1 Year

It's officially been an entire year since I last held my chunky baby. Some days are doable and some are as if we lost her yesterday. The mysterious thing about grief is comes in waves. Sometimes just small tidal waves brushing the shore full of heartache and sometimes 40 foot waves of rage, anger and depression. You never know which is coming and when. Sometimes it comes from a small argument with a sister and quickly spirals into grief.. arguments are rarely ever about what it started as. I had a break down the other day, I can't even remember what sparked it but it was harsh. It was brutal. I've come to realize that I will grieve as long as I live. That as long as I miss her and as long as I love her I will grieve.

We want her so badly and my mind can't seem to stop from thinking that. I know I can't have her here, but that's all I think about. When I look at my friends babies, at dinner, at the movies, I want her there with us. She would be the same age as three of my friends babies. I watch them grow and my heart aches that she isn't growing with them. I'm sure she has a million friends up there but I wanted her to meet her friends here. Often when I'm alone with my friends babies (they don't know this.. well now you do) I ask them is they remember her. If they high-fived on the way down. If Charlotte asked them to look out for me and for her brother and daddy.  I ask these little one year olds how she is doing. Sometimes I think there is an unspoken language between us telling me she alright and that she so badly misses me too, that she aches for us.

 We are missing someone, someone so vitally important. We are missing her giggle, her first steps, smothering her with kisses. Anytime I am around anyone, especially family I feel like we're not all there (in more ways than one). . All of the feelings, memories and heartbreak has come flooding back.

Sweet, sweet Charlotte May we miss you. We long for you. There is still the most deep, gaping hole in my soul. I still cry daily. If I could hold you one more time and kiss your cheeks. Oh what I wouldn't give to smell you. The scent of Heaven in your blanket is fading and that crushes my heart. I''m terrified I'll forget what you smelled like. I don't want to forget that. I want to remember everything. You have turned my life in a different direction. I'm not sure what I learned, other than compassion. You are sorely missed and deeply loved. Happy 1st Birthday baby girl!

My Come to Jesus Talk (9 months) + Charlotte's Autopsy

I've been asked a lot lately how I'm doing. I figured I'd sit down and write it all right now because I'm not doing too bad. Sometimes, it's too much to answer to anyone let alone a computer. I know you're trying to help and you're curious and it means the world but I don't know how to respond sometimes. So here it is. Actually, you might want to stop here, go pee, grab a snack, get comfy and come back. There is no short way of explaining the months of emotion after the loss of a child, our sweet Charlotte.

When Charlotte was born, after they told us we were going to lose her, they asked if they could perform an autopsy. For any parent that question would be impossible to say yes to, well, it was but that question had been asked many months prior so the answer was already made up. Chris and I delicately and cautiously reviewed each scenario, praying we wouldn't have to make this one decision. We said of course and months, and months, and months of waiting later, we FINALLY got the results.

I need to say that first, if you haven't seen me in person in a while, I've been in a extremely dark abyss of pain and guilt. A place I imagine everyone might slip into once or twice in their life, rarely talks about aloud and to be honest, lucky if they survive it. Maybe it's called depression, or maybe it's worse. I sure felt like it was worse. I know that it is by far the darkest, desolate, horrifying, most destructive place I've ever been and I never want to fall into it again. It's absolutely terrifying. Like an evil power had taken over me. I hated myself for losing her. This might scare some of you but I want to be real.

 I have never in my life thought of purposely leaving this Earth life until we lost her. I had had enough. I figured I'd be given a pass when I got to wherever I'd be sent with what I've been through. I thought I was useless as a woman. And this wasn't just one day of horrible thoughts, this was continued, lingering months. I should have been able to keep my babies alive like other women/friends/family and I didn't. I'd tell myself that it was just luck with Owen. I'd thought that no one needed me, that I had either offended or upset every one of my friends with how I was coping and that they wouldn't care if I were gone. I believed that Chris should marry someone that could give him the children he so desperately wanted and deserved. That I could never make him happy. That something was wrong with me and it couldn't be fixed.We are young enough, he could start over with someone that would be able to give him what he deserved. That I never want to be pregnant again and that he should leave me for that. That I couldn't give him more than our one son. I thought and believed that Owen would be better off without me as his mom. He didn't need this much trauma, sadness and loss in his life. He would be happier with a woman that could give him siblings. These thoughts were horrifying but I believed every one. And as much as they broke my already shattered heart, I thought for the better, for my kid, I would be willing to do that, to leave this Earth for him, for the both of them. They would be so much better off. So for those of you that asked, this was the answer. How do say that in a text?

I believed that God had forgotten about me and that hurt me personally. I felt completely abandoned. But that hurt very quickly turned to anger and hatred. I believed He had forgotten about Charlotte. Like He had too much to do on June 5th, 2015 at 1:00, that He forgot to keep Charlotte alive. That when I got up there, He'd say, "Sorry, I messed that up, my bad". I thought I had enough faith and He didn't think it was enough. That he didn't believe me when I said I couldn't do this again after we lost Conor. I was consumed with thoughts of hate towards Him. It was like I had tunnel vision and this was all I was aware of.

I began to resent Him openly. It took everything I had to make it to church and if I did, I wasn't paying attention. I even mocked others who looked to have it all together and by that I just mean kids that were living. I hated when people would bear testimony of a God that had answered their prayers because I started to believe that He didn't do that. But their stories were so convincing, I started believing it was just me. There was something wrong with me, that my prayers didn't make it to Him or that He simply didn't care. I stopped paying tithing because I wanted to make it very clear that I didn't care what He thought because he obviously didn't care enough about what I thought.

