Her Name

Over the past couple of days, I've had a really difficult time connecting the baby I'm carrying with the baby we heard about on Tuesday.  I have cried many tears over that little girl - the one I saw on the ultrasound screen the other day.  But I can not connect that baby with the one I feel moving and kicking every day.  And I feel incredibly guilty about that.  I love the little girl I can feel.  She's mine.  Forever.  But the baby girl whose little body is broken doesn't feel like mine.  It's like they're two different babies. 

I think I need to start calling her by her name.  Maybe it'll help me start connecting the 'two' babies, if that makes any sense at all.  I've had a name picked for a little girl for about 6 years.  When I was 2 months pregnant with our first baby, I was looking through a baby name book and found a particular name for a little girl - its meaning was perfect.  I had longed to carry a child ever since I was old enough to understand that I could do that.  :-)  And this name means 'my God has answered me'.  It was perfect for my first biological daughter.  My prayers to conceive had been answered, so this name fit, if it was a girl.  My God had answered me - with a big YES.  I thought.  But we lost that baby just 2 days later.  So I tucked away the name for the baby girl I hoped to have one day. 

Six years and five pregnancies later, and I am finally carrying a baby girl.  And since the day those 2 pink lines appeared on the pregnancy test, I knew that, should this baby be a girl, her name had been picked.  But I pictured a perfect healthy baby girl with this name.  I'd bring my perfect newborn home and get lost in the sweetness of newborn love.  On Tuesday, those dreams came to an abrupt halt.  I'm about to be brutally honest here - how, oh how, I can call this little girl 'my God has answered me'?  How can this be His answer?  How can I reconcile that His answer to my prayers for a baby girl is this: a sweet girl with such a broken little body and so little hope for survival?  I must confess:  I don't want this to be His answer.  I don't want this nightmare.  I would change it all in a heartbeat.

No matter how little I like this, this is God's answer.  He has given me a little Lindegren girl.  Somehow, though I will probably never know or understand how, this is part of His perfect plan for my life and hers.  And no matter how much is 'wrong' with her, He knit her together in my womb.  She is fearfully and wonderfully made.  She has been created in His image.  She is even more precious to Him than she is to me.  And she is very precious to me.  I love her dearly and am growing fiercely protective of her.  She is a gift, for as long as I have her.  Even if I only get to enjoy her in the form of her sweet little kicks.

So I will call her by her name, 'my God has answered me'.  My precious Elliana. 


*We live here in the south where everybody pronounces everything differently. So this is how we'll pronounce her name:  eh-lee-AH-nah.

Putting my thoughts on paper

The last time I posted something on this blog was a little over 3 years ago.  Obviously, I'm not a great blogger. 

I've decided to try it again, mostly as a place for me to think out loud.  My mind is so jumbled with thoughts that I can't concentrate on anything else.  Or sleep.  I'm hoping that after I put my thoughts 'down on paper', my brain won't feel quite so jumbled and cluttered.

I don't really have the energy to start from the beginning right now.  I'll have to do that another time.  The following is a letter I sent out to family and several friends last night:

Dear Friends,

It's been a long day. One of the longest I've had.

We had our ultrasound this morning, and for 30 blissful minutes, we were able to enjoy watching our baby girl kick and squirm. She's a fiesty little thing - stubborn, too. Our sonographer had to do a good bit of chasing and poking to get her to cooperate. :-)

For a short time, she was perfect. I pictured her a few years from now with long blond hair and big blue eyes, dancing with her daddy in our living room.

But then our doctor came in to discuss the findings of the ultrasound. She was concerned about several things - the way our little girl has formed so far. Her concerns were serious enough that she sent us almost immediately to the maternal-fetal specialist at the women's hospital. At least we didn't have to wait days or weeks to see the specialist. I was already in tears by the time we left - and I guess it's never a good sign when the nurse gives you an entire BOX of kleenex when you leave the office.

