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!

My Breastfeeding Journey

This is my breastfeeding journey:    

June was my first baby to nurse. When she was born, we danced the breastfeeding dance so gracefully. Everything was lovely. Breastfeeding, to me, was motherhood—and motherhood was breastfeeding.

As my exhaustion caught up with me around June’s eighth week, though, my postpartum depression and anxiety began rearing its ugly head, and breastfeeding was no longer graceful, no longer lovely. I stressed about every little piece of nursing. I worried about how I would find time to pump between patients. My supply had been strong, yet I now worried about how and where I would store my frozen milk. I researched every little detail to any unhealthy degree and set standards far too high. I found—and created—any reason to worry.

When a lovely friend, colleague, and fellow mama reminded me that giving formula was a perfectly viable option, I cried my eyes out. It was true. With much deliberation and support from my husband and family, I opted to allow my supply to dry up while we transitioned to giving bottles. It was a horribly scary time. I was angry, and I was so sad. While I knew something had to give to help me become whole again after the crippling weeks of anxiety, I still felt so defeated. I feared I was no longer the mother I dreamt I would be.

And then I gave the bottles.

And my beautiful daughter ate.

And she grew.

And she was happy.

And I grew.

And I was happy.

And I could relax.

And now Baby June is three. And she’s a big sister twice-over. And I have nursed two more babies. And I have fed bottles to these babies. And we are happy. And we have learned to be flexible. And we have learned to dance our own dance.

Mama & big girl, June

Nursing June in the hospital!

Nursing-- & hiking!-- Rose

Post-nurse Naomi

And we are so, so proud of who we are, where we’ve been, and where we’re going.

Own your story, give yourself (a whole HEAP of!) grace, and know that what is right for you is right for your child.

Also, June told me last night that I make her heart happy. If 8-week-old June could’ve spoken, I know she would have expressed similar sentiments. Her mama was working so hard and truly doing her best. Aren’t we all? ☺️ Keep on keepin’ on, friend. You make our hearts happy!

Infant Equipment

Our rockstar Godmama to our little Mamie is pregnant with her first precious bundle and just reached out for clarification on my thoughts on infant equipment. Infant equipment would include any type of "container" (a harsh word, but pretty accurate!) in which you can place your babe to rest, including swings, bouncy seats, car seats, etc. I sent her a response and thought it might be helpful to share with other new mama friends, too. 

Hey, pandemic! This COVID baby has a message for you.

Let me start by saying that: 

• My girls do spend (or have spent) some time in baby "containers."
• I will occasionally let the girls take (supervised!) naps in the containers when they fall asleep. 
• The containers do help a mama's sanity, which is not to be disregarded.
• As new parents in this age, we are inundated with baby equipment options that are (sometimes!) somewhat affordable and are advertised as necessary for a happy baby and/or good sleeper.
• You are very much still a wonderful parent if you use baby equipment often.

Mamie love kicking back in her bouncer

Having said that, I will also say that I am not a big fan of leaving baby in the car seat or bouncer/swing for too long-- and especially not during naps. Why?

1. Increased risk of torticollis, which is a condition in which baby has asymmetrical neck muscle tightness. When a baby is super young (typically under 2-3 months), they can't hold their head up in the straight, or midline, position on that reclined surface. Instead, their head will tilt (ear to shoulder) to the side. This is especially true when the baby is sleeping-- and then, really at any age that they would be in the baby equipment.  If the baby has an asymmetry to begin with, it will be accentuated if they spend more time in the car seat, swing, bouncy seat, etc, as the head tilting will further cause tightness in the neck muscles on that side. I often treat babies with torticollis, and a big piece of my treatment is education in transitioning the babies out of these types of baby equipment.

2. Increased risk of-- and/or worsening of-- flatness on the head. If baby has a neck turning preference at all, and if they fall asleep in a container, they inevitable start to form a flat spot on the back of their head. Staying in that equpiment makes it worse, as it's harder to inadvertently roll off of the flat spot.

 

3. Limited spontaneous movement. This is sort of a hard one to describe. Basically, though, in a container, babies are not able to move much. On a flat surface and even in some carrying positions, babies have many more opportunities for movement-- and even at a very young age. For example, parents often note that their tiny baby (2-3 months old) will wiggle all over the crib at night! In my opinion, it's good to let the baby have their freedom to move, even if it awakens them in the beginning.

