Putting it behind us

As this year comes to a close I see people say they are putting the bad of the year behind them. I'd love to just pack up the bad, send it to the garage with the Christmas decorations, and leave it there. The bad of this year is not something I can walk away from. It's not something I can wrap in a package, label "2012", and store away as if it never existed. However, I can live with the bad, knowing I have learned some real tough but rewarding lessons, and I can use that to become a better person: A better wife, a better friend, a better mother. So, as I leave 2012, knowing I am leaving the only time my daughter existed on this Earth, I leave with strong friendships, stronger love, and a heart so full for those in it that is seeps out! I'm not a mushy person, a touchy person, or a sappy person, but as we begin 2013 I want each of you to know, I do love you and I am infinitely blessed by what 2012 has brought me in spite of what 2012 took from me. Thank you! Here's to 213 being filled with hope and rainbows!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

As your seven month angelversary came and went and no one said a word to me I realized that the rest of the world is starting to forget. Not forget you, just forget the days that are difficult. The 25th of every month doesn't creep in on others and put that stinging behind their eyes that forces them to fight to breath so that tears don't spill down their cheeks. No, my girl, that only happens to your mama. That's ok though. I know you wouldn't want others to feel that way. I know you don't want me to feel that way, but I'm your mama.
Your sister and brothers and I hung the stockings and I found yours. The stocking I had picked out last year, because even at 8 weeks, I knew you were a girl. I tucked it away in hopes you'd have a little sister one day to use it. When I was hiding your sister and brothers' Christmas gifts I found the dog I had bought you in March to give to you this Christmas. Daddy bought an angel to put in the yard for you and we got a tiny purple tree, just for you. we made our annual photo book and it kills me that tour whole life fits on a two page spread. On Thanksgiving Day I found the bib that said "My 1st Thanksgiving" that each of my babies wore and you should have to. I accept these things with quiet frustration. The world is not a fair place, baby. I was supposed to have a happy near four month old right now. I miss you so much these days!

Recovery

Ryan and I have found that we have to rely on each other.  We must learn on each other, always, and above all else. Sometimes, it can be ugly and painful.  Other times, its exactly what we thought things would be like when we got married.  We never imagined our lives would go down this path and we most certainly didn't ask for it or plan for it.  However, we made a vow to love each other no matter what came our way.  So, that's what we do.  We are making it.  Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, and month by month.  I'd like to say that the worst is behind us.  I'd like to say it's all downhill from here.  I know that in April, a new wave of grief will come, as we celebrate her first birthday in Heaven, taking balloons to the cemetery, instead of watching her dive into a cake.  As we approach Christmas, I look at the gift we had already purchased for her, back in March.  As we wait and wait for news on a rainbow baby, each failed month a sting to our fragile hearts.  We will make it!  We will speak it into existence.  We will keep our family together, happy, and as whole as we can, sharing our love between children on Earth and a daughter in Heaven. We will bring a rainbow into our world.  We will lean on each other and uphold our sacred vows.  We will! <3

Where Do We Go From Here?

Where do you go when your world has been turned upside down, shaken, torn apart, and is unrecognizable? Well, you slowly look around for anything familiar. You pick up the pieces and start applying some heavy duty glue to hold it together. You hit your knees and cry up in prayer for any clue as to how to proceed. This is precisely what we did and what we continue to do. Ryan and I were fortunate in the fact that we had three children at home and could not fall apart even when we wanted to. The day after McKenna was born, Thursday April 26, was our son's 5th birthday. I begged to go home. We made it in time to pick up a pizza and have Lane unwrap his gifts before putting them to bed. My children always have these big parties with these cakes that I spend hours making. They love their cakes and as soon as one birthday is over they start planing for their next cake. It's something we share and hopefully one of those memories they hold on to long into adulthood. Therefore, it is very important to me. I was horrified I couldn't do this for him, but I could barely walk. We had her funeral the following day and I was readmitted to the hospital that evening with an extremely high blood pressure. That meant I would miss Kayla's dance competition on Saturday morning. All I wanted was to attempt to get back to normal and it wasn't happening! I knew Ryan just wanted to sleep in our bed, not on the uncomfortable window seat couch! We went home late on Saturday night. That meant we would be able to still get day two of Kayla's competition and have a tiny party (with a store ordered cake) for Lane. Each of things were a step towards normal. Each was a piece we could pick up and put back together. So where do we get this magic glue to hold it together? Well, that glue is love. The only things we seemed to know anymore was that we loved each other, we loved McKenna, and we loved our children. But...is love enough to hold together such a broken, shattered world?

