Halloween horrors

Okay, so it really wasn't that horrible; it was okay. I was excited about taking the kids out (I feel like I've been a crappy mom to them lately) but I was a nervous wreck about actually going out in public in Milledgeville - the first real time since Andrew was born. My fear was that I'd run into someone who would want to talk. About Andrew, his birth and death, what happened, how they've dealt with a loved ones death, etc. etc. etc. I just wasn't ready for that, and I was scared. But I was blessed; I didn't run into a single person that knew the situation. Every one of them were people that I haven't seen in several months, and they didn't even know I was pregnant. So they didn't know to say anything.

Don't get me wrong...I want to talk about Andrew. I love my baby boy...he was and still is one of the best things that's ever happened to us. But it's really hard to talk to someone about him when it's not on my terms. It scares me, makes me feel trapped or smothered. I don't want people to ignore what's happened, feel uncomfortable around me, or not ask questions; I just want them to be mindful of how hard it is, and if I look freaked out, understand that I'm having a hard time and might not be able to talk about it all. But I'm rambling again.

Anyway, the kids had a good time; they dutifully said "Trick or Treat!" at every stop, and even finished with a big "Thank you!" without being prompted. I think Matthew felt a little out of place, or too old for it all or something, but he participated to get the candy. Annah hasn't been feeling well the past couple of days, and as soon as the trick or treating was done, she spiraled downhill. Her fever suddenly shot back up to almost 103, and she was so tired and unhappy. I'm glad she was able to have fun before really taking a turn for the worse.

Matthew was a skateboarder (and looked just like he does every single day!), Jonathan was Batman, and Annah was Batgirl. So cute!

So it wasn't a horrible Halloween; just a bit emotional and tiring. Oh, and to top it all off, today is the 15 year anniversary of my dad's death. Nice to think about on Halloween every year, huh? I guess October isn't the best month for me....

But anyway, here are some pictures of the fam....

The world keeps turning...

Today, I went into the next down with my mom, and although we had a good time, the long ride there and back gave me a lot of time to think. And think...and think. About Andrew, his birth, the things he'll never get to do. As I sat in the restuarant at lunch and looked around, I realized that it irritated me that life was going on. People were having lunch, laughing and talking. Didn't they realize that my baby died? Didn't they realize my heart still hurts? Of course they didn't...they didn't know me. A friend of mine is going through this same thing right now...she lost her baby just four short days before I lost Andrew; the other day she said that she wishes she could put a sign around her neck that says, "My baby died" so that people know that she's a mother, and that her baby just isn't with her. I so understand how she feels. Nobody can look at me and tell that I just gave birth...and that I am mourning Andrew's death. So of course life goes on around me, even with people that I know. That's the one certain thing that will always happen.....life goes on, with or without people. The world still turns, the sun still rises and sets, the tides still turn. With or without me, with or without my Andrew. So I must go on....somehow. And I will....it's just figuring out the 'how' part that's the hardest.

NOT The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown

Yeah....our pumpkin patch experience was NOT a fun one this year. MaLew and I went and picked up the little kids from school/daycare today, then went to wait for Matthew to get out of school. She'd called and had the secretary tell him that we'd pick him up and not to get on the bus, so I didn't foresee any problems. But problems there were.

To make a VERY long story a bit shorter, we wound up having to chase down the bus and get Matthew off....someone forgot to tell him that we were coming to get him. Then we got into a huge traffic jam because of school traffic AND major road construction; it took us a half hour to go just a few miles. By that time, I had to take a potty break, as did the kids. Jonathan had a major meltdown on the sidewalk in front of the convenience store where we stopped, and that didn't help a bit. We finally got back on the road and made it to the pumpkin patch, but by that time, everyone was in a terrible mood and didn't even want to go. When we got there, we found out that almost all the pumpkins were sold and gone!

The kids ran around for a few minutes and I tried to take some pictures, which wound up being a waste of time - they wouldn't cooperate with me. I managed to get one decent one, which made it LOOK like we were having a blast. We were NOT. I came home completely worn out and very frustrated. It didn't help that I'd already spent the majority of the day going through boxes of baby clothes and giving stuff away, or that I ran across my diaper bag that already has Jonathan and Annah's names embroidered on it - it was supposed to have Andrew's too. So my mood wasn't the best anyway.

Austin says it doesn't matter if we had a crappy time; what matters is that I took them to do something fun. They might not remember the details of it, but they'll remember that we did fun things together. I certainly hope so.