4. Keeping a babe in a container reduces the chance for Tummy Time, and Tummy Time is THE BEST THING. I have heard that an expert pediatric practitioner calls Tummy Time the academics of infancy, and I agree!  I know, I know, I know. Let me guess? Your baby hates Tummy Time. At a young age, every baby hates it after a few minutes. It is a fact that babies often are not fans for long periods of time, but if you start from day one (or start today! It's not too late!!), it is much more palatable for the babe. There are also many strategies for improving even the youngest baby's Tummy Time tolerance. [Stay tuned for a separate blog post!]

Tummy Time help from the biggest babe!
(Supervised, of course!)

In an ideal world, your babe would tolerate 60-90 minutes (or more!) of Tummy Time per day by 4 months of age. I do not mean all at one time, and Tummy Time does not only have to happen down on the floor. Your baby can also do Tummy Time on your chest, across your lap, in your arms, over a ball, face-to-face, etc-- stay tuned for another post). Also in an ideal world, your babe would spend only 20-30 minutes, 3-4 times per day in any type of baby equipment. This is just an ideal world, though, and the ideal is certainly not always met in my house! 

*I should add that a baby wrap/carrier IS great for your baby, as long as the baby has good alignment while inside the carrier. With a baby carrier, you want to be so certain that the baby is always positioned to allow proper breathing, leg alignment, and, of course, safety as you move about. If you need to bend down while wearing your babe, 100% bend with your legs! And if your baby has any neck tightness/asymmetry, try to sometimes position them with their head sometimes turned to the right and sometimes turned to the left.*  

Other alternatives to having your babe spend lots of time in equipment is placing the babe on a blanket on the floor, or if you’re worried about a dog or sibling running too close to resting babe, in a pack n play or a similar playpen. 

Again, just my two cents, but I am confident that this opinion is shared by many in my field. And I DO put my babes in bouncy seats and other equipment every once in a while. We also take long (6-8 hour) car trips to Ohio and Michigan often, so the teeny babes sleep for prolonged periods in their car seats then. Feel free to take or leave this advice on baby equipment. You are a rockstar mama.

Do your best, get your rest, and enjoy those baby snuggles!

Fall, 2018 apple orchard trip with the Junie and Rose.

beautiful to me now

September, 2017... Our first family photo

In a 2010 Chicago Tribune article, columnist, Mary Schmich, writes that a line from her aging mother sticks with her: “Even the horrible things seem beautiful to me now.”

This resonates with me. When I look back over the last 10 months of my life, I do absolutely see that even the horrible things are beautiful.  This purpose of this blog is to remind myself during challenging times that—weeks, months, or years down the road—I will find that God has been shedding light—even in the horrible times.

November, 2016:

I am standing in my living room, clinging to my mother-in-law, while my 8-week-old firstborn sleeps. We are both crying. We are filled with joy.

Twenty minutes before that, I was shivering and staring blankly over Lake Michigan, wondering how I had gotten to this lonely place.  I was exhausted and defeated. I felt embarrassed and ashamed.  I was numb. I felt so afraid, yet I had not cried in days. I barely had the energy to care for myself, let alone care for my darling baby girl. Between nursing, pumping, doing dishes, changing diapers, eating, doing laundry, doing PT exercises for my anteriorly rotated sacrum (thanks, childbearing process!), taking care of my dog, and cuddling my little love, I had not even remembered to make myself a cup of coffee yet that morning or afternoon. That little bit of warmth may have helped me; it may have at least given me a jolt of energy, I thought.

caseyalexandraphotography.com

I had just experienced a particularly challenging night and morning with my baby, so much so that I called my incredible mother, who offered to immediately drive the six hours to me from Ohio. She wanted to take care of HER baby. She suggested I also call my loving mother-in-law, who lives only 30 minutes away, to ask that she spend time with us that afternoon, so as to relieve some of my new-mom duties before my mother arrived to Milwaukee and my husband returned home from work. When my mother-in-law arrived, I called my husband, my rock, and at his urging, I had walked to this nearby park from my home, feeling frustrated with God and praying for a sign that He was actually listening to me.  “Why is this happening to me?” I wondered. I tried to do everything right, and still, I felt that I was failing.  Things had gone so well for me during my pregnancy and in the 7 weeks following my daughter's birth, and then all of a sudden, I felt terrified in my new role as mother.

