Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Stephen Alexander

Several people called me brave today. Brave because I gave my grief voice which struck me kind of as odd, because sharing my sorrow for me isn't brave, it's how I heal. There's a saying along the lines of "Shared joy becomes joy multiplied; shared sorrow becomes sorrow divided". It's not that I want attention, but just want to share because really what I'm seeing are that my experiences are not singular; they are very common and the solidarity I'm finding truly does help me.

Miscarriage and stillbirth are becoming less of a taboo to speak about and observe; maybe because it's just the season of life I'm in but it seems like just 5 years ago these types of losses were not at all on my radar.  I knew they existed and happened, but it seemed as though people spoke of them in more of a hushed whisper. Thankfully I think the dialogue is changing and I think it's great, because honestly, for me at least, it helps. And if I'm not alone in my sorrow, surely I'm not alone in the healing process.


There are so many thoughts still racing through my mind when it comes to Stephen, so forgive me if this isn't the most coherent of things as I simply write what comes to mind. 


The first is his name. There are very few names whose meaning I'm familiar with, but I do know the origins of my own name,"Stephanos". I've always known that it translates as "crowned one" but more recently listening to a sermon it was further defined that specifically it's someone who wears a victor's crown. It reminds me that even though death is a power and a force in this world; it has been defeated, that Christ has victory over death. The beautiful poetry of I Corinthians 15:55, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"Paul chose Alexander, and while his explanation to me was that he liked that it is a solid, strong name (which was pretty much the same rationale I gave for how I chose Mal's middle name), I also appreciate that the name Alexander often evokes images of a conqueror, someone who defeats his enemies.


I do feel some guilt though that he got a name and my first pregnancy which ended after only 7 weeks we simply refer to as "before" and therein the comparison and contrast between these two experiences is somewhat jarring. In February of 2012, I experienced my first miscarriage. After spotting I went to the ER, the doctors confirmed pregnancy and I even got to hear a weak, but present heartbeat that day. A week later though I went back for a follow-up and there was there was no more heartbeat. First trimester miscarriages are shockingly common. And knowing that others had experienced this and still went on to have children (including myself) brought me comfort but there was still a season of grief and bitter disappointment. My doctor gave me 2 weeks for my body to finish the spontaneous abortion process, which it did without further complication. A couple of months later, I conceived what is often referred to as a rainbow baby, and a sweet boy was born at the end of that year.


That loss, it was easier for me to grieve and my heart was rather callous as I didn't acknowledge the personhood of that baby. It wasn't really a baby, it had never really lived. I read so many essays on miscarriage and one that really stuck with me at the time was this one "Heartbeat: My Involuntary Miscarriage and 'Volutary Abortion' in Ohio" by Tamara Mann. In it Tamara writes about what are the markers for determining "the start of life." I still don't know, even after this later experience of miscarriage, but since my first in 2012 I became acutely aware that conception doesn't equal pregnancy and pregnancy doesn't equal a baby.


More recently, I read this piece entitled "How Abortion Has Changed the Discussion of Miscarriage". And I do see how the desensitization of abortion does shape how we think about miscarriage (it's quite evident viewpoints regarding abortion shaped how I mourned my first pregnancy). Mourning potential and what ifs is truly heartbreaking because there are so many unknowns to dwell upon. It's the loudest way we are reminded of how very little control we actually can exert.


As I said, I still don't have any definitive answers as to when the mark of life truly begins, but I do think what drastically reshaped my reaction was that this time there was no simply letting my body handle the situation and letting nature run it's course.


This time I had made it to the safety of the second trimester. I was beginning to gain back some energy, I had switched over to maternity pants, and one night I even whispered to Paul that I was beginning to feel the baby move; those first small flutterings I felt at night, recognizable now after experiencing them with Mal.


This time when no heartbeat was found, the baby measured somewhere in the 15th week as opposed to the late 6th/early 7th week. This time there was no letting me go home to let my body handle it, I needed to remain under medical supervision as the risks were now greater to my health.


The night of Saturday, February 14th, I cried because I had a feeling. The day before I had strong cramping and earlier that day spotting started. Sunday I took it as easy as possible, but still spotted and cried again that night, fearing the baby was lost. Monday night came and while I didn't cry,  I was very acutely aware that for the past 4 nights, I hadn't felt that fluttering sensation. Tuesday morning found me at the ER, where I learned the awful truth as the ultrasound tech mutely took scans and measurements. My fears from the past few days at last confirmed.


