I don't know how to start after such a break. I will do better. Tonight though, I can't sleep and my chest is physically hurting from heartbreak. I miss my girl. Life has gone on beautifully and yet a great deal of anxiety leaves that pain in the throat since the start of April, knowing this next day is approaching. Almost a month of being keenly aware of what happened TWO years ago, starts in under one hour.
I love you Maggie. Tomorrow is your day.
 Wow. So I suppose I kinda left ya hanging there at 38 weeks. Sorry about that! I’ve been busy! So, let me fill you in on life these days with a newborn little sister.
Can I just say that birth was magical?! Our doctor suggested induction at 39 weeks along and we gladly accepted her offer. We checked in at 7ish and the IV was in place and Pitocin started by 8:15 am. My water was broke at 10:30. Not much progress at 12:30 when the doctor returned to check on us. She thought it would be awhile yet and planned to return in a couple of hours leaving us to assist in a surgery. Soon after that a nurse came in and started flipping me back and forth to my sides. Baby was having variable decelerations and possible cord compression was suspected since I was not progressing quickly. Fluids were returned to my body to replace what was lost when the water broke to try and float and cord problem happening but without any change. I could still hear “thump…. thump…. thump….” as the heartbeat slowed with each contraction. It was scary. All I could do was try and keep calm and stop thinking that now I’ll have a cord accident and bury child number two! The nurse gave me oxygen and stopped the Pitocin to give Baby a break. All of a sudden I felt a great amount of pressure. I looked at the nurse and told her that I knew it was time to push and I would try my best not to while they got everything ready. She checked and sure enough!!! Get the doctor! Everyone was scrambling to get equipment and my body into place. I remember laughing that the doctor had just been here and asked the nurses, “Will there actually be a doctor here to deliver her?” It was raining outside and my doctor had to run from across the street from assisting surgery. Her shoulders were soaked as she jumped right into place. “One, two three, PUSH!” Three rounds of pushes and there she was.
I cannot put into words what it felt like to have a tiny body placed on my abdomen after having had the cord cut and a baby taken away. Overwhelming joy! Her tiny body balanced across my belly. I remember touching her so unnaturally, like I was fumbling a ball. She was surprisingly clean. I gave her kisses. My husband cut the cord. The nurses all wowed as they took her to weigh her. “She has red hair!” Yes she does! “She looks just like her dad!” Yes she does! While the nurses went on and on about how tiny she was, we cried. We saw her eyes open and heard the most beautiful cry. These are two things we will never forget. Two things we never had with Maggie. Even among such joy the sorrow seeps in. We are almost used to that.
June Scarlet Colwell. Born on the first day of summer, June 20th 2012. 1:27pm. 5 lb. 15 oz. 18 ½ inches long. She has a face to match her fathers and brilliant Auburn red hair. We love her!
It's been a crazy spring. We planted two raised garden beds a couple of days after Maggie's birthday and we are already starting to enjoy the fresh tastes of home grown veggies. Mmmm. A year marking Maggie's death and burial have both passed now. One of those days I worked, which kept me distracted. We visited her grave and cried a lot that night. Memorial Day marked a year that we buried her. We spent the morning cutting off little plastic tags of clothes and organizing our nursery. We laughed. It was a very pleasant morning reminiscing and moving forward all in one. We miss her. Our thoughts more often have moved from the unfairness, anger and disbelief to wonder, and aw, and joy of our time with her. Still, I find myself on the way to church or thinking of the kindness and support we've had from different groups and I'll tear up missing her again. But thank goodness for that.
Maggie has taught me a lot of things this last year. First of all, God is good. Hard to believe in rough times but I know it to be truth. He is faithful in mysterious ways for sure. I learned how to pray more sincerely, specifically, and with hope. All my prayers are answered faithfully under God's will and timing. Life is not about me. It is not about being happy on earth. I can live and move forward only because my hope is not in earthly pleasure and joys but that one day I will live with Christ and never cry sad tears again! Hallelujah! I have also learned that relationships on earth are important. This is something I did not value before like I do today. Investing in each others lives is how we can support, love and care for each other. This I/we lacked before. We have committed to relationships now, building friendships that will hold fast when tragedy strikes any one of us. I will better know the needs of my community and they will better know mine. I have learned how to better server and show compassion on others. I understand hurt. Thank you Maggie for these lessons. You have made me a better wife, friend, and Christian.