More Open Arms

The first person I want to mention here is Samantha. I've mentioned Samantha before. She was pregnant with a boy, Bentley. Bentley was due two days after McKenna. He was born a week before. Samantha and I went through this journey together. Without her for support along the way, I don't know how I could do this. She understands the pain, the heartbreak, and the fear of trying again. Secondly, is Michelle. I have to flash back 11 years. 11 years ago, one of my very best high schools friends, Michelle was carrying twins. They were born very early and one didn't make it. I was 16, and I didn't know how to be a friend through all that. We lost touch. When McKenna got so sick I kept thinking of Michelle and her babies and knowing I needed to apologize. I found her via Facebook and told her I was sorry and that I was so happy to find her. I didn't mention McKenna at first. This was about her, not me, not my baby. She found out and became one of my greatest allies in the days that followed and continues to be as she is further in her grief journey, but remembers the steps it took to get there. Thankfully, I have found and reconnected with one of my very best friends. Then there is Andrea. Once upon a time, Andrea's husband was a dear friend of mine. a few years ago I met Andrea at another friend's dad's house. Aside from that, there wasn't a friendship in place. that is until her sweet boy went to Heaven a couple months after McKenna. These tragic moments unite us. We were virtually strangers, to become sisters in loss. Then there were the people who helped me out in other ways. Tiffany brought us dinners and Tracy dressed my daughter for competition when I couldn't be there (and continue to help me and talk when I need to talk). Dani and I became very close. She listens when I talk, she tells me it's going to be ok, and she brought me a happy seed to cheer me up as well as a beautiful frame to McKenna's photograph. Then, there are my support group ladies. I have met some wonderful women through these groups, Samantha being one of them. These women have come from all over, all different stories, all connected by that common thread. Next Saturday, I get to meet another one, Heather, in person. I am so excited! I love these women!

Open Arms

McKenna's funeral was the end of one chapter, but still very much the beginning of our story. Ryan, the kids, our families, and I were beginning on a new journey. A journey of grief. A journey in which all of our familiar landmarks were gone, some of our most trusted friends gone, and a cloud around us that made seeing and breathing very difficult. I look back on those days and I wonder how we've come this far. I look back on those days and I see a picture of a broken little family, kids looking to us for guidance, and we could barely keep our feet on a straight path. If I was artistically inclined, I would paint a picture of the grief of losing a child. This picture would be my husband and I walking down a long road, holding the hands of our three living children. It would be raining, but we wouldn't have umbrellas. We would be soaked, dripping, bent over under the weight of the storm, and stumbling down this unknown road. That's how I imagine grief looks on the outside. In spite of the storm I had some open arms that reached out as I stumbled, embraced me in a hug before I crumbled, and guided me so that I didn't fall into those trenches along the road. The first set of arms, are those of my husband. Ryan is not a patient person by nature. He's difficult to live with, short tempered, and often times focused on only one thing. Living with Ryan takes a lot of patience. He will admit this! However, in the days that followed the ultrasound, the days I began to decline in health, the days in the hospital (which went beyond the delivery. We had multiple stays afterwards), and the weeks and months following her death, Ryan took the time to be patient, to shield me from things that would sting, and to just open his arms and let me fall into them. This is not say that things have been perfect, they have not! We have had a very difficult time being in a new marriage and dealing with a devastating loss so early in the marriage. However, without Ryan I wouldn't be in this place today. Secondly, the arms of our parents. Each of McKenna's grandparents were there in the room as she came into the world. They shared that moment, they held her, they told her she is loved! They've allowed us to cry, cried with us, arranged the funeral while I was still hospitalized, listen when Ryan and I don't understand the way one another grieve, and show their love for McKenna daily. They don't forget her or act like she was never here. Without these arms, we would have never been able to get from our knees to the path. Then, there are the arms of my sister-in-law. She stayed in that hospital all night. She stayed by my side for many hours. She understood when I couldn't speak to her, but patted her face instead. She talks about McKenna. She calls McKenna her niece. She stands on the edge of that road to keep us on that path and upright. During McKenna's funeral, Ryan carried her casket down to the site. As I sat in my chair, the finality hit me again. This was it. This was my daughter in a box. This was the end of it. I nearly fell out of my chair. In that moment my brother in law reached out and wrapped his arm around me from behind. Without that single gesture I would have fallen. I would broken down in front of my children in a way that would have frightened them. Just a single movement, but an open arm to show love. For these open arms I am so very grateful! ....I will continue this very soon with more of these open arms. There have been quite a few I want to name!

