be able to pick up one of my MiraCole babies and snuggle them to help my heart feel better in these instances. I know that I am a very blessed mother. I thank my Father in Heaven every day for my babies, the living ones and the angel ones.  And when I climb into bed at night, after putting the kids to bed, I realize that we're just one big, happy family-all wrapped in blankets.  

Little Blessings

So, I had just gotten home from visiting teaching [as women in our church, we visit eachother each month to share our faith and show support to one another = visiting teaching] and sent Evan off to play basketball like he does every wednesday. My puppies started getting excited at the back door and it made me nervous, so I went to lock it. To my surprise, five women were standing on my porch (at first it startled me, but I recognized them, so I recovered quickly). I let them in and they were some young women from the ward. They gave me a plate of cookies with a note:

They told me that they picked 8 women in the ward that exemplified each of the young women values: Faith, Divine Nature, Individual Worth, Knowledge, Choice and Accountability, Good Works, Integrity, and Virtue. I about cried! These young women are so inspiring to me. They live in a town where members of our church are grossly outnumbered (which, being from Utah, I'm not used to). Members of the community don't know a lot about our church and some of the things they know are incorrect. But, these youth go to school, serve/work in the community, and uphold the standards of the church and live the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

I'm definitely not writing this post to brag. This experience was a reminder to me that we can have a powerful influence on those around us when we're trying to live righteously. 

I'm only just starting to get back to my normal self after Kayden's death. It's been a long 7 months and I'm feeling better everyday. It would be easier to throw my hands up and wave the white flag; just be done trying and give up. But these girls gave me courage to keep going, to keep trying. I want the people around me to know that I believe in Jesus Christ. 

The following song reminds me that our Heavenly Father is in control; that His plan is in effect in every aspect of our lives:

 "What's mine is yours"- even my Scotlin and Kayden.   

The Never Ending Story

Grief. 

Yes, I talk about grief a lot. It's different than sadness. It's different than pain. It's all encompassing; it affects every part of your being--emotional, physical, mental, spiritual, intellectual. When you experience true grief, logical thought becomes clouded by a seemingly selfish and "stupid" mindset. I'm constantly asking myself, "Really, Whitney? Did you actually just think that?"

Holidays are the worst time of year for those among us who are grieving. It doesn't matter what was lost or how you've been hurt...it's really hard to be thankful on Thanksgiving, cheerful on Christmas, loving on Valentine's Day, or patriotic on Independence day when your're consumed by the "why me?'s" and the "how could this have happened?'s" that accompany grief. From the outside looking in, you might think, "Get over it...move on...learn to deal..." or some other misguided attempt to assist the bereaved. I'm hear to tell you that it doesn't work like that. 

In 2009, I came home from the hospital 2 days before Thanksgiving. I left my son there and walked out with armfuls of flowers rather than a carseat. That was the worst Thanksgiving of my life! 

This year, the day before Father's Day, Evan and I walked out of the hospital with empty arms yet again as Kayden lay in the morgue somewhere in the depths of those halls. 

Ironic holidays to have stillborn babies, I'd say. I don't think we'll ever be able to celebrate them without being more sad than thankful, and more heartbroken than happy. 

Today, I'm grateful for a loving mother who wisely counseled me to keep a journal after Scotlin died. I always thought it would be an insight into grandma's life for my grandchildren. I never thought I'd be reading back through the pages and finding answers for myself after going through this experience already. Who'd have thought you could forget the particulars of this wretched pain? Until I've been reading back over my entries, I had forgotten that I've been here before.

I apologize for my grief a lot. As if it's something that I need to apologize for, when in fact, it's just a part of me that comes with the territory thanks to the crappy things I've had to deal with in my short time on earth so far. But, I know my Savior loves me. I know He walks with me. I know He will take my pain. I just don't know how to give it to Him. That is why grief hurts so bad...it's so hard to give up. 

So I'll keep trying. I know He's willing...I just need to figure out how to let it go.

Turkey Day. And a few pictures. :)

We're fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends during this holiday of love, happiness, and gratitude. We made the trek from Missouri to Utah and have gotten to see all my side of the family and some very dear friends:

At Mom and Dad Epperson's house

My oldest sister, Crystal, and her sweet baby Esther

Evan and Bobby

We were so happy to see Bobby, Morgan and the munchkins. We're so happy to know them and to have gotten the chance to meet up. 