Flowers for my little man, and other stuff

I took flowers to my boy today; the ones from his service were all but dead, and I couldn't bear the thought of his little spot being bare. I wanted very much to put something bright and fun there, so I made up an arrangement of my own. Lots of bright, beautiful fall colors in a big wicker basket, with a cute scarecrow sticking out of the top. It's fall...Halloween, Thanksgiving....and his resting spot deserves some of the beautiful wonder of the time of year. It's always so cold and bland there, and I wanted to brighten it up for my little man. Silly, huh? As much as I think other people will believe that, I actually don't. It makes me feel better to be able to do SOMETHING for him; even some thing so small. Anyway, I thought they were pretty.



I worked at home today. Took down the crib, packed up baby clothes to both save and to give away. Tomorrow will be more of the same. I feel the need to get the stuff out of my sight. I'm not making hasty decisions....I just can't look at it. The crib was the hardest to handle; it's been up since before Jonathan was born. But, it had to be done, and I'm glad it is now. Tomorrow we'll actually take the stuff we're getting rid of to the Salvation Army store and be done with that part.

We're also going to the Pumpkin Patch tomorrow afternoon. Getting out in public isn't what I want to do, but my poor children need it, and truth be known, I probably do too. So we'll go. Hopefully I'll have the mind to remember to take the camera, so maybe I'll have some pictures to post tomorrow night.

A better day

It's been a better day today. My mother-in-law is still staying with me, and she convinced me to get out today. We went and did some clothes shopping, which, if I have to be honest, I'm not that great at. But I wound up with a couple of new outfits in my new smaller size (funny how it's taken this to get the pounds off of me...I've lost so much weight in the last two weeks that I'm actually down one size from my pre-Andrew days), ready to look my best when I start venturing out in public again. (Yeah, that didn't happen today...we went to Macon, where I wouldn't bump into anyone I knew.)

The kids went back to school today...so we're falling back into a routine. Once I get the all-clear from my doctor to go back to work (my appointment is on the 13th, so I still have a couple of weeks), maybe things will start feeling normal again. Then again, I'm not sure anything will ever be normal again...but maybe it will be closer than we are right now.

Hiding out

My Facebook message today says "Stacy is hiding out at home because she's not ready to talk to people." A friend of mine sent me a message saying that she doesn't believe that I'm hiding, but that I'm saying a lot to anyone who will take the time to read my words. The truth of it all? I really am a coward.

I truly am hiding...I just don't know what to say to anyone face to face. What's happened, what I've experienced, is so foreign to most people that they'll never understand completely. To go through a real labor, to hold Andrew, to kiss his tiny hands and then hand him back and never see him again....I don't know how to be the person I was before, because it feels like a part of me has died too. I don't know how to answer the standard "How are you doing?" that everyone asks. Do I lie and say, "I'm okay," and move on? Or should I be honest and tell them that I'm a basketcase and not sure if I'm supposed to laugh or cry or both? That I can't make a simple decision on what to have for lunch, and can someone please just order for me? That I can't tell my son if I'll be taking them Trick-or-Treat'ing next week, because I don't even know if I can get through tomorrow yet?

So in the end, it's just easier to hide. Sure, I write. But I'm writing for myself...not for anyone else. Writing helps...it gets the craziness out for a moment or two. Kind of like people that cut themselves to relieve their pain. (Don't worry, I'm not that far gone!) It takes up some time during the day...when the kids don't need me and I am ignoring things that should be done....I write. And write. And write.

And I keep hiding.

Sorry Sarah...normally you're right about stuff, but not this time. I'm just a coward.

Touched

It's amazing how people come together during a tragedy. I've gotten emails and messages about my sweet Andrew from people that I haven't seen or heard from in years, messages simply offering prayers and condolences and offers of help in any way. I'm truly touched. To my old friends and those that I see and talk to regularly, thank you; our family has gotten this far in this horrible time thanks to you. Your prayers and offers of help have not gone unnoticed. Please forgive me if I don't respond to you directly...I'm still having trouble talking to people. But know that I love you all, and appreciate all that you do for us.

A fun post for a change...

Austin got some time to himself today, and went into downtown San Antonio to do the tourist thing. I told him that I EXPECTED a picture to be sent to me at some point today, and he didn't let me down. So...with his PERMISSION (and I probably would have posted it even without it Austin!), here he is at The Alamo!

 

Nine days

It's been nine days since my baby boy came into the world and never took his first breath. Nine days since I went through labor and delivery, looked at his perfect little face and held his hands, and then walked out of the hospital without a baby. Nine days since I started wondering when I'd wake up from this nightmare. Now I think I'm beginning to realize that I won't.