It's time to finish that chapter

A dear friend texted me today and told me that he has been reading my blog. He has no reason to read, other than he cares. He has a happy, healthy little boy...no problems, no heartbreak connected to his entrance into the world. He said it was touching and that simple response to my story touched me deeply. I believe it is time to finish the story of my princess making her way into our world, only to leave much too soon.

I was admitted to the hospital on Tuesday morning due to an extremely high blood pressure. I was put on medicine and just laid around, for hours! Ryan, bless his heart, was by my side the whole time. He didn't even leave to smoke until someone else was with me. That meant from around 11am until 8:00pm! I was moved from triage to another semi-private room where I was told I would be until I delivered. I thought we were talking weeks! In the next hour we were visited by many doctors and nurses. My pulse was very low, they were concerned. My blood pressure was still high, they were concerned. It finally came down to worst decision we've ever had to face. I begged for an ultrasound just to make sure that nothing had changed, to make sure it was as bad as try say, to make sure that I would someday believe the fate they had stated was hers. The doctor who did my ultrasound said we needed to deliver. There was no choice left. I would not make it if we didn't get McKenna out. All this time, my tiny girl is kicking and moving and letting me know she is still there, still fighting, still giving me hope. We had a choice, we could do a c-section, but given her size it would destroy all abdominal muscles and I would never be able to have another child, or we could induce with seaweed and hope she made it through delivery. The NICU doctor came in to help us with this decision. She told us that by the ultrasound they didn't think they could save McKenna but they would try. We made the decision to induce labor, questioning all along if it was right, would she have a better chance with a c-section?
Clinging to hope, racked with guilt and fear! At this point, my mother in law and sister in law made it and gave Ryan a break. They went with me as we moved to a labor and delivery room. That is when the finality of it hit me. This was it. These where the last
hours I would carry my tiny girl and be able to keep her safe. Through the night more people arrived. My parents, my brothers, Ryan's best friend, some stayed, some left. My brother brought the elephant Ryan had bought McKenna and a tiny dress that I had picked out in the event that we needed it for the worst case scenario. Through those hours we had some laughs, and surprisingly few tears. In all, 7 people were in the delivery room with me plus doctors and nurses. Everyone had stepped out and Ryan and I had a few minutes to ourselves. I wasn't worth much company wise because the medications I was on were very painful and made me very strange. My husband was scared, that much was clear to me. The fear was there for his baby, but in front of that was a deeper fear for his wife. In losing his wife he would lose the other kids as well. His entire life hung in a balance he had no control over. In those moments I could see this, but not respond to him. I couldn't comfort him, I couldn't answer him, I couldn't give him the reassurance McKenna offered me with each kick, I couldn't interact with him at all. The medicine made me zombie like. Then, my water broke. I was alert for a moment. He ran for my dad who ran for a nurse and everyone filed back in. After a bit a doctor got there and checked me. McKenna was half way out, feet first. The doctor saw some movement and after working her out, they rushed her to the baby bed. The doctors tried, tried to save her, and couldn't. They wrapped her in a blanket and handed her to me. How beautiful she was, how dainty, how perfect, how wonderful! We cried, we talked about how perfect she was, we dressed her, we took pictures, we passed her around, just as we would if she was breathing. She was our baby, our anticipated, loved, and cherished baby. We had her in our arms for three hours. There are few moments in your life you remember with precise clarity. One of this moments for me was handing my daughter to a nurse and knowing it was the last time I would see her in my lifetime! As she walked away with her, Ryan and I watched her go and it will always be the worst moment of my life.

