Losing Our Angel Baby

Trigger Warning: Infant Loss

[I originally posted this on social media on 8/23/21. Just adding to my blog today.]

Hello, Loves.  

I am tearful as I type this. Sixteen-month-old Naomi is napping on my chest. I know it's very soon to be sharing with the world, but I am finding this is what this heart needs today. At all times, I need my people, and today is no exception.

Kurt and I are very sorry to share the devastating news with you that we lost our Angel Baby this week at 13.5 weeks of gestation. We were due in February. I ended up having scary medical complications the following night, landing me a 36-hour inpatient stay. It was painful and draining for me, and you can imagine that it was quite terrifying and overwhelming for Kurt to watch.

From the moment that we learned that our baby no longer had a heartbeat, we have been tremendously supported by our doctors, nurses, families, coworkers, and friends. Fellow school mom, Katie, was over with homemade muffins, a card, and a hug 30 minutes after I told her our news. Our sweet neighbor, Amy, was over in 90 seconds when Kurt called her at 10 pm on Wednesday night. Brother-in-law, Dave, then stayed overnight with the girls. Our sweet 15-year-old sitter, Lulu, skipped tennis practice in the morning to be with the girls. Super nanny, Hannah, watched the girls in the afternoon, bathed them, and helped them make a cheer-up poster for Mom and Dad. Sister, Molly, and cousin Will watched the babes on Thursday evening until my parents got into town. Sister, Ali, knows all too well some of the emotions we are starting to go through, and she has been a tremendous help. The Bayside and New Berlin Conraths were already on their way to Beaver Island, as we were all planning to vacation together for a week. They turned around and have been doling out love and support, as well. Our house is already filled with delicious, gifted meals, beautiful floral arrangements, and the most delicately-worded cards.

Our loving neighbor, Joyce, wrote to us in a note: "A heartbeat, no matter how small, lives inside you forever."

The girls have been absolutely incredible since we shared with them about the loss of our baby. June actually knew before we told her: "What's wrong, Mom? MOM. What's wrong? Do we not have the new baby any more?" When Rose learned the news, she continuously got in my face and did a very animated peek-a-boo to cheer me up, asking "Does that make you happy?"

Junie said a prayer with Kurt Wednesday night:

"Dear God,

I love you. I love my family.

Our new baby died, 

so could you please bring him back to us someday?"

Team Conrath is grateful for your ongoing love. I will be away from work the next couple of weeks to grieve, rest, recover, and be with family. 

Here are some pictures we have taken in the last 24 hours since I was discharged home from the hospital. We have laughed (mainly about Kurt accidentally spilling my own vomit on me in the ED), and we have cried. To say we are swimming in love is no exaggeration. Little Photographer June took many of these photos:

                         

                                 

Sending love to you all! And especially to all mothers and fathers who have lost babies and who have had difficulty conceiving. Those babies are all dancing together in Heaven and welcoming our Angel Baby with open arms.

A Letter to My Mum

 

[Article written by yours truly :) --  originally written for and published by THAT MAMA CLUB . Reposted on my own blog with permission!]

To my dearest mother:

I am sorry that I did not understand.

When I was younger, I did not fully understand the impact of pregnancy on one’s body. I was

not aware of the ways in which your body and mind had to stretch and grow in order to

accommodate the growing child (me!) within you.

I did not understand the fatigue you felt as you recovered from your deliveries and then

comforted and fed babies all day and then overnight. I didn’t know the effort that went into

bringing me into the world and the length of time required to fully recover from that

momentous event.

I did not understand the psychological, emotional, and physical exertion involved with feeding

your littlest loves. I wasn’t aware that women struggled so much with the decision (or lack of

decision) to breastfeed or not to breastfeed. I didn’t know about the heightened sense of

responsibility you felt as you were the primary nourishment for your child.

I did not understand the tremendous amounts of energy that you poured into your daughters

every day. I didn’t realize how much effort it took to make sure your young children were well-

fed, had diapers changed, went potty, went down for naps, and stayed safe from all hazards.

I did not understand the worries you felt. You worried about whether we were happy, healthy,

eating enough, kind to other children, and grateful. Most of all, you just wanted us to know

how absolutely loved we were (and are!).

I did not understand how you could feel isolated and lonely while home with your three tiny

beings. It would not have made sense to me then; there were people around you, only these

people required your time and attention. We couldn’t give back to you as much as you were

giving to us.

I did not understand why you awakened at 5 am each day to squeeze in your prayer time and

coffee in the silence. It sounded strange to me to set an alarm so early just to have those

precious moments to yourself.

