He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” Mark s:34 (NIV)
As I have said before in other posts, people who experience a tragedy in their lives through loss are given a special gift, it is a take on life that is different then anyone else around them. Suddenly, you find yourself reevaluating how you spent your time, your energy, and maybe even your money.
Soon after I lost the baby, I knew that I wanted a clean slate. I could no longer pour energy into unhealthy relationships, spend my time doing things that I wasn't passionate about, and allow my kids to have a mom who wasn't functioning at full capacity. What little energy I had was going to be directed at my family and other close meaningful, healthy relationships, working hard to make my house a home again, and no longer just exist, but live again.
My therapist warned me when I began this journey that I was no longer the "old Sabrina". She prepared me for the fact that I was going to "piss people off" ( I was just amazed those were her actual words). Wow was she right! But, I began to realize that when others disapproved of my decisions or were angry at me for beginning to set boundaries with them, it meant that I was going in the right direction.
Changing is never embraced well. In fact it is usually outright rejected. Once I got past the difficulty of standing my ground, each issue I faced got easier and easier to deal with. After years of people pleasing, I had learned how to say, no. Success!
When I came home from the hospital I spent hours in a daze just watching my kids play. My every thought was consumed by the baby and the way I was forced to end it's life. I was also consumed with the fact I almost didn't make it home to the children playing right in front of me.
I often hear it said that "almost" doesn't count. I would argue that almost dying, is when "almost" does count for something. I thought a lot about what legacy I would have left behind for my kids had I died. I would have left them with the memory of a mom who was overworked, stressed, unhappy, and caught up in family dysfunction and drama that was time consuming. Thank God I had a second chance to change this!
The memory I would have left them with then, is not the mom I am today. It took all of this loss, hurt, and guilt to bring me to a place where I stopped doing what I thought I had to do, and started doing what God wanted me to do.
I returned home to my children and got my house and our lives back in order. I let go of trying to control life around me ( it certainly was not working anyway). I stopped trying to get family to love or accept me. Instead of allowing toxic relationships to continue, I drew a line, a boundary if you will. Those boundaries may not have been received well, but they have brought my home much needed peace. I am learning to stop allowing the disapproval of others to define who I am.
It has been a long eight months, full of a lot of ups and downs. I am a realist. I know there will be more to come. What drives me is knowing that I am choosing to make everything I went though count for something. I was the only one who felt that baby. Yes it was my husband's loss as well, but it was my void in my body. No one but God can comfort that type of emptiness.
So every Thursday when I leave my therapist's office, I know that I am closer and closer to being healed not only from the loss of the baby, the abortion, the pain, the guilt, but from so much more. Everyday I get a little bit stronger.
The baby's 14 weeks were not in vain. Those fourteen weeks changed my life forever.
Showing posts with label Miscarriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miscarriage. Show all posts
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Marriage and Miscarriage
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Corinthians 13:7
Losing a baby will do one of two things for a marriage. A marriage will either strengthened or it will be torn apart. Richard and I have always been close and communicated well, but even the best of marriages will face challenges. With each challenge you work through, your marriage will grow stronger. The challenge though, can be a treacherous journey.
Just a month before we lost the baby we attended a weekend marriage conference at our church. Initially, it did not look like we would be able to go, as the probability of getting someone to watch the kids for the weekend look grim. To pay for a sitter would have been a hefty bill. At the last minute a woman from our church called out of the blue and offered to watch the kids as a favor. ( I am fairly certain that my pastor might have mentioned something to her, but he never confessed to doing such:)). I was relieved to have Teri watch the kids as she was always great with them in Sunday school and was a mother of four grown children herself. I knew I wouldn't have to worry about a thing that weekend. So, off we went.
We really enjoyed the conference. Simply being able to sit down next to each other and relax uninterrupted was awesome in itself! We ended that weekend refreshed and gained some great insight on how to grow closer as a couple. Having that opportunity to attend that conference truly prepared us for the crisis that lay ahead.
We knew that it would be crucial that we cling to each other and focus on healing our family from our loss. It is very easy to turn inward when you experience a traumatic event. Because it is primarily the woman who feels the biggest impact physically and mentally after a miscarriage, working through the loss can be especially trying on a marriage even under the best circumstances. Each person is experiencing different emotions of their own and receiving different reactions from others as well.
My husband, Richard, is a great husband and father. He is one hundred percent family man. The first time I saw him interact with my 5 month old niece while we were dating I knew this guy will be an awesome father someday. Our four kids adore their dad. He is with them whenever he is not working. He is the kind of guy that is always thinking about me and the kids and would rather be with us then anywhere else. As I said in an earlier post, Richard did not bat an eye at having a fifth baby. He was just as excited as he was when we were expecting our first child.
