findings:

we found out yesterday that our little Emeth passed away from Amniotic Band Syndrome. there's a few articles online about it - you can look it up. basically, a small part of the tissue from the amniotic sac ruptures, and attaches itself onto the baby or the umbilical chord. it forms a band around wherever it attaches, and as the child grows, it remains constricted. when on the umbilical chord (emeth had a few wrapped around the chord), the blood supply is gradually cut off. when around the baby, it causes physical deformities. Amniotic Bands around the umbilical chord are a really really rare occurrence, most always causing of stillbirth. It's not genetic, nor is it caused by anything that they can pinpoint. It won't happen to any of my other children since it's so rare. sigh...

our reaction to the findings?... relief. i guess. and sadness... it's a little heartbreaking to imagine my little son slowly losing what he needs to live, unable to cry for the nourishment he lacks. but then the Lord mercifully intervenes into my mind and fills it with the truth - of my little child slowly losing what he needs from me, and quietly falling into the Lord's big, tender hands, gaining all he needs from his Heavenly Father. it's a big, glaring, startling truth that this child had to learn so early - how the world cannot be all we need to live, and only the Lord can give life. i wish i could've completely learned it so early. it leaves my arms feeling (necessarily) inadequate and empty. for no fault of my own, i was inadequate and Christ was adequate. under no circumstances could i have remedied this situation. overall, i am humbled before the Lord. it's a strange life, isn't it?

and yet we rejoice to know that i am able to carry perfectly healthy children. we smile at the nurse's words, "it's just basically unlucky - very very unlucky, you know?" ... she doesn't know it's my God's providence and something far from the trio of fate, chance and luck, but considered carefully and with lots of modification, her words are comforting. yes, we are comforted to find out why he passed... and we have a fresh new batch of 'why's and 'what if's to combat with the Truth. and a new bit of tears to cry.

today's thought

today, as i was driving to my drawing class, i had a thought: i don't even know what it's like to bring a baby home - the joys and the struggles are completely foreign to me. in a strange way, this is a little gift of grace. i had been thinking that losing a firstborn must be harder than losing a second or third or etc born... but you know, it must be really hard to come home from the hospital with nothing when you know what it is like to have a child to hold. i think then, that it's just a different sort of grief. if my inexperienced arms felt empty and aching, i wonder what experienced arms must feel like...

i read Solomon's story about the two harlots who were fighting over one living child with a different perspective today. i suddenly understood the desperation of the mother who stole the living child after finding her own child dead. and of her angry heart as she told Solomon to "go ahead and divide the child between us" - perhaps knowing that if the other woman's child were also dead, at least she would have someone to grieve with - someone in the same situation. boy... i couldn't imagine that case being taken to court today with lawsuits etc. there would have been DNA testing and everything.

i am doing very well now for the last 4 days. yesterday, we found out that one of our guinea pigs (for husbandlove's first grade classroom) is in fact a male, and not a female, as we'd been told. so now, instead of expecting a little boy in September, we are to expect guinea pig piglets in November! what surprises!!!  (i sincerely hope that doesn't sound inappropriate - i do try to find cheeriness where i can!) and what a fun science lesson for his little first grade class! we had the best time laughing after the shocking discovery last night.

today is sunny and quiet. 

to whoever has followed my blog thus far:

our dear little son, Emeth Lander Robins, has gone ahead to heaven and is precious in the arms of Jesus now. he passed at 29 weeks in-utero. we mourn his going - it's very hard to lose a first-born. it's very hard to lose a little one you've surrounded and held and nourished for 7 months. we've grieved well, though. we know this much. and how long has it been now since July 7th when i delivered his little body? ... let me check... 7 weeks. i was so proud to hold him and to be a mother. he was beautiful - 2 pounds 9 ounces - 15 inches long. had his daddy's hands and eyes, his grandpa's feet, his mommy's nose, mouth & chin, his grandma's nose... he was just perfect and tiny. we held him and loved him for a day, blessed and baptized him at a family memorial service, then let him go. i think that kissing his little chilly head and leaving him in the nurse's arms and walking out of the hospital with a little yellow box containing hand/foot prints, his hospital tags, and a little blue cap was the hardest thing i've ever done in my life.

