One Year: Part One

One year and two days ago, I sat cuddled up with Chad on the couch and felt my baby kicking in my tummy at the kitty that was curled up next to my belly, purring. I marveled at the feeling and wondered whether our ultrasound the next day would tell us if we were having a boy or a girl. Chad was really hoping for a boy, and I was pretty good either way.

Ultrasound at 8 weeks.

One year and one day ago, we waited eagerly while the ultrasound tech scanned my belly in search of a heartbeat...and then couldn't find one. Tears streamed down my face as I stubbornly said "Nothing is wrong. It couldn't be wrong. This couldn't happen to me." But then the doctor confirmed, my little unborn baby's heart was no longer beating. Somewhere between the night before when I felt him kicking, and the ultrasound appointment, he went to heaven to meet Jesus...and left us here, his family, behind. They informed us that since I was farther along (17 weeks) that I would have to deliver him in the hospital. I would have to go through labor, and bring my unborn baby's body into the world, when his soul had already gone. It was devastating to hear. We went home, crying nonstop, and tried to process what had just happened. It seemed so surreal. We ended up deciding to go ahead and go in for the induction that night and at about 9pm, we were checked into the hospital to begin the process.

The last pregnant photo I have.

One year ago today, after 9 hours of the most emotional and heartbreaking labor, his body was brought into this world. My OB was the kindest man through all of this. He prayed with me when he first came to see me that morning, prayed with me again before we left the hospital, and was just overall very attentive to my emotional state. So when he recommended to me that I not see Oliver, because of the condition he was in, I seriously considered it...for a moment. But I knew I just couldn't fully grieve and process his death if I didn't, I would always wonder. So a few hours later, they brought him to me...and it was love at first sight. I already loved him, obviously, but when I saw him, I could see past the way he looked (which was perfectly normal for a baby of 17 weeks, you just don't see them outside the womb at that age, so it was much different than what a full-term baby looks like) and I just saw my son...the son that God knit perfectly in my womb. He had the Pruitt nose, 10 perfectly formed fingers and 10 perfectly formed toes, and the most adorable little lips. He had eyelids, skin, little tiny ears...I don't think I even cried in those few hours that I held him, I just smiled. I loved him so much.

Holding my sweet boy for the last time.

We chose the name Oliver Byron for him because Oliver means "a peace offering or an olive branch" and in giving him that name, I was saying to God "this is my peace offering to you...I know that you are always good and I'm not mad at you." Byron was Chad's dad's middle name and since he passed away in 2008 and never got to meet Jonah, we figured it would be fitting to give the grandchild he would meet before we would, his name.

I had the most amazing nurse during our stay. Her name was Mary. She was a veteran nurse who had a ton of experience with early deliveries and grieving parents. She was so sensitive to our needs and was very patient with us as we grieved. I so appreciated that she made sure we knew that whenever we wanted to have Oliver in with us, we could. But whenever we wanted them to take him, they would. She assured us hat they would take very good care of him and he would be in the hospital as long as we were there and then we could make arrangements after that. So I held him for a long time, just clinging and marveling and memorizing his face...and then offered him to anyone else who wanted to hold him.

They took him back for a little while so that we could eat lunch, and then I asked Mary to bring him back. I'll never forget the moment she walked into my room with him. She had already warned us that the longer he was out of the womb, the more he would start to change and look different. When I saw him that second time, he looked...rough. I started crying immediately, because I knew that should be the last time we saw him while we were there. I knew I wanted to preserve the beautiful image I had in my mind of him and that meant that I needed to not see him anymore while we were there. All of my family kindly left the room and we just cuddled our boy, crying and praying over him, and dreading the minutes that were quickly passing by, leading us to our goodbye.

I'll never forget curling up in a fetal position on that bed and just sobbing. I'll never forget my mom curling up beside me and and smoothing my hair. I'll never forget my sister just holding me and saying "I am so sorry Lou, I'm so sorry." I'll never forget the tears of the love of my life, whom I'd only ever seen cry twice, trickling down his face. I'll never forget the friends who came by to see me while I was there, bringing me Skittles and books and drinks and love and hugs.