Although Richard did not come to my most of my first trimester appointments, (he was either working or watching the kids when I had appointments) he did come to my 12 week ultrasound, along with our two youngest boys. We all watched the baby moving around on the screen. My son Benjamin was so excited! He instantly said, "told you so mom". He said this because he had insisted a month earlier I was having a baby because "he could hear the baby's heartbeat in my tummy":) I was grateful that Richard made it to that ultrasound. It made the pregnancy real to him, he could finally see what I was feeling. It was also the only time he would ever see the baby.
When we got out to the car after the appointment I pulled the visor down to check my makeup and down fell a card into my lap. It was signed with a simple, " I love you so very much". This was the day we were officially telling everyone we were expecting, and he wanted me to know that he truly was excited about the new addition to come.
The only times I have seen my husband cry, have been when we visited his father's grave, said our vows, when he saw each of our children for the first time, and when they wheeled me to surgery to take the baby. After the procedure, because I was so sick, I couldn't see him for over two hours. When he was finally brought back to be with me, he had changed from the man I looked back at as I was being taken to surgery. He now had a different role to play. He was supposed to be strong for me.
I believe that Richard would say that his biggest struggle was understanding what he could do to help me. When men are confronted with problems they try to find a solution. There was no solution here, just pain that had to be worked through. Sometimes the best thing he could do, was say nothing and just be with me while I cried or woke up from a nightmare.
He had his own feeling as well, but put them aside to be strong for me. At times I would take his desire to be strong for me as his lack of sadness or disconnect from what happened. I had to realize that although he processed his grief differently, he felt the pain of our loss just the same. There were times when I saw glimpses of that sadness, but for the most part he kept that from me.
Most of the focus after the loss of a child is on the mom. I have been so blessed to have had so many people who care and call to check in on me or stop by to visit. Men, however tend to get far little support. With the exception of some close friends and members of our church, Richard rarely received calls asking how he was. In fact it seemed just the opposite.
Richard was expected to continue to be the same son, brother, friend, co-worker that he once was before. Anything other then what was expected of him, seemed to be almost taken offensively by others. It was as if it wasn't his loss, but mine. If he wasn't taking care of me and the kids he was usually having a conversation with someone who couldn't understand why he wasn't attending a get together or calling as often as he used to. It was difficult to see him have to deal with so much. If Richard was writing this he would say it was no big deal. He was just doing his job as a husband and father. That makes it sounds so simple, but he truly was the glue that held our family together until I could begin to function again.
One of the things that we took away from the marriage conference, was that we needed to make our marriage a priority among all things. Richard has been a rock for me, and for that I am grateful. Our journey through healing from our loss is far from over. Next month will be a big month for us. It will be the month the baby was due and also Richard's fortieth birthday. There are difficult emotions to work through yet to come, but we know if we look towards God and lean on each other we will continue to work towards a place of peace and healing for our family.
Losing a baby will do one of two things for a marriage. A marriage will either strengthened or it will be torn apart. Richard and I have always been close and communicated well, but even the best of marriages will face challenges. With each challenge you work through, your marriage will grow stronger. The challenge though, can be a treacherous journey.
Just a month before we lost the baby we attended a weekend marriage conference at our church. Initially, it did not look like we would be able to go, as the probability of getting someone to watch the kids for the weekend look grim. To pay for a sitter would have been a hefty bill. At the last minute a woman from our church called out of the blue and offered to watch the kids as a favor. ( I am fairly certain that my pastor might have mentioned something to her, but he never confessed to doing such:)). I was relieved to have Teri watch the kids as she was always great with them in Sunday school and was a mother of four grown children herself. I knew I wouldn't have to worry about a thing that weekend. So, off we went.
We really enjoyed the conference. Simply being able to sit down next to each other and relax uninterrupted was awesome in itself! We ended that weekend refreshed and gained some great insight on how to grow closer as a couple. Having that opportunity to attend that conference truly prepared us for the crisis that lay ahead.
We knew that it would be crucial that we cling to each other and focus on healing our family from our loss. It is very easy to turn inward when you experience a traumatic event. Because it is primarily the woman who feels the biggest impact physically and mentally after a miscarriage, working through the loss can be especially trying on a marriage even under the best circumstances. Each person is experiencing different emotions of their own and receiving different reactions from others as well.