I Look For You

My Sweet McKenna,
   We visited you yesterday, as we do so many Sundays.  Today we went to remove the special things from around your stone that your brothers and sister have picked out.  We will put them back in the spring.  That tiny butterfly landed there on your flowers again, and Daddy said, "There's McKenna." We look for you there.  On Friday, Daddy and I went to a concert.  We were way up high in the stands, nearer to you than we have been before.  Remember that song you loved and every time it came on the radio you kicked away?  It was so odd to me, but it woke you up, every time!  They played that song.  I looked up, wondering if you could hear the concert up there in Heaven (even though at that time of night you should have been asleep in your tiny crib).  I looked up to the cloud covered sky and even with the moon blocked out by clouds, there was one single star shinning bright.  I looked for you.  Three days will mark the time when you have been in Heaven longer than you were in my tummy growing.  I know these milestones as I move through my days. Sometimes I silently accept them, sometimes I talk to Daddy about them, and sometimes the tears come and seem never ending.  Every day, I watch the sunrise as I drive East.  I look at the clouds noting the different shapes and I look for you.  Each and every day you are not here with me, I look for you.  Someday I know you will help God pick the day to send us a rainbow.  I know you look over your little brother or sister and smile at our joy, but know, my tiny girl, you will never ever be forgotten!  I love you endlessly!

Love,
Mommy

The Moment That Brought Us to Our Knees

After being told we could terminate the pregnancy we started our weekly scans.  I complied lists of questions that I would make it half way through before the answers I was getting made it not worth asking the rest of the questions.  Some questions I asked over and over again.  "Why did this happen?"  The same answer I kept getting was, "It was a fluke."  This phrase stirred anger in me.  My daughter was not a fluke!  She was planned for, she has a name, she has a room waiting for her, she has siblings anxious to meet her, she has two sets of grandparents awaiting her arrival, she has so much love.  She is not a fluke! Each time I had an appointment, we would scramble to find someone to go so I wasn't alone in case the words came "There is no longer a heartbeat."  While time stood still for us in our broken little world, the rest of the world moved on.  I had to go to work, I had to take the kids the school, and I had to keep living when all I wanted was to stay in my bed and just get my daughter here safely.  It felt like so much time went by.  In reality from the terrible 19 weeks scan until the day of her delivery was just shy of 4 weeks.  On April 19, something awful happened that rocked me and brought me to a dark place.  I young woman, I had come to know through the Hydrops Support Group announced her darling little boy no longer had a heartbeat.  Most people can recall where they were the moment of the 9/11 attacks, and I can recall with the same clarity where I was the moment I got that message.  I was sitting in my chair, facing my aide, arguing with a kid about why he couldn't run to the art room alone.  I glanced at my phone and stopped mid sentence.  I got up, without a word, and walked outside and fell apart.  I sent her messages telling her I was here if she needed me.  Then, I attempted to continue my day, knowing this girl I had come to love was in labor bringing her darling boy in a world to imperfect for such a perfect little man.  That was a Thursday, in less than a week we would be in the same place, grieving for these tiny angels.  On Friday, I started retaining a lot of fluid.  I called my doctor and she said to keep checking my blood pressure. By Saturday morning, I knew I needed to get to the hospital.  My mom picked me up, because Ryan was out of town.  He rushed to get home.  At the hospital, they put McKenna on a monitor, thinking she was too tiny for it to pick her up.  It did though.  She kicked and played as if to say "I'm here, Mommy. Don't be afraid!"  Every kick I cried and told her I loved her.  The triage nurses didn't know what hydrops was or "Mirror's Syndrome".  They sent me home on bed rest.  On Monday, I had another appointment with my regular OB.  She said "We can't keep you pregnant much longer." We were waiting until I saw the specialist on Wednesday.  I woke up Tuesday morning, helped the kids dress, and then checked my blood pressure.  Ryan was home, but had run to the gym.  My blood pressure was 212/127.  I thought "this is a mistake, Ill recheck it."  Fifteen minutes later I got a similar result and called Ryan to tell him we needed to get to the hospital.  we went to OSU where I was admitted and began the most difficult 24 hours of my life.

Another down the drain

Well, today marks the end of another failed cycle and the end my "trying". I am not sure how I go about not trying, knowing all I do about signs and what to watch for. I'm hoping through prayer and excepting it's time to quit trying I'll again become blind to these things....I was so sure it worked this time. I had all the early symptoms. It's time to quit. Ryan was on vacation just by luck this cycle and is on the road too much to make it happen. In time, this too I will accept.

