iphone archives

Mom look dis is our whole family! Mom Dad Izzie Linc and baby Max!

I think summer is officially here. Temperatures have hit 100 degrees and we are spending a lot of time outdoors and in the water. Staying busy keeps my mind busy, and that is helpful. Morgan and Margo are here for five more weeks- JR has an intensive study program away from home so she bailed outta Phoenix to be here for awhile. It's so nice to have her here. Play dates all the time.

Also, we are still waiting on the pathology report for Maxwell, it could be as long as July 24th. We just don't know. My six week checkup is next week too.

Anyway. Dumped some of my iphone pictures onto my computer. I hardly get out my big camera anymore, it's just too convenient to open my camera ap. We love our little patio outside, it's a perfect little size for us. We eat breakfast out there pretty much every morning before it gets too roasting hot. We have this hilarious neighbor cat that is more like a dog- Butterscotch. He trots over whenever the kids are outside and just hangs out with us. It's like having a pet without all the work, I definitely recommend it.

nekkid.

this is what I mean when I say the cat acts like a dog.

Her first big strawberry from her very own pot.

Helping me plant. Mostly just playing with dirt.

Linc used to be pretty afraid of the water... we bought them these floaties from Costco this year and they have loved them. I know there is some argument about giving them too much freedom in the water or giving them a false sense of security, but they seem to know they aren't allowed in the pool without their floaties on, and we are always right there with them. At first Lincoln wouldn't leave the step, but with a little encouraging from Isabelle pretty soon he was swimming all over the pool. They held hands for awhile until Lincoln was comfortable. Isabelle kept saying "You can do it Winc! You can do it! I'm wight here! I gotcha... I gotcha!" Basically the most adorable thing ever.  

Sometimes Lincoln finds my locket with the picture of the baby and he says, "ohhh baby Maaaaax." and then gives him a kiss. I really am so thankful that he is still a cuddly kid, it makes me feel so needed.

A few days ago Lincoln fell on the tile floor and chipped his front tooth pretty badly. He hardly cried, and I think I was more upset about it than he was. Amid the chaos of calming him down and having my dad assess the damage I yelled I JUST CAN'T KEEP MY KIDS SAFE!! After losing Maxwell, even though he was an infant, I have this constant worry that something will happen to my other children. I've been told that it's perfectly normal, but still I can't help but notice all of the random objects that could be death traps for my kids. Pools. Roads. Cars. Toys. Sharp objects. You get the idea. And no, I can't really keep my kids perfectly safe. They will always fall and scrape knees and probably break bones and knock out their teeth even if I am hovering around them with a force field of bubble wrap. This is life, and I just have to have faith that I can only do my best, and the rest is in the hands of our Father in Heaven.

memorial day

Maxwell's plot is just behind them, with the flowers.

Today we had a picnic at "Maxwell's Park" to celebrate memorial day. The kids ate donuts and played with the wind chimes while we walked around looking at headstones. The come in all sizes and shapes, and colors, some tall some short. Shiny, matte. Rough edges, smooth. Stuff I've never really noticed before.

We stayed about an hour with our cousins and family. I know Max is near. When all the kids were sitting on the blanket eating donuts I just thought of his little self sitting right with them, sneaking bites of frosting.

JaNae brought some roses to lay for Max, and each of the kids got one to place on his grave. Kira was first and instead of laying down in the dirt, she stuck the stem in vertically. And of course, all of the other kids followed her lead. I would never have thought of that.. but to Kira- that was perfect. And it was just perfect. Bunch of roses sticking straight up out of the dirt. Kids make this whole thing so much better.

Later we went out on Grandpa's boat for a few hours. Lincoln has been talking about grandpa's boat for months and months and today he was SO EXCITED he was going to actually get in and go for a ride. Weather was beautiful, wasn't too hot, there is still snow on Mount Shasta and it made for a pretty picturesque morning.

Lincoln sat on my lap when the boat was going fast and cuddled into my chest like he was a baby. We drove around and he nearly fell asleep on me, his little face pressed against my skin. His hair all crazy from the wind, fingers playing with my shirt sleeve. Tender time for me. I love babies, all the babies big and small, and today in particular I'm missing that 9-pound one of mine a whole lot.

a whole month.