 I believed that I was being punished for being a brat in high school or picking fights with Chris our first year of marriage. That I wasn't taking good enough care of Owen so he wouldn't give me anymore children. I firmly believed I had enough faith to keep her here and if not, the thousands of people praying for her sure did! I told myself not to trust him. That He was a liar. I questioned everything I had ever been taught, every lesson in Young Women, every deep discussion about God with friends and family. I doubted everything and asked several people how they knew God was real. If prayers really were answered. I thought maybe there actually isn't a God. And that scared me. I thought I had been believing in a mystical being for so many years I wasn't sure how to change to find something new to believe in.

 If He was real, how could He do this? Did He forget I'm only twenty-three and I can't handle this? I don't know what I'm doing, surely He knew that. Why did He have to make it harder for me? Didn't He realize everything I was going to miss with her? We didn't just lose her, our precious baby, we lost our future. We lost Owen's best friend and little sister. We lost the endless possibilities of what babies carry. Did He not know me personally like everyone had told me He did? Did I not pray enough as a teenager allowing a good relationship between us? How could ask for her back too?

Soon I stopped praying completely and if I did, it didn't start with a "Dear," it started with "Hey you better listen to me!" or other things.. It didn't end with "amen", it ended with "or whatever".

These thoughts were tormenting because they felt so absolute. So palpable. I was ruined by this thinking of doubt, fear, guilt, agony, despair, suffering and loss and those feelings can and WILL damage a person, their beliefs, their family, their marriage, their life. It was a very, very bleak place. Like an abyss of black space I couldn't escape and all I had to look at or think about was how I could have saved her but didn't. The days leading to her traumatic birth and the day of replayed in my head thousands of times. The worried doctors yelling and nurses frantically running. I had nightmares of that day every time I laid my head on my pillow. Like an old record being stuck and playing over again in a loop. It just replayed Chris and I saying "Okay" and all of the sudden that turned into every machine being shut off. She was dying. I was desperately wailing, Chris was sobbing, everyone in the room was crying and then she was lifeless. Her body turned cold. And it would start all over again. And then sometimes it was I was at the end of the hallway in the hospital running to her in slow motion and I couldn't stop the machines from being shut off. The nurses station to the left and other rooms on the right, I was screaming for help, no one was there to save her but me and I physically couldn't do it. My mind just replayed all of the "What if's?"and "Could have's".

So.
Much.
Guilt.

I actually believed these thoughts. It had turned into my reality. I had been pregnant four times and only one lived. I felt worthless as a female, a woman and a wife. I'm not trying to scare you, I always been very real here so why stop now? I want to write this down so (1) if you're in this dark, horribly terrifying place, to not give up and (2) for my own sake, so I can look back and see how far I've come.

 After we lost her, they (doctors/parents/friends) told us there was nothing we could have done. And that we did everything we could. But I KNEW I could have kept her alive, by sheer will, love and faith. I knew I could. We are told with enough faith we can move mountains and I am telling you I believed I could have moved this country. That everyone was wrong and I was right, that I could've saved her.

For months I obsessed over these very real thoughts, I'd tell Chris and I would see terror on his face when I did. He didn't know how to help, no one did. People just kept telling me that I had to move on, get over it, cope in a better way, realize that they were struggling too and I hated that. I hated that no one understood the over whelming grief I was forced to wake to everyday. I began to be upset with anyone that wasn't in that room when we watched her life slowly leave her helpless little body. Anyone that didn't know what I was going through.

A friend told me this horrible truth that there is a time limit, a "social expiration date on loss and mourning". As much as I hate it, it's very true. "Like a timer goes off and it's no longer socially acceptable to be openly sad/upset/devastated/angry about a life changing experience. That once some unquantifiable amount of time lapses between you and a life shattering experience, people sort of cut you off and time you out if you're still "dragging on" about what happened. Some unwritten time span when it's no longer appropriate for people to wear their inescapable sadness on their sleeves any longer. If you do, you become that person that can't move on."  Hate began to take over my heart and deep in the trenched of my soul. I know some people go years with this much hate and I can't begin to imagine what that is like because eight months was long enough for me.

A few things have changed.
About a month ago an antique shopping day with my mom turned into an unexpected discussion about Charlotte. The drive home we talked about everything regarding her. Up until this point my mom had tread lightly. She has no idea this talk affected me as much as it did, so surprise mom! I was telling her how convinced I was that I could have kept her alive with my faith. That she should have lived and that I could not only handle but absolutely adore a handicapped child. That I had enough faith to keep her here. The more I talked the more emotion came into play. My eyes were tearing up and I began to feel personally hurt all over again. I got defensive and angry. Then she asked me the difference between hope and faith. I can't remember what I said but I remember her suggesting that maybe we had had enough hope and been mistaking that for faith. Not that we didn't have faith but that instead of blaming God for not accepting my faith it was me not accepting His will and having faith to believe that this was the plan all along. That I couldn't have kept her here no matter what I believed. No matter how little or how much faith I had. No matter how much I had hoped. When she said this I remember thinking "Well, you don't know anything and you're wrong" only to walk in the house to Chris sobbing and tell him how right she was. How I needed to hear that but how I hated the truth of it.

Every doctors appointment we went to, we were given a little more hope. Carrying our deathly sick baby to full term was an uphill battle.  Every time we saw her chubby little body in an ultrasound we were given a little more hope. Looking back, it wasn't all faith, I'd say more was hope. It was hope; a feeling of expectation or desire, a feeling of trust. Not faith; complete trust in someone or something. I realized I had been blaming this on "God's lack of faith in me".

