grief

Our Prayer Requests for Brielle’s Birth

~ lovingbrielle ~ Leave a comment

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This weekend and the beginning of this week are, perhaps, going to be the hardest time of mine and David’s life. We have not been able to come as far as we have without the love, encouragement, and prayers of the many who follow this page and who follow our story. David and I will never be able to express how much we appreciate everyone’s kindness to us during this time. We’ve come to rely on everyone’s love and prayers during this time and even though you have all given so much, we need to ask for even more. We need so much prayer during the next few days.

I am overwhelmed at times with fear and anxiety. I believe that God could still reveal a complete healing for Brielle or that he could be in the process of healing her. I also know that healing may not be in his plan and while I trust God in this, I don’t know how to exist without my sweet Brielle. I think of the moment I have the epidural and I no longer feel Brielle move. What will her last wiggle feel like and when will it be? I’m so terrified of this time. I just want to see my little girl grow up, I just want her to live. I’m doing my best to stay positive, but I feel like I’m about to fall apart, and this is the time I need to be the strongest! Brielle doesn’t need a Mommy that is a basket case, she needs a Mommy that will guide her through this transition, whatever it may be. So we need prayers, so many prayers.

David and I need strength and courage. We need peace and hope. I don’t want to cry while she is alive, I need help with this. When (or if) I see her exposed brain, I will have a pretty good idea of how long she will last, and I need strength in that moment. If she passes, I need the strength to help her through that process and tell her it’s okay. I need the courage to handle whatever situation we are presented with. And I need the peace that passes understanding. And I need hope. I need to hope for her and not let stats deter me from hoping the best for Brielle.

I also need medical prayers. I was advised to never have abdominal surgery again, and I’m about to have a major one. I need prayers for my recovery, specifically my nervous system. The nerves in my abdomen are severely damaged from previous surgeries and they can’t handle much more damage. Dr. B is one of the best and a very talented surgeon, I trust him. Regardless, my body doesn’t handle surgery well. Please pray I recover well from this and am coherent and not drowsy after delivery. Please also pray that I do not have postpartum hemorrhaging from my polyhydramnios or an amniotic fluid embolism due to the poly and Brielle’s anencephaly.

Then there is sweet Brielle. She needs the most prayer. She needs prayers of healing, miraculous healing, complete healing, she needs prayers of life. She needs prayers of physical and emotional strength. Brielle needs courage as well. This is going to be a very scary experience for her. She’s going to experience what all babies experience, cold, light, loud noise, etc. And that is going to be a big adjustment, especially if her brain is exposed. She’s going to be scared, I’m going to sound different, everything is going to be scary and she may be in pain. She needs help with this. She needs to be able to eat and breathe on her own. She needs prayers that she wont develop an infection and that her vitals will be stable and strong. She needs prayers specifically for her brain: that the nervous system is strong, her blood vessels are strong, the tissue is strong, organized and well developed. If her brain is exposed, we need prayers that she stays warm and that her brain tissue stays healthy (her brain covering will be kept wet and that will make her very cold). If it’s not God’s will for her to live, please pray that she has as much time with us as possible. We want her to meet as many people as possible and to only know love and happiness. Please pray that this is possible. Please also pray that she is in a breech position at the time of delivery. Dr. B plans to pull her out by her feet to reduce damage to her brain, he will turn her by sticking his hand into my uterus, grabbing her legs, and turning her. It would be great if she was already in the position he needed.

And then there is David, these requests are directly from him. That he has the strength for the situation, that he wont be exhausted. That he wont be afraid for her and he wont be pessimistic. And that he will trust God to get us and her through. And that he will be a good Daddy and a good husband (which he already is).

Thank you all for your love and support during this time.

Even When it Hurts

~ lovingbrielle ~ Leave a comment

Take this fainted heart
Take these tainted hands
Wash me in Your love
Come like grace again

Even when my strength is lost
I’ll praise You
Even when I have no song
I’ll praise You
Even when it’s hard to find the words
Louder then I’ll sing Your praise

I will only sing Your praise
I will only sing Your praise
I will only sing Your praise

Take this mountain weight
Take these ocean tears
Hold me through the trial
Come like hope again

Even when the fight seems lost
I’ll praise You
Even when it hurts like hell
I’ll praise You
Even when it makes no sense to sing
Louder then I’ll sing Your praise

I will only sing Your praise
I will only sing Your praise
I will only sing Your praise

And my heart burns only for You
You are all You are all I want
And my soul waits only for You
And I will sing till the morning has come

Lord my heart burns only for You
You are all You are all I want
And my soul waits only for You
And I will sing till the miracle comes

I will only sing Your praise
I will only sing Your praise
I will only sing Your praise

Even when the morning comes
I’ll praise You
Even when the fight is won
I’ll praise You
Even when my time on earth is done
Louder then I’ll sing your praise

I will only sing Your praise

 

I’m Twenty Five Today

~ lovingbrielle ~ Leave a comment
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My Mother and I on the day I was born.

