An Answer to an Unsaid Prayer

In my church, we have a huge meeting twice a year called General Conference. We believe in a living prophet that has all the power and authority to speak for God on earth today. This prophet and his apostles are considered special witnesses of Jesus Christ and teach us the things that our Father in Heaven needs us to hear. This is an opportunity to make the necessary changes to adapt to a growing world and to accommodate for the things that God needs his children to focus on in order to prepare to meet him. I look forward to this conference as a time to realign my attitudes and goals with a focus on my Savior and being a better disciple of Him.

This fall as conference approached, I read that one way to prepare for conference is to write down specific questions that I would like to have answered during conference. I have done this before and have been blessed with answers that have directed my life and my decisions.  This time, I couldn't think of a question. But as I pondered, I knew in my heart that I just needed to know that Heavenly Father was mindful of me and the trial I was struggling with. The past month, I've been angry. I have felt cheated and abused; like I've been picked on and forced to endure more heartache than was fair. 

I was scrubbing my bathroom floor while I listened to conference when this talk (above) came on. Elder Bowen described his experience with the death of his son and the pain he and his family endured. EVERY WORD seemed to describe my sorrow in perfect detail. I sat on the floor with my sudsy brush in my gloved hand and sobbed. 

I hadn't written down a question, and I hadn't prayed before conference. My loving Heavenly Father just told me, through Elder Bowen's beautifully expressed words, that He loved me and knows how much I'm hurting. I felt relieved and uplifted. Suddenly the texts, calls, and Facebook messages started pouring in, "I thought of you and your angels during that last talk."

Sometimes I feel so alone, left to grieve my sons' absence with Evan as the rest of the world moves on and we can't. Then I get a nudge like this and am reminded that I'm never alone and have loving, kind family and friends that think of us and pray for us.

I'm grateful that God used Elder Bowen to tell the world that sometimes babies die, and it's heartbreaking. It's devastating. It is not fair. But that there is hope in this bleak existence without them that we are going to see them again. CHILDREN under the age of accountability (8 years old) DO NOT NEED BAPTISM! Jesus Christ loves the children. He implores us to be like them: meek, mild, submissive. How can they be damned?! I'm grateful that I have a knowledge of the fullness of the gospel and that I KNOW my sons are waiting for me. Thank you to all who wrote us, or even thought of us and our angels today. We appreciate it beyond words!

Much Love, 

Whit

I can't believe how much He loves me

In honor on my 20,000th pageview, I thought I'd celebrate something I've learned the hard way over the past few years. However, I'm not as eloquent as THIS guy, so I'm just going to use his words. 

“Think of the purest, most all-consuming love you can
imagine. Now multiply that love by an infinite 

amount—that is the measure of God’s love for you. 

God does not look on the outward appearance. 

 I believe that He doesn’t care one bit if we live in

a castle or a cottage,

if we are handsome or homely,

if we are famous or forgotten.

Though we are incomplete, God loves us completely.

Though we are imperfect, He loves us perfectly.

Though we may feel lost and

without a compass, God’s love encompasses us 

completely.

He loves us because He is filled with an infinite

measure of holy, pure, and indescribable love.

We are important to God 

not because of our resumé but because

we are His children. 

He loves every one of us, even those who are flawed, rejected, awkward, sorrowful, or broken.God’s love is so great that He loves

even the proud, the selfish, the arrogant, and the wicked"

It's good to know I've got someone in my corner through

this life. The kind of someone who is always there, always

listening, always watching, and waiting for me to call on

him. And I know He'll answer me when I do. 

Much Love,

Whit

September 14th

Given my history with pregnancy loss, when I found out I was pregnant with Kayden, I knew I wouldn't make it to my due date. The plan was to induce at 37 weeks just to make sure he got here safely. (I knew I would NOT have the emotional or mental capacity to get to 38 weeks again...I would have been a total wreck). 

In May, at 23 weeks, I started having contractions and bleeding. I was sufficiently freaked out. I didn't know what to do. I would have been happy going on bedrest, but I would have had to drop out of school. I wasn't dilating, but my doc put me on -nifedipine- to help stop the contractions and it worked, so I resumed my daily activities. The one time I missed a dose, I had major cramping, so I had to be careful to take my pills on time every day. Needless to say, thanks to this fun experience with preterm labor, it further solidified my idea that this baby would not make it to his due date. For some reason (probably for simplicity's sake) when people asked when I was due, I still said, "September 14th". So, for 6 months, 9/14 was on my mind, coming out of my mouth, and I associated this date with my little Kayden. 

Of course, we all know the story from there; Kayden would live inside me until June 14th and no further. He was born sleeping on the 16th, and was laid to rest in the ground on the 23rd. 

So why does today suck so bad? It's just a day on the calendar. It's on all my paperwork from my pregnancy: "EDD (Estimated Due Date) or EDC (Estimated Date of Confinement) : 9/14/12. Maybe it's the idea that this date should have been a happy one and it's not; that I should be a mother and I'm not; that I should have finally gotten to hear my baby cry after years of yearning for and wishing for that sound. 

I have the right to be sad today, I know that. I didn't think I would need to-even yesterday when I casually mentioned to some ladies that I was supposed to be due today, I didn't feel anything. But I woke up with a heavy heart this morning and it was unexpected and frustrating. So for today I will allow myself to feel sad and think of my sweet Kayden. 

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!