The Best Way

Henry Christmas morning.

We enjoyed a wonderful Christmas out in Utah this year. I am always impressed with how much thought and effort go into everything my parents prepare. From meals to gifts to costumes for our ever growing Nativity cast. I’m kicking myself that I didn’t pull my camera out more, but we had such a great time. The holiday weekend we ate, we visited, we played games, volleyball (for the Championship of the World!) and we even had a talent show this year.

Another fabulous Christmas.

We rang in the New Year when the East coast did…meaning we all ended up in bed before midnight. In fact, I think I fell asleep at about 11:45. So close. I must be getting old.

New Years Day, after attending just Sacrament Meeting, we drove up to Sandy up to Sunset Gardens to visit Baby Honey’s grave. She doesn’t have her own grave stone yet, but after four years this was the first time we’d been back. I didn’t know what to expect, but thankfully I think with time, I was ready.

Ryan and I agreed that this was the perfect place for a family picture. All together. We will treasure those tender moments.

On our way back to my parents, we decided to stop by the place where it all began, back in 2000.

The Jordan River Temple

Our first visit back since our wedding (apparently we aren’t this area very much…) and unfortunately, the gates were locked. I was happy to snap a few photos though and the kids seemed happy to see the temple their parents were married in.

This day was the best way we could have started this new year.

November 7, 2007 - Enter Honey Mary

I asked Ryan last night if he'd written down the time that Baby Honey was delivered. He said he didn't think so. I asked if I could check his journal - I knew I hadn't written it down, nor could I remember. With his permission, the following is from his journal:

November 7, 2007

Well, my little one, you were delivered to us at 1:32pm today. It has helped immensely to have you here. After all the pain I have expressed, I would be remiss to not express my relief and gratitude.

We have been strengthened beyond belief. We have been blessed by great peace. When you were delivered, the nurse had to untangle you from the cord that wrapped around your leg, across your chest and around your neck three times. You poor little thing.

It was a great comfort to Mom and I to hold you, cradle you and love you. We will always love you, but it was a comfort to hold your fragile little body and rock you gently.

You have beautiful little fingernails and tiny little toenails. Your limbs and body are perfect. Your sweet face still holds a little resemblance of the glow you would have had.
Please don't think less of us because of our relief. We love you and find great comfort that you are well now.

We will call you Honey Mary; our sweet little one.

If It Weren't For Her

If it weren't for her . . .

We wouldn't have them.

This Day Two Years Ago

Two years ago, I remember exactly how this morning went. I showered and got ready right along with Rylee and Clay for school. We first dropped off Rylee, and then Clay off at pre-school and headed out. I remember what I was wearing and how nervous I felt that day. This day was the 20 week ultrasound for our 5th baby.

The day before, I sat in Fast and Testimony meeting and wondered if there was even a possibility that the next day, I would find out there was something wrong with this tiny babe inside of me. I had no reason to think that there would be anything wrong - all my other pregnancies and deliveries were flawless. But, this time, I knew I had only felt the baby move twice - right at 16 weeks and then not feeling that grapefruit ball in my abdomen. But, when every other pregnancy had been fine - with little worries, I would be just fine and the ultrasound would confirm it. But, I still felt that dark uncertainty.

It was 2 days before my 20 week mark and I had moved the ultrasound date up a week as Ryan was going to be out of town the following week (who wants to wait longer than they have to?). Ryan met me at the doctor's office, and Kaycee and Lucy played with the toys while we waited out turn. I sat there incredibly worried and scared, but tried to push it back.

The technician called my name.

We shuffled back the room, found our places and the tech put with warm gel on my stomach. My heart was pounding as the baby showed up on screen.

The room was dark and quiet, an uncomfortable quiet. Even, the small girls were quiet. My heart jumped a little as the tech quickly measured the baby's head: 16w 5days. But, I was almost 20 weeks? My mind flashed back to my last appointment, 17 weeks. I sat up from hearing the heartbeat and asked the doctor if I was measuring okay, I felt I wasn't growing like I had with the others. She said " no, you look fine. Good for 13 weeks." "But, I'm 17 weeks." "Oh, your other girls measured small, you probably measuring smaller again."

Back in the dark ultrasound room, I felt the lump building in my throat. The tech did a couple more measurements and I was trying so hard to feel calm. Then she broke the silence.

"Honey, have you been feeling the baby move?"

"No."

"I can't find a heart beat. I'm so sorry. I'll go get Nicole."

