That drive to Houston had to be the longest drive of my entire life. We tried to have small talk to make the time pass quickly but it didn't seem to help. We arrived at the clinic and were escorted to a counseling room where the table was so big I felt like a child sitting at it. We waited in silence for our doctor to enter the room with our results. She walked in, sat down and began explaining a bunch of medical what I like to call mumbo jumbo. After she finished she summed it up in human words. Apparently on some blood tests it had come back that I carried Lupus antibodies in my blood without having active lupus. Which meant I essentially had what doctors deem as APS Antiphospholipic Syndrome. Which meant my blood clotted too freely and they termed it "sticky blood." Which meant that each time I got pregnant the little vessels required to a placenta sometimes formed incorrectly which was causing me to lose my pregnancies. She said women can sometimes carry babies with APS but its a very high death rate in babies. She said without treatment each of my pregnancies would have a 75-80% "failure" rate. Luckily she said with treatment I would have a much better chance of carrying a baby to term.
As we left the clinic I felt an array of emotions sweep over me. I felt relief that I finally had answers but also fear and apprehension over the future. I grieved for all the babies I had once cradled in my womb that suffered a silent death for something none of us knew existed, I felt anger that someone didn't find this sooner and my babies had to die to find out, and lastly I felt joy. Pure joy that with my odds I had one healthy little curly headed 3 year old who was safe and sound. It was at that moment it became crystal clear that Caed was a pure miracle that he was carried to term without treatment and lived.
The next several years seemed to fly by for me. It didn't take long after testing for me to become pregnant yet again. I was treated with blood thinners and hormones and although I was very anxious and emotionally a wreck the entire pregnancy, I only had mild actual health problems which included mild placenta detachment early on and preterm labor. At 37 weeks, Our second daughter Emery Ann-Marie entered this world. She was 6lb 1oz and had a head full of beautiful black curly hair.
Emy's birth helped me heal in alot of ways. For me to actually hold my daughter and hear her cry and listen to her breaths was so bittersweet. I ached for my daughter in heaven but was so thankful God had finally given me a daughter here on earth too.
Emy a few hours old
Always smiling, Emy 7mo.
Learning to fly a kite
Another several years passed, my husband and I finally decided that our family was complete. We decided that we had one beautiful son, one beautiful daughter and with my health conditions it was just too dangerous to try and have more children. That's when we began to pursue adoption. I think back to that and know we were doing exactly what we were supposed to be doing. I'm not sure why but God wanted our hearts soft toward adoption and that's just what happened. We were about 8 weeks into the process of adoption and had just got our home visit cleared when unexpectedly we found out I was pregnant.
I wasn't sure how to feel about this pregnancy. I never got over the awkward answers at the doctors offices. The ones where they drill you with "how many pregnancies you have." It was like relieving the past each time. Having to answer, "Yes this is my 6th pregnancy." I was overwhelmed with fear, and sadness. For some reason I felt great despair because I was just sure that I was going to lose another baby. I was advised I needed to see a high risk obstetrician this time around and look into delivering at a hospital with a Level II NICU. Since I was older and with my condition each pregnancy got more and more risky. This time 33 weeks into my pregnancy my OB informed me that my water was gone, our daughter's placenta was malfunctioning and basically dead and her activity had deteriorated. My mind instantly went back to losing Maddison, it was around the same week gestation and her movement had slowed just before her death. Our miracle baby Quinn Addison-Mae was born by emergency c-section nearly 8 weeks early. She weighed just 4lb 7oz and she had just a few setbacks and spent a month in NICU before coming home. She completed my family in my heart. She was the miracle I wanted in my heart but didn't think I could handle going through a pregnancy again, God knew different and I'm so thankful He did. My life wouldn't of been complete without her.
Quinn a few hours old
Early days in NICU
Finally made it home!
Our doctor informed us that he was positive that was how we lost our first daughter, my placenta had malfunctioned due to my disorder and she lost her oxygen and nutrients. It still to this day pains my heart to know that Maddison was essentially starved and suffocated by my own body and that is how she died. But each day I look at my children God has given me here on earth and it makes me so thankful. I try not to live feeling sorry for myself or for my loss and hardships but rather I try to remember that through pain comes refinement. It makes us stronger. I have learned that through my pain and loss it has ultimately made me a better mother, a better wife and a better person.
