Glory Baby

I know that I said that this blog is going to be for the present and future, but I feel that I need to include this, because it is part of the realizations that I am making, and part of my growth. And so...

I've been spending most of my free time writing my story. For the four days since I started it, I have still been weepy and teary eyed. And that song, "Glory Baby", has still been haunting me. It plays over and over in my head. Last night it finally hit me, as to why.

Last night, I was going through my graphic files looking for stuff suitable to create a layout for my new blog page. As I scanned through the files, I came across the folder containing pictures of all of my pregnancy tests and ultrasounds. There, in the folder, were the pictures of the ultrasounds from the first trimester of Gabrielle's pregnancy. As I looked at the photos for the first time in over a year, I started sobbing. I suddenly knew why that song had haunted me so, and why I had been brought to that woman's blog.

You see, Gabrielle, my baby girl, was a twin. Her sister, whom we named Grace, passed away early in the pregnancy.

The pregnancy itself was riddled with problems from the beginning. I had just miscarried (very early) and went back to the doctor because I still felt pregnant, only to find out that I was pregnant AGAIN! Very early into the pregnancy, I developed a cyst on my ovary that ruptured and bled. The same day the doctor found the cyst, he saw the gestational sac on the ultrasound. It was empty. When he told me, I could tell he didn't think it would be a viable pregnancy. He tried to sound positive, saying that it was early, and a baby still could show up, but to try and not get my hopes up. All of my levels and everything else looked great so he wanted to wait and do another ultrasound the following week to see if there was anything in the sac.

I held on to the hope that it was too early to see anything and I prayed and prayed for a miracle. And although I couldn't explain why, from the minute he told me what the levels were, I just KNEW there was more than one baby. The following week he did another ultrasound to check on the cyst (which was healing nicely) and look at the sac. Sure enough, within the gestational sac were two yolk sacs. It was too early to see the babies themselves, but he told me the yolk sacs were normal size, although one was slightly smaller than the other. He cautioned me to not get excited yet, because this looked like a rare type of pregnancy--mono-amniotic twins, and it came with a high risk of miscarriage.

Mono-amniotic twins means that the babies are both inside one gestational sac. It can be dangerous, because there is a risk of the babies getting entangled in each other's cords, twin-to-twin transfusion, (where one twin basically takes the other's blood and nutrient supply) premature rupture of membranes (water breaking too early) you name it. In a typical "momo twins" (the nickname for it) pregnancy, once the babies reach "viability", (24 weeks) the mother is hospitalized and on complete bed rest until the end of the pregnancy. Only a small percent of momo-twins make it to term. The vast majority of them are delivered prematurely. (I know all of this because I did a ton of research as soon as I got home from the doctor's office.)

Even in the face of this possibility, we were elated. The doctor had told us that twins who form inside the same sac are always identical, so we knew that they would look alike. We told our families the big news, and started planning for twins right away. We picked out names for them. Nicholas was convinced they were girls, and the girl names were what we focused on. We only got as far as picking out middle names for boys--Nick felt that there was no need. We dreamed about what they would look like and what our life would be like with 4 children.

Over the next few weeks, I went back and forth to the doctor for ultrasounds to check on the twins. One had been measuring smaller than the other, and it had taken a few extra days to show us a heartbeat than the first one, so he wanted to keep an eye on them. As time went by, the bigger of the babies, "Baby A", grew perfectly. But the smaller twin, "Baby B", was growing at a much slower rate, and the heart rate was much slower than it should have been. I still had hope, but I think that I knew deep down that Baby B was not going to make it.

One morning I woke up to find that I was spotting. I started crying, because I just KNEW that Baby B had gone to Heaven. I went back to the doctor and he did an ultrasound. Although he could find no reason for the spotting, he did confirm my worst fear: Baby B was gone. There had been no more growth and the heartbeat had stopped. He wanted me to keep coming back for more ultrasounds to make sure that Baby A was still doing okay, because twin loss made my miscarriage risk skyrocket.

Instead of grieving the loss of Baby B, I tried to focus on the baby that was still growing in there. The following weeks Baby A (we later found out she was a girl) proved that she was strong and doing just fine. And despite some scares with preterm labor and low amniotic fluid, she made it here just fine. She surprised us a month before her due date but she was just as healthy as could be.

The day we found out that the baby was a girl, we named both her and the twin who went to heaven. To the baby who was wiggling around in my tummy, we gave the name Gabrielle Arianna. And to the sweet angel who left us so early, we gave the name Grace Addison.

Looking at the pictures of the ultrasounds and remembering that part of the pregnancy that made me realize why I had been the way I was. I had never had a chance to really grieve the loss of our little Grace. I had been so focused on Gabrielle, and so scared that she, too, might leave us, that I had just shelved my feelings. Now, as I looked at the photographs, with the measurements and heart rates, I willingly let the tears come. I felt my heart breaking and I cried until my stomach hurt. The words of "Glory Baby" kept echoing in my mind and the harder I tried to think about how she was happy and healthy in Heaven, the harder it seemed to accept. I kept thinking of what it would have been like to have her here. I wondered what her personality would have been like, if she would have enjoyed "peek-a-boo" or enjoyed babbling at her Daddy and pinching his face the way that Gabrielle does.


So yes, now I am finally grieving. I am sad and I am allowing myself to finally feel it. I start to think about how I will never get to see her, or hold her, but then I catch myself and remember that one day, I will. In heaven. Perhaps that is why "Glory Baby" affected me so. Maybe I needed to be reminded that it is okay to be sad for her loss, but I also need to remember that she is with her Savior. "....Heaven is your home, and that's all you'll ever know...all you'll ever know..." Jesus is holding her. She knows no sorrow, no pain, no suffering. And she never will. She will only know peace, and love and the Glory of Him. And one day, when I go home to be with him, I will finally hold her.

I must stop now; the tears are flowing again so it is obviously time for another good cry.

Below, I have posted the lyrics for the song, "Glory Baby" by Watermark.

~Michelle

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Glory baby, you slipped away
as fast as we could say baby, baby..
You were growing, what happened dear?
You disappeared on us baby, baby..

Heaven will hold you before we do
Heaven will keep you safe until we’re home with you…
Until we’re home with you…

But we miss you everyday,
Miss you in every way
But we know that there's a day when we will hold you,
We will hold you

And You’ll kiss our tears away
When we’re home to stay
Can’t wait for the day when we will see you
We will see you

But baby let sweet Jesus hold you
‘till mom and dad can hold you…
You’ll just have heaven before we do
You’ll just have heaven before we do

Sweet little babies, it’s hard to
understand it ‘cause we’re hurting
We are hurting
But there is healing
And we know we’re stronger people through the growing
And in knowing-
That all things work together for our good
And God works His purposes just like He said He would…
Just like He said He would…

BRIDGE:
I can’t imagine heaven’s lullabies
and what they must sound like
But I will rest in knowing, heaven is your home
And it’s all you’ll ever know…all you’ll ever know…