My darling nieces, Alana and Charlotte. 

All my sweet nieces (except the one that's in Wally's belly and won't be here til next year.)

Like I said, so much fun and laughing. Colin and Melissa Jackson came to visit too. It was awesome to see them and hold their 6 week old baby boy, Isaac. Sorry we didn't get a picture! 

I'm a lucky girl to have such loving family that takes good care of me when I'm missing my sweet Scotlin and getting ready to celebrate his THIRD BIRTHDAY on Saturday! We're heading to Logan tomorrow and will be visiting more friends and family including our babies! 

This year (more than ever) I'm grateful for my Savior, Jesus Christ, and the love he has for me. I'm grateful for my forever family and the knowledge I have that my sweet boys are waiting for me and I get to see them again and raise them in the eternities. Hope you all had a wonderful day too! Much love!

Little Life Lessons

I'm going to tell you something that's going to sound awful. Please don't judge me. 

I haven't been very good at going to church lately. I've probably only gone 1/4 of the time in the past 2 months. It got to be really hard to be in church with SO MANY pregnant women and brand new babies. My heart would ache and I'd go home and cry. Many Sundays, I didn't even make it through the services without crying and I'd have to leave. 

As much as my heart was hurting, church is where I needed to be on Sunday. I knew that; I've always known that. Not going was my own conscious decision and it was the wrong one.

SO...this past week, I bucked up and went to church. The high councilman got up to speak and I realized that the last time I went to church was high council Sunday too. (It happens once a month, so that proves how neglectful I've been about attending my meetings. Like I said, please don't judge.)

Anyway, I was listening to his talk and appreciating the hug that my sweet friend, Sara, gave me as she sat down and told me she was so happy I was there. It was so nice to feel that someone cared. Her simple act of love reminded me of this children's primary song:

"Jesus said, 'Love Everyone, 

Treat them kindly, too.

When your heart is filled with love,

Others will love you' "   

I was suddenly and unexpectedly filled with peace. I hadn't felt so good in a long time!! It's no secret that I'm going through a really rough time. I've been battling depression for years and struggling to understand the unique experiences I've been going through. 

November is a really crappy month. It's the entire calendar month, too. Being the anniversary month of the first and last time we held Scotlin just makes it feel unbearable. I cry and cry. I'm sure it will get easier in future years, but this is not that year. (I'm sure next June will start a tradition of sucking just as bad as November.) It's Thanksgiving, right? We're supposed to be joyful, happy and feeling blessed, but the past 3 years I've felt sad, lonely and cheated. 

I think I've found a solution!! 

Something's gotta give, because I can't shut down for two entire months each year. June and November are neatly separated by (almost) half a year, which gives me ample time for planning and preparing. I've decided that June and November are going to be dedicated to service projects in the names of each of my boys. If I can show love to others when I'm feeling my lowest, I'm sure to feel love from my Heavenly Father. I have a testimony of serving each other and  the power it holds to cause change and love in people's hearts. It's a little selfish, but I need this. I'm starting to get items for care packages to send to bereaved families, and I'm SO excited to get them up and running. But this special project will help me focus my energy and talents on remembering my boys and giving something, in their name, for their birthdays to someone in need. 

I'm open to ideas! If you think of something that you've seen a need for or that I can try to organize a fundraiser for, please let me know! I've got a few tricks up my sleeve and would be so happy to employ some of my resources for a good cause. 

So much love, Whitney  

And the results are in...MTHFR!!!

We've been hoping that something would come up that would shout at us "I'M THE PROBLEM!! FIX ME AND YOU'LL BE FINE!". Too bad that's not the case. 

If you've ever been pregnant (and even if you haven't) you probably know that folic acid (or folate) is important to the development of a healthy baby in utero. Among other things, a deficiency of this important vitamin can cause neural tube defects such as spina bifida. Luckily, my babies did not have this problem. They were both perfectly formed without any physical or chemical indication of neural tube defects. :)

However. My most recent blood studies showed a mutation having to do with the MTHFR gene, which stands for methylenetetrahydrofolate reductase (say that 5 times fast).  In words that are easy for me to understand, my body has a hard time processing folic acid. Doctors aren't entirely sure of the effects this can have during pregnancy. Some research has showed correlations between MTHFR and thrombolytic (clotting) events during pregnancy, but that wasn't very conclusive, and  it's not been studied enough to receive a consensual approval by the medical society. 