My husband, Richard, is a great husband and father. He is one hundred percent family man. The first time I saw him interact with my 5 month old niece while we were dating I knew this guy will be an awesome father someday. Our four kids adore their dad. He is with them whenever he is not working. He is the kind of guy that is always thinking about me and the kids and would rather be with us then anywhere else. As I said in an earlier post, Richard did not bat an eye at having a fifth baby. He was just as excited as he was when we were expecting our first child.
Although Richard did not come to my most of my first trimester appointments, (he was either working or watching the kids when I had appointments) he did come to my 12 week ultrasound, along with our two youngest boys. We all watched the baby moving around on the screen. My son Benjamin was so excited! He instantly said, "told you so mom". He said this because he had insisted a month earlier I was having a baby because "he could hear the baby's heartbeat in my tummy":) I was grateful that Richard made it to that ultrasound. It made the pregnancy real to him, he could finally see what I was feeling. It was also the only time he would ever see the baby.
When we got out to the car after the appointment I pulled the visor down to check my makeup and down fell a card into my lap. It was signed with a simple, " I love you so very much". This was the day we were officially telling everyone we were expecting, and he wanted me to know that he truly was excited about the new addition to come.
The only times I have seen my husband cry, have been when we visited his father's grave, said our vows, when he saw each of our children for the first time, and when they wheeled me to surgery to take the baby. After the procedure, because I was so sick, I couldn't see him for over two hours. When he was finally brought back to be with me, he had changed from the man I looked back at as I was being taken to surgery. He now had a different role to play. He was supposed to be strong for me.
I believe that Richard would say that his biggest struggle was understanding what he could do to help me. When men are confronted with problems they try to find a solution. There was no solution here, just pain that had to be worked through. Sometimes the best thing he could do, was say nothing and just be with me while I cried or woke up from a nightmare.
He had his own feeling as well, but put them aside to be strong for me. At times I would take his desire to be strong for me as his lack of sadness or disconnect from what happened. I had to realize that although he processed his grief differently, he felt the pain of our loss just the same. There were times when I saw glimpses of that sadness, but for the most part he kept that from me.
Most of the focus after the loss of a child is on the mom. I have been so blessed to have had so many people who care and call to check in on me or stop by to visit. Men, however tend to get far little support. With the exception of some close friends and members of our church, Richard rarely received calls asking how he was. In fact it seemed just the opposite.
Richard was expected to continue to be the same son, brother, friend, co-worker that he once was before. Anything other then what was expected of him, seemed to be almost taken offensively by others. It was as if it wasn't his loss, but mine. If he wasn't taking care of me and the kids he was usually having a conversation with someone who couldn't understand why he wasn't attending a get together or calling as often as he used to. It was difficult to see him have to deal with so much. If Richard was writing this he would say it was no big deal. He was just doing his job as a husband and father. That makes it sounds so simple, but he truly was the glue that held our family together until I could begin to function again.
One of the things that we took away from the marriage conference, was that we needed to make our marriage a priority among all things. Richard has been a rock for me, and for that I am grateful. Our journey through healing from our loss is far from over. Next month will be a big month for us. It will be the month the baby was due and also Richard's fortieth birthday. There are difficult emotions to work through yet to come, but we know if we look towards God and lean on each other we will continue to work towards a place of peace and healing for our family.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Meant to Be
"Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are in My view continuously." (Isaiah 49:16)
The absolute most ignorant ( pardon my bluntness) thing that can be said to a woman who has lost a baby is, " It wasn't meant to be".
The day after I got home my husband took the kids with him to the airport to meet grandma. I planned on turning on the TV and resting, but I found myself, as I often do, just blankly staring, processing nothing that I was watching.
My phone rang not too long into their absence. It was a family member calling to check on me. The call started off awkward as it usually does when people are not sure what to say. I spoke as quickly as possible with the hopes of ending the call.
Then, I heard four words that, still today, make me cringe. "Well, you know it just wasn't meant to be".
I stuttered for a moment trying to get a response to leave my lips. " But it was meant to be. There was nothing wrong with the baby, there was something wrong with me. I was sick. The doctor said there was this infection that had probably been there was a couple weeks and that if it wasn't for that my water.........". I was cut off with a curt, " We can say, 'if this or that happened', Sabrina, but it is, what it is".
What do you think it the second things I hate to hear the most? Yep you guessed it, " It is, what it is". To me that just sounds lazy. It is a way of brushing things off that you cannot understand. Or, perhaps it is a way of brushing off things you don't want to understand because it may leave you with questions. The answers might shake up a belief you have about who God is. It may make you realize that no matter what you do or how hard you try to control your environment, you have no control. Only He does. That can be a scary concept to grasp. But, I assure you once you do it will be your greatest comfort.