Well, today I am passed the 38 week mark in my subsequent pregnancy. Just a note, I dont' like the term subsequent at all. I hate that I just used the word! Anyway, I am hopeful and yet, still fearful. It is frustrating to make it this far with a healthy full term baby inside, and not be holding her! I can't believe I've held out this long without begging my doctor to start induction. That may still happen but I honestly didn't think I would make it this far. I need to have a live baby. Time is cruel.
We are ready though! My nursery is organized, pretty, calm, waiting. We are excited! Movements in the belly are magical everytime. Maggie didn't move like this child. I cherish every roll, pointy elbow and hiccup. It has been such a joy to fold tiny little socks together and place sweet little dresses on miniature hangers. We are ready. And thanks to my co-workers every closet in the house is stacked with diapers!!! What a help and a blessing. This child is loved already, just like Maggie was, even though most of you never met her. I hope you all get to meet this new precious little girl. And may our same prayer still be answered that this little one's life will glorify God no matter the length of time on Earth. Yes, our hope is in heaven! Thank you God for this little girl we will meet very soon! And please give her a cute button nose!
Well here we are…one year out from Maggie’s birth. So many emotions cross my mind, and I’ve done a pretty good job the last couple of weeks trying to ignore all of them and distract myself with anything else. Tomorrow, is her would-be one year birthday, and I will probably do the same thing, only with less success.
I am 8 months pregnant and very afraid my memories of Maggie will mesh with this new little life. So in an attempt to separate their births from each other and remember the emotions and details, I will share Maggie’s birth story here.
It started a year ago today. Me and my husband arrived very anxious to another weekly appointment with our specialist to measure the growth deficiency of our sweet baby girl. Her growth declining weekly, we knew that this day might be the day we met baby girl. Actually we were hoping to get it over with…we wanted to know the beginning of a beginning, or the beginning of the end. Either way, we had waited, not knowing her outcome, for far too long.
We got our wish. We left the appointment and were told to go have lunch while we waited to hear when our induction would occur. I chose Chinese buffet! Ha! On the way to lunch we heard we would be returning to the hospital that afternoon to start the process. I remember during the ultrasound at the appointment seeing her little feet and being able to count all ten of her toes. I cried tears of joy in the car as I exclaimed my excitement about finally seeing her ten tiny toes!!!! At lunch we were giddy. The waitress found out we were going to be delivering a girl and brought us a pink paper crane she made, for good luck. We brought that back to the hospital and hung it on the closet door. We needed luck it seemed.
At this point in the pregnancy I was just a day or so shy of 37 weeks pregnant and my body was not prepared yet for delivering a baby. That Thursday evening the doctors gave me medicine to soften my cervix. Things would get started in the morning. I was brought a delicious smoothy, visitors came and said prayers with my family, and I did my best to get sleep after having worked into the early morning of that Thursday. I was tired, but scared of what the next day would bring. My man slept next to me and I stayed up through much of the night trying to get comfortable as the Royal Wedding was televised.
Friday morning at about 6 a.m. the doctor came and checked my progress. It was very painful. Pitocin was started to begin progression of contractions. Most of the morning I did not feel anything. Family was arriving from out of town and friends were stopping in and visiting. It was cheerful somehow, with a tint of nervousness. At 12:30 p.m., I had made no progress still and it was time to break my water. Knowing this would be painful for me, I was given some medicine beforehand. It didn’t work. I remember it feeling like I was being stabbed in the back between the shoulder blades but from my lower pelvis. When the doctor was done, the medicine kicked in. Whoa. I just felt really tired for a couple of hours.
Around 3:30 p.m. the nurses asked if I was ready for the epidural. At that point there were contractions happening, but I barely felt them. I decided I would wait and reassess every half an hour. Welp, about 20 minutes later the contractions had progressed so quickly and constantly that I couldn’t make it to the restroom without stopping half way and breathing deeply through painful contractions. Epidural time! By 4:30 p.m. or so we were in business. I sat on the edge of the bed for the anesthesiologist, and Stephen sat in front of me. My feet rested on his legs, my left one tapping carefully through the pain, trying not to jar my whole body around. Ah, sweet relief. Pain improved, visitors continued and my awesome nurse let them know it was time for me to rest up for the next events.