Only a few months after Charlotte died I was talking to my sister about how I was beginning to hate going to church. I complained and complained about the "stupid" lessons and the people, it's annoying how cheerful Mormons are when you're miserable. I told her I was only still going because I wanted Owen to go. I didn't want him to miss out on Primary. Right then, she interrupted me and said "Why do you want your kid to go and believe in something you don't?" I think I was pretty angry about that but it helped me realize that I needed to figure out what I do believe in.

Another life changing thing was given to me. I asked a dear friend for help and boy she came through. She wrote me a novel of insight, advice and thoughts all with a deep love for me. Every word she wrote sounded exactly like the feelings I've had, so it was comforting to be able to relate and not feel so alone. I want to share a small piece of what she wrote;

"It's time my relationship with Heavenly Father grew up. There is a scripture in Mark where there is a multitude of people gathering around the Savior and a father approaches a man with his son who 'has a dumb spirit'. The son foams at the mouth and gnashes his teeth, I'm not sure if the son is possessed or whatever it is, I can imagine it has made life miserable, depressing, and burdened with unending laborious care on part of the poor father. He asks the Savior to have compassion and help his sick son. As he asks, he says something extremely remarkable. He says,
 "Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief" (Mark 9:24)

I have read this a hundred times but this time it seized my heart. I re-read it again and again. How can you believe and yet not believe? Can these two things co-exist? Unexpectedly that is exactly how I feel. I DO believe, and yet, somewhere in the deep recesses of my heart there lurks unbelief too.
 I am this man.

Somehow I'd always thought that unbelief cancelled out the belief. But it's not true. They can totally exist. I just need to try to focus on the positive side and feed what I do believe. 

Every time some major "test" has come my way I have lost my testimony's footing a bit. Was there no safety net? Wasn't there a God that could put a limit on the amount of stretching that was required of me? (Could He stretch someone else?) Because if not, if there is no safety net, so to speak, that is utterly terrifying. And I'm not up for that. I quit. I give in to my unbelief. 

I realized there were only two options. 

Give in to my unbelief and suppose that Heavenly Father didn't know what I could realistically handle -OR- start believing that there is something bigger and more important to Him than my feelings and perceived ability that He truly cared about. Something grander than how I personally felt about what I was thought a fair Earthy experience should be. So given those two options- unbelief or belief- after months of seriously and meaningfully contemplating it and wanting to hold fast to my belief, I realized my relationship with God had to grow up. 

This childish notion that He won't give us more than we can handle is so middle school. My grown up perception is that I honestly think God allows life to happen and unfold. 

So that might not be huge news to most people. I get it. But to people who have has rapid-fire sequence of life shattering challenges, that's a scary thought. It feeds unbelief. It means the Job story from the Bible could brutally happen to me personally, and if it does, God would be okay with it. 

That doesn't have the look and feel of Godly love. That's not actually in any of the lessons I sat through as a Young Woman. God being okay with pain and suffering is blasphemy isn't it? That feeds my unbelief. But while many unspeakable experiences can cause serious physical guttural pain and intense suffering, my belief says that He isn't the cause of it, 
My belief struggles against my unbelief and tells me that this doesn't mean He couldn't care less. My belief tells me He couldn't care more.

I believe God wants us to open our eyes to His grander perspective so that we can soften the hardest parts of life. I've got to focus more on where HE places the importance. Perhaps the things I think are absolutely important (death and illness) aren't a big deal to Him. I need to disarm this whole harshness of life by looking at it through His lens, not mine.

The things I put critical importance on, God does not. The things God makes critically important are the things I need to pay attention to. 

So what if the worst parts of my life turned out to be the most life changing and saving parts? What if death and illness wasn't that terrifying to God? What if I can't depend on God to save me from earthy pain and death but I could depend on Him to save me from eternal pain and eternal death? 

Love isn't God saving me from the worst parts of Earthy life, Love is God saving me for Eternal Life. I've been confusing the two and blaming God for my confusion". 

This changed the way I think of a lot of things now. It was beautiful. I don't even have to add anything. These words will change my relationship with God. And as weird as it sounds, I needed to forgive God. That's when I had a "Come to Jesus talk". It is growing, our relationship. This relieved a lot of weight from my shoulders. We're on speaking (nicely) terms now.

And then we got the autopsy results.

This changed me as a person. I really believe and have been told at least four times in the last two days that I've changed and that I'm different.

Chris and I walked into the University of Utah Hospital a couple weeks ago now. I'm not going to lie, it was hard. From the parking lot to the pianist in the lobby, memories flooded my brain. I remember being wheeled out past the pianist by Starbucks carrying nothing but my bag full of things that smelled like Charlotte, flowers, and a water jug. I remembered the music and the smell of coffee so vividly. I had the bravest face I could muster on the way out that people smiled at me while passing. I was thinking of all of the possibilities of this autopsy review. We were early so I tried to calm my panicked self down while waiting for our doctor to take us to the conference room. I walked through the gift shop which probably wasn't a good idea. It's full of last minute "I forgot a gift for my new niece" items. I went back to thinking about the autopsy. That we might not find out much. That she could have been saved. That she had so many more problems than we knew about. My doctors found us and lead us to a large conference room. It was down the same hallway I'd had nightmares about, just across from where I stayed after we left Charlotte in the NICU.