I did not understand the sacrifices you made in your own career and personal life so that you

would be as available to us as possible. I didn’t think about how, in becoming a mother, you had

to give up some components of your life before children.

I did not understand how your heart hurt when one of us was sick. I could not yet know how

one person’s body and being could be so intertwined with another’s.

I did not understand the cognitive effort that went into planning every meal, carpool, vacation,

holiday, playdate—and the list goes on and on. I saw you working, but I just didn’t comprehend

the vastness of the to-do list.

I did not understand the communication and attentiveness it required to stay on top of the

school, work, and activity schedules of our family of five. We were absolutely busy, and in my

eyes, it was easy to have it all fall right into place. It felt seamless.

I did not understand your frustration when you had to remind us over and over again to do our

chores and to participate in the family responsibilities. It didn’t seem to be a big deal to me

then.

I did not understand how hard you and dad worked to ensure your marriage remained strong

and everlasting. I didn’t know that it took a conscious effort to be sure you were not drifting

apart amid the chaos of everyday young family life.

I did not understand, but still, I was grateful. I was thankful to have you as my mom and to have

dad as my dad.

And now I am a grown woman and wife, and I have three young, vibrant daughters, myself.

And I know.

I do now understand more of how you may have been feeling.

I wish I would have been able to know it then, but that, of course, is not how life works.

So, please know how utterly grateful I am to you for the decades of your life that you’ve poured

into nourishing and loving me and my sisters.

And of course, amidst all the craziness of having little children, I do now also know the absolute,

unconditional love that I feel toward my own children. And I know, without a doubt, that you

cherished (and cherish!) that love, too. I know what an incredible impact each of my children

has had in my life and how each child allows me to love greater and greater. I know the

precious feel of their snuggles and the delicate sound of their voices. I know so intimately how

these little people are helping to fulfill my life’s mission and to make my life more full and

complete—in such a beautiful way. And I know that you know all of that, too.

I love you so much.

Aren’t we the luckiest?

About Mental Health and Wholeness...

One person I am grateful to know in 2021 is my mental health therapist.

I recently read an article during which the author mentions her therapist and follows that up with "Yes, I see a therapist, and you should, too!" I laughed and thought, "You go, girl!"

While I understand that seeing a therapist is not for everyone, I do believe it is worth every person at least considering.

Could you benefit from seeing a therapist? If you answer yes to any number of these questions, perhaps it is worth considering in 2021:

• Are you a human being?
• Do you have family members who are human beings?
• Do you interact with human beings on a regular basis?
• Are you raising tiny human beings?
• Have you been living through 2020 and now the first 10 days of 2021?
• Do you push emotions down deep into your toes?
• Do you have a history of trauma or abuse?
• Have you ever lost someone you loved?
  
• Do you feel overwhelmed by your to-do list at home or at work?
• Do you have problems with boundaries?
• Are you not sure that you know what boundaries are?
• Would you like help in learning to live the whole breadth of emotions and life?

One of the main things (of thousands, of course!) that first drew me to my sweet husband was his emotional intelligence. Seriously. If you know my goofy and light-hearted Kurt, you may laugh at this. But truly!  He is (mostly!) a wise man. I credit some of this to his decision, in his late twenties, to seek out a therapist for himself. He didn't totally connect to his first or even second therapist, but he kept persevering and did find a great match. I am so proud of young Kurt for doing this. Good job, Past Kurt!

[If you're still reading this and are looking for a funny story about a therapist: The first time Kurt went out to dinner with me and my parents, he secretly pointed to a table next to us and whispered to me: "This is a little awkward, but that's the lady I used to see." I looked over and saw a woman, probably in her mid-sizties, who was beautiful and graceful. I was pretty confused throughout our meal, as I admittedly didn't know everything about Kurt at this point but was surprised he hadn't told me about a much older girlfriend. It turns out 'the lady he used to see' was his therapist. We have come to affectionally call her 'the cougar.']

It doesn't have to be about mental illness, friends. It very well could simply be about mental health and wholeness. 

Not an ad for therapists, just a PSA from your self-care-loving friend!

And, Not But

A wise friend of mine once shared with me the importance of using the word "and" rather than using the word "but." It is important to recognize that I (we! you!) can feel more than one emotion at once. And all of those emotions are valid.

So, here goes:

I am in love with my baby girls, and I need a break from them.

Yes, I need a break from them.

I am in my home today, and Baby Naomi and her sisters are not here.

