A Rose By Any Other Name

Today my daughter would have been one month old.

I have been through more at twenty two than most people go through in their entire lives, but I will never let what challenges life brings take my hope and my joy.

I have been called irritatingly optimistic.


I had my first child when I was 16, and he was conceived in rape. I loved my son from the moment I knew I was carrying  him.  I wasn’t really religious, but I did believe in God.  The day I found out I was pregnant God spoke to me, or maybe a whisper, I don’t know how to describe it but I knew in my heart, in my spirit, that I was going to raise this baby and all would be well. And it was.

My son is greatly loved by so many people.  It baffles my mind the way God turned something dreadful into something so very beautiful.

That is not to say that my decision hasn’t come with extreme challenges and at times, anguish and an unfathomable amount of emotions.  But that is a story for a different day.

 Anyone who knows me, knows I have a passion for family.  I absolutely love being a stay at home mom and wife.  It might drive some crazy being home, but I truly enjoy caring for children all day everyday, and my home and my husband.  I also go so far as to occasionally care for other people's children. I was born to be a mother. 

 Last year my husband and I decided to have another child.  We hit most of the checkmarks of when is a "good" time to have a baby.  We excitedly told literally all of our friends and family, and to our surprise that next month I was expecting our daughter. 

On December 12^th when I saw that positive on the pregnancy test I was at first in disbelief, then when it sank in I literally fell to my knees and started crying.  I was overwhelmed with joy. I prayed and praised through tears thanks for giving us this little life inside me.

We told everyone right away.  I didn’t worry for a second that anything would happen to this baby.  I believed arrogantly that God wouldn’t allow me to go through another traumatic pregnancy experience. 

Everything was perfect.  I went to Walmart the day I found out and bought “I love daddy” pacifiers and a cute little bacon teether I thought my husband would like.  That Friday I went and bought maternity clothes.  I had everything in the house organized perfectly weeks before she was due.  I couponed and had diapers and wipes stocked up for probably about a year.  I had everything labeled so that when we came home with our baby girl my husband or anyone at the house would be able to find everything.  I had our bedroom set up and ready for her for months. I was so incredibly excited.

The pregnancy went perfectly.  I worked out up until the day before I delivered.  Even in my third trimester, people would assume I was so miserable, and, most of the time, I answered with a smile and said no I wasn’t. My husband and all of our families were excited, ready for this new addition to the family. I was happily, joyfully, gratefully pregnant. 

August 19th 2017 started out as any other day. I got up, made some coffee, hung out with my mom who was in from out of town for the baby, and ate breakfast.  When I sat down I noticed the contractions, I wasn’t sure if it was real labor or not, so I kept on as usual.  I remember as I was writing laundry instructions on the washing machine for my husband, having to stop and breathe through a contraction.  My mother’s eyes glistened with excitement at the possibility that I was finally in labor (I was 3 days past my estimated due date).  I wasn’t getting my hopes up, but after a few hours and a call to my obstetricians office I knew it was time to go.

 I was calm. Ready. In control.  I breathed and counted through each painful contraction on the way to the hospital.  After triage I laid on the uncomfortable hospital bed surrounded by loved ones and excitedly waited for them to check my baby’s heartbeat and put on the monitors to check the contractions.  The first nurse couldn’t find the heartbeat, and another nurse came in to check.  I prayed to God to please, please let my baby be okay. I locked eyes with my mom, terrified.  When the doctor came in to do an ultrasound my prayers changed.   The verse came to me “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”

The doctor put the cold jell on my belly, and began looking for her heartbeat, she looked up at me and my heart dropped.  Her eyes were full of sorrow.  “I’m so sorry, but There is no heartbeat”

No words can adequately describe the sorrow and despair felt when you are told your child has died. 

But there is always a light, and from that moment on I have never witnessed or felt so much love in my entire life. 

My heart stopped.  My world stopped.  My baby? I was taken aback in disbelief. Thursday we had an ultrasound and she was perfectly healthy.  The doctor turned the screen and I saw my baby's perfectly healthy body and spine curved around a heart that was still. 

I honestly can’t remember exactly what happened.  All I know is that anguish, despair, and heartbreak barely break the surface of what wretched feelings I felt.  I screamed.  I cried.  I watched the hearts break of the loved ones around me.

How could this be? This happened to other people, not me.  How could we be in the tiny minority that have stillborn babies?  It should be a perfect delivery…we should be calling everyone telling them that the long awaited baby girl was on her way. 