We sat down along with three other doctors and a fellow. Luckily our MFM doctor Julie was there. Oh how I love her. They started by asking how we were doing, coping mechanisms, family support, and if we wanted to try again. At first offended, I realized they are just asking questions, trying to get as much information as possible. This will all go in Charlotte Hendrickson's case for students to study.

All of these numbers represent how many things that would have killed her by themselves.

Dr. Fung, who would have taken over if Charlotte had lived, handed us each a 15 page autopsy report. She said, "We found so much in her autopsy". I immediately got excited. She started with telling us that Charlotte had a brain hemorrhage. (1) Actually both sides of her brain were bleeding when she was born. They grade on a four and she had a three on one side and a one on the other. She said that happens during a cesarean in babies under 33 weeks. It was too traumatic for her little body. They explained that that alone could've killed her or had severe lasting damage.

She had a heart defect. (2) Because her little heart was pushed so hard over into her shoulder cavity if had deformed. An artery grew in the wrong place forcing it to wrap around her vocal cords and her esophagus making her voice horse her entire life and she would have had very bad acid reflux.

Because of the Diaphragmatic Hernia (3) her whole small intestine, almost all of her large intestine, her spleen, her liver and stomach were all up in her chest cavity. Making it impossible for her lungs to develop properly. The whole pregnancy we had been watching the liver to make sure it wouldn't go up into her chest and turns out it did.

Which means that her right lung weighed 10.6 grams and her left lung weighed 2.7 grams. (4) Not even close enough for her to have survived. There was also severe damage to her lungs when they revived her right after she was born.

These are straight from the report, except what I've written in parenthesis to help you understand.
a. low set, non-symmetrical ears
b. short limbs
c. rounded forehead
d. Pallister- Killians Mosaic syndrome (may later manifest in mental retardation and a cause for almost everything in her autopsy)
e. hypotonia (low skin tone)
f. broad nasal ridge
g. thin upper lip and large tongue
h. widely spaced eyes
i. hair abnormalities
j. long philtrum (the space between your nose and your upper lip)
k. stress dyserythropoiesis in liver and bone marrow (type of anemia that shows very low level of red blood cells)
l. one artery umbilical cord
m. bilateral cervical ribs (C7) and no ribs on T12 (this was probably the weirdest thing. You read that right, she was missing her lowest set of ribs and she had an extra set off of her clavicle bone. This is NOT her x-ray, I was just trying to show you what it looked like in the autopsy, not that we saw but it helped me understand. Our doctor said this is actually not that unusual in babies with chromosome defects.)

 n. bridging palmar crease or Simian crease (a crease in the hand associated with Downs Syndrome and other genetic syndromes)

   
o. cortical renal cysts (cysts on her kidneys)
p. delayed maturation of oocytes (her eggs were so mature she wouldn't have been able to have babies, kinda creepy that they can tell that in my baby)
q. pars intermedia cyst pituitary gland (5)( she had cysts on the gland that is important in controlling growth and development which would make it dysfunctional)
r. hypercoiled cord (6) (her cord was so tightly wound, blood, oxygen and nutrients weren't getting to her, the cause of death)
s. left lower leg, dusky, and increased in circumference compared to right
t. increased nucleated red blood cells in fetal vessels (7) (she was trying hard to get oxygen, so she made as many of her red blood cells able to carry oxygen, which in the end, didn't work. They told us that it was an astounding number of cells, an adult should have 10 or less nucleated blood cells and she had 117.)

"Urgent delivery was necessitated by persistent bradycardia (abnormally slow heart action) and decreased fetal movement. During birth, fetal heart tones were lost for approximately two to five minutes and infant was cyanotic (blue or purple skin tone due to lack of oxygen) and had no tone, respiratory effort or heart rate at birth, Apgar scores were 0 at 1 minutes, 1 at 5 minutes, 3 at 10 minutes, 4 at 15 minutes and 5 at 20 minutes. Chest x-ray showed bowel loops in the left chest and deviation of the heart and thymus to the right. She continued to deteriorate despite resuscitative efforts and expired at approximately 10 hours of age". (Taken from the autopsy)

Why did she come when she did? I asked that question probably close to a million times. I asked God, Chris, family, friends. Why? She was doing just fine, why couldn't she have stayed in there a while longer and given her a better chance at survival? 32 weeks just wasn't long enough with her.
Well, remember when I talked about the ECHO machine, like bypass for babies? It turns out that our little miss wouldn't have "qualified" to be put on it. She would have had to been 33 weeks. At 32 weeks babies arteries aren't big/thick enough to handle it so she wouldn't have been able to use it. So, if she had come the next week, at 33 weeks, Chris and I would have decided to use the ECHO, hoping and believing that she would live. We would keep her living as long as possible because we wouldn't have known the severity of her defects. She would have lived probably for a while longer (maybe a couple of days, weeks) and been suffering. All the while we would be thinking that she could survive. God knew. I didn't.

So that's it, hahahaha. After every new deformity I felt a little less guilty. It was bizarre and sad but wonderful. I don't think I've ever felt those three feelings in one day let alone in an hour. I felt a small stream of peace come over me. It was back.

I was letting Him back in.

It's hard to describe in words the feelings we both felt hearing all of things that killed our baby. It was great.

I know, it's horrible, but it was everything I needed. At the end, they asked if we had any questions and I didn't. We asked lots of questions along the way and by the end I think we heard everything we needed to hear.

I walked out of that conference room with not a tear in my eye. God knew me. I felt it. It took a while to feel it but I was the one stopping that feeling. He knew that I needed seven reasons for her not to be here. There were seven things that could have killed any regular baby individually and our amazing little girl survived as long as she did with ALL of them. ALL of the odds against her. It truly was a miracle that she lived on this Earth for nine hours and twenty-nine minutes.