I am sitting at my kitchen table, and there is no baby attached to my body.

I am eating a dirt cake cup (YUM) that my sweet neighbor just dropped off, and no one is trying to 'flit' (split) it with me.

I am using my computer, and no sticky fingers are crawling all over the keys and the screen.

I am collecting my thoughts, and I don't hear any tiny little voice asking, "Mom? Mom? Mom?"

I am alone in my home, and I LOVE IT. 

If you know me, you know that I am obsessed with these baby girls (and husband!) of mine. I am so grateful to be the mother of this strong girl tribe; Kurt and I are certainly blessed beyond measure!

Also, between the pandemic, my maternity leave, and a host of other factors, catching more than a moment of solo me-time has been quite the challenge recently. In fact, it has been over 14 weeks that I have been alone in my home for more than 30 minutes.  And this quiet, this calm... it is so reparative.  It is not an indictment on my littlest loves; it is simply a truth.

After I had Junie, my first babe, I would have felt ashamed and embarrassed to share these feelings. Shouldn't I always want to be near my little ones? Shouldn't I always love to hear the sound of their excited squeals-- of them calling out to me?  The answer, I have learned, is an unequivocal no. 

Through my work, I am fortunate to see a little slice-- a cross-section, if you will-- of all different types of mothers.  Two of the themes of parenthood that I hear far too frequently in the work with my clients and their families are guilt and shame. I hear it from fathers, too, but mainly from mothers. Wonderful, attentive parents subtly (or not so subtly) express that they don't know if they're doing enough, they don't know if they are BEING enough for their babes.  This self-doubt and self-deprecation has GOT to stop, friends.

Mama, you ARE good enough. In fact, you are better than 'good enough.' You are strong. You are a force. You were meant to be the mother of your child, and no one can do a better job than you can. You are a phenomenal gift to your child. 

Am I grateful for this time? Absolutely.

Do I know that I'll miss this chaos like CRAZY in upcoming years? Absolutely.

And am I exhausted? Absolutely.

Peace out! ✌Time for a quick bowl of cookie dough ice cream and a nap!

harden not your heart

I was first introduced to the artist, Lauren Daigle, in February of this year. I remember the date exactly: February 3rd, 2020. It was the day after Kurt's birthday and the night before we had to unexpectedly say our final goodbye to our sweet boston terrier, Marlo.  I was 32 weeks pregnant with our third little lady, and Kurt was briefly home between two [Lizzie-sanctioned!] international trips, which was leaving me with a lot of "mom-ing" to do. A fellow mama in a faith-sharing group for mothers of young children played Lauren's song, Rescue, for us. I was so drawn to the song and to the message. 

Since that date, WOW. It goes without saying, but life has become a bit more challenging and chaotic--a bit sadder. My heart is hurting to see how others are hurting. It is hard to rest in the ambiguity and fragility of our health (and that of our loved ones) amidst the pandemic, to grapple with all these immediate changes in our communities, and to hear and see people respond indifferently to the plight of our black brothers and sisters. Perhaps most difficult for me is wrestling with the thought that my own inattention may have played a role in perpetuating that plight.

On February 3rd, when I heard Lauren's song, it resonated with me. When I heard Lauren's song today, I heard it with a new lens. I was moved again by her words. 

So let's go, friends. Do not allow your heart to be hardened [Hebrews 3:15]. Use this time to allow the Holy Spirit to work creatively in you. The time is NOW (well, actually, it was yesterday!) to treat one another with the respect every single human being (CHILD OF GOD!!) deserves. It is time to listen, to ask questions, and to better educate ourselves. It is time to put aside our fear and to engage in meaningful conversations. It is time to ensure that our children know "loving our neighbor" means undeniably loving every person, regardless of race, sex, class, ability, sexual orientation, creed, age, and so on. It is time to look into the face of our neighbors and to see Christ, to see goodness, and to see love, for when we care about life, we care about all life.

Froth and Bubble

“Life is mostly froth and bubble,
Two things stand like stone.
Kindness in another's trouble,
Courage in your own.”

Adam Lindsay Gordon—19^th century Australian poet and politician

At the Old St. Pat’s (Chicago) livestream mass last weekend, Monsignour Kenneth Velo shared this above quote from 19^th century Australian poet, Adam Lindsay Gordon. 

I have thought about it nearly continuously since Sunday.

Two things in our lives are most important: kindness towards “the other” and courage in yourself. I just love it. 

And how perfectly applicable to these times.