It was estimated sometime around midnight is when delivery might occur. I kept my fingers crossed, hoping baby would be born Friday and share her birthday with grandpa! With many hours ahead, I did my best to sleep between the blood pressure cuff squeezing every fifteen minutes. About 7:45 I woke up to the night nurse checking in for her shift. She asked how I was doing and if I felt any pressure. I told her no, and then thought about it for a minutes and realized, yes, yes I do feel pressure. She checked to see how dilated I was and announced quite surprisingly, ten!! Ten centimeters and ready to push!
Oh my goodness, this was getting real, and really fast. We were going to meet this loved little girl very soon. It was terrifying. I remember thinking how crazy it was that I was actually having a baby!!! For a few minutes I forgot that she probably would not be born alive, or at least would not live for very long. I remember getting nervous that the NICU team was not in the room yet and what if she came too soon and they weren’t there to save her. I liked the doctor who helped me deliver. I was so certain we would be having a cesarean delivery. I was kind of scared of surgery and what recovery might mean and the possibility of missing my baby girl be born and then die. This doctor somehow made me feel strong, like she was even impressed with me. My husband was by my side, held my hand, watched the process in awe and I think probably in fear for both me and for our baby girl. The waiting room was full of support praying hard for our girls little life.
First round of pushing. They came in sets of three pushes. Nurses scrambled to find a heartbeat. Slow. Very slow. Then it increased. Whew. I thought we lost her and it would be c-sec time. Rest. Next round, set of three. Search for heart beat. Slow again, then increasing. She was being stressed with each push. For sure I thought this was going to end in surgery. Five maybe six rounds total and the doctor pulled her out! She seemed bigger than I pictured. I also remember thinking, “that’s gonna hurt later”. The NICU teamed took over. My sweet baby girl was handed not to me, but to the neonatologist and her team. Please be alive, please be alive little girl! I watched helplessly from the bed. Stephen paced the room watching and then walking away, watching and then walking away. Doctor was struggling to get my baby a secure airway. No one had said much, I couldn’t see much. I heard, “she’s trying to breath”. And, “her airway is just too small for the tube”. Please, God, let her breath. Please let her live!! Airway in, she was then wheeled away with Stephen following. My body started shaking severely.
I was so afraid she was going to die and I was going to be in my bed, not allowed to go anywhere until my legs had feeling again, while my husband was alone making awful decisions without me.
She was alive! With help, but alive!!
We were so proud to announce Maggie Mabee Colwell. Born at 8:52pm. 4lb. 9 oz. 16 ¼ inches long on April, 29, 2011. She is loved.
Happy Birthday Maggie!
I wish you were here to celebrate. You have moved mountains little girl. You have taught me how to pray deeper. You have taught me levels of compassion I had not known. You have exposed me to levels of love I had not experienced before. I miss your smell, your little blond mullet, rounded toes, the snoring I heard as the only sound I ever heard from your small body. I miss the way you snuggled in on your right side to be most comfortable. I missed the snot bubbles you blew out your nose. I miss seeing your skin turn bright red and face crinkle up as you cried your silent cries. I miss the warmth I felt holding you close, soaking in every single minute I could trying to make time pass slower. I miss singing every song I could think of to make sure you knew I was there with you and loved you. I just miss all of you.
They say the first year of grief is the hardest. I hope they’re right! Year one. Check.
All I have to say today is that time does not heal. Stop telling people this. The pain may soften some, but it never goes away. I will not magically be the same person I was before great loss came to me. I will not get over it. Don't ask me to. Getting over it means forgetting. I can't forget. I will not forget. Every day brings the bitter sweet. Sweet and yet sad that someone will always be missing. Always gone. Time is just... time. Time is cruel.
A new season has arrived in full swing. Spring! The evenings stretch out allowing the sun to stay longer. Love this! I can't tell you how refreshing it has been to leave for work with darkness all around in the early mornings and drive home in the light after twelve hours inside. Ah! So great!
So we now approach this season. It's a time of renewal, new beginnings, growth. This year it also means reflection and anxiety. I know very well that the Blue Bonnets in Texas should have my almost 1 year old girl bounding around among them in joy. I should be wandering the stores searching for that perfect poofy Easter dress. Maggie should be by my side in the yard as I dig holes that will give life to small new plants.