I became very defensive and hurt during this phone call. I was trying to defend the validity of this unborn child. "It" was meant to be. "It" isn't just "what it is".
I think that I speak for all women who have had to bear the grief of losing a baby when I say that, my baby had ten fingers and ten toes fingers. It had a beating heart just like you and I. It could suck it's thumb. It was God's perfect creation that he meant to make. I loved it already. I dreamed of it's cherub face an tiny feet. It was mine , it was real, and it was meant to be.
An therein lies my own misconception. This baby was not mine, it was God's. It was his to take home. Our children our not ours, they are His. He gives them to us for a time. He expects us to raise them with the same love and discipline he shows us. When I think about the love I have for my children, it is a love that is so deep it hurts. Magnify that times anything I could possibly comprehend and I see that He loves them more then I could EVER love them, because his love is Infinite.
It is because of the promise of his Infinite love, that when I close my eyes I can see him waiting with open arms to welcome home his child that I lost.
The absolute most ignorant ( pardon my bluntness) thing that can be said to a woman who has lost a baby is, " It wasn't meant to be".
The day after I got home my husband took the kids with him to the airport to meet grandma. I planned on turning on the TV and resting, but I found myself, as I often do, just blankly staring, processing nothing that I was watching.
My phone rang not too long into their absence. It was a family member calling to check on me. The call started off awkward as it usually does when people are not sure what to say. I spoke as quickly as possible with the hopes of ending the call.
Then, I heard four words that, still today, make me cringe. "Well, you know it just wasn't meant to be".
I stuttered for a moment trying to get a response to leave my lips. " But it was meant to be. There was nothing wrong with the baby, there was something wrong with me. I was sick. The doctor said there was this infection that had probably been there was a couple weeks and that if it wasn't for that my water.........". I was cut off with a curt, " We can say, 'if this or that happened', Sabrina, but it is, what it is".
What do you think it the second things I hate to hear the most? Yep you guessed it, " It is, what it is". To me that just sounds lazy. It is a way of brushing things off that you cannot understand. Or, perhaps it is a way of brushing off things you don't want to understand because it may leave you with questions. The answers might shake up a belief you have about who God is. It may make you realize that no matter what you do or how hard you try to control your environment, you have no control. Only He does. That can be a scary concept to grasp. But, I assure you once you do it will be your greatest comfort.
I became very defensive and hurt during this phone call. I was trying to defend the validity of this unborn child. "It" was meant to be. "It" isn't just "what it is".
I think that I speak for all women who have had to bear the grief of losing a baby when I say that, my baby had ten fingers and ten toes fingers. It had a beating heart just like you and I. It could suck it's thumb. It was God's perfect creation that he meant to make. I loved it already. I dreamed of it's cherub face an tiny feet. It was mine , it was real, and it was meant to be.
An therein lies my own misconception. This baby was not mine, it was God's. It was his to take home. Our children our not ours, they are His. He gives them to us for a time. He expects us to raise them with the same love and discipline he shows us. When I think about the love I have for my children, it is a love that is so deep it hurts. Magnify that times anything I could possibly comprehend and I see that He loves them more then I could EVER love them, because his love is Infinite.
It is because of the promise of his Infinite love, that when I close my eyes I can see him waiting with open arms to welcome home his child that I lost.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Aftershock
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:10)
My doctor says the first thing I said when I woke up was, " I woke up?" He told me that the infection was so bad that if we had just waited a few more hours, things would not have turned out well. In other words I would have died. I didn't know at that moment that getting through surgery was just one obstacle for me. In post op my blood pressure started getting into the 180' and my heart rate the 150's. They tried for over two hours to stabilize me, with no luck. Finally after two hours they brought Richard to be with me in post op ( the restricted area...whatever) and within 20 minutes my blood pressure started going down enough to move me to a room. However, my fever kicked in and thus began my fighting off a serious infection that had spread through my body.
I don't remember too much about my time in the hospital. I was fairly well drugged and spent most of my time either sleeping or watching CNN and the earthquake in Japan. I refused to eat anything but Italian Ices.I remember feeling so deeply for those people and thinking just how insignificant my tragedy was compared to theirs. I was so blessed to have four beautiful children. I felt selfish to feel sorry for myself when there people across the world were losing everything they had, their family members and home. I watched their entire lives literally washing away on the screen in front of me.