My arm immediately flung over my eyes and I started to sob. My worst fear confirmed. Confirmed. There was something wrong. Our baby had died.

Remembering I wasn't alone in the room, I looked over at Ryan. His hand was under his glasses pressing into his eyes. I felt so sad. So sad for him. I felt as though I may have been prepared for this news, but he had no clue what was coming.

Nicole, our nurse practitioner came in and was so compassionate and sincere. She teared up with us and asked if I had thought anything was wrong. I told her I should have called her sooner. She shook her head and said that mothers usually know when something is wrong and that even calling in wouldn't have helped. I asked her what was next. She told us that I'd have to deliver. My heart sank. I knew the little baby was dead and yet the thought of actually having to deliver was so incredibly overwhelming. We cried. Nicole and the tech told us we could stay as long as we wanted in that room, to leave when we felt ready. It was a relief not see any faces as we left the doctor's office.

We walked weighed down to the van. Ryan's truck was parked across the way. We got into the van and looked at each other with tear-streamed faces. We didn't have to say anything as we both just wondered how we were going to tell Kaycee and Lucy and then Rylee and Clay. Once we had to say it out loud, that we wouldn't get to bring this baby home, grief and sadness overcame us again. The girls were quiet and I'm sure confused as their parents were so heart-broken.

After a few minutes in the van, I watched Ryan go to his truck, call his boss and tell her that he wouldn't be coming back that day. I watched him again as he brought his hand to his face. I then thought of calling my mom.

I dialed her number and listened as she cheerfully said "Hi, pretty girl! How are you?"

The phone was silent. I had started to cry again and couldn't get any words out. Her voice turned to worry. "Honey? What's wrong?"

"The baby died." I sobbed.

I could feel the heart break on the other end as my mom started to cry, too. I can still hear her voice in my head. Oh, Honey, I am so sorry.

We talked for a few minutes and I asked her to call all my siblings and let them know. I told her I wasn't sure if I was up to talking to anyone yet, but that I wanted her to tell them.

We made our way over to Ryan's parents and fell into their arms. Was this really happening? They were good to take our kids outside while Ryan and I went upstairs and poured our heart and souls out in prayer. We realized the decisions that were ahead of us. We had about a day to decided when we wanted to deliver, and what we wanted to do with this baby's body. It wasn't long before my phone rang. I looked down to see that it was my Dad calling. I burst into tears again and almost pushed the phone away from me. The phone stopped ringing and Ryan encouraged me to call him back, he would want to talk to me. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to talk to him, it was how. I can't talk with tears. My dad offered wonderful love and support and I could feel his sadness. I remember clearly, him saying "If anything this experience will teach you compassion. Compassion to other mothers who lose their babies." That thought has always stayed with me.

We decided we'd bury this baby and we called Grandma Rodriguez to get permission to bury her in Grandpa's grave. She was more than happy, and so were we. We got in contact with a mortuary here and then the mortuary over in Utah. We got information on travel permits to be able to take this baby ourselves over state lines. I called my doctor's office back and told them that we'd come in the following night to prep for delivery.

The rest of the day was somber and it was hard to think that I was carrying a baby that wasn't alive. It was hard to control the deep sadness that we felt as a family. It was a quiet evening, but as phone calls came in from my sisters, the Relief Society President came by, I felt I was being carried. My spirits were higher and I felt that I could conquer the following days and their events.

It was Wednesday morning, November 7, 2007 that our baby girl was delivered. I was nervous to see her little body and wondered what she would look like, but as I held that tiny body, I was overcome with love and sadness at the same. Love that here this little baby had a perfect body that I could hold, and yet deep sadness that she wouldn't have the opportunity to grace our home.

The following days, weeks and months were difficult - to say the least. We had no clue what this experience would bring emotionally. I have to say though, that one of the hardest parts was seeing Ryan grieve. It was a week after Baby Honey was delivered where I wanted to send his family an email asking for support and love for him. My mom was calling everyday to check-in on us and my siblings were calling often as well. But what about my husband? I've learned in this situation, that most people worry about the mother and how she's doing. I think Ryan had the shorter end of the stick. I believe I was prepared for this somehow, but he on the other hand, was blindsided. He needed support too, maybe even more that I did. To this day, I regret not sending that email. The experience wasn't really talked about here, more because I don't think they knew what to say. And, for some reason in my mind it felt as if, if no one asked, no one cared. I knew that they cared, but I know it would have helped to ask for that support.

