Scary Honest Rawness- the not pretty part that got turned beautiful

When I got pregnant with Gracie, I was not in a good place. The year and a half of not sleeping with Kotah had caught up. We were dealing with housing issues. I was dealing with some past issues. Trying to keep my kids safe. I was worn out in all ways. Physically, spiritually, emotionally. Most days I felt so much hurt and pain. It came out in different ways. I was in therapy, trying to work through everything. And then, I got pregnant.
Gracie was not planned. At least, not by me. God knew what he was doing though. Pregnancy is not an easy thing for my body, especially when I am in a very low emotional place. I had extreme weight loss. I had to get IVs multiple times as everything came up.

When we found out that Gracie was not going to make it, someone made the comment to me that "well, you didn't want another one anyways, did you?" (not the best thing to say, but it was truth) For the first 10 weeks, no. I was mad that I was pregnant. I didn't want to be. I didn't want to have to worry about ruining another child by not being a good enough mom. There were multiple people I thought would make a better mom than me. Pretty much that included everyone. While I try to be open, there are some things I do not share, but there were other reasons I was angry about being pregnant. All part of a perfect storm.

Finally, around week 10, I started accepting that I was pregnant. As I got over the bump of intense depression, things seemed brighter. I picked out names. I slept with my hand on my belly. And then there was my 12 week appointment. My midwife knew that I had been having a rough go and I talked about how I was accepting and grateful for the tiny life that grew inside of me. Which is probably why she didn't say that the heart rate was to high, but I knew. It was not my first rodeo. I pointed it out and asked her what was wrong and she looked down and said "Oh, this early they can always be high." There are times when I can tell someone is lying. That was one.
All of a sudden a bunch of emotions set in. Panic and fear over what could be wrong. Shame and guilt for once hating that which was pure that I could now loose. Determination to fight to do whatever I could for my baby. Those 4 weeks between the next ultra sound were super long. But I started to worry. What if I wasn't a righteous enough momma and not worthy to have this baby? What if, because of my actions over the past months, my baby would be taken from me? What if I hadn't prepared my body well enough with supplements and exercise and it wouldn't be able to carry the baby full term? Would my selfish actions cause the death of an innocent being? For the most part, I silently carried these fears to myself. Continually working to heal, to change. I sought a second opinion who also said that my baby would be fine, they were sure of it. But sometimes moms just know. More than any other professional person. Moms know. 

And so, when I watched the picture on the screen at the 16 week ultrasound and knew that something was definitely wrong, my brain went into hyper drive, bargaining with God, planning what doctors to call for help which the separate diagnosis, asking for every option. My fears were becoming a reality. 

The multiple specialist visits the following weeks did little to help. The one doctor said "well, you can always hope." But his eyes held none for Gracie. As we reached the point where there was not going to be a turn around, they responded beautifully to our emotional needs. 3D images, longer recordings of her heartbeat. My midwife made it known to me and her nurses that though there was nothing they could do for Gracie, they would do everything they could for me. If that meant I came in everyday for an ultrasound, then it was instructed that I was to be fit in (she is a VERY busy woman so that was generous of her). 

In a few months I had gone from not feeling as if I had a heart to feeling it break more and more everyday. I never prayed for her to heal, I only prayed that God would perform the miracles as fitted His purpose and design. I knew she wouldn't live and I didn't want her to suffer (they said she wasn't in pain but if my heart was stop and go, my body wasn't built right, I had excess weight attached to my neck and head and everywhere else, I am pretty sure I would be in pain) but I also knew God had a plan. 

I was a different person than I had been, but something had still not changed. I had not yet started going to the temple. I had an anxiety over the temple. My first time through I was scared so bad I was shaking. This was due to some things I had gone through in my past. After Kotah was born, I had stopped going. It just got easy not to go. And the more I didn't go, the worse the anxiety got, to the point I couldn't even have Ty talk about when he would go. I almost didn't even go to the dedication of the Ogden temple being broadcast to my church building. That is how bad it was. I knew it was unfounded. Logically I knew. But by this time, my body was having physical reactions of fear, it was so easy to not even think about it.

It was a Wednesday when I went in for the last ultrasound of Gracie when she was alive. I watched her struggle. I saw her heart stop and go. I pleaded with my midwife that they could somehow do an operation to help her. To fix her one sided, miniature heart, to drain the excess fluid and allow her relief. But of course, there was nothing that could be done. There would be to many things to fix, that fixing alone would also kill her. We had prepared for this. We had already picked out a grave site. We had her clothes made, volunteer organizations contacted. An amazing and in high demand but came anyways photographer. We spent each day letting the girls play with her. We did so many things, but it couldn't fix it. It wasn't enough to do that. As I prayed that night, I pondered on what Gracie would do if she had just one day here on earth. Just one day. Not as a baby, but as an adult. For her to have that mortal experience, what would she choose to do. Her answer was so strong, she would spend her day in the temple. It knocked the wind out of me and yet I knew with every fiber of my being that is what she would do. The next day was hard. We knew we were spending our last moments with her. It might seem strange, talking about spending time with her while she was still a "fetus" and yet she was every much a part of what we did as Katie or Kotah was. That night, I struggled, but I got out the door and went to the temple. It was one of those have no regrets moments. As I was there, I was given the beautiful experience of seeing her pass on. To witness her progression and her mission in becoming more like God. The next day, the ultrasound and other tests confirmed what I already knew, that she had passed at the time I was in the temple. Her body seemed so peace and calm, no longer fighting the trials of mortality that had been placed upon her. 

I wish I could say that it completely changed me and I became a regular temple attender because of that experience, but it took many months and more healing. Yet, it started me on a path of healing and joy I didn't think possible. For the past few months I have been going weekly. I wish it didn't have to be that way. I wish I could have had a different experience to do so. Some days I am so grateful for what loosing Gracie did for me and some days I hate that it happened the way it did, but I know that God knows it all. I may not get it. I may not see or understand. But I know He does, and I just have to trust and follow Him.

That was long and very open and raw. And I will probably hit post before re-reading it over and over and chickening out. But I do so because I want to be. I want people to realize that just because someone looks like they have it all together while in a trial doesn't mean they do. I had someone tell me the other day that they never noticed I was struggling last year. And so many times I have people say that I am so strong. I don't feel that I deserve that praise. Any strength that got me through my trials, that comes from the Lord. Someone may look like they don't need help, but they probably do. There are hard things in life. And maybe if we talk about them more, others won't feel like they have to have it all together. I didn't. I don't, but from my trials I have learned to turn to God more. And that is what I hope to be able to express by being so open. I know that others have trials that I am not aware of. So I am not sharing to say "look at me", but rather to say "God gets it." That there is hope. Hope requires action. I could have continued to sit with my experience with Gracie in the temple and not returned and allowed the fear to set back in. And for a while, I did. But I needed healing and healing comes through the Lord. And in order to hope for that healing, I have to do my part. Struggling is a part of life, but so is healing. I invite you to turn to the Lord with whatever it is you may be struggling with right now. Because I know that He is there. No matter what.