Some days are better than others of course,.. some days I feel the void of loss so clear it feels as sharp as knives. Other days I find contentment and understanding that in this world there will be pain I will never understand. I learn to take each day at a time and when I find me getting wrapped up in the worries of life I try and remember what a gift it truly is. I remember that my journey to have a family wasn't ever easy, it was painful, joyful and trying. I didn't have those joyous pregnancies with nothing on my mind besides pickles and ice cream. I spend day after day worrying, fretting, reading, counting kicks, praying and hoping.
I know there are alot of people out there that have walked or either will walk in my same shoes. They have suffered the pain of losing a baby and know what I'm talking about how pregnancy is after losing a child.
I heard an analogy once about a pitcher. If I took a glass pitcher and threw it on the ground, it would shatter. We could take that pitcher and glue it back together but it would never quite hold water like it did before. That's what happens to you when you lose a child. You are shattered, you glue yourself back together but you are never again quite as functional as you are before. We are the shattered pieces and Jesus becomes our glue. We may still be able to somewhat function but we will never ever be quite the same. Because once you are shattered it is done. You will always carry the scars of being broken.
This is a picture of Caedence John-Andrew Jones.
This picture was taken when he was about 6 months old.
Part III: Coming to the reality.
After the birth of our son, all seemed right with the world at first. I remember trying to take in every moment, every smile, every smell, every touch. As the pain I had endured over the last years seemed to come to a halt slowly and I wanted to spend every waking moment with this little miracle. The pain of losing our daughter was still inside of me though. I guess I assumed that having another child would take the pain away. Instead it brought on a different kind of grief. Even though I was overwhelmed and incredibly thankful for our son, I now grieved for him also. I grieved that he had a sister and another sibling he would never know. A sister wouldn't be there to dress him up in dresses and have tickle fights with him. He wouldn't be able to play hide and seek with them or have water fights in the summer. These thoughts began to dawn on me and when they did I began to feel guilty. I had this precious child and here I still felt sad.
I focused my time raising him and making every moment count. Days turned into weeks and weeks into years,.. when Caed was about 2 1/2 we began talking of having another baby... we decided to consult with a doctor but since in their mind we had "only had two pregnancy losses" they didn't feel any need to do any kind of testing, so we were given the green light for me to go off my birth control and start trying. About two months passed when I began having some very odd bleeding and went in because I couldn't figure would what was wrong with what was what I thought my period. They said they would draw some blood and call me back with any results.
I was at work the next day about an hour from the gynecologist when my phone rang. It was a nurse on the other end who told me flat out the reason I was having that odd bleeding was because I was in fact pregnant! And the number of my hormones were 'great'. She estimated me to be around 8-9 weeks and told me to come in and they were going to do an exam. I was so excited and she reassured me that even though I was bleeding my numbers were so high and strong she just thought it was early trimester bleeding. I took the hour drive alone and got to the doctors office not shortly after the phone call. I sat and waited while women with beautiful swollen bellies sat all around me and I just couldn't help but hope this wasn't another case of false hope and everything would be fine.
She took me back and said that with as far as I was she should be able to heart the baby's heartbeat on the doppler and squirted the cold gel on my belly. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully searching for a heartbeat she decided to send me to ultrasound. Within 10 minutes I was informed that this pregnancy would too end in a miscarriage.
All the emotions I had experienced in the previous years came flooding back.. I felt like a cloud was hanging over my head when the doctor came back in and told me that she had a strong feeling something "was wrong" with me. That I should see a specialist before I should consider trying to conceive again. The hour drive home was the most emotional drive I had ever taken. This wasn't just a drive of coming to the realization another of my children were in heaven. This drive was so very different. This drive was a drive of uncertainty of our future. The realization that there was a chance, I would never in fact have any more children.
