Both of the kids celebrated birthdays recently, and C's age has started to sink in now. It is so unimaginable that 4 years ago today I was holding a new born baby that I was allowed to take home. I felt often after taking C to our home that they had to have made a mistake, I couldn't be just allowed to go to a hospital with a swollen belly and return a parent.... How is that possible?
But here I am... a parent. Not just a parent, but the parent of two amazing children. C is constantly asking me lately what words mean. This doesn't sound too impressive considering that his language skills are amazing, but when I really stop and think about it if he wants to know the meaning of a word that means he is thinking about their meanings, and trying to use them correctly. All the big words that before now just didn't fit in his vocabulary are now taking a front seat in his life. Today he wanted to know the meaning of 'distance'. Before I might have said I needed some space, or 'back up', or something, but now he can understand and use the word 'distance' instead of all those other words combined to make the same point. That is just incredible to me.
What else amazes me? Well C is not an artistic person on paper. He can build and create things out of legos that will amaze you (or maybe I'm easily amazed)... but give him crayons and paper and he will tell you 'I don't want to color cause coloring makes me boring'. His bluntness is astounding. But today during church he was handed a baggy of crayons and some coloring pages, and he SHOCKED me. First off one of the pages had the new year written out in block letters for him to color in, he TRACED them all... quite well too... yeah that doesn't sound like much, but I have been homeschooling him for 13 weeks and have been unable to get him to understand the concept and purpose of tracing, and here he was doing it on his own, and presenting it proudly to me. Then he turned to another page, with a caterpillar and a butterfly on some plants with big leaves. He colored the caterpillar pretty much the way he always colors, big scribbles, so long as the whole image is colored it has never mattered to him whether his crayon stays in the lines or not... then he hands me the crayon and says "I can't color the butterfly" I show him how to color one small part at a time, and then he goes to town, making small scribbles, hardly getting out of any lines at all, and completes the whole butterfly. This is amazing for two reasons, 1. he finished the whole picture (he refused to use any color other than blue), and 2. he cared about the work he was doing! He colored in the lines as much as possible, and spent time and effort making it his best possible. So my little boy is truly growing up and the things I show him, they take awhile to sink in but I'm encouraged that they do in deed sink in.
And then there is F. Oh my gosh she is amazing to me. And the love that flows between them gets me to the core. Lately she is attempting to potty train herself. This is just incredible to me because it took a LOT of concentrated effort to get C to understand and care what a potty was for let alone get him to use it. F will walk around tugging at the seam of her pants saying "PAAh eee" (potty) when she is going, and expect you to put her on it whether she's already gone or not. Just barely 2 and determined to do what big kids do... I don't imagine that it will take much effort at all to get her out of diapers, and since the pile is nearly gone I think we may just actually potty train her now.
These children, they are my hopes, my dreams, my fears, my emotions on legs, with arms that hug and smiles that inspire, and words and actions that teach me so much every day. And the more I see them, the more I interact with them the more I believe that there is no right way to teach a child, there is the way a child learns, and if you grasp that you can teach them anything. Which is why it is so important to me that I do teach them all I can offer, and that I'm careful not to teach them the things I wouldn't want them to learn from me, the bad habits I need to break, the insecurities that I have... I want them to learn all that I have learned in my life time, and also all that their own lives can offer them. And I pray that I'm able to do so in a manor pleasing to God, and honorable to those who have blessed their lives with that education.
Mommy and Me
Sharing life with you is fullfilling
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Mommy from two
At the creation of this blog there was only one little person tugging at my pant legs and saying mommy, mommy, mommy! Now there are two. F has grown so much in the last two years, she is beautiful, even if her vocab is short for her age, she has a lot to say... most of it babbling, but then there is the beautiful sound of her voice the moment I walk into the house after a breif trip without my children, a rare treat for any mother, her tiny legs working douple fast, pumping and kicking to get to me as quickly as possible, and her hands striving for good balance and reaching to the sky to have me pick her up as soon as possible "mama, Mama! Mama!" and then it continues long after she has reached her target.
C also has grown so much! Currently I'm watching him attempt to life F off the floor by her hips while her hands and head are still very much on the floor. They are best friends, and annoying counterparts of each other. C is a creater, building amazing animals out of giant legos, creating both the animal and the story that will tell me about it's life, and purpose. His latest amazing creatures are a 3 foot ostrich build with the help of his daddy, and a much smaller sea turtle. He builds dragons, horses, giraffes and dinosaurs too. He is not one to sit still playing with cars, though he occassionally picks them up. He would rather build something and tell me the story about it.
C is also an expert on all things animal. He memorizes the names and facts of animals like no other child I know. He can tell you which animals are preditors (a word I believe I learned in 3rd or 4th grade, definetly not at 3 years old. It would not surprize me at all if he grew up to be a veterinarian, or zoo keeper, or some other animal related worker.
F is interested in taking apart her brothers creations, I don't think she does so out of spite, or just to destroy them, I think she is taking them apart like a surgeon would in surgery, she wants to know what each item does, why is it there? How do you put it back without distroying the whole creation. This is something that reminds me very much of stories I've heard of P when he was a child. He once took apart a chair causing problems for his unsuspecting grandmother who later sat on the disassembled chair. Her care is deep and concentrated, she also cares for the needs of others in this same manor. Pretending a baby doll is crying is second nature to her, as is shushing the baby while patting it's back, or for that matter shushing her brother when he is crying. her cute little lips (one of her best features all the way back to birth) pursing and her eyes saddening for whoever is crying. F knows a tissue or wet wipe solves a runny nose and offers them to everyone in the house regardless of whether they have a runny nose. She knows that every baby needs a paci to stop the crying.. and that a blanket and the hug of a mama can help any saddness. Her heart is big! And joyful! Every pinwheel, flower and hanging decoration needs a good blow, and when you guess correctly what it is she wants she will reward you with the biggest smile and cutest 'shy' duck and cover there ever was.
Hearing mommy over and over and over again can be a blessing and a curse. There are days that I just want to send them to bed and be done with the needs of my children for the night, but then there are nights like tonight and yesterday that I would much rather observe them and love on them, smile with them and listen to the story of C's latest flying dragon made of legos, or blow one more time on that pinwheel F has been planting on my face for the last ten minutes.
I cried yesterday because we homeschool and have only just started this year, but P was talking about sending C to public school to 'teach' him to be obedient better. Honestly I thought how could he be taught better by a person who is responsible for 30 children's education, than by one who is solely dedicated to his education and integrity training? P didnt actually mean to send C away immediately, or even to enroll him next year, but was just thinking ahead because C seems so adverse to instruction. I can teach him to learn, I can teach him the basic skills he needs in this world, I can do that, I'm perfectly confident in that... what I fear I cannot teach him is advanced Math, and Science... but those things are not going to be learned in 1st or 2nd grade, so I feel I should be allowed time to develop his character, without the assistance of a person who has no long term need to help him become the man I hope he will be. That is not to say I wont accept or even ask for assistance when needed, but to say that I don't want to give my children into someone elses hands unless I do have need for their assistance.
I am blessed to have these little being that cuddle me, demand my attention and give me the best gifts anyone in the world has ever received... a reward for simply loving them. I am an addict, I want another.
C also has grown so much! Currently I'm watching him attempt to life F off the floor by her hips while her hands and head are still very much on the floor. They are best friends, and annoying counterparts of each other. C is a creater, building amazing animals out of giant legos, creating both the animal and the story that will tell me about it's life, and purpose. His latest amazing creatures are a 3 foot ostrich build with the help of his daddy, and a much smaller sea turtle. He builds dragons, horses, giraffes and dinosaurs too. He is not one to sit still playing with cars, though he occassionally picks them up. He would rather build something and tell me the story about it.