The family around me loved and comforted me when I couldn’t even think straight let alone truly wrap my head around this devastation. 

After four more hours of painful labor and delivery, I gave birth to a baby that I knew was already gone.  How could I find the strength when I knew that I wouldn't get to hear her cry...to give birth to death? It took all the little strength left in me, through tears to do it. 

At 5:35 my daughter Savannah Rose Duncan was born.  She was the most beautiful perfect little girl I have ever seen.  I sobbed.  I was in love. She was a perfect mix between me and my husband. I held her tightly. I knew that this time was the only time I would get with my long anticipated baby.  Most of our immediate family was there by then, and was able to hold her, for the first and last time. 

 After hours spent with her, it was time to say goodbye.  I kissed her in her little cot and told her how much I loved her, and how sorry I was.

Gut wrenching.  Impossible.  Horrifying. 

My husband and I were watching our baby girl be wheeled off to the morgue.



I wanted to rip my hair out, I felt like I was about to explode.  How could life possibly go on without my baby girl?  The thought of having a stillborn baby that was healthy and fully developed the day before seemed like an incomprehensible far away concept.  But here I was. Barely surviving, without my daughter in this world.  The grief and depression settled on me, weighing heavily all over my body, mind and spirit.  I would look around, angry and confused that the world was still turning while mine had stopped. I couldn’t get up.  I couldn’t breath and it was so hard to see past this pain. I didn't want to live in a world my daughter wasn't in.



I got help with what was post partum depression, and was able to see the light.  Be the me I was before. 
To say it has been a difficult journey for me and my family would be a grave understatement. 

But God has had us in his arms.  We have had more love and support from our community and family, and even strangers, than I even knew was possible.  My marriage has been strengthened.  All of my relationships have strengthened through this tragedy, and many broken ones restored.  I have seen just a glimpse of God’s beautiful, wonderful, mysterious plan.

God is good all the time. 

I say all of this to say that truly, no matter where you are in life there is hope.  Even when you look around you and only see death and darkness.  When you want to die.  Feeling as if the pain or circumstance is too much to bear, there is always a light.

Choose joy.  Choose love. Choose God.

My daughter has made me a better person.  While my heart aches deeply and I desperately long for her to be in my arms, she is not. 

But I do beleve she is is perfectly at peace, in the arms of Jesus in heaven.

 Many have told me that I am so very strong.  I am not.  God gave us free will though, and I will always choose joy.  I wil always choose to see the positive in any situation as I always have.  Without God my heart may have hardened, turned cold because this world is cruel and unfair. 

But I choose love.  I will fight like hell everyday to get through a world where my child isn’t with me.  A world where another day isn't promised, and is full of sin and sadness everywhere. I will fight to always see the good.

I am unbreakable. 

But that comes from a great trust in God.  I choose to seek Him and see the beauty in all things, even when I don’t understand.

So now, you, if you have read this, know wherever you are the IS hope. 

Even in your darkest, most desperate place, there is hope.

I have once been told I have an irritatingly upbeat attitude and optimism.

That’s because I have been through hell on earth, but I have seen that any storm can end with sunshine and beauty.

I urge you, love life.  Live it.  The good, the bad.  One day it won’t matter, and we will be with the Father.

Wherever you are now, fight.  Fight.  Fight like hell and get through it.  If I can, you can.  Come out better and stronger.  No circumstance is hopeless as long as you choose hope, choose love.

I know I will, through all I have been through and having lost a child,  I will smile.

 

Our New Normal

Today was the first day of what our family’s new normal would be. 

I woke up with my husband holding me and my son had weaseled his way into our room and was laying horizontal underneath my pillow somehow. 

I woke up surrounded by those I love, and reminded myself that I am strong, and I have to be strong for me and my family.  And we have to keep moving forward.

I got things started for the day, wake kid up, start breakfast, make sure lunch is packed, the usual.

I went into my bathroom to get presentable to face the public, and seriously considered not going to the gym, which I have attended the group exercises there religiously for years. I hunched over and felt weak, and my stomach was in knots. But then I straightened my back, stood up tall, and reminded myself I am a strong ass woman who can do anything.

Daniel and I rode to school without incident. I did keep glancing back, expecting to see my daughters infant carseat.  I headed to the gym and prayed on my way.  I prayed for God to help me be poised, and strong and gracious, and that when people look at me, they see God's hand. I got out of the car after a few deep breaths and headed into the gym like a storm.  I was ready to go.  Get the burn and adrenaline rush from working out.   I feel so guilty sometimes for trying to move on, and normal our life.  But my daughter will never be forgotten, and she would want me to be happy.  I know that for sure because all my son wants is to see my happy.