There are so many small details I could get into, but they're still too raw for me touch, but my discharge papers from the hospital read "Normal Delivery". A first, as Mal was an unplanned cesarean delivery. Technically, Stephen wasn't far enough along to be medically defined as a stillborn baby; but being a baby was the respect and dignity he was treated with at the hospital. He was taken out of the room at my behest. Soon after a nurse returned and asked if we wanted to know the sex. It had been a boy. Even later, a nurse brought me a card; it had his weight, his length, and the tiniest but most perfectly formed ink stamps of his two hands and his two feet. 10 fingers and 10 toes, just millimeters big. It was after that I worked up the nerve to have his little form brought back into the room, the small body that I felt flutter. He was wrapped in a blanket the size of a washcloth, and topped with a matching knit cap. 10 fingers, 10 toes, less than 2 ounces, just over 5 inches long.


After seeing him, I told Paul the least we could do to remember him was give him a name, so we did.


There won't be a funeral or a service of any sort. We left his body at the hospital as at that point it simply was just a body. Despite not fully knowing him, he's deeply loved. His absence will be sharp again this summer, when, in a perfect, whole world, he would have arrived with those 10 fingers and 10 toes, and so much more. That perfect and whole world isn't here yet, but my hope for it has grown more than I can measure.



* * * * *I've been studying Romans recently and this past week I've been in chapter 11 where Paul wrote this wonderful doxology that has been speaking so loudly to me
 Have you ever come on anything quite like this extravagant generosity of God, this deep, deep wisdom? It’s way over our heads. We’ll never figure it out.
Is there anyone around who can explain God?
Anyone smart enough to tell him what to do?
Anyone who has done him such a huge favor
    that God has to ask his advice?
Everything comes from him;
Everything happens through him;
Everything ends up in him.
Always glory! Always praise!
    Yes. Yes. Yes.
Romans 11:33-36 (MSG) 

Monday, January 5, 2015

Easiest Homemade Liquid Laundry Detergent

I've been making my own laundry detergent for about a year now and I love it. Works great, can tailor the scent to exactly what I like, and it's cheap. And recipe I have using isn't terribly hard, but it yields 5 gallons at a time! Do you know how much that weighs? It's over 40lbs and now that I'm expecting again, I'm not lugging 40+ pounds of detergent from the kitchen down to the utility room.

So, I made some calculations and adapted the original recipe I used, to one that's even easier to assemble and only yields 1 gallon at a time.

Here is the original beastly recipe:
  • 1 bar castile soap, grated
  • 1 cup washing soda
  • 1 cup borax
  • 35-40 drops essential oil(s)
  • 5 gallons of water



  • Melt the grated soap in about 1 cup of water. In a 5 gallon bucket combine melted soap, washing soda, and borax, slowly adding water while mixing. Let sit overnight and re-mix as it will have settled. Use ~1 cup per load of laundry.


  • Not that tricky really, though the grating and melting of bar soap was a bit cumbersome. But they make LIQUID castile soap and I thought, wouldn't that be about 10 times easier to use than grating and melting bar soap into a liquid? It is a little bit more price wise for the liquid than the bars, but to me it's worth saving the time and effort.

    There's a handy little blog post comparing and contrasting the difference of Dr. Bronner's bar and liquid castile soaps and the break down of soap content (1 bar roughly equals a heaping 1.5 cups of liquid soap).

    So now, here it is the Easiest Homemade Liquid Laundry Detergent!


    • 1/3 cup liquid castile soap
    • 3 tbsp washing soda
    • 3 tbsp borax
    • 8-9 drops essential oil(s) - I use 9 drops of Young Living's Thieves EO blend
    • 1 gallon of water




  • Add powder ingredients to container (in my case, old apple juice bottles). Add ~1 cup warm water, shake gently until powder is completely dissolved. Add the castile soap, fill about 75% of the way with water. Add in essential oils, shake gently to incorporate, top off with water. Use ~1 cup per load of laundry (I typically eye ball it, and it's probably less than 1 cup use, more like 3/4 of a cup).

  • Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.