C is also an expert on all things animal. He memorizes the names and facts of animals like no other child I know. He can tell you which animals are preditors (a word I believe I learned in 3rd or 4th grade, definetly not at 3 years old. It would not surprize me at all if he grew up to be a veterinarian, or zoo keeper, or some other animal related worker.
F is interested in taking apart her brothers creations, I don't think she does so out of spite, or just to destroy them, I think she is taking them apart like a surgeon would in surgery, she wants to know what each item does, why is it there? How do you put it back without distroying the whole creation. This is something that reminds me very much of stories I've heard of P when he was a child. He once took apart a chair causing problems for his unsuspecting grandmother who later sat on the disassembled chair. Her care is deep and concentrated, she also cares for the needs of others in this same manor. Pretending a baby doll is crying is second nature to her, as is shushing the baby while patting it's back, or for that matter shushing her brother when he is crying. her cute little lips (one of her best features all the way back to birth) pursing and her eyes saddening for whoever is crying. F knows a tissue or wet wipe solves a runny nose and offers them to everyone in the house regardless of whether they have a runny nose. She knows that every baby needs a paci to stop the crying.. and that a blanket and the hug of a mama can help any saddness. Her heart is big! And joyful! Every pinwheel, flower and hanging decoration needs a good blow, and when you guess correctly what it is she wants she will reward you with the biggest smile and cutest 'shy' duck and cover there ever was.
Hearing mommy over and over and over again can be a blessing and a curse. There are days that I just want to send them to bed and be done with the needs of my children for the night, but then there are nights like tonight and yesterday that I would much rather observe them and love on them, smile with them and listen to the story of C's latest flying dragon made of legos, or blow one more time on that pinwheel F has been planting on my face for the last ten minutes.
I cried yesterday because we homeschool and have only just started this year, but P was talking about sending C to public school to 'teach' him to be obedient better. Honestly I thought how could he be taught better by a person who is responsible for 30 children's education, than by one who is solely dedicated to his education and integrity training? P didnt actually mean to send C away immediately, or even to enroll him next year, but was just thinking ahead because C seems so adverse to instruction. I can teach him to learn, I can teach him the basic skills he needs in this world, I can do that, I'm perfectly confident in that... what I fear I cannot teach him is advanced Math, and Science... but those things are not going to be learned in 1st or 2nd grade, so I feel I should be allowed time to develop his character, without the assistance of a person who has no long term need to help him become the man I hope he will be. That is not to say I wont accept or even ask for assistance when needed, but to say that I don't want to give my children into someone elses hands unless I do have need for their assistance.
I am blessed to have these little being that cuddle me, demand my attention and give me the best gifts anyone in the world has ever received... a reward for simply loving them. I am an addict, I want another.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Super Tuesday
This blog promises to be an open hearted discussion on how I feel about the politics and religion of our culture... mostly the politics among those who have religion.
As you have read I have had a rough time with the loss of Jaemi, my ectopic baby. Here are some things as facts would have them that pertain to the later part of my post....
1. Jaemi was ectopic, actually a tubal pregnancy, located in my right Fallopian tube.
2. I had bled for nearly 20 days, some days light, some days so heavy I couldn't stand up, the last day I passed out in my bathroom.
3. The dr.s did what they could to look for my baby, but only found it that last day, located in my right tube. They monitored the amount of blood loss I had, and checked my hormone levels every other day.
4. In the end they found Jaemi in that right tube, and then without a moments notice they were packing me up from the ER to go to the OR to have Jaemi 'removed'. I felt like I didn't have a choice, I felt like they were about to murder my child to save me, but I also knew in my situation that if I didn't allow that very thing to happen I would probably die from hemorrhaging, and that if I died I wouldn't be here for my children.
5. During the surgery they opened my right fallopian tube and found that it was completely clear of obstruction, no baby there. And I started hemorrhaging worse than before, before preforming a D&C they found a tiny fluid filled sac with as they claimed 'nothing in it'. My belief is that Jaemi was taken home by God before the Dr. could remove him/her, and that being that my hormones were not increasing at the rate they should have been Jaemi just hadn't formed to the normal level of a pregnancy at that many weeks, or the dates were wrong and that was what we would have seen at that point in a normal pregnancy. either way, the 'abortion' I had, turned out to be a D&C with no abortive qualities as I had miscarried beforehand.
Now here is why that matters.
With the election coming up I've felt a lot of pressure by those who are either religious, pro-life, or Republican (individually or all of the above) to vote for Romney because if I vote for a 3rd party then I'm essentially voting for Obama.
Do I want Obama? NO.
Do I want Romney? I don't know. Do I cast my non-important vote (thanks electoral collage) for a man that I don't necessarily want to win just to prevent a man I don't want to win from doing so? I don't know.
If I vote for a 3rd party, does it matter which one considering that they just are not going to win anyway? (I still would use my moral compass to select regardless of whether my vote mattered).
I'm sure you are wondering how these things are related since with Romney abortion is a non issue. He would like to see each of the states decide... which doesn't sound incredibly bad to me, but I'm not sure about how that works for people traveling between state lines... anyway.
My vote is a moral one. I look at ALL of the issues, I weigh who is the most likely to adhere to my own personal moral convictions, and then I vote. One of the biggest moral issues is the value of human life, and up until this election I could say that very flippantly. Meaning that Romney wouldn't have a chance at my vote because he said that he was for women having abortions due to rape, incest, and issues where her own life were at risk.
“I am pro-life. I believe that abortion is the wrong choice except in cases of incest, rape, and to save the life of the mother.”July 26, 2005, Boston Globe, Why I vetoed contraception bill
A baby conceived of rape or incest is a baby too!
The hard part of my answer has been eating at my soul for the last few weeks and I've only just now come to a conclusion, two days before the election. What about babies of mothers who like me needed to save their own lives? Before having my children C and F, I would NEVER have entertained the thought of riding myself of a baby to save my own life. And actually I never really thought that getting rid of an ectopic pregnancy was that kind of issue, I just never connected the dots. But yes it kind of is. Here is the thing, if a pregnancy grows in the fallopian tube the tube will rupture, it can not stretch the way a uterus was designed to stretch as the baby grows. When that tube ruptures the mother is at great risk for infection, and death. So is it moral to be rid of the pregnancy and therefore the baby in order to save the life of the mother, when the baby never had a chance to live in the first place?
I found a video that helped me come to terms with this. Even the pro-lifers have an answer for this... despite what many people have said about me having to be pro-choice, if I made a choice to save myself rather than my baby.
My husband came home to see me bawling on the floor in the kitchen the other day, this truly tears me up. Why? not because I have not dealt with the loss of Jaemi, but because in the end the only mater that I can not come to terms with on voting for Romney is his stance on abortion. The rest of the stuff I either agree with him or don't care about enough to make a case for or against voting for him. I have plead with God to help me choose who to vote for, but all I get is to go with my morals.
My morals can not allow me to vote for a man who does not value the life of a child whose parents made bad choices (a rapist, or the relative who created a child with their own sister/daughter/mother/granddaughter... who ever they did it with)... I DO NOT mean to say that I don't feel for the woman who did not ask for this treatment of her own body and now carries a baby to remind her daily of what happened, but two wrongs never did make a right, and someone else's wrong that created a baby does not mean that you can go on to do a wrong in destroying the life growing inside of you. If this happened to you, then I suggest treatment, therapy, whatever you need to get through it, but not killing the baby.
