Loving My Stretch Marks

Most people do not realize that though we did not get to take our baby home, we still had to deal with the "postpartum mess", on top of planning a funeral and navigating through the first few weeks of this journey.

I had contractions for the first few days. I bled for seven LONG weeks. I was sore to the point that I literally felt as if someone had actually ran my body over with a semi-truck. My milk came in and for two months I leaked non-stop. And, as my body slowly returned to it's pre-pregnancy size, I realized I had stretch marks. Tons of them!

Though three months following Peyton's delivery I weighed 10lbs less than my original pre-pregnancy weight, I found myself suffering from extreme body image issues. I felt as if I had no reason to look as if I had just given birth, if my arms were so empty. 

Not only were my arms empty, but my body was empty. My skin resembled a deflated pool float that was accidentally left on the pool deck during a summer lightening storm.

I felt cold and hollow... I was cold and hollow.

I needed something, anything, to prove to me that my pregnancy with Peyton was real, and that though my arms and body were empty, my life was not.

It was then that I decided to accept my stretch marks, and my hatred towards my stretch marks became my favorite love story.

My stretch marks were once red, like fire. They have since began to fade. Now, they are white, and in certain lighting they even shine. They are my constant reminder of Peyton's life. Each mark represents the thirty-nine weeks I carried her, her chubby cheeks, each finger and each toe. They remind me of her tiny hands, her button nose, and her ruby red lips. They are my stripes, my stretch marks, my battle scars. I EARNED them. I am PROUD of them. They mean that Peyton was once here. They connect me to her. 

And though I may not look sixteen in my teeny polka dot bikini, I will rock my stretch marks for everyone to see because my arms, body, and life are full of beauty.

Our New Normal

Lately, I have found it so hard to write. Some days I think it's because I do not have enough of the right words. And when I do, I feel like I cannot grasp my thoughts tight enough into a single blog. But other days, like today, I think it's because I'm too happy... too happy to write about life after loss... too happy to be a baby loss Mom.

Most of you are probably thinking to yourself "What is wrong with being happy?" Some days I ask myself that same question.

But in those first two months after Peyton's death, I was so numb... I was completely consumed in our loss. I felt so close to Peyton. Her death was so fresh then that it was like an open wound. And now, it's starting to heal.

I question myself daily if the emotions I am feeling are normal. If it's okay that I'm not broken into a million little pieces. If it's okay that I smile... that I laugh... that I'm happy. I always come to the same conclusion however. Yes, it is okay. This journey that I am on is my journey, and the emotions that I feel are strictly normal for me.

Over the past several weeks Matt and I have grown so much. We are a stronger couple. I love him so much more than I could have ever imagined. We have mainly good days. We talk about Peyton without full blown tears. We talk about the future.

And so, I believe that Matt and I have reached a new step in our journey. A step that other baby loss parents have shared with us - Living a New Normal.

We will never be who we were before we lost Peyton. We miss Peyton with every bit of our hearts, and we wish every day that she were here with us. We see life with new eyes. We appreciate every laugh, every sunrise, and every I Love You. We are not consumed in grief and sadness, though we are sad. We have accepted that Peyton died, but we will never be okay with her death. We have begun to weave Peyton's death into our life together, creating this new normal.

In our new normal we are content. We are happy. We are sad. We miss Peyton. We look forward to our future, yet we are so content with the presence.

In our new normal we have a daughter. And she died. But her life did not end.

In our new normal Peyton's life is still very much alive. She lives on through Matt, myself, and our family. She is in every breath we breathe... every laugh we laugh... every smile we beam. She lives when her name is spoken, when her picture is looked at with a tearful smile, when she is simply thought of. She is here with us every second of every day.

I know this blog is short today, but I feel like I said everything that I needed to with just the right words.

To the right you will find a music video taken from Youtube. It is a song that I listen to every day. It's called "Beam Me Up" by Pink.

I hope you find the piece of happiness that I find in it each and every day.