Chad, Jonah, and I.

I don't remember a whole lot about the rest of that night, except for the amazingly kind night nurse who sounded just like a sweet lady from church, bringing me anything I needed from warm blankets to a movie to help us fall asleep. Chad and I curled up in my little bed together and just held each other, falling asleep to the movie Michael, about a man who was an angel.

The next morning, we looked out the window at the breathtaking view we had of Pikes Peak and the sun streaming down on its peak, and wondered how a day so beautiful could be so bleak. Leaving the hospital that morning was possibly the hardest part of the whole experience. Knowing that my baby and all the memories I had surrounding him were staying the walls of that hospital while we drove away, just wrecked my broken spirit even further. I clung to my box filled with mementos of my little boy...his hospital bracelet, the little blanket he was wrapped in and the little teddy bear he held, his foot and handprints, a book about grief, a little journal/baby book that was specific to losing a child but still being able to honor their brief life in the womb, a small bible, and other precious things...and held tightly to Chad's arm as we walked out of our room, through the halls, and outside the hospital doors. With tears streaming down our faces (which was pretty much constant since the moment we heard those words in the ultrasound, so I'm not sure that it even needs noted), we got in our car, pulled out of the parking lot, and headed home...feeling emptier than I knew it was possible to feel.

[Writing the details of those days out is almost more for me than it is to share my story. It's therapeutic to go back and process through those emotions and reminisce upon those last days with my second-born son. But I do also hope that opening up and sharing these intimate details is able to help someone. Maybe you're struggling with your own loss or know someone who is and my story can help you sympathize with them in a more understanding way. But most of all, I hope in my transparency that you see God and his constant goodness to me, even in the hardest time of my life.]

Independence Day

This year, like most years, we spent the Fourth of July hanging out with family. Last year, my Uncle Tony and Aunt Genia hosted everybody over at their place for a bbq/pool party. I got sick the night before though, and couldn't go. So Chad took Jonah and I stayed home on the couch. Blah.

This year, I was thankful that everybody was in good health and ready to swim and eat and have a good time! We borrowed a floaty vest from Jonah's best buddy Maverick so that we wouldn't have to worry about him in the pool as much. But I didn't know that we were going to be doing this this year when I scheduled my tattoo appointment to start on my arm piece. So, having a fresh-as-fresh-gets tattoo on my arm, I couldn't get in the pool or have it exposed to the sun. I brought a light sweater thing to throw on over my tank top for when I was in the sun and just stayed in the shade as much as possible.

Just the rough outline is done right now...

...I go back in two weeks to finish it up.

We weren't really sure how Jonah was going to do in the water since he hasn't been in a pool since last summer and he's much more...opinionated now about what he does/doesn't like. But he didn't do too bad! He liked it for the most part, except for when he got water anywhere near his face (including the time we dunked him to see how he'd do). :)

The water was a little chilly...

He went down the slide!

Swimming!

Jonah and his Daddy.

Learning to kick.

He liked swimming with all the different people who came...Uncle Kevin for a little bit, Uncle Tony, Pops, Uncle Dude, and Daddy. Most of the ladies (except Sheena) stayed out of the pool and just talked. We ate yummy grilled food, fresh fruit salad, and my homemade, super yummy salsa.

Swimming with Uncle Dude.

Hanging in the swim chair.

Jonah in the swim chair and Daddy being silly.

Speaking of silly...

Uncle Dude and his cousin, Blair.

Uncle Dude and his nephew and cousin.

Jonah swam/slid/played so much that he took a nap about halfway through and then woke up and swam and played some more. He would love it if we had a playground and pool like they do in our yard! :)

Blair swimming with her Momma.

Blair swimming with her Momma more.

Jumping in!!

Cute little Miss Blair.

Trying not to smile...

Eating a popsicle after swimming, yum!