Bottom line: a normal multivitamin contains 400 micrograms of folic acid to receive 100% of the recommended dose. During pregnancy, doctors recommend their patients take 800 micrograms. With MTHFR, my doctor is recommending that I take 5000 mcg every day. Basically, they assume that any enzymes that are actually working to break down folic acid should be bombarded so that I have a higher chance of getting the folic acid that I need. Sounds a little sketchy, especially when one doctor says to take extra folic acid and another doctor says there's no point. I feel like I can't be a smart consumer and research what to do about it, because it's not out there, and what IS available, isn't reliable. Hopefully, if I keep searching, I'll eventually find some more answers. For now, I will do as I'm told and hope it's enough that we don't lose any more babies.

P.S. If you're related to me by blood, I'm supposed to tell you to get tested. It's also said to be linked to cancer, and cardiovascular disease. Take it or leave it. But hey, if you have it, we could be MTHFR-ing buddies!

Whit

The Unfinished Race

    In 7th grade, the Jr. High school counselor asked me what I wanted to do for a career. "Be a mom" was my simple reply. She seemed surprised at my response and didn't really know where to go from there. I remember she wrote, "Domestic Engineer" on my paper and sent me on my way. My mom had been a stay-at-home mom my whole life up until that point. It's not that society looks down on such a career but I guess as a life-long ambition, my counselor was less than impressed. Through the rest of my high school career, I thought I'd definitely go into a career in music. Just like most girls, I had my life mapped out-where I'd go to college, when I'd meet the perfect guy, when I'd graduate and have the perfect job and of course, kids would come into the picture at the perfect time. Don't get me wrong...I love my life. But on days like to day, I can't help but feel let-down.

    Imagine running a race. One of the really long races, like a marathon. Muscles aching, heart pounding, you've trained so long. You've done every excercise, you've practiced for months, you toned your muscles and you feel prepared. Suddenly, 5 miles from the finish line, you stumble. You're aching, and maybe you even gashed your leg open. Every part of your body and soul screams at you to give up. But you look up... everyone on the sidelines is cheering for you...you're family, your friends. Though you want to stop, you feel a gentle push telling you to finish. The next 4 miles are excruciating. Everything hurts worse, and at times, you don't feel you have it in you. People tell you you're strong and you find renewed strength, only to keep stumbling on your way. Finally, with 1 mile left, you see the 25 mile mark and know that you are SO close! You press on with all your might. Everyone in the crowd is cheering for you, telling you how great you're doing and that they are so excited for you. The race is easy again and you know it's going go be okay...

...suddenly, with 20 yards left, and like a rug pulled from underneath you, you fall. A hard fall this time-one that makes finishing the race impossible. That dream you had, that goal you had set flies out the window. The medics are on the scene now, telling you that it's going to be okay. They're gonna get you to the hospital and you'll be fixed up. Is it comforting? You're going to be okay, but you will never finish that race. You'll never take home a medal. People will say, "how did the race go?" and you'll have to hang your head and say, "I didn't finish." When your friends get together and talk about their medals and crossing the finish line, you'll be an outcast. Even though you ran the race and did everything right, you didn't finish. Do you feel sad? mad? empty?

Chances are probably not. Afterall, it's just a stupid race, right? It seems silly to compare my trials to a marathon, but on days like today, I just want someone to understand. I want someone to know how bad my heart is hurting. 

I got through 38 weeks (8 1/2 months) of my pregnancy with Scotlin and suddenly he was gone. My chances of being his mother were ripped from my grasp. I held him for a few hours and then handed his body to a nurse knowing that the next time I would see him would be in a casket. Life was SO DIFFICULT! I ached, I cried, I screamed. I told my story and people surrounded me. They cheered me one and I was lifted up. I got up again and I learned and I grew. I knew I could handle this. So many people prayed for us, and my relationship with my Savior strenghtened. I felt so relieved when Kayden came to us. I knew I'd been blessed and I was looking forward, with renewed hope, at my chance to be a mother. I was so close to that finish line when I fell. I cried again. I screamed at the doctors. I yelled at God, "I cannot do this again!!". Giving Kayden to the nurse was even harder, because I knew I wouldn't see him again. He would be placed in a casket, flown to Utah, taken to Logan where I would see his casket, trying desperately to remember how it felt to hold him.