Things are odd feeling; things are different. It's hard to leave the house and come back in again...it feels funny, like I'm forgetting something. I still can't talk to people, or even look them in the eye. But life goes on, I suppose. I laughed yesterday. It felt funny, even made me feel guilty. Who am I to laugh when my baby is gone? Why does it feel so bad to feel even remotely good?

Nine days...it feels like it's been so much longer.

The proverbial straw...adding insult to injury

You know that saying? The straw that broke the camel's back? Well, it happened yesterday, and I snapped.

I left town for a couple of days, and when I came back, I had a message from my insurance company for me to call them. I did - immediately, because who knows when they called - and the lady was less than compassionate. She began asking really pointed questions....and what it came down to was that the insurance company believes that I had an abortion! WTH? It seems that medical terminolgy catagorizes the death of a "fetus" (I hate that word - this was my BABY!) before birth as an abortion (another word that I fully detest). Mine was classified as a "missed aboration", because I didn't go into labor on my own after Andrew died, and I had to be induced. However, the idiots at my insurance company obviously aren't up-to-date on medical language, and just made horrible assumptions.

I lost it on the phone with this woman. I told her that NOTHING about our situation was voluntary (she actually asked if I had this "procedure" voluntarily!), and that our baby had DIED! And that I had to be induced, go through labor, and deliver my baby! I was so upset, and was bawling on the phone with her the whole time. She finally told me that they would have to call my doctor's office to verify all of this, and she had no more questions for me. Again, WTH? She didn't believe me.

I just hung up. It was too late to call my doctor's office, and I don't think I could have done it anyway. I called Austin and we vented and cried to each other for a while, then I felt better.

I've been remarkably sane feeling since then. I actually slept a bit last night. I hope this is the beginning of the upswing, but I have my doubts. But...only time will tell.

Time. That word has a whole new meaning for me.

All about Andrew

Austin and I have worked very hard to create a small way to be able to share our baby boy. We have so little of him, and that's hard, because that's all we want to do - share him with the world. So this is our way of being able to do it.

Make sure your speakers are turned on, and visit our baby's own page at http://andrewgordonlewis.blogspot.com/

I tried to set it up not to take comments on Andrew's page, just to keep it exactly as we have it now (I'm not sure that I was able to though), so if you want to comment, please feel free to do it here instead of on his page.

Shattering the silence?

What is it about the calm, silent darkness of 3:00 a.m. that makes me want to get up and start throwing things? I want to make noise....to scream....to break that overwhelming silence that has been invading my head for the hours that I've been lying in bed, awake, and staring at the darkness. Instead, I get up and write. Not quite the release that I'm wanting, but it will have to do. I have sleeping children.

Why can't I go to sleep? Why can't I stop thinking about the ride to cemetary to bury my baby? Why can't I stop thinking, just long enough to sleep, of his silent entrance into the world? I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can barely pray...and when I try, I can't find words, so all I get out are sobs.

I look at my children that are here, and I am so thankful. And then I cry some more, because I should be MORE grateful. Then I cry even more, because I want more....I want my baby.

I have no more words....I should go back to bed. Jonathan and Annah are there, waiting for me. Jonathan will probably wrap his arms around me....he likes to sleep that way. Maybe I'll be able to doze off for an hour or so...just to take the edge off. To sleep....perchance to dream....maybe good dreams of Andrew.

Austin's thoughts

This blog isn't just mine anymore, but a mixture of thoughts and feelings from my family. Here are some words from Austin.

This has been a very difficult weekend and I am sorry for not emailing anyone sooner, but I am sure that you all...or as they say in the Southern United States...I'm sure that y'all understand. I have not been able to sleep and so I sat down and decided to write down, in my words, what has happened...what I have experienced. So many of you could not be here with us but maybe you can close your eyes after reading this, take in a deep breath, and feel a little of the joy and sadness that I have. Please forgive me I seem to be rambling!! I love you all very much. - Austin




This has been a very emotionally draining weekend. On October 16, 2008 at 11:04p.m. Andrew Gordon Lewis was born. Sadly we had just found out the day before that he no longer had a heartbeat. The emotional strain and unbelievable grief of knowing that my wife had to endure such terrible news by herself breaks my heart. Knowing that she was by herself with no one to hold her close is almost more than I can bear. My wife called and tried desperately to talk to me on the phone, but because I was deployed to Texas for military training I was unable to talk to her. She left me a message on my voicemail and after two hours, I finally was able to call her back. I can not describe how I felt when I finally heard the news that my son had died.

