Johns Story Part Four

Warning: This post may contain graphic material.

"I can't have a spinal. Put me under," I cried out with all my strength. "Honey,there is no way you can have a spinal right now. You are too sick," Lisa, the Medi-Vac nurse said. I kept throwing up. Brandi and Nicol wiped the vomit from my face, the sweat from my brow, and the blood from my arms. They kept shoving needles in me and there was a sense of panic t.hru the room. I was not stable. They needed me to stop throwing up and keep my body still enough to fly.

"Am I in the way?"Brandi said. "No," the nurse replied, "there is no one else to do what you are doing." And so she kept on. She told me later that blood would splatter on the wall as they tried to get the IV's in. Finally, I was stable and on the helicopter. The transfer from the room to the helicopter is a blur. Brandi said that as she watched me fly away the nurse was standing next to her nd she was crying too. She said, "You pray for your friend. You pray she survives this."

I was in and out of consciousness on the flight. A man on it said, "Should I be worried that she is in and out?" Lisa said, "She has been like this for awhile now." I came to for a moment and said, "I wish I was well enough to enjoy this."And then passed out again. I remember the view clearly. Wide open, green summer Montana.

During this time my Mom caught a flight from Seattle and upon arriving to Great Falls, read her text to get off the plane and get to the hospital. She actually got there before I did.
I remember seeing the hospital but I don't remember anything else until Dr. Key was prepping me for surgery. I wanted my baby but I didn't have much hope. "Wait," I said, "Before we go can we pray? I know you are a Christian." But I was talking to the anesthesiologist. I was confused. He said, " Well, actually I am Jewish." I was embarressed but too tired to care. Darrel prayed aloud and the team responded. Then I was in the room. The mask was over my face and fear took over. I started to writhe and then Lisa was there. "Just tell me what you are doing. Please!" I begged. And then the anaesthesiologist told me it was the oxygen mask and put it over me.

High Places

I am reading a new book. Hinds Feet on High Places. Have you read it? I am halfway through, but I have to say, it is hitting a nerve in me. When going on a journey with the Lord, whom would you think He would ask you to bring? I would have thought joy and peace. I asked my husband. He said, "Hope and peace." But in this book, she recounts her main character bringing, Sorrow and Suffering. It hurt to read that as I feel as though that is what the Lord has asked of me recently. The main character, Much Afraid; (Did I forget to mention this was an allegory? *wink*) she meets a flower along the way, Acceptance-with-Joy. I keep seeing this flower but I have yet, truthfully, to let it bloom in my heart. I pretend to accept, but the truth is I WANT MY BABY! Oh, LORD, I cry out to you today, help me to accept your will. Help me to trust, help me to not be afraid and help me to accept with joy the journey to High Places you have sent me on. Even though the way looks like a wrong turn, I will follow You.

I think I have to give up coffee . . .

And I don't like it very much. I don't like any of this very much. But it is God's will for me. I still have pain. The pain in my chest is mild. It wraps around my arm and shoulder. My liver has a cyst on it. Benign. But, at night the pain gets worse. Nothing like HELLPs but I feel it. And I remember. I had my blood tested. Liver Enzymes were good but Bilirubin was up. This means gallbladder and liver are not quite up to snuff. So I am cleansing. Liver Tincture, radically different diet, (not that I was a SAD diet before) and drum roll please . . .
NO COFFEE!
I really like coffee. I mean a lot. And its not the caffeine, its the experience. The cream, the stevia, the dark roast thick. Yummy.
But I like life more.
Why didn't it dawn on me what long lasting effects this illness would have on me? I wasn't prepared. I wasn't prepared for pain, anxiety, and grief. So I cleanse.
My body goes through detox, and my soul is left exposed.

I am seeing through a lens. A window. Which lens will I use today? Where will my soul grasp for comfort? And the cold seeps into the cracks, frostbitten.
  
But . . .



I look to the heavens.

Where does my help come from?


My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth.

And He made me, and God don't make no junk.
Even though I feel like a piece of some right now.

John's Story Part Three

Please note this post may contain graphic information.