My mother in-law had come to stay with the kids. After the first night they were wondering where mommy was and my husband and his mom decided to sit them down and tell them what happened to the baby. I was so thankful that the kids were being looked after and even more thankful that I did not have to see their reactions to the bad news. I knew they would be heartbroken. Knowing that made my heart hurt more.
After a couple of days on IV antibiotics, my doctor finally came to me and said if my fever did not stay down and spiked again the next day he was calling in infectious diseases. I was terrified. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be home with my husband and kids. More importantly I was worried that I might never get to do that. So I decided enough was enough I was going home. My nurses came in and packed my bed with ice and covered me with blankets. I refused any fever reducing medicine. I was going to get rid of this fever once and for all. I prayed and prayed and prayed until I fell asleep.
I woke up around 4am drenched in sweat. My fever had broke. I just needed it to stay that way. When my nurse came in she cautiously optimistic that the fever was permanently gone and I would be doing better from there. My doctor gave me permission to go home the next day if I went the entire day with no fever. I had to spend the next 3.5 weeks on antibiotics etc, but at least I could do that at home. I was so happy to be in that van riding home. I thought home was going to make me better. I thought being with my kids would help me begin to heal.
When I walked up to the front door there were signs made by the kids that their Aunt Stephanie helped them do for me. They were so cute. The kids were ecstatic to see me. But I felt nothing. In fact it felt surreal to me, like I was watching myself come home to my family. I assumed it was from being sick, weak, exhausted and did my best to sit with them and talk to them for a few hours before I went to bed. It was an agonizing few hours. Here I was with these adorable kids who wanted to smother me with their affection and I found myself wishing I was back in the hospital. I had made it through the fight for my life, but did not know that the real fight was just begining.
My doctor says the first thing I said when I woke up was, " I woke up?" He told me that the infection was so bad that if we had just waited a few more hours, things would not have turned out well. In other words I would have died. I didn't know at that moment that getting through surgery was just one obstacle for me. In post op my blood pressure started getting into the 180' and my heart rate the 150's. They tried for over two hours to stabilize me, with no luck. Finally after two hours they brought Richard to be with me in post op ( the restricted area...whatever) and within 20 minutes my blood pressure started going down enough to move me to a room. However, my fever kicked in and thus began my fighting off a serious infection that had spread through my body.
I don't remember too much about my time in the hospital. I was fairly well drugged and spent most of my time either sleeping or watching CNN and the earthquake in Japan. I refused to eat anything but Italian Ices.I remember feeling so deeply for those people and thinking just how insignificant my tragedy was compared to theirs. I was so blessed to have four beautiful children. I felt selfish to feel sorry for myself when there people across the world were losing everything they had, their family members and home. I watched their entire lives literally washing away on the screen in front of me.
My mother in-law had come to stay with the kids. After the first night they were wondering where mommy was and my husband and his mom decided to sit them down and tell them what happened to the baby. I was so thankful that the kids were being looked after and even more thankful that I did not have to see their reactions to the bad news. I knew they would be heartbroken. Knowing that made my heart hurt more.
After a couple of days on IV antibiotics, my doctor finally came to me and said if my fever did not stay down and spiked again the next day he was calling in infectious diseases. I was terrified. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be home with my husband and kids. More importantly I was worried that I might never get to do that. So I decided enough was enough I was going home. My nurses came in and packed my bed with ice and covered me with blankets. I refused any fever reducing medicine. I was going to get rid of this fever once and for all. I prayed and prayed and prayed until I fell asleep.
I woke up around 4am drenched in sweat. My fever had broke. I just needed it to stay that way. When my nurse came in she cautiously optimistic that the fever was permanently gone and I would be doing better from there. My doctor gave me permission to go home the next day if I went the entire day with no fever. I had to spend the next 3.5 weeks on antibiotics etc, but at least I could do that at home. I was so happy to be in that van riding home. I thought home was going to make me better. I thought being with my kids would help me begin to heal.
When I walked up to the front door there were signs made by the kids that their Aunt Stephanie helped them do for me. They were so cute. The kids were ecstatic to see me. But I felt nothing. In fact it felt surreal to me, like I was watching myself come home to my family. I assumed it was from being sick, weak, exhausted and did my best to sit with them and talk to them for a few hours before I went to bed. It was an agonizing few hours. Here I was with these adorable kids who wanted to smother me with their affection and I found myself wishing I was back in the hospital. I had made it through the fight for my life, but did not know that the real fight was just begining.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Story
"The times when you have seen only one set of footprints, is when I carried you." ~ Mary Stevenson.