I’m twenty five today. Brielle is 37 weeks today. My Mother and I have individually spent the day thinking about how I am almost in the exact same situation she was in twenty five years ago. She didn’t know it, but she was about to have a daughter (she was expecting a boy) and I am a few weeks away from having a little girl as well. Today is a strange day, it should be a happy day.

When I was a little girl I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, a mom. When I was four I “married” Batman and we had twelve kids. Twelve. Over the years I’ve been asked to choose a profession, a degree, a goal in life. Being a mother was never an acceptable answer, but it is all I’ve ever wanted to be. So I should be happy, I’m twenty five today and I am a mother. I’m a mommy to the best little girl that could ever exist. But I’m not happy. I’m grieving, I’m afraid, I’m deep in despair, and I just want all of the pain I’m in to stop. I want to hold onto Brielle and never, ever let go. My body is ready for Brielle to arrive, my heart and my mind are not. It’s the last thing I want. But my body can’t keep up anymore. So I’m sitting at home crying, because the day she arrives is getting closer. And I just want to keep her inside me for forever. I’m spending the day mad at myself for being upset, when I should be celebrating a milestone that I share with Brielle.

Last week we had such high hopes and great news from our visit to the doctor. Thursday we went back for another scan. David and I fully expected to see improvement or complete healing. We got the opposite. My fluid levels were up to 44 cm, Brielle wasn’t breathing, and my placenta, although still in the normal range, is not doing as well as it used to. David has remained optimistic, but I am not optimistic by nature. In this way, I struggle much more than David does. It’s not uncommon for a baby at this stage to not show signs of breathing, so it may not be a bad thing. She was moving so much we couldn’t get a clear picture of her bones, so who knows if anything has changed. And my fluid levels? We’re completely confused. My body is doing better than it was at 30 cm, David can wrap his arms around me and grab his wrists, and the areas of my skin that were stretched to the max at 47 cm are flabby and loose. My body is showing no physical sign of increased fluid levels (quite the opposite), but the scan says differently.

I spent the rest of Thursday crying or sleeping. And today I’ve just hurt, pain so deep that every breath hurts. David keeps telling me he won’t give up, and that I shouldn’t either, God’s not finished yet. And I won’t give up, I haven’t. But I’m tired. The past seventeen weeks have pushed me mentally, emotionally, and physically past my breaking point. And I’m exhausted, in every way. I don’t have the strength to hope, to grieve, to even think.

My Mom raved about a Bible study she did on Esther by Charles R. Swindoll. So I bought the book and have started the study. Last night, after I had cried my eyes out talking to Brielle, I picked up the book and read the second chapter, hoping to find some comfort. It was interesting, nothing too comforting, until about eleven pages in.

“God can move the hearts of the rulers of this world wherever and whenever He wishes. And, in case you’ve forgotten, He is in no hurry. We tend to think that if God is really engaged, He will change things within the next hour or so. Certainly by sundown. Absolutely by the end of the week. But God is not a slave to the human clock. Compared to the works of mankind, He is extremely deliberate and painfully slow…This is the big picture that we need to see if we are to put our anxieties on hold. God is at work.”

I wanted complete healing for Brielle for my birthday, but that’s not what God wanted. He has a different and better plan and I have no idea what that is. I don’t know how to do this part. I don’t know how to trust or hope, and quite frankly, I’m too tired to actively learn. So I’ll wait and believe. And I’ll believe that God understands my pain and that he will be patient with me. I don’t like this, I want relief and I want things done my way. But that is a rather petulant attitude to have. And God is undeserving of this. He has answered every single prayer I have asked of him. And, in the past twenty weeks he has saved mine and Brielle’s life at least four times. I shouldn’t complain or doubt, he’s taking care of us. But I would be very grateful if he would give David and I a break from this rollercoaster we’ve been on. At least I know he understands and he isn’t angry with me for my weakness.

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him, for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust…” Psalm 103: 13-14

So today I will be sad, I will cry, and wallow in my own misery. But I will continue to believe that God isn’t finished and that he will completely heal Brielle. I’ll also grieve knowing that he understands and doesn’t expect me to be strong all the time, I’m allowed to be weak, because I am just dust. And he is far greater than I could ever imagine or understand.