So while my vote lands there I have these quotes running through my head. "I'd rather save 90% of the babies by voting for Romney than to have 100% of them destroyed" (speaking of the pregnancies at risk for abortion, not all pregnancies), or "In the election on Tuesday, we have only two realistic options. If you don’t vote for Romney, then you have helped Obama. And if a significant number of evangelical Christians do as you do, Obama will be elected. I could ...
As you have read I have had a rough time with the loss of Jaemi, my ectopic baby. Here are some things as facts would have them that pertain to the later part of my post....
1. Jaemi was ectopic, actually a tubal pregnancy, located in my right Fallopian tube.
2. I had bled for nearly 20 days, some days light, some days so heavy I couldn't stand up, the last day I passed out in my bathroom.
3. The dr.s did what they could to look for my baby, but only found it that last day, located in my right tube. They monitored the amount of blood loss I had, and checked my hormone levels every other day.
4. In the end they found Jaemi in that right tube, and then without a moments notice they were packing me up from the ER to go to the OR to have Jaemi 'removed'. I felt like I didn't have a choice, I felt like they were about to murder my child to save me, but I also knew in my situation that if I didn't allow that very thing to happen I would probably die from hemorrhaging, and that if I died I wouldn't be here for my children.
5. During the surgery they opened my right fallopian tube and found that it was completely clear of obstruction, no baby there. And I started hemorrhaging worse than before, before preforming a D&C they found a tiny fluid filled sac with as they claimed 'nothing in it'. My belief is that Jaemi was taken home by God before the Dr. could remove him/her, and that being that my hormones were not increasing at the rate they should have been Jaemi just hadn't formed to the normal level of a pregnancy at that many weeks, or the dates were wrong and that was what we would have seen at that point in a normal pregnancy. either way, the 'abortion' I had, turned out to be a D&C with no abortive qualities as I had miscarried beforehand.
Now here is why that matters.
With the election coming up I've felt a lot of pressure by those who are either religious, pro-life, or Republican (individually or all of the above) to vote for Romney because if I vote for a 3rd party then I'm essentially voting for Obama.
Do I want Obama? NO.
Do I want Romney? I don't know. Do I cast my non-important vote (thanks electoral collage) for a man that I don't necessarily want to win just to prevent a man I don't want to win from doing so? I don't know.
If I vote for a 3rd party, does it matter which one considering that they just are not going to win anyway? (I still would use my moral compass to select regardless of whether my vote mattered).
I'm sure you are wondering how these things are related since with Romney abortion is a non issue. He would like to see each of the states decide... which doesn't sound incredibly bad to me, but I'm not sure about how that works for people traveling between state lines... anyway.
My vote is a moral one. I look at ALL of the issues, I weigh who is the most likely to adhere to my own personal moral convictions, and then I vote. One of the biggest moral issues is the value of human life, and up until this election I could say that very flippantly. Meaning that Romney wouldn't have a chance at my vote because he said that he was for women having abortions due to rape, incest, and issues where her own life were at risk.
“I am pro-life. I believe that abortion is the wrong choice except in cases of incest, rape, and to save the life of the mother.”July 26, 2005, Boston Globe, Why I vetoed contraception bill
A baby conceived of rape or incest is a baby too!
The hard part of my answer has been eating at my soul for the last few weeks and I've only just now come to a conclusion, two days before the election. What about babies of mothers who like me needed to save their own lives? Before having my children C and F, I would NEVER have entertained the thought of riding myself of a baby to save my own life. And actually I never really thought that getting rid of an ectopic pregnancy was that kind of issue, I just never connected the dots. But yes it kind of is. Here is the thing, if a pregnancy grows in the fallopian tube the tube will rupture, it can not stretch the way a uterus was designed to stretch as the baby grows. When that tube ruptures the mother is at great risk for infection, and death. So is it moral to be rid of the pregnancy and therefore the baby in order to save the life of the mother, when the baby never had a chance to live in the first place?
I found a video that helped me come to terms with this. Even the pro-lifers have an answer for this... despite what many people have said about me having to be pro-choice, if I made a choice to save myself rather than my baby.
My husband came home to see me bawling on the floor in the kitchen the other day, this truly tears me up. Why? not because I have not dealt with the loss of Jaemi, but because in the end the only mater that I can not come to terms with on voting for Romney is his stance on abortion. The rest of the stuff I either agree with him or don't care about enough to make a case for or against voting for him. I have plead with God to help me choose who to vote for, but all I get is to go with my morals.
My morals can not allow me to vote for a man who does not value the life of a child whose parents made bad choices (a rapist, or the relative who created a child with their own sister/daughter/mother/granddaughter... who ever they did it with)... I DO NOT mean to say that I don't feel for the woman who did not ask for this treatment of her own body and now carries a baby to remind her daily of what happened, but two wrongs never did make a right, and someone else's wrong that created a baby does not mean that you can go on to do a wrong in destroying the life growing inside of you. If this happened to you, then I suggest treatment, therapy, whatever you need to get through it, but not killing the baby.
So while my vote lands there I have these quotes running through my head. "I'd rather save 90% of the babies by voting for Romney than to have 100% of them destroyed" (speaking of the pregnancies at risk for abortion, not all pregnancies), or "In the election on Tuesday, we have only two realistic options. If you don’t vote for Romney, then you have helped Obama. And if a significant number of evangelical Christians do as you do, Obama will be elected. I could ...
not live with my own conscience if I contributed, even by default, to electing a president who promoted same-sex marriage and baby-killing, which may well lead to the destruction of America."
both of these people are people that I value the opinion of, and are close to me, both of them I've talked to about my stance, and both of them agree that I have to vote for who I feel God is leading me to vote for, but I still feel as if their only reason for voting the way they are is because of fear.
I believe that God wasn't lying when he said 'for I have not given you a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind'.... no matter who wins this election (as it certainly wont be a 3rd party'er no mater whether I vote for them or not) God still is in control, and I can't be held back from what I believe God has shown me on my vote, so that I can prevent my fears from taking place. This 'nearly republican' will not be voting for either of the two parties most loved, or feared by the Americans... I will stand up for what I TRULY want in our country... GOD! And I'm sorry but Romney doesn't serve the same God as I do, he serves a sub-par version of my God, and has sub-par values for human life. I will not vote for him.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Am I over it?
F is nearly two years old, currently crying about having been shut in her room for a nap... even though she is free to wander now. She is an amazing little girl, and I love her to pieces... We've worked through so much together. Eczema, speech delays, a late start to walking... but she is brilliant, has an amazing smile that lights up her whole face, and a very contagious laugh. She is compassionate, and emotional, and she is beautiful through and through.
Mommy is having a very hard time getting used to the idea that F is going to be 2 though. I want to cry about it nearly every day. I feel like I'm begining to really dig into my feelings over her birth, and the trauma of the event. Partly because I want another baby so badly.
We lost Jaemi back in January, and it was so very hard to deal with last month as we passed the due date of that precious little baby now resting in the arms of Jesus! So where do I go now?
I guess I'll start with the changes that we've survived. 1st, we moved across the country back in March, then we stayed 6 months in my parents house, and then less than two months ago we moved again. P has a great job working in the same field he worked in for the US Navy, and seems to doing well there... it is great to have him doing well in his field.