So many people have offered to help and so many people have tried to say comforting words, but there comes a time when no words can comfort and no offers of assistance can help. I found myself in a situation where I was simultaneously trying to console my wife and considering making plans for the funeral of my son who at that very moment, I was awaiting to hear news that he had been born. The night Andrew was born was a very long night indeed and Stacy and I had a very emotional and joyous experience of being proud parents to a wonderful little baby boy. However, it quickly became apparent that we needed some time alone…time to endure so many emotions. I was flooded with joy at the news of my son’s birth, saddened at the knowledge of his death, and relieved at the safety my wife had been was kept throughout the whole experience. It is a very guilty feeling indeed to feel joy in the middle of such sadness and during such a difficult time.

I was allowed to leave my training in Texas to go home for the funeral. I spent as much time as I could with my family and felt torn between wanting to hold my wife versus wanting to hold my other children. I just didn’t have enough arms to hold them all. Not to mention the fact that I was never able to hold my newborn son. I never got to see him, feel him, smell him or tell him goodbye. By the time I got home, he was already at the funeral home. And as sad as my not being able to see him is to me, I can not comprehend knowing that Stacy had to do it all by herself…without me.

Matthew took the news as best as a 12 year old can and I did my best to explain death to Jonathan and Annah and found myself in completely new territory. I had never planned on having to give such a detailed explanation to a three and four year old about death, but with the aid of a simple sock and my hand, I was able to put into words that they could understand the concept of a body and spirit and what happens when the spirit leaves the body. Unfortunately, I now know that all of my children both understand and comprehend the news of their brother’s death. It is truly a sweet and wonderful experience to stand and watch your children grieve and feel sorrow in such a personal way. And after they had been told about what had happened, our family went to the funeral home to visit Andrew. I stood tall and upheld my Stacy as she leaned on me for support and cried. I did such a terrible job of not being her strength. That moment…more than any other has been etched into my mind, as that was the first time I was able to see my son…in a box…ready to be placed into the ground. The only way that moment can truly be described is by trying to imagine two people having both legs broken and each trying to help the other walk.

Our children were so wonderful at meeting their brother for the first time. They cried and they eagerly asked questions. They especially wanted to know why they couldn’t see Andrew inside the box. Jonathan said several times, “but I want to meet him.” I explained to them that they could talk to him and that he would be able to hear them. Jonathan enjoyed being able to stand next to Andrew’s “little bed” and talk with him. Jonathan told Andrew about toys and playing. Annah also talked to Andrew and it was so sad to see them whisper into Andrew’s little bed. Annah then decided that she wanted to give Andrew a toy to play with and she put a little toy penguin on top of his casket. Jonathan then decided to give Andrew one of his toys too. Poor Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of chewing gum and very sobbingly said, “This is all I have to give him.” My heart cried for my children…my wife…and my son who was lying in his little bed. I tearfully explained to Matthew that he was not required to leave anything and that we already had a gift to give Andrew that was from our whole family. Stacy and I got a little blue toy blanket and let each of our children love on it, hug it, and kiss it…then Stacy and I gave it to Andrew. Matthew still seemed very upset so I asked him if he wanted to say something in private. He did and as we began to leave the funeral home, Matthew was given some private time to talk to Andrew.

The day of the funeral came and it was very intense indeed. I couldn’t sleep the night before and when I finally did fall a sleep…I didn’t want to get up. But, I did…we all did…and we got dressed, in our Sunday best. We left early to go to the funeral home. Because it was a graveside service only, everyone was to simply meet at the cemetery, but we felt it only fitting that we make the ride with Andrew. Before going to the funeral home we asked some friends of ours, who are at the sheriff’s office, if they would go to the funeral. They not only agreed to be with us but were given permission to drive their Baldwin County patrol cars with us to the funeral while they were on duty since Stacy currently is a deputy sheriff and since I was both a deputy sheriff and a firefighter in Baldwin County. This was very much appreciated since the funeral was going to be held in the next county over. This was a gracious act of permission from the sheriff himself and without having to ask, our two deputy friends decided to turn on their emergency flashing lights and escort us through town all the way to the cemetery.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, our very small procession of 4 cars rolled through town. We soon got to the first traffic light where we noticed that the Milledgeville city police department had sent a car to stop traffic at the first intersection. Stacy and I felt honored to have the little extra help from the police department, especially since Stacy used to work for the police department. But again, it is not unusual for funerals to be escorted, but as we got closer, we realized that the officer who stopped traffic at the intersection wasn’t just some guy. He was someone that Stacy used to work with. We both began to tear up as we knew that this police officer stopping traffic for us was not just doing his job but was performing an act of respect for someone he personally knew. Then as we came to the next intersection, we noticed that more Milledgeville police department patrol cars had stopped traffic with officers standing in the street, and again it was more people that Stacy and I both knew. It was such a wonderful feeling to see them there for us. Then again, at the next intersection a Baldwin County sheriff’s patrol car and a Georgia State patrol car stopped and were out of their cars giving us their attention. I was so moved and we were both now heavily in tears.