Another ultrasound was performed at the hospital. The specialist came in and explained all of his findings - it's all sort of a jumbled mess in my head. But it comes down to this - little Lindegren girl most likely has Trisomy 13 or Trisomy 18, both chromosomal disorders. Similar to Downs, but more serious. From what I've read, 50% of babies born with either of these don't survive longer than a few days after birth, if they make it that far. And 90% don't survive past their first birthday. Some live a few years, but with significant medical problems.

I don't even know what to tell you about how Jason and I are doing. We haven't told the kids yet, we don't really want to make this 'public' knowledge yet, but we know we can't avoid that forever. We don't really know how to go through the next 4-5 months of pregnancy. We walked out of the specialist's office today and I saw a great big bunch of pink balloons at the end of the hall, probably in celebration of a mom and baby girl who were about to head home. I burst into tears at the sight of it. This is going to be really, really hard.

I guess I should ask you to pray, but it feels weird to do that, since He and I aren't really on speaking terms right now. So if you feel led to pray, go right ahead. You can do it on my behalf. Because right now, I just can't.

Thanks for your love, support, and friendship. If you have any questions, you can feel free to ask. Not sure I'll be able to answer, but I'll try.

Shannon

Today, I just have these thoughts that I don't know what to do with.  They're random.  No order to them.
 

I open Missy's closet door and see her dresses hanging up. I start crying when I realize that our unborn baby girl will probably never wear them.

I wonder what the first moments after she's born will be like. Will she go straight to the NICU? Will she be breathing? Will I get to hold her?

I look at Seth's perfect little face and wonder what my little girl will look like. Seth asks to be carried or in my lap a lot, and I have indulged him every single time today, wondering if he'll be my last baby to hold.

I don't know what to prepare for. Most moms buy clothes for their unborn babies. They gather blankets and diapers and burp cloths. I long to go shopping for beautiful girlie dresses and hairbows. Do I go to the hospital with nothing for her, anticipating that I will return home without a baby? Or do I take a stocked diaper bag and take the risk that I'm going to have to empty it out and give it all away because my daughter is gone?

I have no appetite. But I eat. Mostly because I know how absolutely physically awful I will feel if I don't. I eat because little girl Lindegren is still growing. She needs the calories. Even though they will do nothing to save her.

I sing Seth's favorite song, 'Lulu', to him and choke up because I wonder if I'll ever be able to hold this unborn baby and sing it to her. And if she'll ever make her own sweet attempts to sing it with me.

I look at Levi's big blue eyes and wonder if hers will be the same beautiful ice blue. And if I'll ever be able to see them.

She got the hiccups today. I felt them - those rhythmic little pops. She's practicing swallowing. I've felt her move several times today. Maybe expressing her objection to all those things the doctor said about her yesterday. And how he kept calling her 'it'.

It hurts to think about her name. The name we've had picked for several weeks now. It took us months to settle on our other childrens' names. But I've had this one in mind for years. It holds a great deal of significance, and I'm having a hard time with that significance, now that the circumstances are so unimaginably awful.

Maybe this was all just a bad dream. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and she'll be perfect. Maybe they were looking at someone else's baby on the ultrasound screen yesterday.

Grillin' Out

One of our rare suppers outside - although they may become more frequent. Elijah loves for us to eat dinner outside. In the above picture, Elijah is introducing Levi to green beans dipped in ketchup.

Now Elijah's explaining to Levi why all of the green beans MUST be eaten.

And Melissa's thinking about how lucky she is that she doesn't have to eat green beans at all!

Until Levi decided that she just HAD to try a green bean dipped in ketchup. I don't think Missy liked it.

The Rocket Ship

It always amazes me how little it takes to occupy a child. Especially a boy. Levi was so excited to have an empty box to play in, and Elijah immediately turned it into a rocket ship. They blasted off and orbitted the living room until bedtime.

Levi sure does love his big brother...

Sweet Babies

I could just SQUEEZE them!!

Daddy Time

If only things were always this peaceful...

We LOVE Miss Audrey!

Every Tuesday and Thursday for the past several months, our favorite Miss Audrey has been coming over to help with the kids (mostly the babies) while I teach piano lessons. And as the weather's gotten nicer, Audrey has been so sweet to take the babies to their new favorite place: The Great Outdoors.