As we passed Jaemi's dues date I was moving into our new house, painting four rooms four different colors, and attempting to put our family back into the routine I loved once upon a time. I did great, well at least as far as anyone else would know. Really, in the quiet of my bedroom where only P and I knew about it, I grieved the tiny toes I never got to kiss, the fingers I never had wrapped around mine, and the little wiggles that a new born baby does when you are trying your hardest to get them dressed and they don't know how to co-operate with you. I was longing for the tugging feeling of a nursing infant, and the tiny fingers that dig little nails into your skin right under your arm while nursing. I cried, I pleaded with P for another baby, and I desperately hoped each time that we had sex that he would choose not to use whatever form of prevention he decided on.
With all this longing for a baby I realize two things... 1. I'm not over it. and 2. I'm not over it.
1. I'm not over Jaemi's lost life. I don't feel I need to explain this after all the last paragraph went over that pretty well.
2. I'm not over F's birth. The more I think about having another baby the more I think about the birth of said baby. After having a c-section most doctors will not support me in wanting a VBAC. After fighting with my midwife for a natural birth, I don't want to fight anyone for anything... I would rather get a midwife with experience in home birth for a VBAC. I'm pretty sick of being told by someone else what my body is capable of doing. The problem is we just moved out to timbucktoo, and there are not many options here. I found one midwife, and spoke to her, I'm confident that she would do a good job at a birth, but was not confident in her ability to handle an emergency given the things she says she brings with her to a birth. This breaks my heart, because the options are so very slim... I'd much rather interview the three midwives in this area and love all of them and be faced with the problem of which one to choose.
I also don't want to admit it, but I'm scared that something bad will happen, like uterine rupture, and who ever is supposed to be caring for me wont be able to do anything about it, and we are too far from a hospital able to care for that kind of emergency... but I don't want fear to lead my decisions... I think either a home birth, or a hospital birth would be decided on out of fear though.
If I chose to have a home birth it would be because I 1. want to have a natural birth to show even myself that God created this body of mine for the safe delivery of babies vaginally as I know it was. and 2. I'm scared of Doctors overwhelming me and discrediting my wonderful God created body and forcing interventions I don't feel are necessary on me, and then ending with a c-section.
If I choose to have a hospital birth it would be the fear of the unknown guiding my decisions, the 'what if my uterus was stiched wrong and it explodes during birth?'....
yeah.. I guess no matter what I think about having another baby, I still have a lot to work through before I could actually birth one.
Mommy is having a very hard time getting used to the idea that F is going to be 2 though. I want to cry about it nearly every day. I feel like I'm begining to really dig into my feelings over her birth, and the trauma of the event. Partly because I want another baby so badly.
We lost Jaemi back in January, and it was so very hard to deal with last month as we passed the due date of that precious little baby now resting in the arms of Jesus! So where do I go now?
I guess I'll start with the changes that we've survived. 1st, we moved across the country back in March, then we stayed 6 months in my parents house, and then less than two months ago we moved again. P has a great job working in the same field he worked in for the US Navy, and seems to doing well there... it is great to have him doing well in his field.
As we passed Jaemi's dues date I was moving into our new house, painting four rooms four different colors, and attempting to put our family back into the routine I loved once upon a time. I did great, well at least as far as anyone else would know. Really, in the quiet of my bedroom where only P and I knew about it, I grieved the tiny toes I never got to kiss, the fingers I never had wrapped around mine, and the little wiggles that a new born baby does when you are trying your hardest to get them dressed and they don't know how to co-operate with you. I was longing for the tugging feeling of a nursing infant, and the tiny fingers that dig little nails into your skin right under your arm while nursing. I cried, I pleaded with P for another baby, and I desperately hoped each time that we had sex that he would choose not to use whatever form of prevention he decided on.
With all this longing for a baby I realize two things... 1. I'm not over it. and 2. I'm not over it.
1. I'm not over Jaemi's lost life. I don't feel I need to explain this after all the last paragraph went over that pretty well.
2. I'm not over F's birth. The more I think about having another baby the more I think about the birth of said baby. After having a c-section most doctors will not support me in wanting a VBAC. After fighting with my midwife for a natural birth, I don't want to fight anyone for anything... I would rather get a midwife with experience in home birth for a VBAC. I'm pretty sick of being told by someone else what my body is capable of doing. The problem is we just moved out to timbucktoo, and there are not many options here. I found one midwife, and spoke to her, I'm confident that she would do a good job at a birth, but was not confident in her ability to handle an emergency given the things she says she brings with her to a birth. This breaks my heart, because the options are so very slim... I'd much rather interview the three midwives in this area and love all of them and be faced with the problem of which one to choose.
I also don't want to admit it, but I'm scared that something bad will happen, like uterine rupture, and who ever is supposed to be caring for me wont be able to do anything about it, and we are too far from a hospital able to care for that kind of emergency... but I don't want fear to lead my decisions... I think either a home birth, or a hospital birth would be decided on out of fear though.
If I chose to have a home birth it would be because I 1. want to have a natural birth to show even myself that God created this body of mine for the safe delivery of babies vaginally as I know it was. and 2. I'm scared of Doctors overwhelming me and discrediting my wonderful God created body and forcing interventions I don't feel are necessary on me, and then ending with a c-section.
If I choose to have a hospital birth it would be the fear of the unknown guiding my decisions, the 'what if my uterus was stiched wrong and it explodes during birth?'....
yeah.. I guess no matter what I think about having another baby, I still have a lot to work through before I could actually birth one.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
I'm tired
I'm tired, so tired of all the drama! The losses, the grief, the hurt, the confusion... it is time... it is time to embrace the good in life.
My list of good
P- he makes me happy (most of the time), provides for our family, and takes my thoughts feelings and concerns seriously
C- he loves me no matter how many times I have to punish him for disobedience in one day. He cuddles me and holds me accountable to be a good mom.
F- she cries when either P or I leave, because she loves us, climbs into our laps just to laugh and make us laugh with her.
Prissy- she is old, blind, anemic and poops on my floor, but she is a great dog and has been a good friend to me for all her nearly 15 years.
My mom and dad- they are opening their home to us, making space where they could easily say there was none, and not charging us rent for it.
My doctor- after talking to her this afternoon I was reassured that when and if P and I decide to have another baby we are free to do it on our own timeline... that I am safe to get pregnant even though I just had another surgery, and that WE (not everyone else who thinks their opinion maters) can decide when it is right to have more children if we want that.
My GOD- for carrying me when I can't walk.. I really feel like these last two months I have not taken a single step without his assistance... I am NOT capable of living through all that I've been through, I would have fallen to pieces a long time ago without His support. I feel like I am a living example of the footprints poem... only instead of growing bitter for feeling alone in this rough time, I really feel like I know beyond a shadow of a doubt it is God alone who is getting me through this!
Penske- their customer service is amazing, and they had all sorts of discounts and things that made them the cheapest route to go with for a moving truck as well!
My list is short, but it is growing, and I have faith that when God decides to put me back on my own two feet I will be able to stand, and then to run, leap and serve God with all my heart because he carried me through this.
My list of good
P- he makes me happy (most of the time), provides for our family, and takes my thoughts feelings and concerns seriously
C- he loves me no matter how many times I have to punish him for disobedience in one day. He cuddles me and holds me accountable to be a good mom.
F- she cries when either P or I leave, because she loves us, climbs into our laps just to laugh and make us laugh with her.
Prissy- she is old, blind, anemic and poops on my floor, but she is a great dog and has been a good friend to me for all her nearly 15 years.
My mom and dad- they are opening their home to us, making space where they could easily say there was none, and not charging us rent for it.
My doctor- after talking to her this afternoon I was reassured that when and if P and I decide to have another baby we are free to do it on our own timeline... that I am safe to get pregnant even though I just had another surgery, and that WE (not everyone else who thinks their opinion maters) can decide when it is right to have more children if we want that.