Linc, Kira, Margo, Isabelle, Madilyn, and Bennett.  Cousins. The best kind of distraction.

Yesterday was four weeks since Maxwell changed our lives.

We are starting to get back to "normal" around here, though what is normal anymore? Jazz has been back at work for awhile, Izzie's in preschool, life sort of goes on. I've been at home a lot, in fact today was our first grocery store run in over a month. It feels weird to do every day things when we've just been through such a life changing experience. Running into people is sort of awkward, like... do they know? how much do they know? I feel like I need a t-shirt declaring my postpartem-ness. I swear I just had a baby.

Some days are better than others. Some days we are busy and have friends over, people visit. I keep the laundry going and pretty soon it's bedtime. Some days are more difficult, there are so many small reminders that unexpectedly pop up and bring me to tears. A baby bootie left in my purse. The brown haired newborn in front of me at the store. My body that is sore and continues to heal. A medical bill in the mail. The gravestone to choose and design. How do you even do that? Right now his plot is the saddest little pile of dirt. It about breaks my heart when we visit.

Some days I just want to crawl in my bed and sleep. And I do- when I can, when I need it.

When my mind wanders I find myself thinking about what I would be doing had things been different, if Maxwell was still here.

Thank you for the food you have prepared and brought over. For the cards filled with thoughtful messages. I cried opening all of them, really. I have learned so much from this process, mostly about the kindness of people and how I am seriously lacking in that department. We have been blown away by the outpouring of love and support for our family.

Four weeks down, a lifetime to go.

Laid to Rest

The tiniest little casket.

On May 3rd we had a small service, surrounded by family and close friends, to celebrate the life of our Maxwell and to lay our sweet baby to rest.

The day before the burial, we were able to see Maxwell and say our earthly goodbyes. I won't write much about that here because it was so personal, so special, so spiritual, I don't think I could do justice to that one hour of our lives- enveloped in the love of our Savior while we held Max in his beautiful white clothes swaddled in a soft white blanket. A long sleeved cable knit blessing outfit. A tiny onesie that all of my children have worn and I have washed a hundred times. Socks from Lincoln's top drawer. Peacefully sleeping, our perfect little baby.

We were so blessed to have so many of our family members there. Jazz's dad flew from Pennsylvania. His mother, step father, sister and her children came from Utah. My sisters flew from Arizona. Leigh from San Francisco. We even got to skype Sean in from his hospital in San Antonio. Our best friends came and stood and cried with us, we felt so much support from our loved ones. 

I think my favorite part of the whole thing was seeing all of the cousins run around together. Their little souls didn't realize the weight of the day, the sadness surrounding our circumstances. Instead they walked through a peaceful park- we had perfect weather, little breeze and wind chimes softly blowing. This part of the cemetery is not typical green grass and square plots. We chose this because it is more natural, more secluded and quiet, full of shade and big oak trees. Jazz rides right through the cemetery on his bike rides every Tuesday with my dad, and as soon as we needed to pick a place to bury Maxwell, they knew exactly where they wanted him to be.

I love this picture. Surrounded by our favorite people, the kids sitting around us, yet you can clearly see the pain and sadness on my face. 

This is my precious niece Margo. She calls me Mimi. As soon as my dad got up to start the service, she cried for me and wanted so badly to sit on my lap. I think she knew I needed a little extra love, a little extra help getting through a difficult day. Bless her.

Scott opened with a prayer, and then all the cousins sang "I am a Child of God." So sweet. Lincoln mostly stomped around and pulled faces, little stinker. 

My dad spoke a little bit about baby Maxwell, about his short life and his need to obtain a body. His perfect little spirit and how thankful we all are that he joined our family. He spoke about our time at hospital, about me and Jazz, and about eternal families. And when he was finished, he dedicated the grave for our boy. A beautiful prayer. 

We concluded with a special violin piece by my brother Sean. He lives in Texas and wasn't able to come and be with us, but he was with us in spirit. He recorded himself playing Brahms' Lullaby and then Scott was able to play it through some portable speakers. I thought I was keeping my composure pretty well up to this point, but once I heard his music I sort of lost it. Every mother wants to sing a lullaby to her baby, and I didn't really get the chance. Sean's lullaby was so sweet and meaningful, it was the perfect send off for our Maxwell. I don't think there was a dry eye in the group. Thank you Sean, for saying what I could not.