  I'm not alone, either; so many people experience this loss. Maybe not in the form of infant or pregnancy loss. Maybe it's infertility or sterility. When that's not you, though, it's easy to forget that this type of pain exists. It seems that when 2 or more women get together, labor pains or the hardships of child-rearing are brought up. That's fine. But before you complain, think about the people around you (and the statistics say it's at least 25%) that have experienced a loss and would give anything to be in your shoes: to rock their crying baby to sleep in the middle of the night, or gain 75 pounds and feel sick and miserable during pregnancy. Anything that meant their baby was alive. It makes me want to scream, "WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING TO ME?!?", "Don't you know I would give ANYTHING to have those things you're so recklessly complaining about?"

And then the guilt sets in, kind of like it is now as I write this post. (wondering if I should even post this, or if I'll regret it later when I get hate mail). I know that it's human to complain. I know that it's easy to feel down when things are overwhelming you. But when that instinct hits, bonk it in the head with a bat and realize how lucky you are to soothe your screaming baby, or clean the mud out of his teeth that he ate when you weren't looking, because you know he's alive and well and you can watch him grow and learn HERE, without hoping that your faith is enough to get you through this life until you get to see him again. 

OK, I'm done...seriously, let the bad vibes roll if it makes you feel better. Just post 'em in the comments...I can handle it. And most of all, if you made it this far, thanks for letting me vent. 

The Not-So-Conclusive Diagnosis

A couple weeks after Kayden's delivery, we found ourselves in my OB's office. I had been there so many times in the previous months, the staff felt like family at this point. What I didn't know is that Kayden's karyotype analysis (genetic study) had come back and it showed an anomaly:

 More than likely: it's pretty easy to spot, right? Usually you have 23 pairs of chromosomes. Sometime those chromosomes don't translate correctly when the cells are dividing and you end up with one less chromosome or one extra. In downs syndrome for example, a child would be born with an extra chromosome #21, or "trisomy 21". Well, in case you didn't notice, this picture shows that Kayden had "trisomy 8". See the extra chromosome #8?

 

The pathology report above says that a trisomy of some sort is the most frequent cytogenetic abnormality contributing to pregnancy loss. What my doctor added was that, because so many of Kayden's cells were affected, it most likely meant that my egg had an extra cromosome #8 to begin with. (If it had been the sperm, it would have likely been a "slow swimmer" and wouldn't have made it to the egg first). 

Every documentation I could find showed that this type of trisomy 8, (which is a COMPLETE trisomy rather than a MOSAICISM) is "universally fatal"- meaning it's incompatible with life. I started wondering how on earth Kayden survived so long and grew perfectly on track. When he was born, he had no physical manifestation of a genetic disorder. PLUS: when Scotlin had this test done, the sample tissue was taken from his actual body, and Kayden's was taken from my placenta. It wasn't adding up, but my OB didn't know anything about it, so I had to wait to meet with the specialist. 

July 25th, I was SO GRATEFUL to meet Dr. Mark Grant in Columbia. I won't detail our whole conversation, but basically he had the same suspicion I had and decided to talk to a geneticist to confirm. So, there I was wondering if I have some crazy problem with my genes that's killing my babies and Dr. Grant rushes in to save the day telling me that he and the geneticist talked and decided that the most likely cause was:

NOT TRISOMY 8!

The only way to be sure would be to exhume Kayden's body and retest using a sample from his body. HOWEVER-they didn't think that was necessary and that because he made it to 27 weeks w/o any abnormalities and had a completely normal growth pattern, the trisomy was most likely confined to my placenta. I said, "Oh, that's a thing...that's possible?" And he said "Absolutely." 

So...for years we thought Scotlin died from some awful stroke of un-luck. Then I miscarried and they thought that was just another crappy thing that happened. But as soon as Kayden died, my doctors rushed in to tell me that they think all three of these losses are connected somehow and they put Dr. Grant on the case to figure out why. Yesterday, I had a bucket-load of blood drawn to HOPEFULLY find a cause. Now we play the waiting game for a couple weeks and hope to get that phone call. In this case, we're thinking that bad news is better than no news, because it means there's something detectable that can be fixed. 

Until then, we'll just live knowing that our boys are perfect and we're so darn lucky they chose to come to our family.

