A day at Nissedalen
Jake took a day off of work (but did get on two video calls) so we could spend the day at the lake. The kids had a blast hanging out with some of their cousins and visiting Great Grandma Lois.
Tag: Veronica
How do we say thank you?
Instead of hand writing thank you notes to everyone who reached out and supported us during our pregnancy, Astrid’s death, and the subsequent weeks, I decided to write a longer letter to friends and family – sharing more about what we went through during my pregnancy and what Astrid’s life and death taught me.
I picked out the brightest envelopes I could find and found stationery to match. Not only did my words contain heart-felt thanks, but the writing process also proved to be therapeutic in a way I didn’t imagine.
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Dear family and friends,
My intention was to write individualized thank you notes to everyone who has prayed for, supported, and loved us during what has been one of the most difficult times in our family’s life. As I began to do so, I found myself writing the same message over and over, not because it was superficial, but because it was honest & full of emotion. I felt it was important to share with everyone.
Many of you did not know we were pregnant until we recently reached out asking for prayers and explained what was going on. The pandemic kept us contained at home, so very few saw the visible sign of our pregnancy. Looking back, I suppose this was a blessing as well as a hardship. A blessing in that I didn’t feel the need to tearfully tell everyone who inquired about our pregnancy how our little girl was actually really sick. And a hardship in that it was difficult to not be able to share (in person) with those who care about us.
We had 25 weeks with our sweet little girl. During that time, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I frequently found myself asking the questions, “Why is this happening? What could this experience possibly teach me?” If I stopped to think, I could probably come up with many lessons that I’ve learned, however the ones that stand out the most are the lessons about loving and being loved.
Starting at week 10 of the pregnancy, Jake and I were aware of the possibility of Astrid not having the opportunity to come live with us here on earth. However, we knew from the first appointment that indicated that something was not quite right, that we would give this baby (we didn’t know she was a girl yet) every opportunity to live out her life for as long as God planned. We did not take the time we had with her for granted. We celebrated after every weekly heartbeat check. We thanked God every night for another day with her. We prayed with her and her siblings each evening. She was also part of three birthdays and several holidays including Mother’s Day. She heard her siblings speak to her, tell her hello, goodnight, and I love you. She was part of the commotion of daily life, e-learning for her siblings, and evening conversations between Jake and me. I have no doubt in my mind that she knew she was loved. Loving her was easy to do.
Most of you know the last 2.5 years have been challenging ones for our family – to say the least. There are many layers to those challenges and I’ve been slowly making my way through them. I was talking to my friend, Michelle, in the cemetery after Astrid’s burial and she shared an observation with me that I’ve been pondering ever since. She told me (lovingly) that for most of my life I have felt that I need to be, or do, or act a certain way in order to receive the love and approval of certain individuals. It is exhausting and the toll it takes on one’s self-esteem is significant. She asked me to look at the last 2.5 years of life’s challenges from a different perspective. What I have gone through has allowed me to see just how much our friends and other relatives love me as I am – imperfections and all. (The same goes for Jake and our kids.) People aren’t expecting me to be anyone other than myself, aren’t expecting favors to be returned, and only want to show us love. Standing next to her, I was overwhelmed with emotion and started to cry with gratefulness. My family has been blessed with such wonderful friends and relatives. We really do feel loved. It’s my own insecurities that have made me feel unworthy of the kindness people have shown us. That’s something I am working on and Astrid’s brief earthly life and death are helping me continue to do so.
If you are receiving this letter, it is because you have not only made a difference in our journey through the loss of Astrid, but likely the last 2.5 years as well.
We have experienced your love through prayers.
We have experienced your love through meals.
We have experienced your love through cards & flowers.
We have experienced your love through taking care of our kids.
We have experienced your love through text messages and emails checking in on us.
We have experienced your love through memorials in Astrid’s honor.
We have experienced your love through support at the cemetery.
We have experienced your love through your friendship.
Your gestures, large and small, have shown the six of us how truly loved and supported we are. Thank you.
With gratitude & love,
Jacob, Veronica, Nolan, Lincoln, Ingrid & Helena
(Astrid Philomena’s family)
“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we also await a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will change our lowly body to conform with his glorified body by the power that enables him also to bring all things into subjection to himself.” Philippians 3:20,21
Reminder of her presence
From Fr. Joseph:
“You didn’t lose you baby, she is more with you than ever before. Now, she in turn is protecting you and interceding for you who have so generously given her life.
Emotions will come and go for a while. That is the true sign of love. Be kind to yourself.”
5/30/20 – Range of Emotions
Two weeks ago I delivered Astrid. If you were to see me today, it’s highly unlikely you could tell I was still pregnant 14 days ago. The realization that there is no longer an outward sign of my pregnancy makes me so sad. Jake feels that sadness, too.