yet we have grieved well. and the Lord has been so so good to us through this all.

here is something i never knew until July 7th: if you ever hear that someone has lost a little one, please take the time to ask questions... what did he/she look like? did you name him? was she just beautiful? tell me about the delivery. do you have pictures i could see? who was there with you? who was the nurse you left her with at the hospital? did you like that nurse? what was the kindest thing someone's done for you in this grief? show me, with your hands, how big your baby was. so when you held him, he was about this big? tell me about how you first found out. what were some of the things you'd done to get ready for her? did you have a crib waiting? was there something very special you'd gotten just for him? something you'd made? what did you pray over your baby while she was in the womb?

i start to wonder how many people i haven't done this for. i hope i remember from now on.

i read this poem today, and liked it:

.............

When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider

the orderliness of the world. Notice

something you have never noticed before,

like the tamourine sound of the snow-cricket

whose pale green body is no longer than your thumb.

Stare hard at the hummingbird, in the summer rain,

shaking the water-sparks from its wings.

Let grief be your sister, she will whether or no.

Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also,

like the diligent leaves.

A lifetime isn't long enough for the beauty of this world

and the responsibilities of your life.

Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away.

Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.

In the glare of your mind, be modest.

And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling.

Live with the beetle, and the wind.

This is the dark bread of the poem.

This is the dark and nourishing bread of the poem.

........by Mary Oliver.

120 more days

this morning, i looked on my i-google pregnancy calendar and read this entry: "You are 22 weeks and 6 days pregnant. Only 120 days to go!" that's not very long, is my thought.

aside from my feeling very disorganized, messy, irresponsible, un-stylish, tired and procrastinatory, today should be a fine day... these are the times when i wish so much that my mom were right in town, and could come over and help me set things right over a cup of tea. plus, you know, it really is hard to live with only 2 pairs of fitting pants (especially when one's dirty and laundry takes a total of 4 days between the tiny washer and line-drying)... well, i have two pairs of sweats, but those don't count.

well then: i suppose i should make a sandwich and do some work in the next 1.5 hours before teaching. the bells are lovely here - everyday at noon they ding away, playing tunes and dongs. love to everyone i know.

eth is quite cheery in the mornings

congrats to me: for two days i have gotten up at 5:40 to work out with eth. he is very cheery in the morning, saying optimistic things like, "well, we'll catch up on sleep eventually" and "wow, isn't that sunrise gorgeous?" and "we'll try to be on time tomorrow - we did our best today" and "it's such a sunny day today" and "boy does exercise wake me up and get me ready for the day"... he smiles a lot too. i don't smile very much, nor can i think of optimistic things to say other than things like, "wow, that bed sure looks comfy" and "i can't wait till bedtime tonight" and "aren't feather pillows soft?". maybe in a couple weeks i'll stop being grumpy at 5:40. off to teach little kindergarteners how to play piano...

hello, we are happy parents of a little boy!

in case you didn't hear, the little one growing bigger in me is a boy! we're naming him Emeth Lander. well, he's already named that, but it'll be legal when he comes out. today Husbandlove knelt down to chat with him. after a few "Emeth, Emeth?"'s, the little buddy started kicking around and doing who knows what in his warm little nest until Eth stopped talking to him. we were excited and smiled a lot. for the first time, i wasn't sure of a completely comfortable way to lean down and tie my shoes tonight.

our new home is lovely. everyone should come visit us now. the rooms that we've finished arranging are the kitchen and our bedroom. next, we tackle the office, then the bathroom, then the livingroom. Pippy (our budgie) is very happy in this home and spends most of her days chirping, fluffing her feathers, chewing her toys, eating, and whistling.

oops, i put my cookie in some milk to soak, then left it in too long and now it's crumbly mush in my cup. oh dear. off to fetch a spoon, then head to bed!

cair.