Thank you for reading and being a part of our journey... our beautiful and sometimes happy life after loss.

Peter Pan

Peter Pan.

All along, it's been Peter Pan. Maybe that is my answer. Or maybe I am truly a crazed, grieving Mother who is willing to grasp onto any idea that her baby is still with her, in some shape and/or form. I'll go with the upper hand and say that it's just Peter Pan.

I bought Peyton the book "Peter Pan" (my absolute favorite book and movie) a week before she was born. Inside I wrote her the following note:

"When I was a little girl I always wanted to be Peter Pan - the boy who never grows up. I did grow up... but swimming is the next best thing! It's harmony and balance - the water is my sky. I hope you fall in love with a passion. I hope you find your own harmony and balance in this world... Love Always, Mommy"

Once we bought Peyton's urn, or as I like to call - memory box, I placed the Peter Pan book under it so that the book would always be with her.

Maybe it is just coincidental that this story has always been my favorite - that it has always had a special place in my heart. And maybe it is just coincidental that I was walking through Wal-Mart one day, picking up last minute baby things, and just happened to see the book out of the corner of my eye.

But I think it is a sign... a small, yet big, hello from heaven. It makes complete and total sense to me.

The Peter Pan character is based off of James Barries older brother who died as a young boy, and therefore always stayed a young boy in his Mother's mind. Peter is sometimes characterized at various ages, but never growing older than puberty. It is thought that each time he leaves Never Never Land to go to the "Real World" he ages a bit.

In short, Peter Pan is a charming and charismatic child who wishes to never grow up, and to always have fun. He can fly and teaches other children how to fly too! He has a strong sense of justice, and always wants to help those in danger. He lives on an island called Never Never Land. In Never Never Land Peter is the captain of the "Lost Boys" (a group of boys who were lost by their parents) whom he leads on thrilling adventures with Pirates, Indians, Mermaids, Fairies, and Wild Beasts. Yet Peter longs for a Mother. Peter does not know his parents. He left them when he was an infant. He manages to entice a little girl (whom he wishes to be his Mother), Wendy, to leave her home and follow him, with her two brothers, to Never Never Land. Eventually, Wendy must leave Never Never Land and grow up. But in the place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming, Peter is always there waiting for Wendy. Peter visits Wendy throughout her life, though she cannot see him, and listens to the stories she tells of him.

Peyton is my very own Peter Pan. She left us when she was just a baby, and she will forever be a little girl... our little girl.

For the first month after Peyton's death I had a recurring dream. In the dream I took Peyton home with us from the hospital, and hid her. I refused to let her leave me. I do not have that dream anymore. Instead, I wake up in the morning knowing I dreamed of her... but no specific details. And I'm okay with that because I know she will ALWAYS be in that place between sleep and awake... she will always be there waiting for me.

I hope Peyton is in Never Never Land, taking thrilling adventures with Pirates and Mermaids. I hope she plays, and laughs, and does all the things little girls do. I hope she is never lonely, for she will always have a Mother and a Father. I hope she remembers Matt and I, for we will never forget her. I hope she visits us throughout our life, and listens to the stories we will tell of her. And I truly hope that when we are blessed with a little brother or sister of Peyton's, that she visits them and takes them on an adventure to Never Never Land, just like Peter took Wendy.

Second star to the right... and straight on till morning.

Results of the Autopsy

Reality

Peyton would be 12 weeks old Saturday. She would be smiling, babbling, and possibly holding her arms out when Matt or I would have gone to pick her up. Her pretty purple hamper would be filled with pink and purple laundry. I would have pretty bows and headbands to put in Peyton's full head of dark brown hair, sitting in a basket on my vanity. Matt would be putting together Peyton's Baby Einstein Neptune Activity Saucer this week. I was so excited to receive it as a gift at our Baby Shower (it wasn't on our registry), and I gave Matt such a problem about packing it away in the closet (the recommended age for the saucer is 3+ months). I remember Matt telling me, "We'll pull it out in February... it'll go by quick!"