Yesterday was a good day. I told a friend of mine who was checking in on me that I felt guilty admitting that it was a good day. I laughed, smiled, and enjoyed the beautiful weather. Such a stark contrast to last week when I was back in the hospital overnight or two weeks ago as I spent the last night at home with Astrid with me. My friend reassured me that it was ok. That it’s good to have good days. Not that I needed her permission, but it was good to hear her say that to me.
5/21/20 – 5/22/20 — ER & overnight
As if there needed to be more emotional stress added to life right now, I went to the ER after Astrid’s funeral due to running a temp and feeling pretty crummy overall. (It started on 5/20, led to phone calls with the nurseline in the evening and morning of 5/21 as well as a televisit on 5/21 prior to Astrid’s funeral.) While I was in the ER, my BP went high (for me) and I was running a temp of 104 degrees. The combination of those two issues made me very nervous. (Once again, Jake was not able to be with me. I drove myself to the ER and texted him updates along the way.)
After having an ultrasound, it was determined that I needed a D&C to remove retained tissue (placenta) and be treated for an infection. Once I had the surgery and they started me on IV antibiotics, I began to feel much better. They admitted me overnight due to the high temp and told me if I remained fever free for 24 hours, I could go home.
I didn’t really sleep in the hospital, but did rest relatively well and was able to eat. By the time Friday evening came, I was feeling much better and was ready to head home. Jake brought the kids to pick me up around 6pm. It was so good to see all of them. It’s been a rough 24 hours.
While I was resting and receiving antibiotics and fluids on 5/22, I had two friends text me the Gospel reading and reflection for the day from the Word Among Us – John 16:20-23.
I love that my friends thought of me when they read this reflection. I needed to hear these words today.
5/21/20 – Funeral Mass & Burial
Today we buried our daughter. Her place of rest is near the babies of several of our good friends. When Jake suggested we choose St. John’s Cemetery for Astrid, I immediately said yes. I can’t think of anywhere else I would want her to be than near the other little saints we know.
Her funeral mass was beautiful. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, the six of us were only allowed to be present for her funeral. (We had hoped the mass could be recorded so we could share it with a few people, but it turns out the recording didn’t work. I was extremely disappointed.) While it was sad to not have others who are also grieving our little girl’s death there to celebrate her short life with us, it was ok. I didn’t feel anxious about needing to comfort others or relive the events of the last week over and over.
Astrid’s brothers and biggest sister read the readings and intentions during mass. They did a great job honoring their little sister. Fr. Jim gave a lovely homily and even incorporated the heart sign that I put over my belly on Mother’s Day.
Jacob carried her casket (made by Trappist Monks in Iowa) out of the church and then from the hearse to the grave site. We are so grateful for the beautiful ministry of the monks who made her casket (and our parish for having it available for us.)
At the grave site, Fr. Jim prayed with us (and a few friends and family who were able to join us.) I’m grateful for the love and support we felt in the cemetery. Five of the six of us took a turn shoveling dirt on top of the vault and then each of Astrid’s siblings placed a pink rose on top. I really hope that being part of her burial is an act of love that they will always be able to look back on.
5/20/20 – The night before
I was reflecting today that a week ago was the beginning of the end of my pregnancy with Astrid. No heartbeat. Information about induction. Fast forward a week and it’s the eve of Astrid’s funeral. Writing that is so hard. Grief has hit me in more waves today. I get choked up at the littlest thoughts of her and how, as my friend Sara put it, we “had to fit a lifetime of loving into just a few short moments.”
This isn’t how it is supposed to be.
5/18/20 Funeral Planning
Funeral planning.
Those are two words I never dreamed I would be writing about my child. How do you go from telling your husband you’re pregnant to selecting bible readings and music for your baby’s funeral mass?
This isn’t what we want to be planning. We want to be picking out a car seat, choosing a crib, stocking up on diapers.
As I told one of my aunts tonight, emotionally, this is the hardest thing I have ever done. I feel like right now we are just getting things done/prepared for Thursday’s funeral mass & burial and then after that, the larger waves of grief will hit. Then there are the milestones that we won’t actually be celebrating with her on earth – her due date, first holidays, first birthday, etc.
And yet, I know that she is in heaven and she isn’t hurting. She is with Great Grandma Fran, Great Auntie Helen, Great Grandma Veronica, Sammy, her Papa Dale, our goddaughters Gianna and Faith, and so many other loved ones. The kids know their sister is a little saint, we can ask her to pray for us, and we have the hope of seeing her again one day. I’m so grateful for our faith.
I hope I can look back on the readings we chose for her funeral mass and find comfort when I’m struggling. She is a child of God. She belongs to Him. We were given a short time with her, but as it says in Philippians 3:20,21 “..our citizenship is in heaven.” She is where we all should long to be one day.
5/16/2020 – Induction & Delivery
What follows was written during our hospital stay. I fluctuate between past and present tense and have chosen to leave it as such since it gives a more realistic feel for how I was feeling when I was writing.