We're working on things over here. There is still sadness but there is so much less guilt. We still long for a future with her. Owen talks about her a lot. He wants her to have friends and be happy up there. He is worried she isn't. We talk about Heaven a lot. We don't visit her grave anymore. (Not that we won't ever again) but it's different now. The autopsy finalized that she really is gone. That she isn't coming back. Going to her grave is somber and sad. It isn't helpful for me. It reminds me that I put her in a box and I don't like that.

We miss her. A lot. I still daydream about summer dresses on her nine month old chubby, wobbly body. I daydream about playing with her and Owen in the grass at a park. I daydream about her trying new foods and laughing about what she doesn't like. Taking her for her first swim, watching her little legs kick with excitement. I dream about Chris holding his little girl. His big arms delicately holding her little frame. We lost her and that hurts. She is gone. We won't see her for a long time. But she is very much apart of our lives. We talk about her hourly and we always will. She means so much to my little family.

And I can finally say this with the most sincerity and with tears falling down my cheeks.

It was an absolute honor to carry her as long as I did. To get to know her. I feel privileged to be her mother. She is valiant and perfect. Our reunion will be so joyful.





















I'm secretly rooting for Hillary to win because that must mean the world is ending, Christ is coming and I can reunite with Charlotte sooner than we thought.

6 months

 I have so much on my mind so please remember that this is some sort of weird therapy for me and I have always been way too blunt, judge if you must.

You know that line, "When it rains, it pours"?

I think that's true for some, but for my life right now its, "When it rains, get ready for a tsunami".

Last year when we lost Conor there were a few other things going on that I wouldn't consider awesome. We had some major car problems, Chris was trying to figure out a job and we had saved up a measly $4,000 for a down payment on a house and then had to spend every last penny on little things like, burying my second child. I remember telling myself that that was it. I've heard bad things happen in three's, like waves, so I was really trying to live by that. Stupid I know, but it's got to end at some point right? And I had hope back then.

Then we lost our little miss, I killed a dog, we moved (which is good) but Owen started going crazy, then Chris started the academy (which is also good... and bad-we hardly ever see him and we just found out that he is working Christmas Eve and Christmas Day for the next three years #bottomofthetotempoleprobs) and then Chris got pulled over, I got pulled over, I found out that I need total knee replacements and neither of our insurances will pay for the testing we need done in order to try for another baby.. if we even decide to do so.

{I'm just now reading it back to myself and I realized if you didn't know what happened with the dog it probably sounds pretty bad, it was. I was in the Costco parking lot and a dog (not a small one) ran out in front of me and both sets of tires went over it. There was whining and crying (from both parties), blood and finally death, and the Animal Control}.

Hold on a second while I reminisce about the carefree times when I had a killer tan and body.

Okay, I'm done. You all know I hated it out there and now, of course like you told me it would be, it is in my memory as a time of pure bliss.

About the ticket.. he was in a construction zone, without his license going 16 over. Flashed that beautiful smile and got what we like to call, "The Hendrickson Discount"- (that's a post for a later time). No ticket, just a warning. Later that week, I get pulled over, going 79 in a 70. Owen is screaming and crying because, well, he doesn't want to go to jail and I'm WAY more emotional than I should be, the Highway Patrolman is WAY more bent out of shape than he should be and I paid my $120 ticket.

I have severe osteoarthritis in both of my knees. We think it's genetic.. so maybe a good thing more than half of my kids died. (it's either I'm joking or crying about it, just accept it). I need both of my knees completely replaced but we don't want to do it yet because well, I am only 23. I've had a series of three painful gel injections to help relieve the pain for some time until I just can't take it anymore. I have six weeks until I can "judge" them but as of this moment they are both throbbing.. so for now we're praying this will work.

 I guess now I'm just waiting to see what else is coming. I thought about carrying around an umbrella but then I thought I'd probably get struck by lightening.  I know this is so bad and morbid but it's kinda my life now but I had a dream about Chris dying and I woke up feeling sad but not surprised. Wrong in so many ways right? When I had those dreams as a newly married wife, I would wake up crying and throw a tantrum when he had to go to class. You could say I was pretty mature back then.

Also- this was three years ago today. (Thanks Facebook for reminding me that I have a lot to be grateful for)

And when I say "newly married" I mean, like a year. I know it's only been five but in a good and bad way it feels like we've been together for decades, maybe even centuries. I think Conor and Charlotte aged us. We may look young but we feel old and so very experienced, in the best possible way.

Some may say it's just a bad attitude I have but I've learned sometimes/most of the time life just sucks. There is no explanation and probably no reason (for the ticket anyway, there better be one for Charlotte). Either way, this tsunami named life hit us and we are drowning and it doesn't look like the waters are drifting out anytime soon.

We met with a genetic counselor at my maternal fetal office and we talked about the possibilities of what chromosomal defect Charlotte had. They won't say that for sure she had Pallister Killians because it's so hard to diagnose but they keep telling me that's what she had. It's all very confusing. She said the likelihood of one of us being a carrier of a genetic defect is "extremely" low. "Less than 1%" she said. I then reminded her that I've lost two babies in less than a year, both due to so called "extremely" rare conditions. I told her that Chris and I make that 1% statistic possible. She laughed and said "Ya, true. Okay sorry".

So there are two tests we wanted to get done, one testing specifically for a 12th chromosome defect. And the other for any chromosome abnormality. By testing for the 12th we would be able to see which, if either, parent the problem came from, Chris or I. Obviously NOT to place blame, because honestly I've already been blaming someone, but it would be to know if there is a problem at all.

