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.

Living for his grandbabies!

In celebration of World Health Day 2021 and of Jeff Traudt being named "World's Best Papa" (by his daughters! CONGRATULATIONS, YOU DID IT!):

Here are a few pictures of the greatest dad and papa on the planet:

My dad's dad died in a car accident one month after my dad turned seven.  The middle of three kids, my dad was suddenly the oldest male in the home. From that very young age, he has been a caregiver to his mother, his siblings... and more recently to my mom, me and my sisters, our husbands, our babies, and a large number of friends who are down on their luck. If you're looking for "JT," you can find him seeking out and supporting the underdog.

We have about 1,381 family videos at my parents' home, and in each one-- dating back to when his own children were babies-- you can hear my dad proclaiming a cheery hello to his (then non-existent) grandkids. He wanted to be sure that, even if he were not here to meet them or watch them grow up (as was the case with his dad and his three daughters), they would know how much Papa loves them. 

My dad is now currently fighting his third recurrence of kidney cancer, and the tumors have spread to his spine, his partial and only remaining kidney, and three other organs. He is down to 140 pounds but is otherwise feeling quite well. It is a true miracle for our family. When we learned last April, two weeks after my third daughter was born, that his cancer was back, both of my sisters were in their second trimesters of pregnancy. As the disease had progressed so far, we didn't know if he would have the chance to meet his newest babies-- grandbabies #6 & 7 born in the last 4.5 years-- in the fall.

And here we are four months into 2021. The newest babes are big and thriving and just mostly obsessed with their larger-than-life Papa, as are the rest of us. My sisters and I live away from our parents now, but we are sure to be with Nana and Papa as much as possible, and they come to us every few weeks/months. We are truly blessed.

Darn Covid is preventing him from playing tennis and skiing for the time being, but it can't keep him from loving on his babies, walking on his hands, and loving life with every ounce of his being.

Thank you, Papa, for gifting us with your unending love, care, and JOY! How did you get so great?

And let's hear it for Cleveland Clinic's Taussig Cancer Center and, in particular, the wonderful Dr. Moshe Ornstein and his team. We are so grateful for the care Dad is receiving!

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!

BEing in 2020.

Teaching the lady to be.

To be:

Resilient.

Resourceful.

Powerful.

Calm.

Steady.

Assertive.

Empowered.

Persistent.

Tenacious.

Dearest 2020:

There are so many things I'd like to say to you, but I will stick with a simple 'thank you.' 

This year, we were forced to become so much more, to be pushed outside of our comfort zone, to press pause and assess what matters most. We have redirected, shifted course, and adapted again. We have waited-- patiently and not so patiently. We have been forced into difficult conversations and decisions. We have disagreed, we have been angry and hurt, and we have persevered. We have trudged on despite the hardships. We have clung to what matters most. We have mourned. We have sat alone. We have stayed inside. We have been creative and adventurous within our limits. We have been benevolent. We have been courageous and selfless. We have prayed and worshipped in our homes. We have cared about the other. We have worn our masks, we have volunteered, and we have fought. We have gotten into necessary trouble. We have worked together while standing apart.

We have rested in ambiguity and unease.

While I was feeling particularly overwhelmed and exhausted in 2015, I started writing more in my journal and in this little blog. I was running around doing all the things, and I just needed to learn to sit and BE. I was quite literally teaching the lady-- me-- to be. And now, five years later, I am blessed with the opportunity to teach three more little ladies to simply be. To be resilient, strong, empowered, tenacious, and persistent. (Among other things, of course! I'm all for compassion, empathy, humility, patience (eek!), and gratitude!)  What a chance I have had-- we have all had-- to practice all these things in the year of 2020. In a year where we can't do much other than simply BE, we have found much more strength within our beings. 2020 is the mascot of 'teachingtheladytobe.'

I am very aware that this process of learning to BE is an ongoing endeavor. Each of us, until we take our last breath, is a work in progress. In the early weeks of 2021, I am planning to reflect more on how I have been stretched in 2020. How have I grown and shown resilience, and how can I best carry these attributes into the new year-- and years/decades-- to come? Of what have I let go? What have I breathed out, and what have I embraced? How can I continue to positively impact my own being, my family, my friends, my community, and my world while simultaneously giving myself rest, grace, and time and space to simply be? What do I need to hug more tightly, and what do I need to kick to the curb in 2021?

Cheers to a new year, a fresh start, and a stronger, more resilient YOU, friend!  I believe in every piece of you.

And SO LONG, 2020. Thank you for teaching us that we are mightier than we think.

Sincerely,

Lizzie