The waiting and questions

I am writing this continuation of our story during what is called the "two week wait" period after trying to conceive. We want a baby so badly and a negative test is so depressing and brings all the painful things back and always is followed by loads of tears. I am struggling especially today, thinking of certain people who are pregnant and how painful it is to be around them. No one understands this and thinks I am very selfish for feeling this way. Maybe I am, but I also feel like I have paid the ultimate price and my feelings are very delicate. I wish I had some understanding and compassion in this area from those around me. Anyhow, our story continues....
We were set up with a Maternal Fetal Medicine doctor, in other words, the specialist. We were sent to OSU, 5 days after our tragic ultrasound. I complain our two week wait is difficult, but nothing was as difficult as that wait. I went to work like normal, shuttled kids around like normal, cared for my house like normal, and yet felt like the world was pressing me down. I researched like crazy. I found a picture during this time that said "A worried mother does more research than the FBI". It was true! I stayed up late reading everything, most of it crushing my hope and bringing me to tears and nightmares. During this time I found a support group through Facebook, that became my lifeline. The only people who really understood my nightmare. (I'll write more on that later.) When Monday came we went to our MFM appointment. We had to be there at 8:00am. We arrived early and sat watching a crazy video about people who carrying around lifelike baby dolls after a loss. We laughed a little, never realizing how real that pain could be and how it really can push you into craziness. (I'd like to note that I still have never carried around a doll, but I totally see how it can be such an emotionally breaking experience that people would.) They called us into our ultrasound at 8:00 and we began an appointment that would last 5 1/2 hours and rip through our emotions like Hurricane Katrina! The tech did the ultrasound, saying very little but printing pictures of her. We saw her beautiful spine, the cutest little butt, perfect toes, perfect hands, tiny little face. She was so perfect, surely this was all a silly mistake, she was fine and the tech was not talking because she couldn't find anything concerning. WRONG! She left after handing us tons of pictures that we looked at. Next came a counselor. She asked us if we knew what problems might arise. She talked about genetic issues, but said the doctor would be in, she just wanted to prepare us for the possibilities. I'm not sure how much time passed after she left. For us, it was an eternity. I cried and Ryan seemed angry and confused. Why would this woman do this to us when no one knows what is wrong? Next came the doctor and he did another ultrasound and after putting the wand back he looked at me and said these words I'll never forget, "I see some things that concern me. Babies like this just don't make it. Their hearts stop beating in the womb. I'll see you back next week." What?! We then were sent to see a genetics counselor who explained that there are 3 major chromosomal defects that can cause what we had learned was called "cystic hygroma" and "hydrops". Such foreign words, so foreign I couldn't remember them to repeat them to family. She went through our family history and could not "red flag" any issues. They told us we should terminate the pregnancy. They left us in rooms to cry and kept suffering us around so that other people would t see our sadness. Then they did an amniocentesis to determine the cause. The results came in the next day! She passed all her tests! She could live a normal life and yet they still said "we still offer to terminate the pregnancy" Why and how could we do that to our little girl, who passed her tests, had a name, had clothes and books waiting for her, and moved all the time?!

The words no parents want to hear

To pick up where I left off...we went to our March 28 appointment and verified she was a girl! I knew all along but hearing it was amazing! We were so excited we took the kid and Kayla video tapped the ultrasound. It was an amazing moment. Following the ultrasound we went back to the waiting room to wait to see the doctor. While in the waiting room we called everyone and even posted it on Facebook. We were so excited! We were called back for my appointment and the kids were trying so hard to be good. We waited and waited. Finally the doctor came in and I laid back for her to measure my belly. Except...she didn't. She held out her hand and pulled me back up and stood in front of me and said, "there's a small problem with the baby." She went on explaining their was fluid in her lungs and she didn't know enough about it to know what to do. She said it was probably not a big deal, but I should see a specialist. Then she left the room. I had the sensation of watching the scene from afar; As if my body wasn't my own. We gathered the kids and headed down the hall to get my Quad screen and then left. I cried all the way home. Ryan kept saying everything was fine. Looking back, I knew that it wasn't "nothing". I knew!

Everyone is pregnant!!!