My GOD- for carrying me when I can't walk.. I really feel like these last two months I have not taken a single step without his assistance... I am NOT capable of living through all that I've been through, I would have fallen to pieces a long time ago without His support. I feel like I am a living example of the footprints poem... only instead of growing bitter for feeling alone in this rough time, I really feel like I know beyond a shadow of a doubt it is God alone who is getting me through this!
Penske- their customer service is amazing, and they had all sorts of discounts and things that made them the cheapest route to go with for a moving truck as well!
My list is short, but it is growing, and I have faith that when God decides to put me back on my own two feet I will be able to stand, and then to run, leap and serve God with all my heart because he carried me through this.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Embracing life in all its forms
I've been thinking, and talking, and dwelling, and resting... among all the packing and cleaning and garage sale managing. The conclusion that I've drawn is this.
Life really does go on forever.
Hear me out. Some people's lives will go on in memories from their families, or contributions they made to society, or whatever. Other people (those who have accepted Christ) will go on to live in Heaven and worship God through service, action, music, whatever.... I wont get into my theories on heaven and hell or anythign here it has nothing to do with my thoughts.
But here are the lives that I've been thinking on.
C
The sweetest boy God ever created, and let me help in the molding of his young life. The day he was born my heart sprung out of my chest and connected to his instantly... I will never forget it. The day he stopped breathing as a 7 week old infant I thought my own life was ending. I cried enough tears to fill a bath tub I'm sure. The day he learned to crawl... well not really crawl but more like plant his face on the floor kick his feet in the air and somehow wrangle his body forward on the floor I was the proudest mommy there ever was. His knack for dancing like a penguin, calling Anteaters "aunt becky's" and all his tiny quirks are absolutely the spark to a burning flame that grows brighter and brighter by the day, and my love for him is beyond belief.
F
Things with F were not as easy in the beginning and I didn't have that instant love for her like with C, but every day m heart just leaps from my chest when she smiles at me, or comes to my knees with that goofy grin and squinty eyes and starts laughing just to laugh. Her knack for finding things that were hidden or lost, and her curiousity about how things work, her love of pictures in books, and the way she points and wants to know what absolutely everything is called and even repeats the names of the things but then wont say them for any reason beyond that initial reason. Her love of her dad, and the way she doesn't give hugs but rather tucks her arms under her body leans her head on your shoulder and expects you to wrap your arms around her in a comfy embrace.
P
The love of my life, the gift that God gave me and I wonder daily why he blessed me so much. The way he thinks that if he is eating too much for his diet and I tell him that it isn't healthy he smiles and offers to share with me... as if letting me indulge in his guilty pleasure takes the guilt off from him. The way he stands up to his mom to defend me when our views clash. The Love he has for me, especially when I'm sad, hurt or grumpy. I've put this man through so very much, but he stays constant, he loves me no matter what. The best most recent thing this loving man did for me was just talking to me about Jaemi. I feel like if we don't talk about my baby then people don't believe that Jaemi exists, but P took the time, talked to me, and showed me that he could imagine our baby too. I love this guy!
Jaemi
Jaemi is in heaven, I never got to see the sweet smile, the eyes that grow bigger at the sight of a familiar face, the chubby fingers that would have traced my mouth and pulled at my teeth (all babies do that right? or is it just mine?) I think about the laughter that would have sounded from that sweet mouth, the hair that I don't know the color of. I think about whether Jaemi would have been into sports or art, video games or nature.... all of those thoughts and none of them answered... but that does NOT mean that Jaemi doesn't have hopes, fears, interests, and love... it just means that I have to wait until my own visit to heaven to meet my little one! Sometimes I hear about near death experiences and I wonder, I know I didn't die on the operating table, but not everyone with that sort of experience does, I wonder if I could have met my baby and I just don't remember.... probably not... it would be a painful thing to leave your child like that. But I'm excited to meet Jaemi, and I'm sure that my baby will be waiting for my hugs when I get to heaven and finally meet them!
Tristen
She is gone, and I have no proof that dogs get to go to heaven, but I like to think that the greatest dog in the world passed on to heaven and is now caring for my baby, she used to lick C and play with him like he was her puppy, I wonder if Jaemi is her puppy now. Tristen taught herself the first trick she ever learned, she begged for food while I was cooking... I didn't even know dogs actually did that aside from because a human told them too, but there she was, this fluffy bundle of fur sitting up on her back legs, her front paws dangling and her nose sniffing the air hoping for a scrap. I loved that she only chewed on things for a short time, and that her favorite thing to chew was cords rather than shoes, a few lamps didn't make it, and a pair of my glasses were ruined, but the whole chewing phase was so quick. I loved that she would come for attention and once she got a little love she'd go on, she didn't beg for attention constantly, but she loved the attention she got. I loved that she was potty trained in such a short time and rarely ever had accidents. I loved that she was so patient with our children, and loved them like her own.
Life really does have a way of continuing forever, even the ones that you don't even know about... there are more questions than answers about Jaemi, and even Tristen, but I know them, I know they existed, I know that one day I will see Jaemi (maybe even Tristen) and once I do I'll have all the answers, and no matter what those answers are I'll be proud of my child! Not because of anything that Jaemi did or didn't do, but because Jaemi is my baby.
I was told today by a friend who lost her own baby, that I'm dealing better with the lost of Jaemi than she dealt with the loss of hers, and that she admired my strength, and my gentle spirit... I don't feel strong, I don't feel like my spirit is gentle, I feel like I'm in the midst of a storm and being tossed about in the waves, but that just makes me think of my favorite verse in the bible Isaiah 54:11-17 O afflicted one, storm-tossed, and not comforted, I am about to set your stones in antimony, and lay your foundations with sapphires. I will make your pinnacles of rubies, your gates of jewels, and all your wall of precious stones. All your children shall be taught by the Lord, and great shall be the prosperity of your children. In righteousness you shall be established; you shall be far from oppression, for you shall not fear; and from terror, for it shall not come near you. If anyone stirs up strife, it is not from me; whoever stirs up strife with you shall fall because of you. See it is I who have created the smith who blows the fire of coals, and produces a weapon fit for its purpose; I have also created the ravager to destroy. No weapon that is fashioned against you shall prosper, and you shall confute every tongue that rises against you in judgement. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord and their vindication from me, says the Lord."
The whole chapter is my favorite, but I don't need to know what the first half is personally because I'm living it... I am storm tossed, I'm wind whipped, I am exhausted, I am lonely, I am forgotten by most, but that last half is what I need to remind myself, that God has not forgotten me, that he see me as a princess and is providing a royal place for me to live, even though I'm approaching him with a sideways ponytail that isn't really holding any of my layers anymore, my hair is greasy and covered in baby food, my clothes are ripped and don't fit right anymore, i have not had a shower if forever and my socks are so stretched out that they are not worth wearing anymore. I'm a princess to God, and I'm headed straight into his arms and just watch and see what happens to anyone who tries to keep me from him!
Life really does go on forever.
Hear me out. Some people's lives will go on in memories from their families, or contributions they made to society, or whatever. Other people (those who have accepted Christ) will go on to live in Heaven and worship God through service, action, music, whatever.... I wont get into my theories on heaven and hell or anythign here it has nothing to do with my thoughts.
But here are the lives that I've been thinking on.