I guess to read my opening post might be very confusing to those who are not close to me. Even for those who are close to me my first post may be much different than the usual cheery happy person that they talk to from day to day. Everything happened so quickly that even though it was announced on Facebook ( that is the new official way of announcing things, right?) many probably still didn't know that I was 3 and a half month pregnant with our fifth child back in March of this year. Surprised? So were we. Still to this day I am not so sure how that happened.That is a joke, please feel no need to give me the story of the birds and the bees.....I got it.
Anyone who saw me regularly knew by my growing tummy, greenish tint to my face, and swollen feet I was definitely expecting. We were, as I said, completely shocked. Four had always been our number and after we had Samuel in 2010 we were complete. Four was a handful, but really not anymore than three was. We always wanted a big family so we just knew after our third child that there would definitely be a fourth.
My husband was instantly overjoyed about baby number 5. I took a day or two to relax. I had been working a full time job at a law firm. I had been a stay at home mom for 8 years and then, just 6 weeks after I had Samuel a job fell into my lap and I had to take it. It truly was the perfect job. Still the thought of being a working mom of 5 kids was very overwhelming to me.
After a day or two my look of shock turned into a silly dreamy smile as I spent the next two weeks bitting my tongue and told no one.
As soon as we had a heartbeat we told everyone. I have to say that everyone was as shocked as we were, but very excited. To know Richard and I, is to know that we love being a family. We love our children and enjoy every minute we have together. Never have we been the type to take advantage of what we have. We always stay close to home and spend anytime not working together with the kids. So it was official, our family of six was soon to be a family of seven. Leia put her request in for a sister. She wanted a sister so very bad and I wanted one for her. She certainly wasn't lacking in brothers, she already had three.
In late February I started to have symptoms that concerned me. Having had four kids I considered myself (and still do for the record) to be an expert. Over the course of three weeks I contacted my doctor three times about my concerns both over the phone and in person. My concerns were dismissed as symptoms some pregnant women just get. One early morning I woke up cramping. It wasn't bad, but it was enough to make me uncomfortable. I took some Tylenol and returned to bed. I dreamed that I was standing in my bathroom at work covered in blood. When I woke up I knew something must not be right. I went to the ER on 3/14 and after some blood work and an ultrasound I was sent home an assured I was just fine. They never mentioned to me that my blood work came back with several abnormalities. The kind that would indicate to even someone who knows nothing about medicine that I had an infection. I went home and convinced myself I was fine.
The cramping continued into the next day, but began to get better. I relaxed thinking maybe I just had a stomach bug or some other simple ailment and that I was on the mend. However, that night my water broke while I was sitting on the couch. I wasn't entirely convinced because I never heard of someones water breaking this early so I went to the ER. I insisted to Richard he not go with me. I told him I was certain I was overreacting. The truth was I was trying to spare him the pain of watching me go through this.
Once I saw the ultrasound I knew it bad. All of the amniotic fluid around the baby was gone. I assumed it was because the baby had died and I was miscarrying. But that was not at all the case. The baby's heart was beating away at 160 beast a minute. I could see little arms and legs moving on the screen.
The ER doctor must not have known better because she sent me home. She told me that within a few hours the baby's heart would stop and I would begin lose the baby. What she did not know was that I was very sick and was about to become septic. My blood work was double the abnormal numbers form the day before. It was never mentioned.
I have no idea how I got home that early morning. I think it was around 4am. I collapsed on the bed with Richard and we both cried for hours until the sun came up. By this time I was feeling very ill and had the chills. I called the office of a doctor I used to see and trusted with my life and went in. I again somehow convinced Richard I should go to the doctor alone. That way he could stay with the kids and they wouldn't catch on that there was something wrong.
When I arrived at the office, the doctor did another ultrasound assuming that the baby was now "gone" and prepared to schedule a D&C. However, instead of seeing a quiet still uterus, what we saw was a baby whose heart was still going. It was at 165. Perfectly healthy heartbeat despite it's deteriorating surroundings. I could have turned away and not looked at the screen up on the wall, but I knew that what I was seeing was all I would ever see. I didn't want to miss that last opportunity.
My doctor and I discussed my options. Without a doubt the baby would not be able to survive without water and was too young to live if born.While talking to me about the situation the doctor felt on exam that something more was going on here. My cervix was still closed. This was not normal for someone who's water broke hours ago. The doctor said my uterus felt hot and that he feared this was an infection that had not yet spiked a fever. My doctor did not have access to that blood work and was just going off my presentation, which was getting worse by the minute. I was told I had no choice but to abort the baby immediately. There was no time to wait and see if it's heart would soon stop, that could have taken weeks. There was no time to wait for a more humane way to end this baby's life with an injection to the heart before the procedure.