You know, a couple years ago when I watched friends lose their babies, I felt bad for them but not at all understanding the depth of grief and pain they were experiencing, thinking to myself about how I would handle it. I told myself so many things that I would never do. I really thought I knew how I would handle it, how I would cope with it.
I would never blame anyone.
I would never blame God.
Or Chris.
Or myself.
I would never doubt.
I would never question.
Because well, there is a plan.
Basically I would be just fine because I understood the Gospel.
I am here to tell you that's all wrong.

Sure it's better to have some understanding of the Gospel. But does it make it in any way easier? I am here to tell you no. These last five months have been the scariest, most destructive to my soul, heart breaking months of my life. (And I pray I never feel that way ever again).

I have done them all.
I have blamed God.
I have hated God. (not my finest moment)
I have blamed myself.
I have blamed my doctors.
The hospital.
I have questioned and doubted.
If there is a God.
If he cares about me let alone anybody.
If he heard my prayers begging for my baby.
If he has a heart.
I have begged for an answer.
I have questioned life.
If it's worth living.
I have felt it all.

But in the midst of all of this, I started praying again. Just last week. They've been angry prayers. But at least I'm starting somewhere. Chris and I sat down to talk about life and he told me he saw this quote that said

"If you are on the right path, 

it will always be uphill"
Pres. Eyring 

I just cried. And then we laughed. Because I feel like we are trying to climb Everest in our swimsuits without oxygen or food. We are dying over here. Nothing is making sense. We are so confused. We haven't gotten any answers (and don't expect to). We don't know where to go from here. I don't fit in anywhere. All of my friends are either pregnant or just had a baby, which is what they should be doing At our age that's what everyone is supposed to be doing and we can't. And I truly, truly am happy for them I just feel so left out. I should be talking pregnancy or baby and I just can't, well I can but things get really awkward really fast when I bring up my dead babies.

See, you feel weird now don't you?

I know this post is forever long but I just feel I need to share I am okay. Really.
Something flipped a switch in my brain this last week. When the, so called, "new" LDS church policy came out. It's totally not "new" by the way. When I first read it I thought, well "That's actually really kind".

Not that I was surprised. But I thought, for the church to put families, no matter how they are made, first. That is kind. That is the definition of charity.

I put that thought and all of the articles to sleep. When I woke the next morning I was appalled by the venomous words coming from dear friends about the church, the prophet and apostles and this policy. I was in shock. Now days, everyone has an opinion, whether it's hurtful or not, they love to share it. It's like they can't get enough of themselves.

I am usually pretty quiet when it comes to politics because I don't want my head to get bitten off. Cyber bullying is horrid these days. But this I just couldn't shake. I was getting so mad at the "active, good, temple worthy" friends bashing my prophet and my church, only a few stepping up and saying that they still believe and sustain the prophet. (Love me some returned missionaries that don't care what people say)

Then I thought, I said "my prophet", "my church".

And something changed.
I had to decide.
I had to choose,
Do I believe in a living God, who tells his prophets how to direct us
or do I not?
Am I going to let how much I know crumble because of something I don't?

I found this quote a while ago and it's exactly what I needed to hear.

"When adversity comes, don't let 

something you don't fully understand 

unravel everything you do know". 

 Elder Kevin W. Pearson

Right then I knew. I believed. I always have but I am telling you it got rocky for a while. And my relationship is changing with him. I'm not sure how yet but it just is. 

Hopefully we can get some answers. To anything. And we're doing okay. We visit our babies often and dream everyday but I am determined to see them again.

Hanging some pictures and I found the most perfect shadow box for her dress. 

I'm sorry

 I don't think I ever said thank you to those of you that helped us financially with Miss Charlotte and for that I am sorry. It probably seems like we are the most ungrateful people in the world. Which if we're being honest here, I feel ungrateful. I didn't want money, I wanted my baby. I would have given everything back if it meant we could have her. Like a trade? I would have given my life, if I had been given the opportunity.

When we had Conor, it was such a slap in the face and we felt like we lost everything, especially our financial stability (because we did). Charlotte was such a difference. Our dear friends set up a GoFundMe for us and believe it or not, our out of pocket for our insurance was $7,000. (CRAZY right?) But, I think the GoFundMe made just over that. Miracle. We were able to pay off all of my bills because of the money donated. There is no way we would have been able to do that without it. We were still trying to recover from losing our last baby.

 Also thank you to those of you that just sent us or handed us money. People we haven't talked to in years donated and that was the most beautiful miracle of them all. Thank you to all of our friends from all over the world who put our names in temples. Thank you. Even though I still hate what happened and I feel like it will take me years to be okay with it, it obviously was meant to happen the way it did because our names were in almost every temple throughout the world. From Paraguay to New Zealand and all over the U.S.

 Even though I still feel that way, the money helped more than we could have imagined. So thank you dear friends, old and new, thank you. Because I'd like to think that's what I would do if the roles were reversed. To be honest, I'm not sure I would know what to do. I get the feeling you all feel that way or you forgot, which I know you didn't, so it must be that you don't know what to do, how to help.

The newly married us

Send me texts, letters, emails, messages and don't be afraid to invite me to things. It's okay to stop by my house and talk. Being invited places is nice and makes me feel not forgotten and also hard for me lately. I want to be invited to play groups and outings with friends but it's hard for me to sit and talk about a long night of painful breastfeeding or how many poopy diapers you changed yesterday. It's hard for me to sit and listen to you complain about how exhausted you are because I would give anything to complain with you. In fact, I did once and I loved it. I loved being apart of something with other women.  I feel so out of place right now- it's weird. There aren't many people out there with one three year old. There are usually other babies involved and that's hard for me.