 

Many people said that were happy to see me, or expressed their condolences before I got to class.  And for that I am grateful.  Grateful for their kindness, and grateful for a distraction that I wasn't dropping off my baby girl into childwatch, fretting about the last time she ate, when she was last changed, and would she feel safe with these new people.

I worked out which helped my mood overall greatly.  I know I sound crazy, but I absolutely love pushing myself, and the feeling of accomplishment when you have a successful workout.  I did literally pause a few times during the workouts.....because I was painfully aware that my big pregnant belly wasn’t there anymore.

As I left class something was wrong, off.

But I remembered my daughter.  That’s what was off.  That’s what was missing.  Savannah should have been a few yards away from me safely taken care of while I exercised.

But I persevered.  I gave that damn workout my all.

Arriving at the gym I was powerful, determined.  When I left my class I first started to head to childwatch.  I had fantasized about these moment, these times of us at the gym together so many times.  Showing off my beautiful little babygirl to everyone. When I remembered that my sweet daughter wasn’t in childwatch, but gone, my heart broke a little again.  I walked so slowly.  My face and heart leaving the gym was of despair, confusion, and regret.

I walk so slowly and kept feeling as though I was forgetting something,  That pull.  Savannah should have been here with me.  I should be walking out to the car, putting her in the carseat and cooing and talking to her as we drive home.  But that is not the hand I was dealt. 

 

I ran a few errands and went home, not unlike any other day before.  When I came home my husband was still asleep, so I cuddled with him and took a nap, which was not the plan but what I needed.  My marriage grounds me.  I’m not sure what I would do without that man. 

After we woke up we talked and watched TV and he headed off to work.  He should have left work kissing our daughter goodbye.

After he left I fretted about the house, doing random chores and paperwork, deciding that my to do list could wait. And I needed to rest and focus on myself.

I picked Daniel up from school and he was very upset.  He wasn’t himself.  Which I understand, he has had a tragedy happen to him, as well as his mom not being well enough to care for him for a while.  When we get home my mother in law stops by and we chat and I cook dinner, give Daniel a bath after. 

My son sits on our reading chair, blue dinosaur pajama bottoms on, and one sleeve in of his Bulls pajamas, I know I'll have to help him later.  

We sit down to read our two books, as we have had this schedule for many years.  Story time is always hard for me.  I am reminded of how many nights I propped the book on my big belly as I read, and knowing Savannah could hear us reading and talking. I am reminded of the picture I had in my head. 

Bedtime should be so hard. A newborn baby and a six year old by myself?  I remember commenting to my husband that it would be soooo difficult for me to take care of both of these kids on my own while my husband was at work. What I wouldn’t give to be struggling with a bedtime routine for my daughter and son.

 

We read our two books.  My voice cracking every few pages, painfully reminded that Savannah is not here to hear these stories.  That after this, I only tuck one child in.  Only one child gets to be read to, and prayed with, and then put to bed.

I managed to stay strong for my son.  I walked out of his room. Done for the night.  No baby would be waking up in a few hours, my heart ached I started bawling. 

This isn’t right. This isn’t how it should be.  I cry and clutch the pink dress, the only outfit she ever wore.  I sobbed at her memory, and at the possible future we had planed. I thought it would comfort me to look at her clothes hanging up.  IT did not.  It was just a sad reminder that all of that careful washing and organizing of sweet little pink onesies was for nothing. 

I went to look at her urn.  That made my heartache more,  My child.  My first daughter.  The baby I love more than anything, is in ashes on our mantel.  I cry and look around angrily that all of the baby stuff is gone.  But we don’t need it. 

As I sit here calmer and write, I look around my house, void of little pink baby gear.  I feel an emptiness in me.  It will always be there.  I have had a child die, and when she died so did a part of me. 

But through the difficulty of looking around my house, imagining what could have been, I am reminded that she is in heaven.  She doesn’t, and never got to feel pain.  She is in perfection.

So although my womb, heart, and house feel empty.  I am full.

Full of the love of God, full of the love from my son, full of the love from my husband, full of hope for the future.

As much as it pains me to do it without my sweet Savannah, I must go on. 

I will go on.  I will be steadfast and become an even better person. She has inspired me.  Taught me how precious life is.

God will make beauty from this tragedy.