I couldn’t imagine a more touching scene until we came to yet another traffic intersection. This time however, it wasn’t the sheriff’s office, police department or state patrol…instead it was the Baldwin County Headquarters fire department blocking the road with all of their fire trucks and lights flashing…the whole shift and headquarters personnel were lining the street. I absolutely lost all composure at this point and cried like a baby. Then as we came to the last intersection in Baldwin County…we saw one more tribute. It was the Cooper’s fire station (this is the fire district that I am a volunteer firefighter) with all of their trucks and again the street was lined by men who came out to show respect and honor one of their own who had lost a child. And as I looked back in my rearview mirror to see the last of the flashing lights drift away…I noticed that several cars had fallen in line with us and followed us all the way to the county line.

We were extended an honor usually reserved only for those who fall in the line of duty and I will never be able to properly say thanks for such an honor. The rest of the drive seemed so surreal and as we pulled into the cemetery, we were greeted one last time by a thin blue line of men in uniform. Men from the 116th Security Force Squadron who drove from Robins Air Force Base to mourn with one of their own. There were so many friends and family and I looked at Stacy and said, “I thought it was going to be just us.” The funeral service was very nice and there wasn’t a dry eye there. Jonathan and Annah had endured a very long trip to the cemetery and by the time we got out of the van they were both ready to play. Jonathan, upon seeing Andrew’s casket noticed the toy he had given to Andrew in the funeral home and decided that he wanted it back. Then he decided that he wanted another toy out of the van. I tried desperately to assist Jonathan as he climbed through the van searching for his other toy. And after he found it he happily walked back to the graveside. I initially tried to calm Jonathan down but quickly decided that it was okay. Jonathan and Annah both ran and played and walked up to Andrew’s little bed in front of everyone during the service. And as the service continued…I watched my children play together for both the first and last time…and my heart rejoiced as I was able to see Jonathan, Annah, and Andrew play together on a beautifully, sunny fall day…surrounded by family and friends.

After the service, Stacy and I stayed behind and we decided to stay until everything was done. We had unfinished business because when Stacy found out she was pregnant, she got a book to read to Andrew on the night he was born. Sadly she never got to read it to him the night he was born, so we decided to read it to him on the day he was buried. And as Stacy read aloud to Andrew the book, we played a song and listened to the words and we enjoyed one last moment together. Then I got down on my knees and picked up my son’s casket and gently placed it into the ground. Stacy then placed on top of it the baby blue blanket given to Andrew from his family and the toy Annah had given to her brother…then we watched as long as we could until the only thing we could see was the gently placed dirt that now covered our son’s little bed.

Godspeed, little man

My son's funeral was today; although there were many, many joys of the day, I think I can honestly say that it's been the worst day of my life.

We only had a graveside service for Andrew, so we had the option to just meet at the cemetery, but I felt that making the drive with him was the thing to do. We met at the funeral home early, and a couple of my closest friends from the Sheriff's Office (Jennifer and Shanon) were there to give us an escort to the cemetary. (It was a bit different than the normal escort we give to the public, because the cemetary that we were going to was outside of our county, and we normally don't do that - but this was a special situation for my department because of us.)

Anyway, we spent a little more time with Andrew at the funeral home, said some private goodbyes, and got ready to leave. When we got on the road, I was flooded with emotion. Every intersection we came to, and I mean each and every one, was filled with City of Milledgeville police cars, Baldwin County Sheriff's Office patrol cars, Georgia State Patrol cars, and Baldwin County Fire Department trucks, each with their lights flashing. Many had their drivers outside, standing at attention, honoring us and my baby boy as we passed. I felt so loved and respected, and Austin was filled with the same emotions. The tears flowed freely from both of us.

It was a long drive to the cemetary, almost an hour. The little kids were tired before we got there, but they handled it well. When we got there, there were cars everywhere, and I had not realized just how many close friends and family would be there. Austin's Air Force family was there showing their concern for us as well. We parked the van, and waited as they unloaded my baby's tiny casket from the car. When things were settled, we got out and got seated. Jonathan and Annah wanted to play, and we didn't stop them from getting up and walking around Andrew's casket during the service.