So please don't feel like I don't want to be around you or your beautiful babies when I make up a dumb excuse to not come. It's not that I'm avoiding you, but I guess I am. I don't even know what I'm doing. Please don't take offense if I never responded to you because the last thing I want to do is try to explain my roller coaster ride of emotions. Some days I can take it and others are horrible. Some things set me off and some things don't. I was completely fine in Target the other day (while avoiding the baby girl section) and saw a pink bow someone had left in the kitchen area. Right then and there I sobbed. Seriously, I don't even know how to explain it.

Please understand that I love you and I treasure our friendships but it's hard for me right now. Please understand that I understand how hard having a new baby is. How post postpartum depression is real and awful. I understand. I know that you are having a hard time too right now so it's not that I don't understand, it's just hard. Please understand that I am happy for you, truly. I am happy you have beautiful little girls, kids. I am. I would never wish this trial upon anyone. I just want mine to be able to play with yours that's all.

 I love and truly appreciate those that keep texting and emailing me. It makes me feel like I'm not the only still thinking about her, still missing her. If you let me know you miss her too, it helps. If you let me know you saw a butterfly or a pretty flower and remembered her, it helps.

 I miss her. Four months old is a fun age. They are just figuring out how to smile and giggle. I wish I could see her smile and hear her giggle. You know I never heard her voice? She never screamed, she was alive but couldn't breathe on her own. I wish I could have heard her. I wish I would have recorded her while she was alive. Even though she didn't do anything others might think was too impressive, she lived and that was impressive to me.

You have been good to us. We've been given money, gift card after gift card, letters, Mauna Loa chocolates from Hawaii, sweet children's books to help with Owen, teddy bears, gorgeous meaningful quilts, beautiful necklaces, plenty of flowers, hugs, kind and helpful emails, texts, Facebook messages.

I want you to know I've seen them all. I've cried when I've received them. I've loved them, every single one. I may not have responded to them but I saw them and I am grateful for them. I guess sometimes it's too hard for me to respond. Sometimes I wonder if you need me to say something strong because you keep calling me that. If only you could see me on a daily basis. We cry for her a lot.

Owen and I were looking at Halloween costumes a few days ago and he saw an adorable pink flamingo costume for a baby. He said we should get that for Charlotte. I told him we couldn't because Charlotte isn't here. He responded with "I know mom, when she comes back".

You make this heart wrenching, Earth shattering experience a little bit lighter and easier for me to attempt to handle.

It's one of those cliche sayings but we are truly at a loss for words because of the kindness shown to us. I know I basically just said "Invite me but don't expect me to come" and honestly that's just how it is right now.

Since I'm being honest here.. I'm still angry. It's been four months and I'm still angry. I wish the world could stop, stand still and remember my sweet girl. I wish the world understood how much pain I am in. I wish everyone would stop what they are doing, get off their computer, put down the laundry or dishes and hug their babies. Smother them in kisses. Smell their sweet baby breathe. Lay down on the floor with them and just be. Take the time. I regret so much just wanting Owen to grow up. I regret being so angry that "he wasn't letting me sleep".  They are hard but oh so worth it. They are exhausting but oh so perfect. When you get up for the fourth time in the middle of the night, be grateful. Try to think happy thoughts, even though thoughts don't come in full sentences at that hour, try. Hug your sweet baby for me.

Speaking of angry, Chris and I went to get tested but before we could my genetic counselor put in the case to our insurance and they denied it. As if losing my baby to a genetic defect wasn't bad enough, now we can't even find out if our future babies will get it. They denied it. They said it wasn't medically necessary for future pregnancies.So to say I'm angry is an understatement.

Three months

Its been exactly three months and five days since we had last held our little girl in our arms.

Though you see me at the grocery store, church, the park and I look fine, I'm not. This little girl left me with the biggest, deepest scar. My entire soul longs for her. I think about her at the grocery store. I think about her at church and at the park. While I'm putting my makeup on after a morning shower, while I'm painting my chairs, while I'm making salsa, while I'm picking out shoes for Owen, while I'm washing dishes, while I'm weeding. There isn't a time I don't think about her.

 I think about what people think when they see me and my one kid at the store and I can almost guarantee you they are wondering why I only have one.. I wish she was with me. I wish I looked like everyone else here, with armfuls of healthy babies.

I want her in the backseat of my car screaming her little lungs out. I want to put her in her stroller and have everyone comment on how cute she is. I want her.

It's been three months and five days since we last held her and I can't imagine the rest of my life without her. I can't imagine living happily. But, I have the the rest of my entire life left and I have no choice but to spend it without her. She feels like my soul mate, like I will be lost without her.

We miss you baby.

Ryan and Lou are engaged!!

My brother in law Ryan has been dating the cutest girl and they FINALLY got engaged. Just kidding, it's been like, a few months, but you know, in Mormon time that's like eternity. We hiked to the Grotto in Payson canyon where they had their first date. Owen was not thrilled with this idea. 

Dark heavy clouds and thunder started rolling in so we tried to hurry.

Owen playing fetch with a couple dogs. He loved it.

As he was on his way to the ground, she said yes. haha It was the sweetest thing. He got to his knee and asked and by that time she had said yes at least ten times.

Owen has had a little crush on Lou and he was not happy at all that they are now going to get married. haha He said "NOOOO" after she said yes. Poor guy.