C
The sweetest boy God ever created, and let me help in the molding of his young life. The day he was born my heart sprung out of my chest and connected to his instantly... I will never forget it. The day he stopped breathing as a 7 week old infant I thought my own life was ending. I cried enough tears to fill a bath tub I'm sure. The day he learned to crawl... well not really crawl but more like plant his face on the floor kick his feet in the air and somehow wrangle his body forward on the floor I was the proudest mommy there ever was. His knack for dancing like a penguin, calling Anteaters "aunt becky's" and all his tiny quirks are absolutely the spark to a burning flame that grows brighter and brighter by the day, and my love for him is beyond belief.
F
Things with F were not as easy in the beginning and I didn't have that instant love for her like with C, but every day m heart just leaps from my chest when she smiles at me, or comes to my knees with that goofy grin and squinty eyes and starts laughing just to laugh. Her knack for finding things that were hidden or lost, and her curiousity about how things work, her love of pictures in books, and the way she points and wants to know what absolutely everything is called and even repeats the names of the things but then wont say them for any reason beyond that initial reason. Her love of her dad, and the way she doesn't give hugs but rather tucks her arms under her body leans her head on your shoulder and expects you to wrap your arms around her in a comfy embrace.
P
The love of my life, the gift that God gave me and I wonder daily why he blessed me so much. The way he thinks that if he is eating too much for his diet and I tell him that it isn't healthy he smiles and offers to share with me... as if letting me indulge in his guilty pleasure takes the guilt off from him. The way he stands up to his mom to defend me when our views clash. The Love he has for me, especially when I'm sad, hurt or grumpy. I've put this man through so very much, but he stays constant, he loves me no matter what. The best most recent thing this loving man did for me was just talking to me about Jaemi. I feel like if we don't talk about my baby then people don't believe that Jaemi exists, but P took the time, talked to me, and showed me that he could imagine our baby too. I love this guy!
Jaemi
Jaemi is in heaven, I never got to see the sweet smile, the eyes that grow bigger at the sight of a familiar face, the chubby fingers that would have traced my mouth and pulled at my teeth (all babies do that right? or is it just mine?) I think about the laughter that would have sounded from that sweet mouth, the hair that I don't know the color of. I think about whether Jaemi would have been into sports or art, video games or nature.... all of those thoughts and none of them answered... but that does NOT mean that Jaemi doesn't have hopes, fears, interests, and love... it just means that I have to wait until my own visit to heaven to meet my little one! Sometimes I hear about near death experiences and I wonder, I know I didn't die on the operating table, but not everyone with that sort of experience does, I wonder if I could have met my baby and I just don't remember.... probably not... it would be a painful thing to leave your child like that. But I'm excited to meet Jaemi, and I'm sure that my baby will be waiting for my hugs when I get to heaven and finally meet them!
Tristen
She is gone, and I have no proof that dogs get to go to heaven, but I like to think that the greatest dog in the world passed on to heaven and is now caring for my baby, she used to lick C and play with him like he was her puppy, I wonder if Jaemi is her puppy now. Tristen taught herself the first trick she ever learned, she begged for food while I was cooking... I didn't even know dogs actually did that aside from because a human told them too, but there she was, this fluffy bundle of fur sitting up on her back legs, her front paws dangling and her nose sniffing the air hoping for a scrap. I loved that she only chewed on things for a short time, and that her favorite thing to chew was cords rather than shoes, a few lamps didn't make it, and a pair of my glasses were ruined, but the whole chewing phase was so quick. I loved that she would come for attention and once she got a little love she'd go on, she didn't beg for attention constantly, but she loved the attention she got. I loved that she was potty trained in such a short time and rarely ever had accidents. I loved that she was so patient with our children, and loved them like her own.
Life really does have a way of continuing forever, even the ones that you don't even know about... there are more questions than answers about Jaemi, and even Tristen, but I know them, I know they existed, I know that one day I will see Jaemi (maybe even Tristen) and once I do I'll have all the answers, and no matter what those answers are I'll be proud of my child! Not because of anything that Jaemi did or didn't do, but because Jaemi is my baby.
I was told today by a friend who lost her own baby, that I'm dealing better with the lost of Jaemi than she dealt with the loss of hers, and that she admired my strength, and my gentle spirit... I don't feel strong, I don't feel like my spirit is gentle, I feel like I'm in the midst of a storm and being tossed about in the waves, but that just makes me think of my favorite verse in the bible Isaiah 54:11-17 O afflicted one, storm-tossed, and not comforted, I am about to set your stones in antimony, and lay your foundations with sapphires. I will make your pinnacles of rubies, your gates of jewels, and all your wall of precious stones. All your children shall be taught by the Lord, and great shall be the prosperity of your children. In righteousness you shall be established; you shall be far from oppression, for you shall not fear; and from terror, for it shall not come near you. If anyone stirs up strife, it is not from me; whoever stirs up strife with you shall fall because of you. See it is I who have created the smith who blows the fire of coals, and produces a weapon fit for its purpose; I have also created the ravager to destroy. No weapon that is fashioned against you shall prosper, and you shall confute every tongue that rises against you in judgement. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord and their vindication from me, says the Lord."
The whole chapter is my favorite, but I don't need to know what the first half is personally because I'm living it... I am storm tossed, I'm wind whipped, I am exhausted, I am lonely, I am forgotten by most, but that last half is what I need to remind myself, that God has not forgotten me, that he see me as a princess and is providing a royal place for me to live, even though I'm approaching him with a sideways ponytail that isn't really holding any of my layers anymore, my hair is greasy and covered in baby food, my clothes are ripped and don't fit right anymore, i have not had a shower if forever and my socks are so stretched out that they are not worth wearing anymore. I'm a princess to God, and I'm headed straight into his arms and just watch and see what happens to anyone who tries to keep me from him!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Jaemi my sweet angel.
It has taken me the last 11 days to both heal enough, and collect my thoughts enough to announce here on my blog that Jaemi made his or her entrance to heaven on Jan 26, 2012. The tears are waiting just inside my eye lids to fall to the floor or land in my hair as I write this.
I'll attempt to start at where I left off. My lab numbers were continuing their slow increase and my doctors office had finally released my chart to have me seen at a regular OB/GYN office. I was relieved and excited that finally they were giving me some hope that my baby had a chance in the world, that I might be able to carry this little infant to term and deliver another smiling baby into my arms and nurse and build the love that I had felt inside from the moment those scary words were spoken to me in the ER "you're pregnant, but we think you've miscarried".
Yesterday was Sunday, the first in weeks that I'd attended church. Sore and tired, we shared communion, and ordinarily I would have been having a moment of repentance and communion with my God, but instead the tears fell silently from my eyes dropping to my shirt and staining it with the salt (I didn't know a tear could stain, but it can, at least until it is washed) I prayed silently and passionately for my baby, that God would hold him/her and care for Jaemi, that he would let Jaemi know how much I loved him/her.
Back to the story, I received a phone call from an ob office on Jan 24th, told them that I had been on bed rest, and that I was having my blood hCG levels checked frequently and what the numbers were. The woman told me that bed rest was not recommended anymore and I was instantly mad at her... how dare she (a person without medical license) tell me that my doctor's recommendation would make no difference in the life of my child. She took all of my information and said she would call me back soon.
She called much sooner than I thought she would, maybe an hour after I'd first spoke to her. She said they were scheduling my first appointment with an ultrasound tech the next day and could I make it? I told her yes, but then after talking to my husband I realized that I couldn't. I didn't go to the appointment at all.
The afternoon of Jan 25th (the day I should have been able to see my baby on an ultrasound) I let my pride get me and when C disobeyed I lifted him carried him to his room and disciplined him... I kid you not the bleeding that had all but stopped moments before and even for the last two days immediately started again. Bright red water filled my toilet. I was so mad at myself, I apologized for my behavior to my son, to God and to my mother-in-law (who had offered to take C to his room when I had lifted him and should not have).