The bishop did a great job as he talked about eternal families. He read a letter that his wife had written to us, a letter written from Andrew's perspective. It was very lovely and filled me with love and with pain as he read it aloud. His wife later gave us a framed copy of it.

The service was short, but Austin was given a chance to speak briefly, and it was beautiful. We sang "I am a child of God," then Andrew's grave was dedicated by one of our closest family friends. Then it was over. The public part anyway.

We said our goodbyes to everyone, and spoke to the funeral director about what we wanted to do next. After everyone left, we got the CD player out and played "Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)," as we read a book called "On the night you were born" to Andrew. I bought it right after we found out we were pregnant, and it's been sitting there, waiting to be read. Since we'll never have the chance to read it to him in life, I thought it was appropriate to do there, while his spirit was still present with us.

We said our goodbyes to our baby boy, and Austin placed him into his final resting place. Then I put his puppy blanky on top of his casket, along with Annah's little penguin (Jonathan recinded his gift at the last minute, but that was okay - it was complete the thought that counts and I'm so impressed with my boy for even offering his new toy to his brother), and we watched as he was covered and the flowers were placed on top. It was the hardest thing I've ever done.

My baby is gone. It's hard to move past that, and I'm not sure how to do it. Comments like "It was for the best" and "You can move on now" are utterly absurd, and I get angry every time I hear the words. I'm trying very hard to get a handle on myself, but I'm not doing a very good job.

During family prayer tonight, Annah prayed that "Mommy would be able to stop crying." It broke my heart all over, especially because I don't know if I WANT to stop crying, and I know it hurts her to see it.

Anyway, Godspeed, little man. Sweet dreams, and I love you.

More tears

Just when I thought my tears were starting to dry, a fresh new batch started; we went to the funeral home this afternoon. To walk in and see a tiny white casket, to know that my baby's body is inside...it was more than I could take, and I broke down. I'm glad that Austin and I went in first; it gave me a moment to just let it out.

Austin and I had gone into town earlier and together we'd picked out a stuffed animal blanky for Andrew, and we took that in with us. The kids came in, and Matthew broke down as well. Jonathan and Annah were very curious, and Jonathan really wanted to see Andrew. Austin and I explained to him that we couldn't see him, but we could talk to him if we wanted. Austin let Jonathan go up and talk to his brother, and Jonathan was very sweet. He told Andrew that he wished he could meet him and that he loved him.

We talked to the kids about the blankey we'd picked out, and everyone hugged it and kissed it and we all put it on top of Andrew's little bed. Then Annah, completely on her own, decided that she wanted to leave her new pink penguin toy with Andrew, and Jonathan agreed that it was a great idea, (I later learned that Jonathan brought this up to begin earlier, while in the car with MaLew - so it was his idea to begin with, I think) and left his brand new Star Wars figure on top of the casket. We ended our visit with a family prayer, our family of six, all together for the first and last time.

I left there feeling overwhelmed, angry, and hurting all over again, but with a heart full of joy because of the kindness of my children. I'm happy that we could have family prayer together, and I am very thankful that my family recognizes that Andrew will always have a place with us, regardless of where his spirit dwells.

Andrew

The last few days have been a whirlwind of disappointment, anger, unbelief, and most of all, pain. I haven't blogged about it, as we had not told everyone, for various reasons, but we are pregnant. Or we were; not anymore.

At not far under 20 weeks, it's hard to believe that this kind of thing happens. But obviously it does. This is no longer a small developing bean; it's a baby. Really, because I could see it on the ultrasound. What we couldn't see is the baby's heartbeat.

I should back up and start at the beginning though. The last week or so, I've had a feeling I couldn't shake; an odd feeling, that can only be described as Mother's Intuition. (One of the doctor's in my practice told her medical student during this whole mess is that the only thing "for sure" in Obstetrics is a mother's instincts.) But I'm rambling, as I tend to do sometimes. Anyway, I went into the doctor's office this past Wednesday morning and told them that I was very stressed out, that I wasn't feeling right, and could they please just see me. They were very kind and worked me in with the nurse practitioner right then. The NP had a medical student with her, and both were very kind. The hopped right on the "let's hear that heartbeat and make you feel better" train. But it didn't happen. They both tried over and over to find the baby's heartbeat, but the couldn't, so they called one of the doctors in, and she couldn't find it either. After that I was taken to the ultrasound room, where it was confirmed that our baby's heart was no longer beating.

The kind of news, in and of itself, is hard to take. The fact that I was in that little room all alone, with only four strangers to hold my hand, made it harder. After a lot of crying, I composed myself a bit; at least enough to listen to the doctor's words; I had to be induced and deliver this baby. She also said that we also wouldn't be able to tell if the baby was a boy or girl.