I realize that my current pregnancy may lend to hormonal spurts of crying anyway, but this last month has seemed to be more difficult. I have come to dread spring time because it also brings death to my family. And I feel it. Deeply. I feel the dread of April approaching, the blessed month I met my firstborn daughter. And then May, when I had to say goodbye to my firstborn daughter. I still can't comprehend what has happened almost a year out. It is still not fair. It still brings a deep loneliness I hope will one day leave me. It still chokes me up to glance at my bedroom wall at the portrait painting so lovingly made for us. It still pains me to shop for the many new springs babies arriving any day now. I still get angry standing at her grave, feeling so close, and yet so very far from her.
So, it has been an emotional month. It has been the most joyous so far with my pregnancy, feeling this new life's movements. I have, hand in hand with my husband, faced head on the church, bringing to attention good and poor supports in our experiences this year. And I have had my eyes brim with tears more this month than the last few months as I recognize the coming of a would-be first birthday of my deceased child, approaching quickly with the new spring leaves and greenery.
I hope the first year really is the hardest. That means this has to get easier, right? Soon?
The Amalekites came and attacked the Israelites at Rephidim. Moses said to Joshua, “Choose some of our men and go out to fight the Amalekites. Tomorrow I will stand on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hands.”
So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered, and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill. As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. So Joshua overcame the Amalekites army with the sword.
Moses built an altar and called it The Lord is my Banner. He said, “For hands were lifted up to the throne of the Lord.” Exodus 17:8-16
Tragedies come, battles arise, and who holds your hands up? For how long? Do you win the battle? Do you build an altar to God in remembrance?
I remember my hands being held high. When my muscles fatigued, circles of people surrounded me in prayer, brought me meals, sent me cards, took care of the lawn, etc. Eventually, the battle seemed to be won. My hands received rest, my stomach full, sleep had come. Those who held up my hands moved on.
This battle is won, and a new battle somewhere else begins, drawing them away. I am left alone. But wait, my enemies have only been wounded. They rise up with weapons in hand and press in on me… now it is just me.
How does your church body hold up each other’s hands? Is this sustained? What about your family? What are ways you have held up someone else’s hands? Is there a time when you needed your hands held and people came through? Or didn’t come thru? In what ways can we do better to give each other strength without leaving wounded enemies instead of defeating enemies?
Happy 10th months Maggie. You are missed.
A sweet text from my husband today pictured the most beautiful bouquet of flowers. Not for me though, for our dead daughter. I sit back tonight and wonder how many men stood in lines today buying flowers, teddy bears, chocolates not meant for their lovers, but their dead daughters instead. Maybe a few. I pray only a few.
Tonight is one of those nights where death just doesn’t seem fair. As we cried together it is so plain to see that every happy day and good day is also the worst and saddest day. Not just today, but for the rest of our lives. Forever. Ugh! Maggie is not here. Do you understand this??? It’s aweful!! Maddening! Why?
No one understands this. That’s how it seems. My heart pounds as I write this. Pain and hurt…there are no words for this…
Happy Valentine’s Day Maggie. You’re beautiful.
I hadn’t really thought too much about the day coming up. It really crept up on me until Sunday at work I said the words out loud that “our 20 week ultrasound is tomorrow”. And then the butterflies showed up! Monday came and we stepped into the dark room with our baby’s physical future about to be laid bare.
I think about most women who experience this same moment where the gender is revealed and they get to celebrate. Then the sonographer goes over each body organ with perfect news. We had a different experience. Her ankles and wrists come off of her body straight! Yay! Is there a three-vessel cord or two? Three. Yay! Her brain has the normal amount of fluid with the cerebellum also looking good. Yay! Is her neck the normal thickness? Yes. Yay! Her bones are the normal length. Yay! On and on this went. Each question we had was answered with good news! Praise God.
Although the pregnancy with Maggie was long and difficult, we were fortunate enough to see her every couple of weeks on the screen, wiggling inside and practicing her breathing. Monday we observed hiccoughs and lots and lots of movement. But, she is camera shy! No good pictures were to be had so we will wait another 20 weeks to see her little face!