Sometimes I wonder if my pride was the reason I lost Jaemi, but I'm smarter than to blame myself for this loss. That evening after P got home and I was getting ready for bed I used the bathroom and again was bleeding very heavily. I prayed fervently that God would spare my child's life. I laid a towel down in the bed before laying myself on the pillows....I prayed again, I confessed to P that I had lost control and had lifted C, I told him that I was afraid, I admitted that I didn't feel God's peace over the life growing inside of me any longer, peace yes, but life no. P listened and held me awhile, and then fell asleep.
Around 12am I woke up feeling odd. I can't explain my thoughts, my feelings, nothing really, but it was habit by then to go to the bathroom with any odd twinge, just in case. So I went.... blood, more blood, tears, and prayers, feeling sick, was it the sight of the blood or my body getting desperate for blood and iron? I passed a clot and previous experience suggested that the bleeding would stop after that.
Approximately 30 minutes later I woke again feeling that same odd sensation that I could not describe. This time as I walked to the bathroom I felt weak, worn out and beyond tired... but it was past midnight so that was normal right? No. Crazy things happen to your thoughts when you faint. They are not real, you can't base your thoughts in time, or space, you don't know what is real and what is not. I felt my self slipping, I knew I needed to get closer to the floor, I managed to pull my underwear up and lay down on the bathroom floor trying desperately to stay conscious. I knocked on the bathroom door (from inside) hoping that my husband would hear me, that he could save me. All the time I kept thinking that everything that was happening was happening twice... I could almost anticipate it all because I felt like I'd done it once already, but really I was delirious, and didn't know what I was doing at all.
P woke up and came to me, he helped me to get up. He asked if I needed to go to the emergency room, I knew I couldn't tell him no, I needed help, and I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't accept it. He helped me get dressed (I was not nearly appropriate to leave my bedroom let alone the house). He helped me to get to the dinning room, his mother who had been staying with us came and took my blood pressure, she said it was slightly low but not horribly. He helped me to the car.... I directed him to the hospital... terrified to follow instructions from the ob/gyn in going to a different ER than the one that had previously seen me.
P ran inside and got a nurse and a wheel chair and helped me into the hospital and then drove the car to the parking garage. I was almost instantly checked in. They wheeled me to a room, I was so weak I couldn't do much of anything to help myself, but managed to undress and put their gown on. They drew my blood, I knew from previous experience that reading numbers helps me to avoid fainting so I insisted that someone give me something with numbers to read... one of the nurses gave me his ID.... I read number after number and the woman drawing my blood began to talk about miscarriage and how it wasn't my fault, and not to blame myself, the amount of blood I'd already lost combined with her words and the fear i have of needles combined and I puked all over the man's ID tag... I apologized as best I could and passed out, but not before telling that woman to shut up. (she later told me she was sorry that she was only trying to help, and thought what she said really was part of what was bothering me I felt I needed to be nice and told her that just the talking, no mater the words was why I yelled at her, that I just needed to concentrate, it was true, but I really had been overwhelmed by her telling me I was miscarrying).
A short, very short time later an ultrasound tech came to look for my baby. He used both the regular ultrasound, and the trans-vaginal ultrasound and would not tell me anything, I couldn't see the screen and I knew that even though I wouldn't understand (as the man said i wouldn't) that this wasn't good news. P left the room after that to go and call his boss... I was alone, and the nurse came back, was putting on her gloves and said something that insinuated that I knew what was happening at this point and had spoken to the doctor, but I had not, she announced to me, alone in that room that I had an ectopic pregnancy and was headed to the operating room. I was stunned to silence and she realized that I had not talked to the doctor, she just kept talking... I don't recall what she said after that.. I was crying. P came back and saw me crying, he asked what was wrong but I couldn't answer, it was too hard, I forced that nurse with my silence to say again the words that I hated hearing, that I couldn't admit, that I didn't ever want to hear in the first place... that they were about to murder my baby, so tiny, so helpless, to save my life. I told myself that I couldn't have any other response, that I HAD to let them do this, or what kind of mother would I be to C and F? I knew that there was no way an ectopic pregnancy could continue, that eventually the baby would die anyway. but I really couldn't get passed the fact that I had to let them murder my baby. I realize that people reading this could have a totally different view, or that they could have the same but want me to feel less guilty and say that I shouldn't think of it that way.... but in the end what really matters is that God took Jaemi, not the doctor.
They preformed my surgery and I saw the operating room, all of it, at least all I could take in, in the few minutes I had to figure out what exactly was happening and how to respond to the nurses and others helping me. I clearly saw that this was NOT the nightmare that I endured for F's delivery, that I would be safe, and that God was handling me with care. There was even a paper border around the room, it wasn't a cold place, it was a place that they had tried hard to make less scary for any woman coming there (it was a women's ward in the hospital, only women doctors, only women patients) The only man I met during the whole thing was the one I'd puked on (or puked on his name tag) and the anesthesiologist.
They helped me to sit up, the last thing I remember was the nurses putting some cuffs on my legs (for circulation) and then telling the anesthesiologist that they were ready. My next memory was waking up with the doctor standing near me telling me that she had done the surgery but found that I had two perfect falopian tubes, would carry another baby in the future with no problems and that she had not found what they had expected inside me... instead she had performed a D&C.... I was confused, groggy and full of so much grief I didn't know what to say in response.
Later I would ask many people why... in my own way, and not exactly like that, but I spoke to the chaplain, a music therapist, a social worker, and a spiritual healing specialist (?), the last being very brief since I also had guests in my room. The doctor (a partner for the one who performed the surgery) came to speak to me and said that she was told I probably had many questions, I did but didn't know any of them... mostly I wanted to know why a D&C was performed.. I was so against them, and all I knew is that the surgeon had seen a little tissue and done what she thought was best. The doctor then said that after the surgeon had opened my fallopian tube and seen that it was clear I began to bleed very heavily. Apparently they only thing they could do was to perform the D&C in hopes that the bleeding would stop and I could avoid a blood transfusion later. She also said that in my bleeding they had found the amniotic sac that would have carried my baby, not connected to anything, just there, in the blood, tiny and clear, nothing in it.... she said that there was no pregnancy terminated, that I had not had any form of abortion, but that my baby was already gone when they did what they could to prevent so much bleeding on my part.
Jaemi was with Jesus. I imagine my beautiful little brown haired child smiling and loving heaven. I imagine that some day when I get there I'll be greeted with the sound of Jaemi's voice... I imagine... I pray, and I realize that life, no mater how long is precious, and I hold my kids, my family, my life a little closer.
I'll attempt to start at where I left off. My lab numbers were continuing their slow increase and my doctors office had finally released my chart to have me seen at a regular OB/GYN office. I was relieved and excited that finally they were giving me some hope that my baby had a chance in the world, that I might be able to carry this little infant to term and deliver another smiling baby into my arms and nurse and build the love that I had felt inside from the moment those scary words were spoken to me in the ER "you're pregnant, but we think you've miscarried".
Yesterday was Sunday, the first in weeks that I'd attended church. Sore and tired, we shared communion, and ordinarily I would have been having a moment of repentance and communion with my God, but instead the tears fell silently from my eyes dropping to my shirt and staining it with the salt (I didn't know a tear could stain, but it can, at least until it is washed) I prayed silently and passionately for my baby, that God would hold him/her and care for Jaemi, that he would let Jaemi know how much I loved him/her.