Lullaby and good night,
With roses bedight,
With lilies o'er spread
Is baby's wee bed.
Lay thee down now and rest,
May thy slumber be blessed.

I stood, and put my hand on the casket of my sweet baby and told him that he was special, and loved, and perfect. Until we meet again, Maxwell, your mama loves you and misses you every minute.

 

Could not do a single step of this without this man. I love him so much.

Sean skyped in via the iphone so he could be a part of our special day. He was so cute, he even changed into a white shirt and tie even though he was so far away. 

This is (the back of) my wonderful obstetrician, Dr. Kang. We feel like she is part of the family now. 

Madilyn, Margo, and Isabelle. 

Our only family picture as a family of five. 

Three generations of Sorensen Men.

The service was short and sweet, just like Maxwell's life. A perfect celebration. 

As we drove away from the cemetery, my heart was heavy, my face wet with tears. Lincoln shouted from the backseat, "Bye Maaaaax." 

more of max

Isabelle drew this of our whole family. She said Maxwell is in blue because he is in heaven.

My IV wound is gone, my incision is healing. My bangs grew out enough to need a trim. Life keeps going and I need it to stop just for a second so I can catch my breath and make sure Maxwell really happened. It feels so far already, and I know I’m forgetting things, and it really does seem like a bad dream.

We spent less than 48 hours at the hospital. I really wanted to get home to my family, to my children, and to my own bed. It’s sort of a blur, thanks to shock and pain medication and sleep. We had a some visitors, a few dear friends, my brother and his wife, and also Isabelle and Lincoln. We cried a lot. We cried together. We went over Maxwell’s short little life and recounted our precious moments with everyone.

My mom was the one that told our children and their cousins. She sat them down and told them that Baby Max was special and that he went back up to heaven and we wouldn't be able to keep him down on earth. Isabelle said sadly, “But…. I really wanted to change his diaper.” Later she asked if baby Maxwell walked all the way to heaven, or if he took a ladder. Sweet, sweet girl. They came to visit us at the hospital on Friday and it was all I could do to keep it together around them. I want to hug and kiss them and hold them close and cry wet tears on their little heads. They were more excited by the donuts and fancy chairs in our room.

My dad was scheduled to leave for Boston on Thursday night for an annual medical conference. He had planned to stop by the hospital on his way out of town to see us and visit the baby, but of course those plans changed. He cancelled his trip. He stayed with us. He gave us priesthood blessings of comfort and healing. Because he was already off of work (which never happens) he was able to help my mom take care of Isabelle and Lincoln. He was also available to take care of things like funeral arrangements- things that were too difficult for me to even think about. Bless my mother. She kept my kids for days, kept them busy, kept us fed, kept our spirits up, let me sob on her shoulder.  I have the most amazing parents.

On the second day, Kelly helped us get a larger and more comfortable room at the very end of the hall. Being near the nurses station was convenient, but painful. We could hear babies being born, babies crying, excited families coming and going. Every time a new baby was born a lullaby would play on the speaker. Sort of salt in the wound, you know.

My doctor came in to visit me every morning and every evening. She held Maxwell for a few minutes when we had him. After she held him, she offered a beautiful and fervent prayer with us- something I’ve never experienced with any physician. She held my hand and cried real tears, mother to mother, and I appreciated her expertise and also her comfort. I can’t imagine going through this process with our old OB- everyday I’m so thankful I switched to her service so late in my pregnancy. That was an answer to prayers. She was an answer to our prayers.

Those two days at the hospital were so hard, but so necessary. The entire nursing staff was so wonderful- they showed so much love and compassion for our situation. They cried with us. They brought me medicine. They made sure Jazz had food at meal times. They were so careful to treat us with sensitivity while we were going through the horrible process of grief. Bless those nurses, those women who took care of us. April, Amy, Carey, Luke, Christina, Kelly and Carol. Thank you.