I cannot tell you how good it felt to have my doctor come into our exam room actually jumping up and down on the floor with excitement for us! She jumped until we hugged. All smiles in the room! She announced that from hear on out we are a “normal” pregnancy! No red flags, no risk for preterm labor. Normal.
Normal? I prayed for normal.
When we got home I started on a DIY project for this girls nursery. Yeah, I changed it up. I had thought that after Maggie died, it wouldn’t be a big deal to keep her room the same for the next child. At first it was painful, covering her up. I mean covering the walls up. With the first stroke of paint I felt a tiny piece of panic go through me. Then it was just a project. Now that it’s done, I feel like this girl has a shot at being separate from Maggie. They blend together somehow most days. So I started my rug painting Monday listening to my Maggie music. I cried. I miss her. I wanted her to be next to me making talking sounds and keeping me company in a bouncing seat like she might have been.
But I am so excited to meet this new mystery girl!
I have another story to tell that will require prayers from you all for the next several months. I need you guys. As I have been working to redo “Maggie’s room”, I posted her bedding set on Craigslist. A grandmother-to-be contacted me from Louisiana wanting just one piece of it. She sent me money, I sent her some wall art, and added an extra blanket to the box. I was told that the little blanket I included was the last missing piece to make the whole set complete. This lady’s daughter was put in the hospital at 24 weeks pregnant hoping to last as long as possible without delivery and received the blanket during the stay. Grandmother and mother have read Maggie’s story and of all dates, this baby shares the same due date as Maggie did, May 21st. I learned this morning that Baby was born Sunday, just shy of 25 weeks. Baby is alive and just a pound. This family has a long road ahead and I am begging all readers to pray for this baby and family as you do for mine.
Do you readers have questions for me that you haven’t asked me? What do you want to know about grieving, healing, burying a baby, being pregnant again, how to help a friend going through similar circumstances? I want to know your questions. I want to help you help others.
In the middle of December, just a month ago, I sat in a room for brunch with some young mother friends. They asked questions about Maggie, blogging, and some suggested I write a book. This has come up in conversation before, not just with me but also my husband, who writes elegantly about our little girl. I confessed some things to those at the table as I will to readers now. I have read books after my daughter died about grief and recovery and baby loss stories from both the non-Christian and Christian perspective. The Christian perspective writings were filled with scripture and talked frequently about prayer and reading from the Bible all throughout the authors’ struggles. While we were waiting months to hear good news, then bad news, then bad news, then good news, then no news, etc, hundreds of people spoke to us about having been praying daily for us. In my home, time of prayers became much more frequent and deep, and intertwined my relationship with God and my husband to a more real and special depth. However, I am confessing that even we, or I, didn’t pray every single day. I didn’t go to the Bible often for guidance and reassurance and peace like the Christian baby loss writers seemed to have done. How could I possibly write a book from Christian perspective when I didn’t cover my days with prayer and scripture? So there it is. Not perfect for sure. But here is what I did do: When my husband listens to music, he listens for greatness in the actual chords and other musical verbage of stuff I don’t know. I love to sing along to pretty songs and be inspired by how I react. Sometimes that means I become in awe of God’s goodness, greatness, love for me; other times I just feel lost in the hurt, but know He cares for me even so, and find strength through the song. So no, I don’t have many scriptures that come to mind if someone were to ask me what gives me hope. Shame on me. But I have songs. This first song I will share was one I listened to in my car on the way home from work most nights. I was seeing multiple patients in the hospital each day who were asking questions about my growing belly. “Is it a girl or boy? What’s their name? Is this your first baby? You must be so excited”. And repeat in the next room over. I held myself together well until I walked to my car and started my ten minute drive home. This song sung by the York College Concert Choir, You Raise Me Up, played twice at least on my way home at night while I cried and sang along, releasing my anxiety and sadness of the day. These other songs I will list for you to enjoy. Some of these songs were from before Maggie died, others became special after she died. Each of these has been an encouragement to me in times of weakness, sadness, hopelessness, anger, even joy. Take some time and listen to these songs that have helped carry me through deep valleys. Perhaps one might help carry you through the next valley you stumble upon. Please Be My Strength, Gungor
Because He Lives, Acapella
Blessed Be Your Name, Tree63
Beautiful Things, Gungor
Nearer My God To Thee, amazing piano
Rescue, Acapella
Peace Be Still, Acapella
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