I sit here amazed that it has already been two years. The first year, there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of her. Sadly, I find that although time has made it easier, it takes us further away from this experience. Like my Dad said, it has taught us compassion. More than I could understand before. This experience brought Ryan and I closer together as a couple, as parents to our children. This sweet baby is a a great reminder that we have someone cheering for us. Waiting for us. Our baby Honey Mary.

One Year

Honey Mary Hunt

Born Still November 7, 2007
Parker, Colorado

Buried November 10, 2007
Sandy, Utah

"And Honey, I miss you, and I'm being good. I'd love to be with you, if only I could."
~Bobby Goldsboro, "Honey"

This is what we printed on little mementos for those that attended our family graveside service.
It's hard to believe it's been a year already- it's gone by so quickly. Our hearts have come a long way and we're so grateful for the Lord's tender mercies to our young family. I must admit, there isn't a day that goes by that my thoughts aren't turned to Baby Honey in one way or another. I'm so grateful for those little reminders. It's difficult to express what I've felt over this past year and I get a lump in my throat just thinking about all the blessings we have received. I didn't want to let this day go by without remembering her. Remembering our little baby, Honey.

A Happy Birthday to Aunt Carla, who shares her birthday today with Honey Mary. We love you.

Today

Our Easter Sunday was a nice day. I was a lot more emotional that day hearing talks in church about death, mortality and the miracle of the Savior's resurrection. I attribute the emotions mostly to throwing up since 4 in the morning, feeling weak and having to participate in two musical numbers, but I hadn't realized that baby Honey would have been born so close to Easter. It was a pleasant reminder of our Heavenly Father's Plan.

This morning KC came into our bed about 10 mins before Ryan's alarm was going to go off at 6am. As I rolled over to make more room for our guest, I was surprised that my mind immediately remembered the date. Today is my due date. It's not like I had forgotten, I knew it was coming up, but I think I was hoping that I would just float through they day, maybe remembering later on. Just moments later, the flood gates opened and so many feelings and emotions that had settled came rising to the surface again. I was certainly not expecting this reaction, and found that although time was healing our hearts, it wasn't hard to be sad all over again.

A few weeks ago in Sunday School, our teacher was asking us about faith building experiences. She began giving us some examples and mentioned to mothers when they hold a new baby in their arms, if they see gimpses of eternity and other great experiences. My eyes immediately welled up and I thought to myself, it was when I was holding a baby that I couldn't have right now that allowed me to see a glimpse into eternity.

I love that we have a Heavenly Father that has a great plan for us. That although we may not understand everything now or how things are going to work out, we know that in the end, everything will be worked out. I love that my kids still speak of baby Honey and how much they miss her. I love how this experience has changed our perspective. I love the picture that hangs over our bed of a little girl securely embraced in the Savior's arms. I love His compassion. I love that I'm okay with letting my emotions go when I think of our sweet, little baby. I love our baby, Honey and I hope we can see her soon.

Warm Hearts, Warm Babies

Last night, I attended an enrichment of another ward, a "baby shower." They had opened it up to the Stake and I was thrilled to be there. There were about 30 sisters there to learn about a non-profit organization here in Colorado called Warm Hearts, Warm Babies. This is a wonderful organization where they "provide clothing, blankets, and essential items to premature and newborn infants, and young children, in crisis, free of charge." They also provide little burial outfits for those little babies that don't make it. This organization is amazing! It first started out as a mother who had a baby very prematurely, that ending up passing away. They brought her her baby just on a silver tray. She was devastated at this presentation and vowed to not let this happen to anyone else. Can you image?!

As you can probably tell, this particular part of the organization touches my heart. Providing little burial outfits for these tiny (or not so tiny) babies, when the family perhaps has nothing. When we had baby Honey, she was so tiny, about the length of my hand, and although she was so tiny, her body was so perfect. It wasn't until a nurse came in with a little, pink crocheted blanket (just smaller than a wash cloth) with a little hood that tied with pink ribbon, that we knew what to bury Honey in. It was perfect! A week or so later, I found out that this ward (the one that put on the shower last night) were providing these little blankets/hoodies to hospitals in the area. I was so grateful!