One nurse stopped Jazz in the hallway just before we were discharged and said what a beautiful baby Max was. She said that after the nurse had taken him from us, after we had held him all day,--that he was cared for in the NICU. Many of the nurses stopped by to hold or sit with Maxwell so that he wasn’t alone. This touched our hearts so much, to know that he wasn’t alone. I know his spirit had already left but as the mama that grew that little body it brought me so much comfort.

Saturday morning I was moving around well enough to be discharged. My recovery was physically much easier than my other two cesareans. Two days after surgery, I walked all the way out of the hospital- I even did the stairs at my mom’s house the day after I got home. I’m not sure why it was so much easier- sleeping helped  a ton, and I think Dr. Kang did a beautiful job with my surgery (stitches are so much better than staples!) and I know it was really a blessing from above that I felt as good as I did.

We got into the car and drove away from the hospital. My heart hurt so much. We left without our baby. Car seat empty. Overnight bag full of unused tiny baby things. And there were all these people driving around doing regular things and I wanted to yell at them. EVERYONE SHOULD BE SAD.

But being home was such a relief. Jazz had asked my parents to stop by and move all the baby things out of our room so it wouldn't be a physical reminder to me of our empty arms. I appreciated that so much. I thought I would want to be alone, curl into a ball and live in a cave the rest of my life… but I found I did better around my family. To mourn with those who mourn.  Those days after the hospital went by so quickly- Percocet. Tears. Naps. Food and flowers. A visit to the cemetery to pick out a resting place for our sweet baby. How do you even do that? Arrangements with the funeral home. Visits from friends. Lots and lots of tears.

The first few days after Maxwell died I said that I felt like I ran a marathon, but I didn't get my prize. Only now I think that the marathon is just beginning, and the prize is still waiting for me at the end.

It feels so far away.

This is still so, so hard.

The Story of Max

How do I tell a story like Maxwell’s?

It was just a few weeks ago but it feels so far away already. It was a bittersweet and beautiful day, one I want to remember forever and I know by writing it down I will cement those sweet memories. This blog is the journal of our family, and I want to share Maxwell’s life with all the people that love and care for us.

just about to head out the door to the hospital

We were so excited to wake up on Thursday, April 24th. I took a long shower and got ready, spending a little extra time for our big day. We dropped Isabelle and Lincoln off at my parents’ house with some tight hugs and kisses and a promise to see them later in the day.

We parked at the hospital and left most of our overnight stuff in the car. At the last second, I made Jazz unlock the car so I could grab the little blue hat I bought especially for the baby’s birthday, just in case we wanted it sooner rather than later.

We checked in at ten. We were taken to the pre-op/ recovery room and I changed into my gown, got my IV, and had the baby hooked up to a monitor. Jazz put on his fancy disposable scrubs. We joked around and laughed and took pictures and thought about how our lives were about to change for the best. Everything was prepped and ready, a little before noon I kissed Jazz and walked myself into the OR. I kept saying “This is so weird! This is sooo weird!” This was our first scheduled c-section- it was so different having surgery after a good nights sleep, skipping hours and hours of exhausting labor and being wheeled into the OR in the middle of the night. We were so happy, cheerful even.

lets do this.

I sat on the edge of the table and hunched over for the spinal. Baby was sitting so high and wiggling so much I remember having a hard time curling over far enough so the anesthesiologist could poke around. See you soon baby! I thought to myself. Medicine took effect, they put up the drape and everyone came in. Jazz was right by my face, helping me stay calm- being numb from the chest down is slightly claustrophobic but after a few minutes I got used to it. It’s a weird feeling to be conscious during a surgery like this. Lots of pulling, lots of tugging and pressure, a little nausea. But I was so comfortable.

surgery begins.

Maxwell was sitting so high in my body that the assisting OB was literally pushing on me to get him to move down. My doctor was so sweet and kept chatting with me to keep me informed on the progress.

We have a special friend named Carol who is a nurse for my dad at his surgery center- she is also a NICU nurse. Sweetest lady in the world. She came in on her day off to be at our birth and help us have a good experience- we were hoping to have some skin to skin time right away, and she was the woman to make it happen. She took many of the beautiful pictures that we have of our precious moments with Maxwell. We owe so much to her.