Every single one of us is needing to be extra courageous these days. There are humans suffering and dying alone in hospital beds.  There are nurses, doctors, and other hospital staff importantly doing their work amidst all this chaos. There are parents at home with their infant child—not able to allow anyone else nearby for support. There are adults and children with disabilities, trying to access the services that they have always needed—and quite possibly with less assistance than usual and necessary. There are elderly men and women—isolated in their small nursing home rooms, craving much-needed interaction. There are deployed military personnel, unable to return home to their families due to flying restrictions. There are moms and dads juggling "home-schooling" their children while also trying to manage their professional lives. There are high school and college seniors, missing out on days, weeks, and months that they have dreamt about for years. There are families scraping to get by-- families who were already living in poverty and now have these additional challenges. There are parents and young persons losing their jobs. There is so much uncertainty. There is so much fear.

Yet, at this time, we are called—more than ever—to be kind to one another… to be light for one another… to be Christ for one another. St. Teresa of Avila shared this amazing prayer that has always touched my heart and fueled me to be better:

“Christ has no body now but yours.  No hands, no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks with compassion on the world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good; yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world.”

In this tragic, ever-changing time, we are being called to be kind to one another. I know we’ve all seen and heard of kind acts in our communities.  Baked goods and donated food items for hospital personnel working the front lines. Makers sewing masks around the clock to keep one another safe and protected. Grandparents walking miles to their children’s homes, just to look in the window at their new grandbaby. Young folks grabbing groceries for elderly neighbors. An Italian priest selflessly giving up his ventilator for a younger person. Children making cards to share with those who are lonely. Grandchildren, sons, and daughters hurriedly teaching their elderly loved ones to use Zoom, Facetime, and other means of virtual connection.  Strangers waving and making small-talk on the streets—from six feet away, of course!

With the “Shelter in Place” and “Safer at Home” mandates, we are being challenged to be super creative in how we are able to tangibly share love for our brothers and sisters. I have faith in us, though.  Faith in the world. Faith that we will band together and emerge stronger as a people.

While I feel disheartened and worried about many aspects of our current crisis, I also feel grateful to be so intimately connected to fellow humans across the globe at this time.

 Tell me: how will YOU and your family choose to spread kindness today? How will you demonstrate your courage and love for yourself and others?

[Sidenote: I am currently sitting in a hospital bed. I am not sick—I am merely bringing a life into the world!  This little piece of writing is helping me shift my focus off of my regular contractions. What a time to welcome a new child, right?!  While it is far from ideal, I am choosing to find the positives and am hopeful that this little cherub will make his or her way into a world that is kinder, more connected, and more compassionate than ever. Also, we are graciously accepting all prayers for a healthy babe and a safe and smooth delivery!]

Be well, my loves!  And please—take care of one another!

Grateful for my OWN SELF!

[Note: I first wrote this as part of a "Monday Morning Meditation" to be shared with my colleagues at Children's Wisconsin. It was originally shared in September of 2019. Enjoy!]
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As part of our bedtime routine, my young daughter, June, and I have started praying an adapted toddler version of the Examen. The Examen is a lovely Jesuit prayer technique that involves these 5 steps:

1.     Become aware of God’s presence.

2.     Review the day with gratitude.

3.     Pay attention to your emotions.

4.     Choose one feature from the day and pray on it .

5.     Look toward tomorrow. (https://jesuitprayer.org/examen/ )

Specifically, my daughter and I tend to focus our prayer around gratitude. As we lay in bed, I ask her, “Junie, what are you grateful for today?” When she was a few months over two and just starting to actually string together words as sentences, she once answered me, “I’m grateful for my OWN SELF!” I laughed so hard, gave her a kiss, and told her she should always be grateful for her own darling self. I will never forget that little voice proclaiming her love for herself.

As adults, we are often prone to self-doubt. Earlier this morning, a mother of one of my infant patients just exclaimed that she is always her worst critic. How common is this? How often do you find yourself second-guessing your recommendations or focusing on your “areas of growth” rather than on your strengths? We constantly feel pressure to be better, to be smarter, to do more—as providers, as employees, as parents, as friends, as daughters and sons.

When you were a child, whether or not you voiced it, you likely felt proud of and grateful for yourself. Do you still feel that way?  [Hint: YOU TOTALLY SHOULD. You are amazing.] Please allow this Monday Morning Meditation to be your reminder to be good to yourself today and to appreciate all of your quirkiness and uniqueness!

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection”

 – Buddha

Be well, dear ones!