And who goes to the hospital to have a baby and comes home without one? I've never even been able to imagine the grief a person goes through in that. But now it was my turn to live it. I tried calling Austin, but with him in class at Lackland AFB in Texas, getting him on the phone isn't always easy. I left him a voicemail to call me. When he finally did, almost two hours later, I hated that he had. How do you tell this kind of thing to someone over the phone?

He took it okay; he was upset, but his first concern was for me. I gave him the details and our options (which weren't really many as far as WHAT to do, only WHEN to do it) and we had to hang up so he could go back to class. We talked several times throughout the afternoon, and within a few hours, both my mom and his mom were helping out.

After a very long day and night, on Wednesday, I was able to talk to my doctor Thursday morning. He was very kind and reassured me that everything would be okay afterwards, physically anyway. I made the decision, with Austin completely backing me, that I would go ahead and be induced on Thursday afternoon. My hope was that the baby would be born that evening, well before midnight - as Annah's birthday was the next day. I got myself checked into the hospital, and things got started. My induction itself was pretty familiar...I've was induced my three previous deliveries. But as the time went on, it became harder and harder, both physcially and emotionally.

My contractions started really hard around 10 p.m., and I made the decision not to have any pain medication; I wanted to be completely alert and 100% there during the delivery. The contractions were just as hard and frequent as all my other deliveries, and I'm proud now that I can say I had a natural birth. However, the doctor had been wrong - it was very obvious that we could tell if it was a girl or boy. Andrew Gordon Lewis was born at 11:04 p.m. on Thursday, October 16, 2008. He weighed 2.3 ozs., and was 6 1/2 inches long.

I had two wonderful nurses, Christy and Lorane, who stayed with me the entire time of the labor and delivery. Lorane wrapped her arms around me and told me I was so strong. She also called the next day to check on me. Christy was open and honest about what would happen after the baby was born, and did all that she could to make me comfortable. More importantly, she treated Andrew's little body with the respect and care he deserved. I was able to hold him and take some pictures, and she took some pictures of us together. She even brought him back to me the next morning so I could say goodbye one last time before the funeral home picked him up.

I wound up having to have surgery to stop my bleeding; turns out that I was a little stubborn and took too long holding baby Andrew, and I bled a bit much. I was taken down to surgery, where my doctor performed a D&C. I'm fine, physically. There was some talk about me needing a blood transfusion, but things worked out okay, and I didn't have to go there, thankfully.

I was able to feel a lot of peace holding Andrew and looking at his perfect little body; he was so beautiful. I'm thankful for the knowledge that families can be eternal. Andrew was perfect, in both body and spirit, and I know that one day, we will be together again.

No mother should ever have to plan her child's funeral. But we have. Andrew's services will be Monday morning, October 20, at 11:00 a.m. He will be buried with my grandparents and great-grandparents.

Austin was able to get leave, and flew in from Texas early yesterday morning. We've been able to spend some time together and talk. The other kids have handled things pretty well. Matthew is taking things okay...we kept him in the know from the beginning. We told Jonathan and Annah today, and while Annah is still too young to really understand, Jonathan did. He kept telling us, "But I want to meet him!" It was hard...one of the hardest things I've ever had to do as a mother. This afternoon we'll take our children to see their brother's casket, and to make the final arrangements for Andrew.

I said it in a very recent post; life is short. Unfortunately, I just didn't realize how short it truly is.

Sleepless in Milledgeville

My children won't sleep. The little ones, I mean. It's not a complaint or a gripe. It's just a fact. They won't sleep alone, and they won't sleep together. However, they WILL sleep with me. So after (what are we now, almost two weeks into Austin being gone?) almost two weeks of battling each and every bedtime, I've made a decision. The little buggers can sleep with me until Austin comes home.

Yes, I know I'll regret it. I'm already well aware. But the lack of sleep is killing everyone, and yes, that does include myself. But really...7 1/2 or 8 hours of sleep is NOT enough for an almost-three year old and a four year old, so I've got to do something. Bedtime has always been easier with Austin here. (When he left the fire department and went to his job with the Department of Defense at Robins, nights were great, because he was here every night!) That's just one of the many reasons I'm ready for him to come home, and we still have quite a while before that happens.

So until then, Milledgeville - or at least our little corner of it - will NOT remain sleepless!

You never know how much time you'll have

"Life is short." I've heard it a thousand times. But never has it been more real to me than this morning. A wonderful friend of mine lost her baby girl last night. I can't imagine how she must be feeling; I hope I never have to.