Kayden's Story

Wednesday June 13, 2012

      I had just gotten off the phone with Evan who was in Pennsylvania. He had been there all month for an internship and was expected to return on July 1st. I never thought those plans would change so instantly. Kayden wasn't kicking the bed like he usually did when I'd lie down, so I pulled out my doppler (the best present I ever received, thanks Crystal and Julie) and listened to his 140 beat per minute heart rate and fell asleep knowing he was just fine. 

Thursday June 14, 2012

      Morning came EARLY as I had to be at the hospital for clinical at 5:30. I was busy running around and all the while telling my patients that I was 27 weeks when they'd ask how far along I was. At 11:00  we were done for the morning and I went home to eat before returning to school for class at noon. I got there a little early and was talking to my friend, Crystal.
      Out of nowhere I felt empty, like something had just turned a light off. I remembered this feeling immediately because it was written on my heart. I told Crystal, "I don't think Kayden's moved in awhile". Jokingly, she rubbed my tummy and called to him, "Kayden, wake up!" I felt okay for a few minutes, but as we started class, I couldn't shake the feeling. I got up after a few minutes and walked out. I went straight to the back of the lab and laid on the bed. Tears came freely then, as I laid in the dark. My mind was reeling about what I had experienced moments before. "This cannot be happening again", I thought over and over. Those cries turned to sobs and, seeking comfort, I called Evan. I'm sure he was worried when I called him crying, almost unable to explain what was happening. "I just ate and Kayden's not moving. I drank a ton of water and he still won't move. Now I'm laying down, and, Evan, he just won't move."  He kept telling me to go home and check the heart rate with the doppler, but something inside me told me that was a bad idea. "What if I can't find it, Ev...I don't want to be alone." So, in all his wisdom, he told me to call my doctor. 
      Thankfully, Alisha (Dr. Lockwood's nurse and a dear friend) was available immediately. I was crying and explained my concern to her. She told me to go to the hospital and she would meet me there. She may never know how much that meant to me that I didn't have to be alone, but she saved me that day and I will always be grateful.I walked into my teacher's office, tear-streaked face and all, and explained to her what was going on. She arranged for Crystal to have my stuff brought home and I headed to the hospital, calling Evan and informing him of the plan. 
     I had already done 3 weeks of Maternity/Nursing clinical with the women on the 5th floor, so some of them recognized me. I had been having problems with pre-term labor since 23 weeks, so some of them had taken care of me as a patient already, too. My nurse, Sharon, got me into bed and immediately tried to find a heart rate via doppler. I told her where I usually find it and she was able to pick up something, but told the student nurse, Erin, to go get a pulse-ox. (They wanted to see what my heart rate was). Turns out that what they were picking up was not Kayden's, but my heartbeat and I cried. I screamed. I'm pretty sure I made a huge fuss. They told me not to worry, that the Dr. was coming to do an ultrasound. It didn't take too long for him to get there and by the time he did, Alisha got to me and was holding me. I repeated over and over, "I can't do this again, this can't be happening." 
     I called my mom at school and told her what was happening. She cried with me and I knew she was devastated. Her heart was breaking for me at the loss of my baby for the second time. I told her I had to call Evan, which I did. Gratefully, I was on the phone with him when they finally confirmed through 2 different ultrasounds that Kayden was indeed gone. We cried.


      SO many people were surrounding me and I could feel my boys in the room as well. I didn't once feel alone. Just during the ultrasound, there was Dr. Schneider; Alisha, Sharon, Cynthia, and Beth }all nurses; Erin, a nursing student; a med student (I forgot her name), and the ultrasound tech.The next hours were filled with tears and phone calls. It's all a blur, but I'm so grateful that my family and friends were so supportive and I felt the immediate lift from all the prayers being sent up for me. Evan, of course, jumped in the car and headed home. Bishop Wilson came to the hospital and gave me a blessing. In that moment I needed to hear, through the power of the priesthood, that my Heavenly Father was aware of me; that He knew my heart was broken, but that my Savior was close by to comfort me and help me through the heartache again. I'm so grateful for the power of the priesthood that I felt in that room. I'm grateful that my friend, Crystal, was there with me to feel of that spirit as well. 