Soon, Dr. Kang said, “Here comes baby!” And just to my left was my Max. Slimy and fresh from my body. He looked so long! And big! Much bigger than my other babies. He was taken over to the warmer to be cleaned and to help him breathe a little bit. And then we heard what every parent waits to hear- that squeaky cry of a newborn baby. Maxwell was here. And he was loud. He was measured and weighed- a whopping nine pounds even! Almost two whole pounds bigger than Isabelle and more than a week earlier. So chubby! And with dark hair! I was elated about the dark hair, I've always dreamed of dark haired baby and he was finally here.

           

He was wrapped up and brought over to me and laid on my chest. Tears streaming down my face, I held him close to me, whispered that I was his mama. I stroked his soft cheeks and his pink lips and told him how glad I was he was here, how we had prayed and waited for him, how he had this great family and two siblings that were so excited to meet him. He smelled so good, so fresh and new. Jazz helped me hold him and told me what I great job I was doing, and had done to get him here. I sang a soft verse of happy birthday to my boy- I stroked his face and he turned towards me and he was calm and for a few minutes, all was perfect.

Our first moment together

one last kiss before he was taken next door

Carol came over and said they wanted to take him back to my recovery room to warm him up a little bit and check his breathing. We turned the baby around for a few more pictures and to get a last kiss, and off he went. We were so happy. For those few minutes, everything was perfect.

Jazz went with Maxwell to my recovery room and stood by him in the warmer. He held his hand, and talked to him, and felt the impression to take some video on his iphone. Jazz recorded about two minutes of Max crying and making little grunting noises and looking around at the world. Two minutes of Max’s life that I can keep forever among my most prized possessions.

His neck rolls!

 

so much dark hair

I spent another 15 minutes in the operating room being put back together. I was so happy the hard part was over! Dr. Kang talked me through what she was doing, and I asked weird questions about my uterus and how my insides looked. I was drugged, what can I say.  

It was a beautiful surgery. I felt comfortable, I felt awake and aware, I didn’t feel nauseous or sick-- by far the best of my three cesareans. Pretty soon I was all stitched up, the drape was removed, and the staff did their closing counts on sponges and instruments. I was wheeled right next door where Jazz was waiting for me. He said they had just taken the baby to the NICU to help him breathe a little bit better, and that someone would keep us posted. I wasn’t worried at all, this is so common especially for c-section babies. I figured they would suction him and give him some oxygen and bring him over in a bassinet soon enough. Jazz texted our family members with Maxwell’s birth stats and a cute pictures of his brown fluffy hair and chubby little face.

All was well, until it wasn’t.

A nurse came in sort of panicked looking- I didn’t think anything of it at the time but looking back it was alarming. She grabbed my chart and took the non-stress test strip from earlier in the morning and studied it, wanted to see if there were any irregularities. She told us the baby was struggling to breathe and that they were going to possibly place an IV and that they were working on him. Still I didn’t panic.

About fifteen minutes later, my sweet OB came in with a pale face and shaking hands. She shook her head and with concern on her face told us the baby had been down for almost a half an hour, that they were doing all that they could, but that Jazz needed to quickly go with her to the NICU.

I wasn’t allowed to go, since I had to lay flat and be on monitors following such a major surgery. I stayed, in shock, the tears not coming. My nurse April came over and stayed with me and held my hand and offered a prayer for baby Max. I didn’t know what to think. I begged him to breathe and stay with us. I pleaded.

Less than five minutes passed, and I could hear Jazz coming down the hall, sobbing. I knew, it was finished. Maxwell was gone.

We held each other, gasping for air. This doesn’t happen, I said, it’s 2014, this just doesn’t happen. I live in America, I had great pre-natal care. We were full term. I took all my vitamins. I had all of my ultrasounds and appointments and shots. We were ready.

The doctor from the NICU came in, and all the nurses, and everyone stood around crying. He explained what they did, and all the measures they took to save Maxwell’s life. I sat, in shock, absorbing it all, and then the tears came. And we sobbed. Everyone cried with us. My OB held my hand. We cried. They asked us what we wanted to do.. And I didn’t know. What does anyone do? There’s no guidebook for this. I asked for a moment alone with Jazz. He held me and we sobbed. And then we had to call our parents. I’ll never forget those phone calls to our loved ones- to say something was wrong, not with mom but with baby. Devastating phone calls. My dad left the house right away to come and be with us. My mom called all of our siblings to let them know, and my sweet sister in law offered to come over and watch my kids so my mom could come down to the hospital. I could barely speak.

