It's crazy to think that it's been 8 months since I've last blogged. As I've said before, it's not due to a lack of material, but the time to sit down and write. Before I decided whether or not to post tonight, I read over my first 6 blog posts. In my mind, I was wondering if they were rambling and nonsensical. But as I read through them, I was pleased with how well I was able to capture my true feelings and emotions in words. It made me feel like a "together" human being.
I've not felt all that "together" over the last few months. I've felt neurotic, disoriented, distracted and overall not myself. I am now 21 weeks pregnant with our 4th child. So far, we seem to have a healthy baby. There's the neurotic part - I can't bring myself to say the baby is fine. Because I know too much now. I know how much can still happen. I know that having lost 2 children does not in any way lower my risk of losing another. While we know that this is a single pregnancy (we made sure to find out fairly early so that I would at least feel comfortable telling people that I was pregnant), the loss of our girls has opened up the doors of knowledge. While I want to remain as positive as possible, my sense of realism keeps my excitement about a new member of the family in check.
While it seems our family is busier and busier (Tom and I very often use the term "overwhelmed" in regards to our feelings about everyday life), some great things have been going on. Of course the new baby, which (despite my concerns shared in the last paragraph) is a source of excitement and joy. Tommy is very excited about a new baby, and has been so caring and mature about the news. Early on, he asked if this baby's heart would work so that it could live a really long time. We told him that we hoped it would and we could all pray for that. It took a while for it to sink in for him that I was only carrying one baby this time; he asked often about "the babies" in my tummy. We spent some time helping him to understand that this was a new baby, not his sisters. Until yesterday, almost every time he referenced the baby he said "she" even though we don't know if it is a boy or girl! Now that I'm able to feel the baby move, he wants to watch my belly for signs of movement and say hello. It's very cute. Today he said he can't wait until the baby is born so he can play "This Little Piggy" with baby's toes!
In late October, I had the my first opportunity to present our family's experiences to a group of professionals. Tommy played soccer last spring and we ran into a family we knew from Tommy's former daycare center. We enjoyed seeing each other for a few minutes each Saturday and catching up, and one week the mom mentioned that she was on the committee that put together the annual professional development conference for our state's nurses' association. She said that one of the tracts was about women's health, and she thought a parent's perspective on perinatal loss would be helpful to nurses. It was a wonderful experience. Difficult, heart-wrenching, tear-jerking and painful, but worth every minute to share Abigail and Bethany's legacy. I barely skimmed the surface in the hour, and there was just a small audience (8 people, I think) but everyone participated, shared, asked questions and left thanking me for sharing such valuable information.
After seeing the recent media attacks on Rick Santorum for how he and his wife dealt with the loss of their son Gabriel (
Letters to Gabriel by Karen Santorum is a MUST read!), it is a sad reminder about how few people understand the depth of the pain parents experience in the loss of a baby. It is unconscionable for anyone to ever judge how a parent deals with their loss. It really renewed my heart to the opportunity that lies ahead of me to share how many blessings can come forth from so much pain if families and babies are treated in a loving, respectful and honorable way! I promise I'm off my conservative soap-box now.
As if we aren't busy enough, we now have 6 ewes and a ram, and lambing season starts in just 3 weeks (or sooner, since our first ewe due had twins last year so if she does again then she will probably deliver 5 days early or so). We will again have our hands full, and the new lambs should be weaned just in time for our new little one to arrive! I'll take 9-12 weeks of maternity leave, and get back to the working world just in time for the state fair, where Tommy will probably be showing twice as many sheep this year. What have we gotten ourselves into? Yes, it keeps us even busier than we need to be, but it is a new chapter in our family that we have enjoyed and has been worth the toil.
Weaning is hard (I look at the mamas and just want to cry, because I know the pain of being separated from their babies) but what will be even harder is if we lose one. Unfortunately, the national average for lamb mortality is 14%, so I felt lucky to not lose any last year. With twice as many ewes, and 3 of them being now a year older (and more likely to have twins), there is that much more of a chance of losing one. But I feel in more control of this situation than my own pregnancy! I guess because I can do everything I know how to keep the ewes healthy, be vigilant around due dates to watch for lambing issues, and monitor lambs to make sure they are nursing and healthy. And if the best I can do isn't good enough and a lamb doesn't make it, it will be difficult but more part of the natural order of things. Note: that last sentence is subject to change if (and when) we lose our first lamb (or more than one). Come to think of it, now I sound more like Tom. He has always found peace in knowing that we did the absolute best for our girls that we could, and that their loss was simply beyond our control. The control-freak in me still struggles with that... but I guess that's the good part of men and women grieving so differently - we both bring a variety of perspectives to the same experience.
With that thought I will close today's post. Hopefully it won't be anywhere near as long before I write again, especially since there is so much more that I could still write.