“Just go,” my sweet husband urged, “and call me when you get back home. I bet the walk will make you feel better.” 

Few people were out that cold November day, but as I stood there at the lake, hoping to be invisible, one woman started walking toward me. I turned away from her, wondering why she was coming nearer to me and wishing she would walk the other way. “Excuse me, ma'am,” the stranger said. She extended her arm toward me. “Would you like a coffee?” 

She was holding a cup of coffee in her hand. The name “Sunny” appeared on the side of her cup. There was a buy one, get one deal at Starbucks that afternoon, she said, and she figured a stranger would appreciate the gift more than she needed the extra caffeine and calories. 

April, 2017... Easter weekend in Ohio

I smiled at her, and tears immediately welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t believe that I was actually crying!  It felt great, and I hugged her. [Not only am I a big crier, I am also a big hugger. Hooray for the healing power of touch!] “Oh no! Are you okay?” she inquired. I let it pour. I word-vomited to this kind stranger about my recent battle with postpartum depression and anxiety. “Do you have kids?” I asked. I wanted her to tell me that she had kids—that she, too, had struggled like I was struggling, and that everything would soon be much better. I wanted to know that I was normal and that I would get the help that I so desperately needed. “No,” she answered cheerily, “but I hope to some day!” 

Bundled in our Wisconsin winter coats, we talked for a moment longer. It turns out that we both work in healthcare—and at neighboring hospitals. [Dear reader, if you know of a PA, “Sunny,” at Froedtert, please let me know!] Sunny looked me in the eye, flashed the kindest smile, told me she hoped my day would get better, and, in an instant, this angel was gone.

I looked back out over Lake Michigan, barely able to see through my teary eyes. I smiled. “Okay, God,” I laughed, “so you are listening. Thank you for the sign!”  I sipped my delicious, warm coffee drink and started my journey back home.

I finished the drink on my way home, and between the caffeinated beverage and the gift of human kindness, I finally had a little pep in my step again. At first worried at the sight of her sobbing, new-mama daughter-in-law, my mother-in-law was then thrilled to hear of my encounter with Sunny, my angel and sign from God.

June, 2017... Stealing mama's birthday cards!

My sweet baby girl is now ten months old. After an extended maternity leave, which gave me time to be pieced back together into a whole, strong woman after my scary battle with postpartum depression and anxiety, I have happily returned to work. My co-workers and boss have been incredibly supportive. My faith is alive, and my relationships with my husband, parents, sisters, family, and friends are thriving. Best of all, my rambunctious little lady and I are the best of friends, and we love each other (and dada!) like crazy.

While I would not wish my experience upon anyone, in only 8 months, I am able to acknowledge how this dark time was a blessing in disguise. It taught me how to fully rely on my husband and God. My bond with my sisters and mother was further strengthened, as they spent several weekdays with me and the babe in Milwaukee so that I could focus on healing myself.  From new and old friends to church ladies to my therapist, my support team has grown and has been strengthened. My village is mighty, and I know that I am deeply cherished as a woman, as a wife, as a daughter, as a mother, and as a friend.  Importantly, I am finding that my work with infants, children, and parents is so much more now that I have had these experiences. I can be a light for other women in need. Just last week at work, I was given the opportunity to assist a young mother of pre-term multiples (and three older children) who is beginning to recognize signs of postpartum depression in her own life.  She is now getting the help that she needs because she opened up to me, a random woman (well, and her daughter’s physical therapist!), during a session. And how beautiful is that?  I endured a bit of suffering, and that helped me to be a light for this remarkable young woman—and hopefully, for others I will encounter in the future.

July, 2017... Windy ferry boat ride across Lake Michigan

My take-away messages for you, dear reader…

1.     Practice random acts of kindness.

2.     GET HELP if you are struggling!! Reach out; don’t isolate yourself!

3.     Know that God is with you.

4.     Look for the beauty, even in the horrible times.

5.     And if you are in politics or in a position within an organization where you are able to push for longer leaves for mothers (and fathers!) after bringing a miraculous new life into the world, DO IT, I urge you!

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