I was taken to the hospital immediately and put on antibiotics, pain killers, a "cocktail" to make me relax before surgery. My husband got there just minutes before I was taken back. My doctor made sure I understood the procedure. Did I understand this was a dilation and curettage abortion? Yes, I told him I did. It raised questions with some nurses who questioned why this was being done while the baby's heart was still beating. There was something about the ethics board and some argumentative discussion that were held. My doctor looked down at me and said, "You didn't want five anyway right?" I felt a part of my die when I heard those words.
I just lay there quietly with my eyes closed saying goodbye to the child I would not meet, but already loved. The fifth child that I wasn't planning on, but certainly wanted. I apologized in my heart for the procedure which was about to happened and asked God to be waiting for this baby on the other side. By this time I was feeling so ill I wasn't sure if he would be greeting one of us, or both of us. I was prepared for either.
I guess to read my opening post might be very confusing to those who are not close to me. Even for those who are close to me my first post may be much different than the usual cheery happy person that they talk to from day to day. Everything happened so quickly that even though it was announced on Facebook ( that is the new official way of announcing things, right?) many probably still didn't know that I was 3 and a half month pregnant with our fifth child back in March of this year. Surprised? So were we. Still to this day I am not so sure how that happened.That is a joke, please feel no need to give me the story of the birds and the bees.....I got it.
Anyone who saw me regularly knew by my growing tummy, greenish tint to my face, and swollen feet I was definitely expecting. We were, as I said, completely shocked. Four had always been our number and after we had Samuel in 2010 we were complete. Four was a handful, but really not anymore than three was. We always wanted a big family so we just knew after our third child that there would definitely be a fourth.
My husband was instantly overjoyed about baby number 5. I took a day or two to relax. I had been working a full time job at a law firm. I had been a stay at home mom for 8 years and then, just 6 weeks after I had Samuel a job fell into my lap and I had to take it. It truly was the perfect job. Still the thought of being a working mom of 5 kids was very overwhelming to me.
After a day or two my look of shock turned into a silly dreamy smile as I spent the next two weeks bitting my tongue and told no one.
As soon as we had a heartbeat we told everyone. I have to say that everyone was as shocked as we were, but very excited. To know Richard and I, is to know that we love being a family. We love our children and enjoy every minute we have together. Never have we been the type to take advantage of what we have. We always stay close to home and spend anytime not working together with the kids. So it was official, our family of six was soon to be a family of seven. Leia put her request in for a sister. She wanted a sister so very bad and I wanted one for her. She certainly wasn't lacking in brothers, she already had three.
In late February I started to have symptoms that concerned me. Having had four kids I considered myself (and still do for the record) to be an expert. Over the course of three weeks I contacted my doctor three times about my concerns both over the phone and in person. My concerns were dismissed as symptoms some pregnant women just get. One early morning I woke up cramping. It wasn't bad, but it was enough to make me uncomfortable. I took some Tylenol and returned to bed. I dreamed that I was standing in my bathroom at work covered in blood. When I woke up I knew something must not be right. I went to the ER on 3/14 and after some blood work and an ultrasound I was sent home an assured I was just fine. They never mentioned to me that my blood work came back with several abnormalities. The kind that would indicate to even someone who knows nothing about medicine that I had an infection. I went home and convinced myself I was fine.
The cramping continued into the next day, but began to get better. I relaxed thinking maybe I just had a stomach bug or some other simple ailment and that I was on the mend. However, that night my water broke while I was sitting on the couch. I wasn't entirely convinced because I never heard of someones water breaking this early so I went to the ER. I insisted to Richard he not go with me. I told him I was certain I was overreacting. The truth was I was trying to spare him the pain of watching me go through this.
Once I saw the ultrasound I knew it bad. All of the amniotic fluid around the baby was gone. I assumed it was because the baby had died and I was miscarrying. But that was not at all the case. The baby's heart was beating away at 160 beast a minute. I could see little arms and legs moving on the screen.
The ER doctor must not have known better because she sent me home. She told me that within a few hours the baby's heart would stop and I would begin lose the baby. What she did not know was that I was very sick and was about to become septic. My blood work was double the abnormal numbers form the day before. It was never mentioned.
I have no idea how I got home that early morning. I think it was around 4am. I collapsed on the bed with Richard and we both cried for hours until the sun came up. By this time I was feeling very ill and had the chills. I called the office of a doctor I used to see and trusted with my life and went in. I again somehow convinced Richard I should go to the doctor alone. That way he could stay with the kids and they wouldn't catch on that there was something wrong.