Reality is that my heart hurts so, so bad. Some days the pain takes my breath away (literally), and I feel like I am sure to go into cardiac arrest at any second. Most days though I daydream of life in a parallel universe. A universe where Peyton was born with a heart beat. A universe in which I am consumed in complete and utter happiness.

Reality is though that Peyton is not here. She is not smiling, babbling, or holding her arms out for Matt and I. Her hamper is packed away, and so are her articles of pretty pink and purple clothing. There is no basket of bows and headbands sitting on my vanity. And the Neptune Activity Saucer sits in the closet with the rest of Peyton's belongings.

Reality is that it has been almost 12 weeks since Peyton was born and entered into eternal rest. 12 weeks since we held our precious baby girl in our arms for the first and last times. 12 weeks since we had to say hello and goodbye in the same sentence. 12 weeks since we learned what love truly is and what it is like to really have your heart broken.

Reality is that we are just beginning this life long journey.

Cholestasis of Pregnancy

In my 34th week of pregnancy I began to itch intensely on my wrists, fingers, ankles, and the soles of my feet. At first I thought it was eczema but after a few days the itching got so bad that I was tearing my skin up and bleeding. I wasn't able to fall asleep at night either. After some research I learned of a condition called "Cholestasis of Pregnancy".

In the short, Cholestasis of Pregnancy is a condition where the flow of bile is either slowed or stopped, over flowing into your bloodstream and causes an intense itch.

I presented the condition of Cholestasis to my OB. He wrote me a prescription for benadryl for the itching, and insisted that there was no risk. After a week of taking benadryl, the itching was getting worse. I called my OB and insisted on blood work to test the level of bile salts in my bloodstream. He ordered blood work, but never did order the specific test for bile salts. At my next OB visit he told me my blood work was elevated but nothing to worry about. I asked if I should be induced because of the risk of stillbirth with Cholestasis. His words, word for word were "You have to look at the population as a whole, it's such a small percentage... you have a greater chance of walking out of here today and getting hit by a bus!"

After that appointment I sat in the car crying and crying. I contemplated on finding a new OB, but I wouldn't have gotten an appointment until after my due date.

I knew the itching was not right. But no one would listen to me. Not a single person.

There is not much information or research on why Cholestasis causes stillbirth.

In my heart I hope that the Cholestasis had nothing to do with Peyton's death... it's something we may never know for sure though.

The Autopsy

Today Matt and I met with our new OB to consult about Peyton's Final Anatomic Diagnosis.

Peyton had a subgaleal brain hemorrhage and thrombosis of the umbilical vein and proximal umbilical cord. However, the gross and microscopic findings suggest "subacute abruptio placentae" which led to meconium release and increased circulating nucleated red blood cells to be "at least" a contributing cause of Peyton's death.

What does all that mean exactly?

Peyton had a brain hemorrhage. Our OB suggests that it most likely happened in reaction to Peyton's death (meaning that it happened after she passed, and did not cause her any pain). Peyton had several blood clots in the umbilical cord and the maternal section of the placenta. Blood was built up behind the placenta. The placenta also had a concealed abruption which probably happened over the course of a few days to a week. Since there was an abruption it can be inferred that Peyton's body began producing extra red blood cells because of a lack of oxygen or nutrients from the placenta. The placenta detaching led to meconium release.

The placenta abruption is most likely the cause of Peyton's death. Right now we do not know what caused that abruption. We may never know.

Our OB is going to present our case to a Pathologist in Pittsburgh, and another Doctor, who both have a bit of experience with fetal deaths caused by Cholestasis. We hope they can help give us some more answers.

The Future

Our OB maintained the idea during our appointment today that she cannot give us the definite answers of why this happened. There are many pieces that are missing, or that just don't make sense.

She reassured us though that in any future pregnancies many precautions will be taken.