And it made me realize how much I complain; I complain about my lack of sleep, about the constant craziness that my home is, about how I never have enough time to myself, and how I'm always on the go, doing something for someone. The sad truth about it all? I don't deserve it. There are so many people out there that would love to have what I do, and I take it for granted. And it's ridiculous.

So I'm going to shut up. I'm going to spend every second of my crazy life with my crazy family, doing just what they want to do. There's plenty of time for rest, and plenty of time for quiet....later. Now is all I know for sure that I have with them....and I plan to take full advantage of it.

In the words of Joseph b. Wirthlin, “Come what may, and love it.” I plan to.

The day from.....

Yeah, it was one of those days. It started off pretty normal (if there is such a thing in our life!); I had three CHAMPS classes to teach yesterday, and then had plans to leave work and take Jonathan to a doctor's appointment in Warner Robins. But life had different plans.

During my last class, the front office called and said that I had a phone call in the teacher's workroom. Odd, because nobody ever contacts me at my schools; I immediately knew something was wrong.

It was Jonathan's school. One of the administrator's, Ms. Hollis, said that Jonathan had fallen and "bumped" his mouth, and that he'd probably need a stitch or two. Now, I unfortunately have a tendency to panic, but there was good reason this time. I made a mad dash back to the classroom that I was teaching in, made my excuses, packed up and got out of there.

It was a short drive over to the Early Learning Center...it was just next door from where I'd been teaching. I ran down the hallway as fast as I could safely make it, and walked into Jonathan's classroom to see his teacher holding him on her lap, an ice pack and a bunch of paper towels pressed to his mouth. I got over to him and pulled the towels away...and almost freaked. The wide open space that used to be his lip upset me; there was a gap of about a half an inch that completely opened up his lip and split it in two.

After a quick conversation with the other adults in the room, Jonathan's teacher helped me get Jonathan loaded up in the patrol car, and the three of us took off towards the emergency room. We didn't have to wait too terribly long, and then we were taken on to the back to get started on some stitches. I won't even get into how much Jonathan screamed during the process (however I will say that his screaming was more directed at the fact that three people were laying on top of him, not allowing him to move, rather than the stitches that were being put into his mouth), but eight painful ones later, we were done. Or so we thought.

The nurse had us sign the discharge papers, and we were on our way. But no sooner had I gotten Jonathan into the car seat, when he reached up and yanked out the main stitch. So we turned around and paraded back inside for another round of stitching.

Finally we were truly on our way out of there and hopefully on the road to both recovery and home! It was a long night of Jonathan pulling at those stitches, and he had a lot of pain, but we made it through. Hopefully we're over the worst part of it. We go back to the ER on Tuesday to get the stitches out.

And of course, what would this be without a pictures of my little man's battle scars?

Just a few pictures

Life is kind of slow right now, but here's some pictures I've taken recently.

Oh, and Austin made it to San Antonio early afternoon on Sunday. There was major construction on I-10 (I think), and it was closed, so he didn't make very good time on Saturday, but I'm still glad he left on Friday; that way he didn't have to rush and it wasn't a frantic trip. (He thinks I forced him out on Friday, but the truth is, I would have loved him home one more day!

Anyway, on to the photos....

The cross stitch project I've been working on for Annah-bug's bedroom door (took me like four months!):



Matthew with his new "Plan B" skateboard that he got from Uncle Randy (and Grandma) for his 12th birthday last week:



Trying out the grind rail that I bought him:





Jonathan "bird watching" with a pair of binoculars that he made at school:





Miss Halloween herself!

The countdown begins

My sweetie left this morning for Lackland AFB in Texas; for the next three months, I'm on my own. I'm sad, and feeling overwhelmed at the thought of taking care of three kids by myself. We've been through deployments before, but it was before the two little ones were born, so it was a bit different. However, I've got a lot of help lined up; my mother-in-law (MaLew) plans to come up once a week and help out with things like laundry and pre-making some meals for us for the week ahead. I also have a friend at church who has offered to keep the kids for me while I do grocery shopping, which in and of itself, is a huge help. Another friend has offered to pick Matthew up from his Disc Golf practices and tournaments each week. So while I know that all will be fine, at this tender moment it doesn't feel that way. The weekend ahead seems long, but I have specific plans - nothing at all! I'm going to stay home and catch up on laundry and house cleaning, and go nowhere. I might not even get dressed.

So the countown begins. The calendar is up on the fridge and ready for days to be marked off each night. I'm not normally one to say this, but December just can't come fast enough this year.