We are so happy for them and we just absolutely love her. And in true Mormon fashion the date is October 10th, that's about seven weeks I believe. haha It's possible, we did it. 

Charlotte's due date 7-31-15

  Today is our little miss' due date. July 31st, just like her brother (Owen). I had a feeling this day would not be my best but I didn't think I would be completely depressed either. Thanks to the hospital for helping with that.

I got a call a couple days ago from the hospital calling to confirm an appointment. I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what I was not remembering. When I asked what for she jokingly said "Well it's your due date tomorrow and we've gotta get that baby outta there".

Obviously, she didn't know. She didn't know how much that one sentence took me to such a deep, dark, sad place.  I just told her that I already had her and she didn't live. That's all I could muster out. As if I needed another reminder that I won't ever have my baby in the way that most women/families do. She apologized and I hung up. I fell to the kitchen floor sobbing. Sobbing so loud it woke Owen up from his nap. He quietly opened his bedroom door, walked over to me, sat on my lap and patted my chest while I cried. I hadn't cried that hard since the night we lost her.

This wouldn't be as upsetting but this is the fifth time I've had to tell a someone at Inter-Mountain Health Care that my little girl did not live. The thing is I LOVE Inter-Mountain Health Care. I have never had a problem with them.. until now. Everyone I have dealt with (and that's a lot of people) have been absolutely amazing.

"So you just had a c-section six weeks ago? Hows the little one?"
"I'm just calling to see when I can come by and check on how Charlotte is doing. Babies that are born prematurely sometimes develop slower"
"I see you just had a baby, how's she doing?"
"Calling to register you to have that baby"
Etc.

Why is this not in my file somewhere? Why does it not have her time of death? Why are the doctors/nurses/anesthesiologists not informed? Everything is electronic now days, it should be easy right? Just in my file? Why?

I get it, someone didn't enter it in. Someone forgot. Someone didn't take the time. And the first few times it hurt but I let it roll of my shoulder. But now it's starting to hurt. Like really hurt my feelings. To be honest, I'm kinda surprised I have any anymore. After all I've been through you'd think they'd be all gone.

Owen and I went to her grave before all of this happened. I shed a few tears but did pretty okay, I thought. The grass is just now growing in. And that seemed to hurt my feelings too. Everything does now. It feels like a year, at least, since we buried her. But at the same time it feels like it happened last night. Time seems to disappear. The days are long but the weeks are short.

At church today, everyone in Relief Society was asked to introduce themselves for all of the new people in the ward. A friend next to me introduced herself with her two months old on her lap, I introduced myself and the girl next to me did, also with a baby on her lap. To which the teacher responded "And look! They all have beautiful little babies".

I know it was an accident but it hurt. I think I'm a little fragile right now. People don't seem to be aware of things they say. I'm not claiming to be perfect at it, but I sure try. I need to build up a tough skin for those types of comments that I'm going to get my whole life.

Finally some good news! We are moving and that is good for us. Chris got on with Salt Lake City Fire (again) and he starts the academy on August 31st and he/we couldn't be happier. But the commute was going to kill him so we decided to move to Draper. The "in-between" city, close enough for him to get to work and close enough for me to see friends and family in Utah county. It will be good. I told Chris right after he was offered the job again that we needed to move. I need out of this little apartment. This is the place I was supposed to bring my baby home too. This was where her clothes, blankets, crib was set up. I hate being here because it's a constant reminder of what I can't ever bring home.

A few weeks ago my mom found this picture of Chris and I that was in my local newspaper about our engagement. She said something like "Did you ever imagine that these two would experience what they've experienced in these short five years?"

My answer- never in a million years.

I remember being a young, naive, little Young Woman with no life experience whatsoever and listening to lessons on Sundays about temple marriage, families, motherhood and life. Everything seemed like if you got married in the temple you'd have a good life. That it didn't necessarily mean it would be easy but it would be good. I've doubted that a lot lately.

I could have never anticipated what was coming to me.

 I look back at that girl in the picture and the decisions she made to marry in the temple and make covenants she didn't understand. I look back at her I want to warn her. I want to warn her and tell her that that so called heart break over the boy in high school was absolutely nothing compared to what was coming. I would tell her that life gets even harder for her. That she needs desperately to stay close to what she believes in. I would tell her that she needs to have a firm standing in it. Because that is the one and only way she will survive. That she will experience trials that will shake her down to the core of who she is and even doubt what she believes. That she will want out. That she will cry and yell and ask why. A lot. That she will feel lost and alone. That she will have to reinvent herself.  I would tell her that she will have a new perspective that she won't want. I want to tell her that she will experience pain and heart break like never before.. and that it will never fully go away. That there will be a hole in her heart forever. I want to warn her. I look at her I'm glad she had some time to experience happiness. I see pictures of her and I want to be her again. I want to be carefree, silly, outgoing, confident and happy because it will be a long time until she feels that way again. I want to tell her that I'm proud of her for getting married in the temple and making and living by those covenants she made.

Because now, those covenants mean a lot more. Now, she understands them. She appreciates them. They mean the world to her. They are the reason she is still breathing and living. They are her life.

So, no. I never saw this coming. Nothing can prepare you for it. But, at least now, I'm seeing the reason for going to Young Womens. For listening to those lessons. For going to church when I didn't want to. Because somewhere along the way,

I gained a strong testimony of this gospel. I gained a testimony of families. And that they can be and will be together forever. I am making it my life goal to be able to be with them again. They are mine and I will do whatever it takes to reach their level.