For one, if the itching reoccurs and/or persists my bile salts will be monitored and repeatedly tested. She will perform regular Non-Stress Tests. And at 36 weeks gestation, she will perform an amniocentesis to check the baby's lung development. If the baby's lungs are fully developed, I will be delivered immediately. She also reassured us that I will not go over 37 weeks gestation in any subsequent pregnancies.

Though we do not know why this happened to Peyton, I feel good knowing that we have an OB whom is willing to plan the future with us... who cares!

Hope

When I personally reviewed Peyton's Autopsy last week I was given a sense of "hope". I learned that Peyton had dark brown eyes, which she most likely inherited from Matthew's Mom.

When we were discharged from the Hospital on November 18th, Matt and I told one another how much we wish we had known what color eyes Peyton had.

We know now though. And if that is the only answer I am ever given, I think I'll be okay.
.

I Would Choose You

If I could...

If I could, I would go back in time. I would go back to the beginning, to the night you were conceived... to the day I first saw your heart beat on the ultrasound screen, to the day I first felt you kick. I would submerge myself into your life... the entire 39wks I carried you. I would photograph my pregnancy with you more. I would take time off of work so I could enjoy my pregnancy more with you. I would keep a diary for you. I would ask for a recording of your heartbeat... your perfect, strong heartbeat (the ultrasound technician repeatedly told us that we had a "good heart baby"). If I could, I would go back in time, and I would still choose you. I would choose you again and again, even if that meant we would still lose you.

I would relive the pain of hearing the words "There is no heartbeat...", and feel my world crash to pieces again, if that meant I could be in your presence for just a second.

I would labor and birth you just the same. I would be the first to hold you. I would hold you longer. I would kiss you just one more time, and maybe a time after that.

I would insist on going with you, while you were transferred to The Cleveland Clinic Main Campus for your Autopsy. I would go through the pain of your Funeral again and again. I would gather the strength to read a poem at your Service. I would sit with you alone. I would be there when they burned your body down to ashes.

I would choose you, Peyton, time and time again because you chose me.

Updates

I called the Pathologist's Office this past week. The Pathologist that performed Peytons' Autopsy cannot give us a date of when the report will be finished. I have been in contact with my new OB/GYN (she will review the Autopsy and Placenta Report with us) and she has talked to the Pathologist also and was told that the report should be finished in "two weeks or so...". She is sure that we will know something by the end of this next week. I hope she is right.

Matthew and I are planning to do a fundraiser in memory of Peyton benefiting The Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep Organization, in April. I am excited to do this fundraiser, and to give back to NILMDTS... they have given us such a priceless gift that I do not even know where to begin to thank them. I think the fundraiser will be a start. I will keep everyone updated on the fundraiser date (I am thinking April 13th, but it is not set in stone just yet), time, location, and etc. through my facebook page, email, and this blog. If anyone is interested in helping in any way, shape, and/or form please let me know.

Tomorrow morning Matt and I begin an 8wk support group session through Cornerstone of Hope. I hope to connect with other couples whom have been through a loss similar to ours. I think the support group will be good for us.

Lastly, to those of you that are following our story, thank you from the depths of my heart.

Waiting on the Autopsy & Strength

Waiting on the Autopsy

On Wednesday November 14th we saw the OB. Peyton's heartbeat was good & strong, and I was dilated & effaced. We were told that we would have Peyton before our due date, November 24th, and that the weekend i.e. the 17th or 18th would be ideal. We left the OB's office that day ecstatic. We went to lunch with Matthew's parents, we called my Mom at work, and then we went to Target to purchase Peyton a 2nd snowsuit. We then went home and enjoyed just being together, and the impending arrival of our sweet baby girl. What we did not know was that we would have Peyton that weekend, we just wouldn't be able to take her home.

When Peyton was born there were no "visible" abnormalities or signs of what may have caused her death. Her cord was not twisted or pinched, nor was it wrapped around any of her extremities (which could cut off oxygen and blood flow). The placenta looked good. And Peyton looked absolutely perfect. The Doctor that delivered Peyton told Matt, myself, and our family that we would need to wait 4-6wks for results from an autopsy.