I remember in the weeks that followed instead of turning to my loving Savior I turned to myself. I put myself on auto-pilot and decided I would beat this. I would find out what was wrong with me and we would get it fixed. Within two months I had an appointment with a reproductive endocrinologist. This is a doctor myself I didn't know existed until I began looking for one. At our first meeting she told us all the procedures we would do,... I realized over the next several months I would spend countless hours doing several painful procedures, have 30+ vials of blood drawn and wait,.. wait for results. Within a month the doctor scheduled us an appointment and told us they had pinpointed what they thought was wrong.
My husband took off work and we drove the hour drive to Houston to meet with her. I was so scared to meet with her but anxious and ready for results, hope anything really.
I remember thinking the papers this doctor held in her hands would determine my future. Whether my dreams of having a large family would come true or not. The drive we took that day really would become the rest of our lives.
Eventually I came to the realization that my life would never be the same. As I think back to the days in the hospital everything is a bit foggy. I know that the pain was so emotionally taxing that I had a hard time focusing. I was still in the maternity ward while in postpartum recovery so the sounds of happiness and babies were surrounding me. I'd even have nurses come in to ask me about my baby and then realize that I didn't have a baby waiting in nursery for me. Everything felt so mechanical. Almost as if I was watching it from afar. As if someone else was living my life and I was just on the outside watching the scenes play out. I had a "grief counselor" speak with me and I couldn't for the life of me even recall one thing she told me. I just remember that I was supposed to start planning this funeral when all I wanted was for everything to stop. I just wanted to breathe again.
The next several days were a blur. There was a funeral, a burial, lots of flowers and lots of people sending their condolences. I remember beginning to feel numb from it all. One afternoon not long after the funeral I remember going out to the cemetery and just sitting beside her grave, I prayed, I cried, I begged God to let all this be a bad dream. I can still remember the sun was shinning like it should've been a nice day but the wind was bitter cold, it kind of felt like my life, everything should be starting to be warm and pretty again but all I felt was bitterness,.. and cold. I spent countless hours over the next several months at her grave, trying to find answers. I never found them there, all I found was confusion and sadness.
As the months dragged on I can remember feeling like I needed some type of comfort, something to make me feel whole again. It wasn't long after losing her I found myself going through the emotions of wanting another baby. Maybe it was wrong of me, as Maddison could never be replaced but unless you've ever experienced it it's very easy to start placing anything you can in the hole inside your heart. I know now that I should've allowed Jesus to fill that hole but at that time, I was reeling and searching for more possibilities to make me feel whole again. So having a baby was the next viable option.
Approximately six months after Maddison's death I got pregnant again. I was so excited because I had been assured by all the doctors that things like this "only happen once", yes this is a "rare occurrence" and "I shouldn't worry, because chances are I'll have a healthy, happy baby the next time around." About eight weeks into my pregnancy I began bleeding heavily and went into the hospital, if you've never had an early miscarriage let me warn you, hospitals and doctors are very insensitive to the fact. They just tell you, "there's nothing that can be done!, Sorry!" and send you on your way. But usually not before they offer some false hope in words like things such as, "alot of women bleed, your baby still might be fine."
I was never one of the "lucky" ones I guess because at 8 weeks, I was saying goodbye to my second child and heaven was gaining another angel.
The grief I found after our second loss was deeper than before. I felt like I was in a hole and the walls were caving in around me. I was so angry. At everything really, at God, at myself, at life. I was angry at women that were pregnant that I didn't even know, I was angry at people around me who had healthy babies. I was angry at my husband because deep inside I didn't believe he hurt as bad as I did. It seemed like anger was the only thing I could get right. I plunged into a deep depression. A darkness I wasn't sure I'd ever the light in. Not too many months after our second loss, I started having severe panic attacks.
If you have never had a real panic attack let me assure you, its something you never want to experience. I was hospitalized with them because my heart rate was out of control, I got dizzy and honestly felt like death was overtaking me. I remember being told by a doctor that they finally diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder. It seemed like a fancy name for something that I at the time didn't feel like I had.