Back to the story, I received a phone call from an ob office on Jan 24th, told them that I had been on bed rest, and that I was having my blood hCG levels checked frequently and what the numbers were. The woman told me that bed rest was not recommended anymore and I was instantly mad at her... how dare she (a person without medical license) tell me that my doctor's recommendation would make no difference in the life of my child. She took all of my information and said she would call me back soon.
She called much sooner than I thought she would, maybe an hour after I'd first spoke to her. She said they were scheduling my first appointment with an ultrasound tech the next day and could I make it? I told her yes, but then after talking to my husband I realized that I couldn't. I didn't go to the appointment at all.
The afternoon of Jan 25th (the day I should have been able to see my baby on an ultrasound) I let my pride get me and when C disobeyed I lifted him carried him to his room and disciplined him... I kid you not the bleeding that had all but stopped moments before and even for the last two days immediately started again. Bright red water filled my toilet. I was so mad at myself, I apologized for my behavior to my son, to God and to my mother-in-law (who had offered to take C to his room when I had lifted him and should not have).
Sometimes I wonder if my pride was the reason I lost Jaemi, but I'm smarter than to blame myself for this loss. That evening after P got home and I was getting ready for bed I used the bathroom and again was bleeding very heavily. I prayed fervently that God would spare my child's life. I laid a towel down in the bed before laying myself on the pillows....I prayed again, I confessed to P that I had lost control and had lifted C, I told him that I was afraid, I admitted that I didn't feel God's peace over the life growing inside of me any longer, peace yes, but life no. P listened and held me awhile, and then fell asleep.
Around 12am I woke up feeling odd. I can't explain my thoughts, my feelings, nothing really, but it was habit by then to go to the bathroom with any odd twinge, just in case. So I went.... blood, more blood, tears, and prayers, feeling sick, was it the sight of the blood or my body getting desperate for blood and iron? I passed a clot and previous experience suggested that the bleeding would stop after that.
Approximately 30 minutes later I woke again feeling that same odd sensation that I could not describe. This time as I walked to the bathroom I felt weak, worn out and beyond tired... but it was past midnight so that was normal right? No. Crazy things happen to your thoughts when you faint. They are not real, you can't base your thoughts in time, or space, you don't know what is real and what is not. I felt my self slipping, I knew I needed to get closer to the floor, I managed to pull my underwear up and lay down on the bathroom floor trying desperately to stay conscious. I knocked on the bathroom door (from inside) hoping that my husband would hear me, that he could save me. All the time I kept thinking that everything that was happening was happening twice... I could almost anticipate it all because I felt like I'd done it once already, but really I was delirious, and didn't know what I was doing at all.
P woke up and came to me, he helped me to get up. He asked if I needed to go to the emergency room, I knew I couldn't tell him no, I needed help, and I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't accept it. He helped me get dressed (I was not nearly appropriate to leave my bedroom let alone the house). He helped me to get to the dinning room, his mother who had been staying with us came and took my blood pressure, she said it was slightly low but not horribly. He helped me to the car.... I directed him to the hospital... terrified to follow instructions from the ob/gyn in going to a different ER than the one that had previously seen me.
P ran inside and got a nurse and a wheel chair and helped me into the hospital and then drove the car to the parking garage. I was almost instantly checked in. They wheeled me to a room, I was so weak I couldn't do much of anything to help myself, but managed to undress and put their gown on. They drew my blood, I knew from previous experience that reading numbers helps me to avoid fainting so I insisted that someone give me something with numbers to read... one of the nurses gave me his ID.... I read number after number and the woman drawing my blood began to talk about miscarriage and how it wasn't my fault, and not to blame myself, the amount of blood I'd already lost combined with her words and the fear i have of needles combined and I puked all over the man's ID tag... I apologized as best I could and passed out, but not before telling that woman to shut up. (she later told me she was sorry that she was only trying to help, and thought what she said really was part of what was bothering me I felt I needed to be nice and told her that just the talking, no mater the words was why I yelled at her, that I just needed to concentrate, it was true, but I really had been overwhelmed by her telling me I was miscarrying).
A short, very short time later an ultrasound tech came to look for my baby. He used both the regular ultrasound, and the trans-vaginal ultrasound and would not tell me anything, I couldn't see the screen and I knew that even though I wouldn't understand (as the man said i wouldn't) that this wasn't good news. P left the room after that to go and call his boss... I was alone, and the nurse came back, was putting on her gloves and said something that insinuated that I knew what was happening at this point and had spoken to the doctor, but I had not, she announced to me, alone in that room that I had an ectopic pregnancy and was headed to the operating room. I was stunned to silence and she realized that I had not talked to the doctor, she just kept talking... I don't recall what she said after that.. I was crying. P came back and saw me crying, he asked what was wrong but I couldn't answer, it was too hard, I forced that nurse with my silence to say again the words that I hated hearing, that I couldn't admit, that I didn't ever want to hear in the first place... that they were about to murder my baby, so tiny, so helpless, to save my life. I told myself that I couldn't have any other response, that I HAD to let them do this, or what kind of mother would I be to C and F? I knew that there was no way an ectopic pregnancy could continue, that eventually the baby would die anyway. but I really couldn't get passed the fact that I had to let them murder my baby. I realize that people reading this could have a totally different view, or that they could have the same but want me to feel less guilty and say that I shouldn't think of it that way.... but in the end what really matters is that God took Jaemi, not the doctor.
They preformed my surgery and I saw the operating room, all of it, at least all I could take in, in the few minutes I had to figure out what exactly was happening and how to respond to the nurses and others helping me. I clearly saw that this was NOT the nightmare that I endured for F's delivery, that I would be safe, and that God was handling me with care. There was even a paper border around the room, it wasn't a cold place, it was a place that they had tried hard to make less scary for any woman coming there (it was a women's ward in the hospital, only women doctors, only women patients) The only man I met during the whole thing was the one I'd puked on (or puked on his name tag) and the anesthesiologist.
They helped me to sit up, the last thing I remember was the nurses putting some cuffs on my legs (for circulation) and then telling the anesthesiologist that they were ready. My next memory was waking up with the doctor standing near me telling me that she had done the surgery but found that I had two perfect falopian tubes, would carry another baby in the future with no problems and that she had not found what they had expected inside me... instead she had performed a D&C.... I was confused, groggy and full of so much grief I didn't know what to say in response.
Later I would ask many people why... in my own way, and not exactly like that, but I spoke to the chaplain, a music therapist, a social worker, and a spiritual healing specialist (?), the last being very brief since I also had guests in my room. The doctor (a partner for the one who performed the surgery) came to speak to me and said that she was told I probably had many questions, I did but didn't know any of them... mostly I wanted to know why a D&C was performed.. I was so against them, and all I knew is that the surgeon had seen a little tissue and done what she thought was best. The doctor then said that after the surgeon had opened my fallopian tube and seen that it was clear I began to bleed very heavily. Apparently they only thing they could do was to perform the D&C in hopes that the bleeding would stop and I could avoid a blood transfusion later. She also said that in my bleeding they had found the amniotic sac that would have carried my baby, not connected to anything, just there, in the blood, tiny and clear, nothing in it.... she said that there was no pregnancy terminated, that I had not had any form of abortion, but that my baby was already gone when they did what they could to prevent so much bleeding on my part.
Jaemi was with Jesus. I imagine my beautiful little brown haired child smiling and loving heaven. I imagine that some day when I get there I'll be greeted with the sound of Jaemi's voice... I imagine... I pray, and I realize that life, no mater how long is precious, and I hold my kids, my family, my life a little closer.
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