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My in-laws arrived just before 7AM to stay with the kids while Jake and I went to the hospital for my induction. We checked in to Mercy Hospital around 7:30AM. Nurse Ka got us situated, I changed into my gown and blue grippy socks and then answered a bunch of admitting questions. I met Dr. Ayika, who explained the induction process (which was new to me) and said that a “normal” delivery should still be ok even though the baby is breech.
We ordered breakfast, and after eating, my induction was started.
9:50AM. I expect a long, slow ramp-up over the next 24 hours. I plan to request an epidural once the pain is gets too intense. This whole experience is emotionally painful enough. I’m glad there is the option to ease some of the physical pain. Jake is resting, which is much deserved. He has been “on call” for me and the kids for almost this entire pregnancy in a more intense way. I am glad he has an opportunity to sleep if he needs to or be alone with his thoughts. His presence beside me is comforting. I know he wants to “do” something, but him being here is doing just that for me.
Our friends, Melissa & Tom, brought us some lighter conversation via our texting group thread. They are two of several people who have continued to check in with us, pray for us, and offer support as we’ve needed it. They plan to be at the cemetery on Thursday along with Michelle and Rita (who may just “happen to be at the cemetery” visiting her dad <3. )
We had lunch around 2PM (Jake said he likes the hospital food) and then closer to 3:30, Ka came in to introduce my next nurse, Amber. She’ll be on until 11:30PM. I was given another dose (increased) of the induction med and they monitored me for a while to make sure contractions were progressing.
*side note – Amber’s BIL had an AN. It always surprises me when I meet someone who knows about the tumor I had.
4:45PM. We’re resting again and I plan to order dinner around 5PM. Contractions are still manageable , so I don’t feel the need to request the epidural yet. Going to pray a Chaplet of Divine Mercy in thanksgiving for the overall peace that I feel right now in this moment. I know emotions will change – likely rollercoaster, but right now I’m so grateful for peace.
Dinner came, we ate and then rested again. While I was laying down, I started feeling nauseous. I ended up getting sick – felt somewhat better afterwards. Amber, my nurse, gave me a med to help with the other stomach issue I was having and got my IV started in advance of my epidural. (Prior to that, Dr. Ayika checked and I was dilated to 1cm.)
Between when I was checked and when the anesthesiologist started to prep for my epidural, my contractions really started to ramp up – in intensity and frequency. Jake sat in front of me as I bent forward so the epidural could be placed. I breathed through numerous contractions (while wearing a cloth mask!) Once it was finally in, it took a long time for it to take effect. (Longer than any epidurals I’ve had in the past.) The contractions were strong and painful and numerous – nothing like I remember feeling with my other labors. I laid on my side, breathing and begging for the meds to kick in. They gave me a dose of fentanyl to try to ease things a little – they did, slightly, in addition to making me tired and spacey. During one of the strong contractions, my water broke. Thanks to the meds, I may or may not have said, “Oh shit, my water just broke!” and then apologized for swearing. It was a relief at first, but then the contractions intensified again. I told Amber that I felt ready to push, so she checked me and said she was going to call Dr. Ayika so I could deliver.
Dr. Ayika and Amber got me situated and within 6 or so pushes I delivered (breech) our sweet little girl at 9:21PM. We named her Astrid Philomena Sheck. She was 12 incues long and 3lbs. 7oz. They laid her on my chest as Dr. Ayika delivered the placenta. (Every time I lost fluid, I thought that had to be it…but then there was more. I am amazed at how much I had retained. It explains why I was measuring four weeks ahead at my last appointment with my midwife a little over a week ago.)
After Jake and I held Astrid, Amber and Laurenda (my overnight nurse) took her to take some pictures in another room. We obviously have the ones from immediately after birth, but the nurses took such sweet care to put her in a party dress, hat, diaper, and blanket. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully in the bassinette. They gave us an SD card with the photos that we will look at at home.
We spent the next several hours with Astrid’s body – blessed her, said bedtime prayers with her, and told her how we look forward to seeing her again one day in heaven. That hope – eternal life in heaven – is what we can cling to.
We said goodbye to her body at 2:08AM.
Sunday morning 5/17. Both of us slept hard. We’re exhausted – emotionally and physically. The texts and emails we have received since announcing Astrid’s delivery have been full of love, prayers, and support.
I cannot believe what we have just experienced. It feels like a dream. And yet, when I look down at my belly, I know it wasn’t. I am so sad. I miss my little girl.
5/15/20 – Kindness
I stopped at Caribou after having my COVID test this morning. The person in front of my paid for my drink. I had to pull into a parking space because I was so overwhelmed by emotion and shocked that of all the days that this could happen, today is when it did. (It’s never happened to me before.) I wish I could have told the person who treated me how much their kind gesture meant to me.
The OB I saw yesterday contacted the hospital medical director and strongly suggested there be an exception for me should my COVID test result not be back by Saturday morning. He called this afternoon and assured me that I would be admitted regardless of whether the result has been returned. I’m grateful for his persistence. I now have one less thing to be anxious about.