    The phone call to my dear friend, Shanna, was one of the hardest. She had an almost-one-month-old at home and I knew she was going to take the news hard. We had been pregnant together for 5 months and already had plans of our babies growing up and getting married. :) But, like the good friend she is, she packed up and came right over. Lydee came too and we all cried together.  I held Lydee, realizing that the baby I would deliver soon would be a fraction of her size, and lifeless. I prayed that his body would be as perfect as his little spirit and that I would recognize him when he was delivered. Shanna and Lydee stayed the night (I didn't want to be alone and Shanna didn't want me to be alone). I took Ambien and it knocked me out, so I don't remember anything. But apparently I tried to convince Shanna that she could go home and leave Lydee with me. 

Friday June 15, 2012

    Doctor after doctor came into my room. My OB was out of town so every other OB took his place. They all gave their condolences and assured me that since this was our third fetal loss they would be sending me to a specialist and we would figure out the problem and get it fixed. I was grateful that something would finally be done and that they were considering the possibility that there was a detectable cause and a correlation between all three events. We decided to wait to induce my labor until Evan got there. It was a long drive and I knew he'd be tired. We called more family and I rested until Evan came at 2:00pm. It had been a full 24 hours since finding out about Kayden by the time Evan got there but it felt real all the sudden. I was grateful to see my husband after being away for 2 weeks, but I was so angry that it was under of these circumstances. We held each other and cried. We spent time just being together and taking it all in and just after 3:00 we moved over to the labor room. My mom and sister Julie got to the hospital around 7:00, I think, and  the tears came again. My labor was a process-pushing out a 27 week baby in a breech position is TERRIBLE and I'll leave it at that. 

June 16, 2012

It was almost 2:00am before Kayden was delivered. He was perfect in every way. His growth was on track my whole pregnancy and he weighed exactly what he should have weighed. He was 13.5 inches long.

Almost 2 lbs

     

He looked so small on that table. 

I loved holding my sweet little guy.

Every part of him was tiny, but perfect

The closest we'll get to a family portrait

His skin was very fragile, so we couldn't wipe the vernix off very well-that's why it looks a funny color.

L to R: Pamela, my fabulous delivery nurse who stayed 24 hours for me. Dr. Schneider the attending physician over my care, med student, and Dr. Erica Waddington who delivered Kayden. She was so fabulous and I'm so grateful to my medical staff that took such good care of me.

Grandma E. and Kayden.

Auntie Julie and Kayden

I love my boys! Notice Scotlin's in this picture too.

I LOVE MY MISSIONARIES!

June 23, 2012

     It was expensive and frustrating, but we were able to get Kayden to Utah so he could be buried with his brother. 

Some of our closest friends and family. We have felt so much love and support, not the least of which from the amazing people in this picture!

Autumn bought me some flowers so I could make an arrangement like I did for Scotlin. Also, Evan got a new tie and I got a new dress...it's sad when you have traditions for attending your son's funerals.

Our awesome parents

Bishop and Cathy Wilcock. aka. our Logan parents

The tripod. Our most cherished friends on the planet. They've gotten us through everything.

Evan and me with Brett Horsley. He was my OB in Logan and delivered Scotlin. We've become good friends over the years and he was kind enough to conduct the services we held for Kayden. I'm so glad he was able to come and share his spirit with us. He said the words that I most needed to hear to be at peace with the trials we've been asked to endure.

After Scotlin died in 2009, I told Heavenly Father that I could never go through this again. He probably just smiled and held me tight knowing that that was exactly what He had in store for me. I know that my boys are on the other side of the veil, teaching the gospel in the Spirit World. I know that they are perfect and that we will be reunited together as a family again. I'm so grateful that I was given the opportunity to carry such perfect spirits and give them the bodies they needed so they could move from one kingdom to the next without having to endure the hardships and sorrow of this world. They were too courageous and valiant to need to prove themselves on this Earth. Of course I am sad to not have them with me on earth, but I'm so grateful to be their mom and I know I'll see them again. 

I love you Scotlin and Kayden!

     

From an outside perspective.