It is so sad that there are so many needy babies here in Colorado and throughout the nation. But thankfully, Warm Hearts, Warm Babies with their hundreds of volunteers are there to support these families in need. What a wonderful organization! Last night, we had two long tables piled high and deep with baby accessories. What a wonderful way to help! It was so touching and truly an enriching activity.

http://www.warmheartswarmbabies.org/

Faith and Miracles

As you probably notice, I don't post here very often. Over the past several weeks, I've been assessing our life and counting our blessings. Our experience with baby Honey has helped me realize the fragility of life and made me grateful for so many things, things that I used to take for granted. As I've thought about all of this, I could often hear the many voices in my life that have said we are crazy/courageous for having so many kids, for getting married so quickly and so young, for jumping into a condo and now the house, for pretty much making every big decision in our life. I am in no way ashamed/embarrassed/regretful of any of those decisions. Our life has been a great adventure, and we have been greatly blessed.

This weekend we had stake conference, and our mission president made a comment that has really stuck with me. As I've thought about it more, I realize that the principle he taught has been thoroughly active in our life. He said that he teaches his missionaries the following:

When you feel doubt, replace it with faith, go to work and expect the miracle.

Let me explain. In our life, we have, at times, questioned the decisions we were making. We prayed and probably wanted that huge revelation with angels and lights and visions and the like. Many times, we received very little. Many times we felt very little. Most times, Honey and I had looked at the decision, analyzed our options, prayed about it and were still "left on our own" to make the decision. We felt good about our analysis and acted on that knowing that we would receive guidance as we acted - as Elder Bednar said, feeling the nudging of the spirit to go in one direction or the other. When we made the decision, we jumped in knowing we would make the best of it that we could. When things became difficult, we prayed more and went back to work. We became committed. Only after much analysis, prayer and action did we actually see results. Looking back, those results have been truly miraculous. We are blessed with four healthy, beautiful children, one waiting for us, and a host of blessings too long to list.

When you feel doubt, have confidence in the decision you've made (replace doubt with faith), go to work and watch the miracle come.

With Thankful Hearts

Thanksgiving has past now, but I wanted to share what we, our little family, is especially grateful for this year: the Plan of Happiness. This has become more real to us than ever with the loss of our baby, Honey. The day we found out she had died, for FHE we decided to talk about the Plan of Salvation with our kids and talk about what was happening. Ryan did a fabulous job describing it with our Candy Land board game. We all lived together with Heavenly Father before we came to earth. We chose to come here. Then starting on our journey here in mortality, we receive great blessings that help us move forward faster. But we can also feel like we're stuck in the mud, like we're stationary or sometimes even feel like we're moving backwards. Our hearts can hurt, and we face life with sadness and sorrow. Ultimately though, our goal is to live faithfully and return as a family back to Heavenly Father.

The kids seemed to grasp what we were saying, and it was nice to be reminded of why we are here. That we knew there would be tough times and rough patches. We are so grateful for the temple, for the promise of eternal families. The night we went into the hospital, Ryan and I were able to go the temple. What a comfort! To be reminded that as we try our best here on earth, we can be with our families together forever. That not being able to have our little baby right now, we can look forward to being with her and enjoy her on the other side.

There is no way we could have done this alone. It is such an amazing experience to feel (and I mean really FEEL) all of the love, support, fasting and prayers that have been said on our behalf. And thank you to all who are still offering this support, who have called us up to see how we're doing, to see how we're managing and offer love and support. Our lives have changed and our hearts are still tender and we appreciate (tremendously!) the thoughtfulness. Our ward has been and still is so supportive and loving. What a great Plan! To not only have families, but ward families. So it is with thankful hearts that we share our love and gratitude for you, not only during this holiday season, but for always.

Our Sweet Baby

Sadly, we remove our baby counter as our baby girl was delivered yesterday at my 20 week mark. It was on Monday when we found out that our baby had no heart beat and had probably died some two weeks ago. It was my worst fear confirmed and the anticipation of having to deliver this tiny infant was unbearable. But, we truly feel blessed. We have felt the love and peace of the Savior in a tremendous, unexplainable way. Our family and friends have been here for us and we cannot express how much this has meant. As we held our tiny, 2.7 oz little girl, we were overwhelmed with love. She was only 7 inches but still, a perfect little body. What a miracle! How we wish we could keep her and have her in our home, she will always be in our hearts, a part of our family, our little Honey Mary. We drive out to Utah tomorrow to bury her little body with our Grandpa Carlos Rodriguez on Saturday. There is some comfort knowing that little Honey will be buried near family, perhaps watching over her. I'm sure there will be rough days ahead, perhaps even months or years. It states in the chorus of the song that I was named after "And Honey, I miss you, and I'm being good. I'd love to be with you, if only I could." We know that our baby girl is well and safe, waiting for us to join her. We love you, baby Honey, and we long to be with you.