This doesn't follow the story line. It's more of a side bar. We've been trying 5 cycles now to have a baby after losing McKenna. Truthfully, it's making me a bit insane! Everyone around me is having their babies that were due when I was or they are newly pregnant. Yesterday was my due date, a baby girl was born to a friend of mine. Today a friend I have met through support groups announce her pregnancy with twins and moments later our pediatrician walked in, 7 months along. Then I looked at the papers they gave me for Brandon and discovered they accidentally handed me newborn papers!! So, here I sit in the pediatrician office choking back tears with every breath! When will it be my turn again? Everyone says to quit trying. How do you stop trying after handing your daughter to a nurse knowing that's the last time you'll see her? How do you stop thinking about it?

The End of a Chapter

Today, August 23, 2012 our precious baby girl was due to make her entrance into this world.  In reality, she would have been here a little over a week ago, but nonetheless, this day is still difficult.  However, I am ready to close this chapter of milestones and look forward to celebrating her birthday instead.  There won't be a day in my life that I won't have a heavy heart, but I am choosing to celebrate her short life instead of grieve for what I have lost. 

To continue our story....Many people didn't know, but McKenna was planned.  We were trying for her.  We tried for 5 months and stopped trying.  We decided to take a break.  That's when I got pregnant!  On December 12, 2011, I went to work like normal.  Glancing at my calendar on my way to work, I discovered I should have a new cycle starting.  I waited all day for that and it never came.  I knew!  I stopped at the store on my way home to buy a test.  I discreetly took it as soon as I got home.  In seconds I got a BIG FAT POSITIVE.  With shaking hands, I went about my plan.  I have bought a baby bottle months before to surprise Ryan with our news.  I grabbed the bottle and filled it with his sweet tea.  I went into the bedroom and told him I got him a drink and handed him the baby bottle.  He looked at me completely confused.  I said, "I thought you might want to learn how to use one of these."  He was still confused and in my head I was saying, "Wait for it..."  Then just like that it clicked and he jumped up and hugged me.  He was so happy!  He kept asking me questions and hugging me and following me around.  Finally, I had the pregnancy that was the way it was "supposed to be"!  We were so happy!

We started telling people right away.  Some people were very happy, some people a little sceptic.  The sceptics quickly became happy.  It was perfect!  Ryan called every morning he was gone to see how I was feeling and was so attentive.  In January, we went for our first appointment.  We were so surprised because they decided to do an ultrasound.  We got to see our little gummy bear!  What a wonderful day!  The baby looked great! We started buying things and making plans.  Things continued as normal, until March 28, the day we were waiting for for so long...the day we would find out she was our so desired little princess, but also the day we found out the news that changed our lives FOREVER...

The price we pay...

For many years I was never a part of any groups.  Through high school and college I wasn’t much of a joiner.  I preferred to interact with people in my own way and never felt as if I belonged to any specific group of people.  After college I got married and very shortly after I had a beautiful daughter, quickly followed by two handsome boys.  My life was consumed with a house full of babies.  There is less than two and half years between my oldest and my youngest.   I didn’t have time for friends and stuck to interacting my family.  We went to church, but didn’t participate in any small groups.  Needless to say my social life was limited. 

Shortly after my third child was born, my husband I separated.  We had many insurmountable issues and there had been infidelity that I knew I wouldn’t be able to “get over.”  I entered into a period of my life where I felt very isolated.  Not yet 25, I was going through a divorce, became a single mom of three very small children, and was still friendless. 

I learned to cope with the grief that I felt and very quickly learned to stand on my own two feet and rebuild my life apart from my failed marriage.  I was finally happy.  I was headed in the right direction.  Looking back now I think, “Wow, that was easy!” 

Not long after ,I met Ryan. We dated for awhile and got married.  Aside from family I still had very few friends and none that I was very close to, but I was happy.  We belonged to a church, but our interactions at church were limited to the greeting time at the beginning of each service.  My daughter was a dancer, so I had some acquatiances that I spoke friendly to on dance nights.  Ryan is a truck driver and was gone a lot so as before life revolved around my children and work.

In the spring of 2012 we became a member of a club.  This club though is one that NO ONE wants a membership to.  Not a single person in this club doesn’t wish with every fiber of their being that they didn’t have to be a part of it.  The price of membership was excurtiating.  We became members of the club of parents who have lost a child.  We paid the ultimate price to find out who our friends were and to connect with people we never would have found. 

More tomorrow...