Happy Birthday Papa

~ lovingbrielle ~ Leave a comment

Today is my Papa’s birthday, he’d be 75 this year. We have this strange thing in my Wolford family where a lot of us were born in October, I mean a lot. Papa and I are almost exactly fifty years apart. I was born on October 16, 1990 he on October 4, 1940. I always appreciated this, because otherwise I would not have been able to remember how old he was. Numbers and dates aren’t my thing.

But they were his thing. Papa was incredibly smart and could rattle off a complex equation in seconds. He was funny, really funny. I can still hear his laugh when I think of the stories he would tell. He adored his family and truly was the best Papa I could have ever asked for or even dreamed of. Papa had his faults, but when it came to how he loved and treated his family, well let’s just say he was in a league of his own. Nothing made him happier than seeing his family come together and fill up the house. And we’d fill it. Roughly twenty of us (plus a few large dogs) in a three bedroom two bath house. Our family comes from Ft. Worth, Chicago, Nashville, and Atlanta. We travel specifically to see each other during the summer holidays in Arkansas and in the winter we go to Chicago for Christmas. We’ve done this for decades, long before I was even on Billy Goat’s Hill. We do it because we’re a family and we love each other, through thick and thin.

Papa died December 22, 2014. It wasn’t sudden. He’d been on hospice for three weeks and he had been battling stage 4 melanoma for six hard years. During those three weeks, the Wolford family gathered repeatedly to love on Papa and tell him how wonderful and amazing he was and still is. Papa was surrounded with people who loved him, old friends, new friends, and family gathered to tell him what a special man he was. What a great friend he was, what a great father he was, what a great Papa he was. His biggest concern about dying was leaving his family behind. And I have to say it has been hard.

I just want to hear his voice, when I’m struggling and feel like my world is coming down because everything is stacked against Brielle. I just want to know he’s there, but I know what he would say. He would tell me that he’s going to believe she is going to live, and why not, she’s a fighter. He would stay positive and tell me that he’s not going to stop believing in her. He’d laugh when I would tell him about the silly things she does. He’d love to see her pictures and he would love her. He’d think she was the most special thing and he’d just love her to death. It wouldn’t matter what she looked like or acted like, he’d think she was perfect and he’d tell me so too. I need my Papa and I miss my Papa. I’ll be with Papa again, but for now I, and my family, have to go on missing a beautiful and wonderful piece of our lives.

I’m thankful I got to know Papa, thankful that he fought as hard as he did, thankful that I have such a wonderful family, because of him and Grandma. He doesn’t suffer anymore and I can’t be sad about that. I can only be sad for myself. So Happy 75th Birthday Papa! I know that you are happy, I know that you are okay, and that you are not suffering or in pain. I love you and I miss you. We’ll be okay.

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This is a picture of the first time Papa held me.
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This was taken last year around October 12.

Putting Brielle’s Room Together

~ lovingbrielle ~ Leave a comment
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Room inspiration for Brielle’s nursery. Photo credit here.

My parents and I have bought Brielle a few outfits. And I’ve hung them up in her closet. I originally thought this would make me sad. Wouldn’t it be heartbreaking to go into a room that was supposed to be hers and it go unused? Or to look into a closet that was filled with her things and know she’ll never use them? So I didn’t go into her room for weeks. I didn’t put her nursery together and I didn’t hang things in her closet. And then I did.

I’d stand there with a huge smile on my face, looking at her frilly outfits that she probably wont fit into and really not caring if she did or didn’t. David would come in and join me and we’d laugh about how cute she’d look with her beautiful smile and a ruffly dress with a big bow on her small little head. We’d stand there and happily dream about a future with her.

I decided I wasn’t going to let her room sit empty. It’s still her room. We even call it Brielle’s room. So we’re going to hire painters and paint it for her. I’ll leave the guest bed in there, because we’ll need it and I didn’t plan on putting her crib together until she was older anyways. I’ll buy her bookshelves for her books. And keep her special blankets and toys in her room too. It feels wrong not to.

I think about when her younger sibling comes someday and telling them, “This was Brielle’s room, but we didn’t finish it.” And I don’t like that train of thought. I like the idea of saying. This is where we hoped to bring your big sister. Here are her footprints and this blanket was made special just for her. I imagine showing them who she was and what she was like.

I imagine the days after she’s died, sitting in her room and looking at her cute little things and thinking, she lived, she mattered. Maybe not for long, but she was real. I like the idea of having proof that my daughter existed and meant the world to David and I. We’ve let her fill every nook and cranny of our lives. Why would we let an unused room that we pass every single day go untouched by her?