I guess I carried around so much anxiety and anger, I spent days trying to fill my agenda with activities to keep my mind busy and nights indulging in sins of this flesh. I remember thinking it kept my mind busy. I had no desire to even acknowledge God. I felt he had abandoned me and I had no desire to turn to Him.
I would have passing moments when I felt like He was trying to dig through the mess I had made of my life but just as He came into reach I would take off in the other direction. I was mad at Him. I felt alone and left by Him,.. as I look back on these feelings now I know I was wrong. I know that God essentially carried me through those times even at my darkest hour but at that time I was too hard hearted and stubborn to admit or see that.
It was the middle of December 2003, a little over a year since we had lost our daughter when I realized that I was unexpectedly pregnant again. It was not planned, I was not prepared. I was thinking I was fine with my drowning myself in alcohol and late nights, this pregnancy thing was not on my agenda. I wasn't ready but God knew otherwise.
The pregnancy went surprisingly smooth. There was not one complication and mid-way through I found my way back to the Lord. I got up every morning, sat at our little small table in our tiny 2 bedroom trailer house, ate a bowl of cereal and said a prayer for the baby growing inside of me. I wasn't sure if God would honor or answer my prayers but in a desperate attempt to find sanity, I clung to the hope that he would.
36 weeks after conception, Caedence John-Andrew Jones entered this world weighing 6 pounds 5 oz. He was a healthy, beautiful baby boy. All at once the fog of grief lifted as I saw my beautiful baby boy. I began to think this was the end of my struggles, he was my light at the end of a long dark tunnel, the end of my pain but I didn't realize that the next several years that the fog that had once overtaken me would return, that his birth was just one stop on the journey.
I squeezed my eyes shut trying to will myself to wake up. I just knew this had to be a nightmare,.. this could not be happening to me. I can still hear the doctors hollow voice, he looked at me straight in the eyes and said "Well obviously your baby has died." The hours leading up to this moment seemed to be routine. My mom had drove Josh and I to the doctor, I had been having some contractions and the baby wasn't moving as much as she had been but I was 32 weeks pregnant and all the books and all the doctors kept reassuring me "It was fine, it's normal." I called the doctor's office probably 10 times that weekend so I think just to get me to quit calling they agreed to see me. I don't know if I was naive or just trying to be hopeful when the doctor couldn't find her heartbeat in the office. He sent us over to the hospital to get an ultrasound, in my mind I was just excited I was going to get a "sneak peek" at our little girl again. Little did I know that sneak peek would turn into my worst nightmare.
As soon as the ultrasound technician had her up on the screen I could tell something was wrong,.. her face changed and she refused to tell me what was going on, she just got up and left the room,.. it was in that moment the doctor came in and said words that cut me deeper than a knife. The next several hours are still a blur,.. I can remember the pain,.. as I look back now I'm not sure whether most of the pain was mental pain, or physical pain but whatever it was it was the most severe pain I've ever felt in my human life. At 5:17pm November 4,2002 my firstborn daughter Maddison Nicole Jones was born and gained her wings. She weighed in at 1pound 5oz and 18inches long. She smelled wonderfully just like all newborn babies and had the most delicate hands and feet I'd ever seen. I was 17 years old, a baby myself in some ways and yet here I was preparing to embark upon something no mother should ever have to face. I was fixing to have to spend a few hours with my first child, before planning my first funeral.
My name is Amanda Jones, I am the founder of Maddison's Wings outreach. I am opening this outreach up as a way to minister to so many hurting women out there. Every year 1, 995, 840 babies are lost to pregnancy loss. Every year infant death is still another taboo subject that isn't spoken of. I hope to change that, and during that I hope to reach out and comfort the many women affected by pregnancy loss.
Over the next several weeks I will tell my full story, I am also launching a Facebook page which will give you opportunities to share your story of your angel. I will also be opening a program to send care packets to women who have recently lost babies, to give them a tangible way to remember their angel.
I was given a small bag of items when Maddison passed away and I still have it 10 years later. It's such a nice reminder that even though she isn't here I have a few tangible items that I can still cling to.
If you or someone you know has recently lost a child please contact Amanda at MaddisonsWings@yahoo.com
or
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100003573611182
