Newspaper article

Maria Wiering from the Catholic Review wrote a wonderful article on Peter and our story. I am amazed at the number of people who will learn about Peter, be touched by his story. It's truly awe inspiring. I love that his memory is being kept alive and that more people are going to know about our journey. I pray that people will read our story and realize they, too, can carry their child to term after receiving a severe prenatal diagnosis.

God's will

It's been just over 8 weeks since Peter left us and I ache for a baby in my arms. I know that's "normal" after you lose a baby but knowing something is normal doesn't make it any easier. I held a little one year old girl for only a moment, just long enough to feel her pudgy belly under my hands and have her look into my eyes and give me a goofy smile. And oh did my heart ache! I wanted that so badly for myself, for my family. I wanted to add another child to my home, a sibling for the girls, another grandchild. And selfishly I wanted to experience all those typical milestones that I didn't get to experience in the usual way with Natalie. But even thinking about another pregnancy is so scary. There are so many unknowns. I can't imagine putting my family though that again. No child should have to lose one sibling; losing two is unimaginable. 

I've spent a lot of time in prayer lately, trying to learn and discern God's will for my family. Is God calling me to have more children? Is he calling me to go back to school, back to work? Sometimes I wish he would just TELL us what he wants for us! I want to do His will, but I just don't know what his will actually is! 

I don't know if there will ever be another baby growing in my womb. I've mostly accepted, and even found the positives in, not having more children. But it still makes my heart ache for another little newborn in a sling, a toddler learning to walk, hearing first words and seeing first smiles. I don't know that I'll ever stop aching for that. In the meantime, I will continue to pray that God'w ill is revealed to me, and that I willingly accept it. 

Peter's funeral

Peter's funeral was on the Monday after his birth, August 20, 2012. I didn't sleep well that night and was up very early. I felt sick. I didn't want to go. We went to the funeral home an hour ahead of time to see him and say goodbye. He looked so perfect and tiny. The home did a beautiful job wrapping him and laying him in his tiny coffin. He was so cold, and instinct told me to tell Julie not to touch him. I didn't want her to remember Peter that way. But I quickly changed my mind. That was wrong; she needed to say goodbye in whatever way felt right for her. She decided not to hold him but she rubbed his cheek and kissed him. I hadn't planned on picking him up but I couldn't resist. I needed to hug him one last time. I hugged him and cried and rocked his tiny body. Natalie showed some interest in him for the first time. She stuck her finger right in his mouth, which was just the right size for her tiny little finger. We spent 30 minutes with him, placed some holy cards in his coffin, a holy medal, a photograph, and a sunflower clipped from my garden. Then we proceeded to the church.

Steve carried in the tiny coffin and placed it at the front of the church. Eric Blair was cantor, and he did a beautiful job singing the wonderful hymns we'd chosen. Fr. Steve's homily was beautiful and touching. I loved hearing Peter's name over and over. I am obsessed with his name, wanting to hear it and read it as much as possible. He spoke of how we don't know why we have such a short time with some loved ones, and how it is always especially heartbreaking and mysterious when a child dies. He told a story about a night blooming flower that blooms just once a year at night, and by morning its petals are wilted, and how that reminded him of little Peter who was born at night and gone by morning, and how that flower is mysterious, and so are the ways of the Lord when it comes to a child dying. It was beautiful and touching. 

The Mass was absolutely beautufl, and even though I didn't want to be there when I'd woken in the morning, once I was there I relished in it. I cherished every moment, tried to be truly present so that I could remember it all. It felt so right, to be there amongst family, friends, our priest, and the Lord Jesus Christ, to celebrate his short life and thank God for the time we did have. When Fr. Steve insenced the coffin, it all felt so real, so sad, and so beautiful at the same time. As I stood there in the pew next to his tiny casket, watching Fr. Steve use the insence, smelling it, seeing it float up towards the heavens, I cried for sadness but I smiled for joy. I saw that moment as a symbol of his rising to the arms of Jesus. If there is one moment I take with me from that Mass, it will be the memory of the insence, rising around the casket and toward the place where Peter waits for me.

Getting closer

I'm a little over 41 weeks along now. It doesn't seem that Peter is going to come on his own. It's not uncommon for babies with anencephaly to need to be induced. No one knows exactly what causes labor to begin but one theory is that the baby's brain sends signals to the kidneys. These babies may be unable to do that. That, coupled with his small size, and who knows how long I would stay pregnant if we let him just come when he was ready! 

I'm working with my midwives on some more gentle induction methods this week. I am hoping they'll work and decided on those early because I had a strong feeling he wasn't going to come without help, and next week they'll go to pitocin. So, rather than do nothing and then go straight to pitocin, we are trying some other things first. Hopefully we get to meet Peter sometime this week or weekend. Otherwise I imagine he will make his appearance on August 23rd at the latest. 

Today is the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, where Catholics celebrate our belief that God saved Mary from bodily corruption and assumed her body and soul into heaven. I thought it would be a beautiful day for Peter to be born. I suppose we do still have 8 hours in the day!

I'm understandably scared and anxious. Obviously labor and birth are big deals even when you expect to greet a perfectly healthy baby at the end of it. I am worried about how I will handle the pain knowing that there is tragedy to follow. But there will also be joy. Keep me in your prayers if you will, that I will be able to put my sadness and anxiety aside and work with my body to have a safe, healthy, and comfortable labor.