My dad came in to the room and I’m sure it broke his heart to see us in such tragic despair. The nicu nurses asked if we wanted to see and hold our precious  baby. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever be in this situation.  They had dressed him in a little onesie, booties and a hat and swaddled him in a big blue blanket I’m sure some elderly person had knit and donated for this purpose. I’ve never felt such overwhelming anguish and deep love at the same time. Our sweet baby looked so peaceful, so perfect, I just kept thinking his toes were going to wiggle and he was going to open his eyes and wake up and be hungry.

We held him, and looked at his ears and his perfect toes and his little fingers. I felt his soft skin and his fluffy brown hair. This perfect body I had worked so hard to grow and make for such a long time. Peacefully sleeping. His work was finished. Our hearts were so broken, we cried and cried together and passed him around. I asked Jazz to get out that special blue hat and put it on him, even if it was only for a few minutes. It was the only thing I ever really got to dress him in. In those short moments I tried to memorize his face and his eyebrows and his ears that didn’t quite match, just like Lincoln’s. His face was round like Isabelle’s- his nose like his mama’s, his toes like his father’s, and Lincoln’s little mouth and chin. Nine pounds of chubby arms and thighs and chins. My Maxwell.

After a few hours my parents left, and Jazz and I were left alone to grieve and mourn while we held our baby. I talked to him and told him how special he is and how lucky we are to be his parents.  I told him about his big sister and his big brother and how much he looked like them. I told him we would do everything that we could so we could see him again. I held him tightly in my arms and tried to make it last for a whole lifetime. We felt his spirit so near to us.

Later that night it was time for us to let go of our sweet baby. When we were ready, the nurses came to get him- that little body that had served a purpose and for a few minutes were full of breath and life. Handing him off was one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. No mother should have to experience that.

I thought of my two children at home and what on earth was I going to tell them. Isabelle had been so excited for a new baby and had been practicing all of her mothering skills on her baby dolls and Olivia. I thought of the empty car seat waiting in my car. I kept saying, “I don’t know how to do this. What am I supposed to do.”

Of course, everyone wants to know “what happened.” What happened is that Maxwell was not meant to stay on this earth. He needed to come and get a body. To live for a few minutes. To change our lives and join our family, and then he was finished. A perfect soul. A perfect baby. His mission was complete.

In the short time they took Max from the recovery room literally across the hallway to the NICU, his heart stopped beating. And nothing that they did- no resuscitation or medicine or anything brought any sort of heart beat back. The nicu team did everything that they could but once he was gone, he was gone. He lived maybe 45 minutes, only five of those minutes in his mama’s arms. Five short minutes.

Scientifically, there is supposed to be a reason for his demise, as they call it. There has been talk of small heart defect, possibly a pulmonary artery problem, or something else entirely. We aren’t sure. We may never know. The neonatologist at the hospital said he has never seen anything like it in the twenty years he has worked in the NICU. He was here and healthy, and then he wasn’t. So quickly. A special neonatal pathologist came up from Oakland to perform an autopsy on our sweet baby. That is hard for me to even type. We won’t know the results for several weeks, even if they found anything at all.

We do know that there are so many things that were put into perfect position to help us have this experience with Maxwell. Tender mercies, we call them, and they are countless. We wrote some things down a few days after we got home from the hospital, and it was pages long. Someday I will share them, they are special and I’m so grateful that so many things were prepared for us.

I never got to change his diaper, I didn’t get to feed him or bathe him. There are so many things that I wasn't able to do for him- but I kept him safe and grew him a big beautiful body so that he could come to earth for just a few short minutes.  Those nine months were so, so worth it.

We love and miss our baby Max. My body aches for him. We mourn and cry and sometimes I feel like I physically can't breathe without him, but I know that Heavenly Father is aware of my pain and agony. He has a plan for me and for my family, and I feel privileged to be the mother of this special child.

"Endings are not our destiny... They are merely interruptions-- temporary pauses that one day will seem small compared to the eternal joy awaiting the faithful." -- President Uchtdorf, April 2014 Conference