Tonight, I was watching a show on Hulu. Not the most productive use of my time when I always complain about being busy, but ya know...I felt like being lazy. In this show (to remain unnamed), a waiting-for-her-baby-to-be-delivered mother breaks her arm, and during the exam, the Dr. realizes the baby has died. It doesn't say so immediately, but the mom asks if the baby is alright and the Dr. says, "yeah, baby's just sleeping" and leaves the room. It then shows the Dr. telling another Dr. that the baby has died. I cried. Not gushing tears, like I would've expected, but I cried. Mostly, I felt grateful that a TV show was portraying fetal death at all...it's usually so taboo.
    As the show progresses, there's another scene where the Dr. goes to tell the parents what's really happened. She knew, I'm sure of it...the mom probably knew the whole time, but she tells the Dr., "Say it...I won't believe it until you say it." The camera cuts back and the mom and dad start crying as they hold eachother and the Dr. stands there with her head in her hands. I cried again. I thought that would be the end of that part of the episode, but it wasn't.
    Toward the end, it shows the mom delivering her lifeless baby. The Dr. wraps the baby up and hands her to the mom. Mom takes the baby and holds it tight while her husband holds her and they cry together. I cried again (honestly, most people would).
    The point, you ask? All this time, I have only thought of Scotlin's death from my perspective. Even when my mom tells me about how hard it is to watch her daughter go through something like this. Even when my sisters write blog posts about what it was like to be there with me during my labor and holding my son. Those are real instances, so I don't know why watching a portrayal of it by some actors on TV touched me so much, but as I watched and cried, I realized that I've never given myself credit for this really hard thing I've gotten through. That's not to say I've done it alone, because I've had an amazing support system through it all. But, I made the decision to stay strong. I made the decision to turn to Heavenly Father. I decided to keep going to church and work and school. Like I said, I didn't do these things alone. But even with all the people encouraging me, I could have just said no and stayed in bed for years, never showered, quit my job, ruined my marriage, stayed depressed, and gotten fat (or sickly skinny-one of the two).
   I always told my sisters that I hated it when people told me I was "so strong" because they only saw me then I was at work or church or school and I was dressed with make-up on and going about my days. I just didn't want to hear that I was strong because of all the secret, and often sacred, times when I was sobbing uncontrollably in the corner with matted hair, running make-up, blotchy face and puffy eyes whild I screamed outloud, and eventually prayed to my Father in Heaven that he would just send my son back, or that He would just take all the hurting and aching away. You didn't see me then, and I felt guilty to be called strong when I had such low moments.
  But today, after a stupid show opened my eyes a little more, I actually feel strong. I feel like I've accomplished (rather, am accomplishing) something really important and difficult. Thank you for encouraging me. For telling me I'm strong, even after all those times I asked you not to!

2 Years of Being an Angel Mommy...

...and it still hurts. Do I still wish I'd wake up and it'll all have been an awful dream? yes. Although, I can say that I've learned a lot about myself and my Savior since that awful day. 

        It's all very hard to describe. I think Evan can see the different person I've become. Maybe my family can too. But from any other viewpoint, you'd have a hard time knowing that I've grown and changed so much. My heart has changed. I can consider myself lucky, I guess, because many people who lose a child find that their heart becomes cold and hard. Their view of the world becomes bleak and empty. That happened to me for a while. But, thanks to my knowledge of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and also to the numerous prayers that were offered up on behalf of my family, my heart has been able to heal.

        I can think about November 24th, 2009 and be grateful for the events of that day. I can remember the week that followed and see the myriad of blessings that Heavenly Father poured down on my family and me. I can thank the people that took care of me and carried me for so long until I could take care of myself again (which was a long time). And, especially, I can think about my Scotlin, that beautiful, sweet angel that I held in my arms, and even though I cry, I can be grateful that I have a son that is PERFECT! 

       I know where Scotlin is. I know he's busy in heaven doing work for Heavenly Father that he couldn't have done if he was on earth as a bubbly little 2 year-old. I grieve his absence. But I'm so blessed to have a permanent angel watching over my family. I know that he'll be the last one our future children see before they come to Earth. I hope he tells them that we're the best parents ever and that we'll love them just as much as we love him!

       I'm doing well and I'm happy! But sometimes, in quiet moments, I'd love to catch a glimpse of Scotlin. I cry to think that he's in heaven while I'm here missing him. But I'm glad heaven has such a good angel. I think I'm the luckiest momma in the world

Thinkin' About My Baby

No, this won't be a pity-me post, I promise. 


Here in K-ville, Evan and I have had the opportunity to meet a guy who's going to be in Evan's class. His name is Clarke. He's investigating the church and asking a lot of questions. On Saturday, Evan had the opportunity to go with the missionaries to teach Clarke about the Plan of Salvation. 