When I arrived at the office, the doctor did another ultrasound assuming that the baby was now "gone" and prepared to schedule a D&C. However, instead of seeing a quiet still uterus, what we saw was a baby whose heart was still going. It was at 165. Perfectly healthy heartbeat despite it's deteriorating surroundings. I could have turned away and not looked at the screen up on the wall, but I knew that what I was seeing was all I would ever see. I didn't want to miss that last opportunity.
My doctor and I discussed my options. Without a doubt the baby would not be able to survive without water and was too young to live if born.While talking to me about the situation the doctor felt on exam that something more was going on here. My cervix was still closed. This was not normal for someone who's water broke hours ago. The doctor said my uterus felt hot and that he feared this was an infection that had not yet spiked a fever. My doctor did not have access to that blood work and was just going off my presentation, which was getting worse by the minute. I was told I had no choice but to abort the baby immediately. There was no time to wait and see if it's heart would soon stop, that could have taken weeks. There was no time to wait for a more humane way to end this baby's life with an injection to the heart before the procedure.
I was taken to the hospital immediately and put on antibiotics, pain killers, a "cocktail" to make me relax before surgery. My husband got there just minutes before I was taken back. My doctor made sure I understood the procedure. Did I understand this was a dilation and curettage abortion? Yes, I told him I did. It raised questions with some nurses who questioned why this was being done while the baby's heart was still beating. There was something about the ethics board and some argumentative discussion that were held. My doctor looked down at me and said, "You didn't want five anyway right?" I felt a part of my die when I heard those words.
I just lay there quietly with my eyes closed saying goodbye to the child I would not meet, but already loved. The fifth child that I wasn't planning on, but certainly wanted. I apologized in my heart for the procedure which was about to happened and asked God to be waiting for this baby on the other side. By this time I was feeling so ill I wasn't sure if he would be greeting one of us, or both of us. I was prepared for either.
Something Solid to Land On
“When you have come to the edge Of all light that you know And are about to drop off into the darkness Of the unknown, Faith is knowing One of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly”~ Patrick Overton
I have been thinking about writing this blog for months now. I used to journal all the time when I was a teenager and in my early twenties. Well, basically before I became a mom. I would write for hours about all of my dreams and all of my drama. Of course, I thought my life was so very complicated then. I guess my mother was right. My life was nothing near complicated then.In fact she has been right about a few things now, so I have no plans on telling her that I am writing this blog. No need to feed her ego.
Today just happen to be the day I sat down before midnight and had time to myself. It is amazing to me how many things I can think about writing, but when I sit down to do so, I cannot find those words again. In fact for the last four months or so, my mind has raced with thoughts all day, everyday.
My title for my blog, " A Thread of Grace" explains my life to a perfect point. I am here because I am hanging onto a thread of the Grace of God.
I do not imagine that my story is unlike so many other people who have been dealt a blow by life that knocked them off of their feet. The kind of blow that leaves you dazed and confused and fighting to find the person that you were or at least the person who you have now become.
Life's trials come in all shapes and sizes. What is devistating and life altering to one, is a walk in the park for another. When you think that you are in the midst of something so big that nothing could not hurt any more than it does at that moment, you will often find later that yes, in fact you can hurt more and it can be worse. The good news is that no matter how far down you go, no matter how much it hurts, there is a heavenly father who waits. He doesn't wait to simply get us through situations, but to see us through life's trials.
The quote above by Patrick Overton is one of my favorites. I disagree slightly though with his view. I think that when we have come to the edge of all light and drop off a cliff into the darkness that instead of something being there for us to stand on, it is often more like a drop off a cliff onto rocks below that leave you wounded and waiting for rescue. You see, sometimes you are so injured you have to heal before you can stand, let alone fly.
I have heard too many times lately, "Well, if anyway can get through this you can". I hate to disappoint those who themselves feel better by thinking that I am Superwoman, but no, I am not such a strong person and right now I am not just getting through this. In fact, I want to, " just get through" this. To get through it means to find closure, and closure to me seems scarey. The only connection I have is a painful one. I would rather have a painful connection then have no connection at all.
Too often when we experience something painful we try to "get through it" quickly to move on with our lives. But "getting through" isn't working through. It isn't healing. It isn't real.
So here I am, having been smashed into the rocks that were waiting for me as I dropped of the edge of the light into the darkness. I am sitting here. I am not ready to stand up, and too wounded to fly. But I am not alone for God is here with me. I never asked him for a miracle. I only asked that he not leave me alone. He hasn't.
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