4-6wks is 42 days at the maximum, which should have given us the results of the autopsy by December 29th. At first I could not imagine waiting 42 whole days, but somehow we passed the time.

Since I had not heard anything from the Pathologists office or the OB who delivered Peyton, I called just to check on the status of the autopsy on December 19th. I was told to check back in 2wks if I did not hear from anyone, and that it should be completed by then.

I waited 3wks to call back. I figured with the Holidays that they may have gotten a bit behind. I called on January 9th, and was told that the autopsy was still not completed. I was told to call back in another 2wks if I did not hear from the Pathologists office or the OB that delivered Peyton.

I am so sick of waiting.

I will call again this Wednesday, January 23rd. It will be 67 days (10wks) since Peyton passed away.

I need closure. I need to know what happened to Peyton. I need to know if she was in pain or not. I just need to know why at 39wks, just a few days before our due date, that this had to happen.

After the autopsy is completed, we will be able to finish the paperwork for Peyton's Death Certificate. From there (because we live in the state of Ohio) we will be able to apply for a Stillborn Certificate of Birth. I cannot wait to have that little piece of paper.

Strength

Time and time again I have been told things like "I couldn't make it through something like this if I were in your place...", "You're so strong!", and (my absolute favorite) "God only gives you things that he knows you can handle...". For some reason, today especially, those words just sting my heart. Matt and I didn't plan for this tragedy to happen, and we weren't given a "Stillbirth For Dummies" book to help guide us through this grief. I don't see myself as strong, nor do I ever think I'll "make it through" this extremely painful tragedy, and I especially don't think that God made this happen to us, to Peyton.

Our daughter died. I labored and I birthed her because I physically had to. I had no other choice. And if I did have another choice, I would have chosen it. I wake up every day just like every body else because that's a part of life. I make the most of my days and nights because I'm living my life for not only myself, but for my daughter too. I laugh and I smile because that's what I need. Don't get me wrong, I cry too -- the second I turn the water on in the shower my tears start flowing. I feel good most days, but my heart also physically hurts... like a dull tooth ache that just won't go away. I keep a bin full of Peyton's clothing & tiny pair of pink boots under my bed because it makes me feel better. I am nowhere near strong. I am a mess. I am a huge, huge mess. 

Maybe people tell me these things because they don't know what else to say. Or maybe they truly do believe that God chose this path for Matt and I. Whatever the case, I want people to know that if they were faced with such a tragedy, as Matt and I were, that they would wake up the next day too, like we do. I want people to know that we aren't strong; we're just thankful to have met Peyton, and that is TRULY what helps us pass each minute of every day... Peyton is our STRENGTH, the LOVE that binds us together, and the HOPE for a tomorrow that may hold a rainbow.

Peyton is the reason I get out of bed in the morning. Peyton is the reason I smile, the reason I laugh. I am not strong, I am simply being held together by the strength, love, and hope that Peyton brought into my life the day she was born, the day that she died.

I want to talk about Peyton. I want her numbered among our family. I want to celebrate her birthday every year. I want to hear others talk about Peyton. I want the strength, love, and hope that she has brought us to touch others too.

Photographs from our Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep Photographer

The morning following Peyton's birth a volunteer photographer, Marti Wagner, from the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep Organization came to the hospital to photographer our angel. A week later Marti sent a CD and a DVD of pictures of Peyton to us. They comfort me throughout each and every day. 

The NILMDTS Organization has been a stepping stone for Matt and I, and for our families in this journey of grief. Eventually, when I'm emotionally ready, I think I want to become a volunteer photographer for NILMDTS.

Anyways, the purpose of this post is to share a few pictures Marti took of Peyton. 

Also, please checkout the NILMDTS website at https://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org/ -- they are truly amazing!!!