As usual, this has me thinking about Scotlin a lot.


As Scotlin's first birthday came closer and closer last year, I was starting to slip into a pretty severe depression. It wasn't until February 2011 that Ev and I decided we both needed professional help. (I'm not embarrassed to admit this. Trauma --> grief--> getting stuck--> depression--> worse depression--> get help). We started meeting with Tasha. Tasha is a LCSW, and became a great asset to Evan and I and she also became a great friend. After talking through A LOT of our feelings/coping styles and talking about how we were planning on handling the move, we decided, with Tasha's help, that we wanted to keep Scotlin's story to ourselves as we were meeting people/making new friends. This is very reasonable. It makes sense that we don't want our identifier to be "they're the couple whose son died" for the rest of our lives. It's been three weeks, and it's working out okay. But, even 20 months after the fact, it's hard when people ask if I have kids for me to answer, "no" and leave it at that.  Usually, other people's response has been somewhere along the lines of, "yeah, we're not ready for kids either". 


Long (IRRELEVANT) story short: all this has just got me thinking about my beliefs, and I wanted to share them here.


 As children of our Heavenly Father, we have a plan specific to us. Because we can't remember our life before we came to Earth, we don't remember what all our life entails; what joys we'll have/ what trials we'll endure. But this is what I do know: We're here to get a body and then spend our lives proving to Heavenly Father that we can live righteously and return to Him. Some of God's children, like Scotlin, and his friends Benton, Jake and so many others only needed a body to pass their test here on Earth and were required to return home quickly to help out on the other end. But for us left behind, it hurts. It devastating, and heart-wrenching and sometimes it's infuriating. My human brain has a hard time comprehending a plan that requires parents to bury their children. But my heart understands a little better. Somehow, every time I think of Scotlin and his friends, my heart hurts, but is quickly reassured that I agreed to this plan and that I will get to be with Scotlin again someday. And even though I feel alone, missing my sweet little boy, I'm not. My Heavenly Father loves me. He's watching out for me and He's hurting with me. And since He can't be here to put his arms around me and hug me better, He's sent my family and friends to do it for Him. So here's a big shout-out to all of you who have supported me and carried me though this. Even though I whine and complain, I do know that it's going to be okay. Much Love,
Whit

Just a quick favor

November has been crappy. Granted, I knew it would be. I've been dreading it for the last 11 months and suddenly it's here and I feel like it snuck up on me. But with no thanks to my lack of a time machine, I can't keep Scotlin's birthday from coming and as the day is soon approaching (Nov. 24th), I just have a few favors to ask of my friends: 

Please don't tell me you know how you feel if you don't.

Please don't tell me that my son died because he was perfect or try to rationalize his death in some other way that may make sense to you. 

Please let me cry- as long and as hard as I want to. 

Please don't tell me "at least you can try again." I promise, we've been trying...it's not as easy as people make it out to be.

Please let me talk about my baby.

Please don't change the subject by saying, "on a happier note...".  I hate being made to feel like MY son depresses YOU.

If you don't know what to say, don't say anything. A hug will do just fine. I'd rather sit in silence than hear things that will hurt me. If you don't know whether it will hurt me or not, please don't say it. 

Please feel free to call me. I'd rather not be alone that day.

However, please don't be offended if I have to be alone for a few minutes.

Please try not to feel uncomfortable if I get emotional. If you can't handle a mom crying over her dead son, don't read my blog, and don't come around for a few weeks. 

Please tell me what you remember about him. If you came to the hospital or to his funeral. Or even if you were around when I was pregnant. I love to hear about my son. I LOVE to talk about him. 

If I cry, please don't feel like you have to comfort me. Comfort and peace come with time. If nothing else, just CRY with me!

Please don't forget Evan. He was just as invested in my pregnancy as me and he was just as excited to be a dad as I was to be a mom. Just because he doesn't post on this blog doesn't mean he doesn't hurt every bit as much as I do. 

Please feel free to share your own stories with me. If you or a friend has lost a baby, please feel free to give them my email address, blog address or phone number. It always helps me to meet new angel mommies.

I appreciate all the love and support that we've been given throughout this very difficult, very trying year. Your love and understanding have helped us get through this devastation and helped us to come out on top (for the most part). I love you all!