What did he just say?

You might recall this old blog post where I wrote about Aiden's school project where he insisting he had a sister. Fast forward to last evening, a similar moment stopped me in my tracks and I had to question, "What did he just say?"

Let me get you up to speed... 

I've had 12 miscarriages, 5 of which occurred before my pregnancy with Aiden. Of those 5, there was one in particular that was far enough along that we heard the heartbeat multiple times and had a couple ultra sounds before the dreaded news. Check out an archived blog post where I share more details on this emotional miscarriage. 

After having a D&C, we found out that pregnancy was a little girl who would be in Kindergarten this year. I often wonder what kind of little brother Aiden would be if that pregnancy, or any of the other before his, had been viable.

Now back to last evening... 

Aiden and I were snuggling, watching the finale of The Voice, when a commercial highlighting a baby product came on. He said, "I'm not a baby anymore." To which I responded, "You're absolutely not!" After a few moments I asked, "Do you want mommy to have a baby?" He sat with that question for a while. I then said, "Maybe a baby brother? Or a baby sister?" To which he said, "No, I already have a sister. I have a big big (with arm gestures) sister. She lives with Jesus." His response caught me off guard and I'm pretty sure I held my breath for more than a few seconds.

What did he just say? Maybe I didn't hear correctly.

He must have picked up on my silence because he repeated, "Yea, she's my big sister and she lives with Jesus." I then asked, "Have you seen her with Jesus?" To which he responded in an assuring voice, "Yea." 

I so desperately wanted to inquire more about this proclamation. I wanted more details to fill in the gaps of the thoughts swirling in my head. Alas, my moment passed and in true 3-year old form, he changed the subject.  

I'm not proclaiming Aiden has spiritual powers. It's very possible he heard me say something a long time ago, just one time, about his big sister who lives with Jesus. With him, that's all it takes. He hears something once and his little elephant brain remembers it.  

However, I do believe that moment was no coincidence. It forced me to think about that pregnancy and remember my daughter, who I often don't allow myself to think about because the pain is still very raw. 

I may only have one child on earth, but I have 12 in heaven. 12 pregnancies that I usually view as failures. Last night was a good reminder, although they were not viable pregnancies, they are anything but failures. They are each evidence of growth, making up the woman and mom who I am today. I'm glad God put Aiden in my life and uses him to remind me of things like that.

I didn't connect with my baby right away.

I dreamt of the day I would give birth to a child years before I fell pregnant. In doing so, I created an expectation of what that day (notice I called it a single day) would look and feel like.

So many specific details were thought out ahead of time that my written out birth plan was pretty specific. I knew what types of drugs I wanted (ideally none!) and when to offer them to me (and not a cm earlier). I was so consumed with having a natural birth I even had a doula who worked with me months before I was due and provided me support, breathing help, imagery and massage during labor. The last thing in my birth plan read was something to the effect, "It's okay if steps outside of this plan need to be take to keep the baby and mother healthy." But my over controlling nature knew I threw I didn't really think things would go differently than what I had planned, wanted or expected.

I imagined my labor to be short (I'm a dancer after all, won't the baby just slide out?). I desired to have that quality skin-to-skin time while my child looked into my eyes and experience that insta-love so many of my friends talked about.

Aiden's birth story is anything but what I described above. My water leaked, it never actually broke, but leaked for a few days. I went into labor and after 7 or 8 hours had contractions that were 2 mins apart. I remember thinking, "I knew it! I knew this would be a short labor!" Only to go to the hospital to find out my kid was sunny-side up and I was only 2cm dialtated. After 32 hours of labor (yep, multiple days in labor!), I had a c-section. I couldn't do skin-to-skin time because my arms were strapped to a table and I had no sensation in half my body. 

I hadn't even researched what a c-section involved because I was convinced that would happen to me. 

I got to hold Aiden for a few brief moments in the recovery room and it felt like I was holding someone else's baby. He was cute, smelled good but I didn't have that insta-love I expected.

As Josh took Aiden to the nursery to get his first bath I remember thinking, "I love my babies in heaven more than my baby on earth? What's wrong with me?"

24 hours passed and I continued to struggle with our connection. I felt like I was taking care of a baby that wasn't mine. I had trouble breastfeeding, I still couldn't feel the lower half of my body and I had a stupid compression contraption on my legs to help with post c-section blood flow. I feared I would never connect with Aiden and I feared he would resent me for not giving birth to him the "normal" way. 

Almost 48 hrs later we were in the NICU after Aiden stopped breathing. It was at point that my life stopped. I actually don't remember the next few days very well. It's a blur.

But I do remember crying out to God, "Please don't take another baby from me! I promise to love him just as much as I love my babies who are with you in heaven." 

It was at this point that I realize I DID love Aiden just as much as the babies that came before him. What I didn't love was that my expectation of his birth story was different than what actually came to fluition. 

That's the thing about expectation - when not met, it can deprive you of finding the JOY that surrounds you. For whatever reason, I felt like not having a natural birth would decrease the connectivity and love Aiden and I felt for one another. The reality is, I was the one blocking that from happening. In fact I missed out on the JOY of the first 48 hours of his life because I was so consumed with not have the perfect birth story I dreamt of.

So while I didn't have a natural birth that included Aiden going through the birth canal and I didn't have that insta-love, I no longer let it define the connectivity we now have for one another, and it certainly doesn't mean I love him any less. 

The child I didn't think I deserved.

Lake Annecy, France '15

As I struggled getting pregnant, I started to believed I deserved the hardship. I thought I wasn't a good enough person to become a mom. I recall thinking, "You're not good at this wife thing, what makes you think you would be good at being a mom?"  

That state of mind hindered me from being who I was suppose to be. I allowed the negative view of myself to define who I was, how others saw me and what I deserved - or lack there of.

With each pregnancy lost, my hope began to dwindle. With each miscarriage I began to believe I was being punished for unhealthy life choices I made in my past. I spent many days wishing I could go back in time to make things right.

In my deepest moment, May 2011, I knew I had hit rock bottom. I desperately desired to feel better but didn't know how to get there.

Thankfully I have a husband who talks truth into my life, even when I shut it down and don't want to hear it. I have a fertility acupuncturist who puts needles in me to support fertility but also asks the tough questions and requires me to unpack the most toxic relationship in my life, the relationship with myself. I truly believe God speaks to me through these two.

It took a long time, years in fact, for me to see the labor of my hard work. I began to experience small moments of viewing myself with positive self-worth. 

Roseville, CA '15

When I finally got pregnant and found out I was having a son, I cried. Not because I didn't want a son, but because for the first time in my life I felt worthy to be a mom. 

NYC, '13

​God speaks to me often through Aiden. I'm constantly telling Aiden, "Guess what... You're special."​ On his own, unprompted, he started responding, "You're special too, Mommy!" I have no doubt that's God's way of reminding me of that simple truth on a constant basis.

That smile melts my heart.