Thankfully they're hosting another pool party for their daughter's (my cousin, Hannah's) birthday at the end of July, so I'll get to swim then...and Jonah will get to practice swimming some more!

We went home that afternoon around 3/4 and pretty much just vegged for the rest of the day. Chad got pretty burnt and he had hiked the incline that morning, so he was feeling really sore. I kind of wanted to go see the fireworks at Memorial Park, but they didn't start until dark (which is 8:30 here) and there was no way Jonah was staying up that late. Maybe next year...

Digging in the yard...in shoes and a diaper.

Happy Fourth-from Jonah and Maddie!

Happy Independence Day everyone! I hope you all had a fun day celebrating our freedom with your family and/or friends!!

Jonah's Second Birthday

Growing up, my family had an "every other year" tradition when it came to birthday parties. One year you'd have a big, fun, birthday party with all your friends and the next year you'd have a smaller, laid-back, birthday party with just family. Since last year was Jonah's big, first birthday bash, this year was a smaller "just" family" party. (We consider the Batteigers to be in this family category, with Maverick being Jonah's BFF and all, so we had them come too).

We mainly celebrated on Saturday, the 29th, since we had church and life group the next day, on his actual birthday. Chad's mom and brother even ended up being able to come down for the celebration, so that was an added bonus!

Here's some photos from our day...We love our family so much and were so blessed to be able to celebrate two whole years of our sweet Jonah's life with them.

Grandma Debi, Jonah, and Chad

We started the party at the park...and then got rained out.

Blair, my cousin, and Joshua, Maverick's little brother.

Our little family.

Jonah's super cute Despicable Me cake.

Singing Happy Birthday.

Trying to blow out the candles.

Eating cake with buddy Maverick.

Everyone hanging out, eating cake.

Blair playing with a bow.

Opening presents.

More presents!

Maverick helping open presents.

A lego set from Uncle Tris.

All he wanted for his birthday-a trash truck.

Playing with his trash truck with Grandma Debi.

His birthday present from Aunt Nikki...Maddie!!

On his actual birthday.

Daddy and his Bug.

How handsome is this kid??

Birthday boy!

He's such a boy.

And a silly one too!

Posing. ;)

And Happy Birthday to our handsome, funny, sweet sweet Jonah bug. We love you so much and are richly blessed to have you in our lives.

Learning

If there's one thing I've learned from losing Oliver, it's how to pray/grieve for someone going through a similar situation. Even if I don't know you, or you don't know me, my heart is breaking for you right now. I so closely feel your pain. We're in community and you might not even know it, but I hope that I can someday show you that you are not alone.

I'm so thankful for those who reached out to me in the weeks that followed and shared their stories of loss with me, just to say just that...you're not alone. Your tragedy is not new, but it is yours, and we grieve with you.

I believe that you have to search for these beautiful tidbits among the ashes, because otherwise, all you'll see is the ashes. All you'll see when you look back on your tragedy, is the ashes of your broken life, your future altered and uncertain. But if you press into God, through your pain, and really feel it (despite how much it hurts) you'll come up with a few precious nuggets that you can cling to in the days to come.

This whole thought process started as a response to hearing that yet another lady that I know lost her 17 week old little girl, and every time I hear of such a loss, especially one so spot on with how/when I lost Oliver, it cuts a fresh scar on my heart. I'm sorry doesn't seem good enough, but it's really all there is to say sometimes.

I hear you.
I see you.
I am so sorry.

Maybe some time soon I'll be able to write out the full story of what happened with me and my born-to-heaven Oliver Byron, but not today. Today, I'll cry a little, I'll embrace every moment of my grief, because as a dear friend reminded me, God promises that "He will turn my mourning into dancing, my wailing into joy." (Psalm 30:11) Oh it hurts, but it's good, because "all things God works for the good of those who love him." (Romans 8:28)

Some of the beautiful flowers we received when we got home from the hospital.

My beautiful Mother's Day flowers from my family.