Checking in my OB was there so quickly. It surprised me. He said, "This could be Toxemia but I think it is just gallbladder. Lets hope I am right." They had a hard time getting the IV in my veins. It took so long and they were trying to give me morphine. I've never wanted drugs so badly. And I shy away from conventional medicine. I even prefer to get cavities filled without Novocaine. It took forever and then it hardly helped. Before they started the IV I told Darrel he needed to take the children out to our friends. (They were not answering their phone as it was so early in the morning.) "The children need to be there and Terri will understand." I said. "Someone is up." I had a bad feeling if they stayed they would see me in a scary state. He left and I prayed he would hurry back. When the nurse tried getting the IV in, my veins kept blowing out. She was trying to hurry as my pain was so high but it wasn't working. My arms and hands were so cold. My blood pressure kept soaring. She put warmers on and said sorry for poking me so many times. I didn't care. I just wanted the pain in my chest to stop. She kept trying to help my breathe properly. It was so hard. I just kept crying and I wanted to do anything to make the pain stop. I felt wild. I was moaning, almost screaming. Once they got the IV in it took a small edge of the pain. enough to stop the writhing but not enough to really help. I was so scared. Not for me, but for my sweet baby boy. It never dawned on me we would deliver early.
Darrel got back and tried to comfort me. He kept saying "You are getting this gallbladder out." Shortly after my OB came back. "You have preeclampsia. You need to go to Great Falls. We are going to have to deliver." Thoughts of  NO kept screaming in my head. "We can't deliver today. We have to give him a shot so his lungs can develop." I said.
"He's an IUGR baby. He has been fighting to save his life. He's got a good head start and there is not enough time." I knew it wasn't good but I was so weak.
"So how do we get there?" I asked. "Will Darrel drive me?" I thought I might need to go in the ambulance. "Uh, no. You'll go in a helicopter."
That's when I realized how bad it was. "Call Brandi," I said, "Get people praying for us." He called and readied himself to go. As he was about to leave, Brandi walked in the door. He filled her in and left. Almost as soon as he walked out the door I got worse. I started to vomit and my screams and moans turned silent. I could hardly talk. I could hardly move and for the first time I didn't care. There were lots of people around me. And then Nicol, a woman I had never met came in. She introduced herself to me and honestly, I wanted her to leave but I couldn't say anything.She had an IUGR baby and we had spoken over the phone once before. She showed great kindness but there was a part of me that was very embarrassed at my lack of control. The doctors and nurses and flight medics kept talking and they were talking about my surgery.

To Be Continued in Part 4

In the Still of the Night

It is here in the quiet that I sense the loss. It is when my head hits the pillow that the events replay in my mind. Over and over, I see him. Over and over I remember the pain.

I can't let him go.

And I want to.

To truly release him into Gods loving hands. But I long for him.





And my youngest, my baby, she is getting older. Almost 2. Not really a baby anymore. Will I ever have another? Will this broken down body house life again? I want to, but I hear the whispers of emptiness, and I realize the barren womb is never satisfied. I try to make peace with a new normal. I try to understand what my new normal even is. I pray and I seek and I hope.
I am missing you tonight John.
But the Lord promises that joy comes in the morning and so I wait.

Ps 30:5 For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life:
weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.

John's Story Part 2

Please note this post is graphic.

We had to wait 2 weeks for another ultrasound. We went back and forth from worry to it's all going to be OK. By the time we were going for an ultrasound I was convinced our babe was going to have caught up and I would still be able to home birth. My husband was much smarter and sober minded than me. Even when the ultrasound was being done I thought all was going to be OK. When the tech left, Darrel told me it wasn't. Seeing the OB he concurred. My feet were to be up most of the time. Pretty hard to do with 4 young children. I still thought it would be OK though and I would have my baby boy.

We had the tech write down if it was a boy or a girl on a paper and seal it. On the drive home I opened it up. We didn't want to know the sex of the baby unless we thought there might be complications. I wanted to know my baby for as long as possible. Opening the envelope  we saw it was a boy. We were overjoyed and terrified at the same time. We named him John Jacob William which we later changed to John Jacob Ephraim. John chosen for Darrel's love of John's Epistles and for James wanting a brother so badly and James and John were brothers in the Bible. Jacob being chosen for Jacob have I loved and Esau have I hated. It was a word that God spoke to me when I asked Him why He took one of my babies home. My Dad's nickname is also Jake so it fit well with our love of family names. Ephraim because shortly before my illness really got going we read that Ephraim means, "God has blessed me in the land of my affliction."

It wasn't long after that I started to feel sicker. The pains at night were starting again. Two nights I had them and thought, "Oh no, I am going to have to have my gallbladder removed." But that wasn't the case. The third night I woke up around midnight. I felt so sick. When Darrel got up to go to work at 3 am he said, "Do you want to go to the ER?" "No, I'll be fine. It will pass." He left and I ended up talking to my Mom who encouraged me to call the doctor. I called my OB who said take another Hydrocodone and if it isn't better go to the ER." I took one and fell asleep at 4:30 am. I slept for 1 hour. The pain woke me up and it had intensified. I called Darrel. "I need to go to the ER." "OK, I'll be right home." He rushed home and woke the children. All I could do was sit with my eyes closed and try to stay calm to manage the pain. Norma jumped right into action and got Hazel ready and a sippy for Mary even without anyone asking. Everyone hurried and everyone was worried about Mom. My eyes were closed in the vehicle and I worked hard to stay strong and be calm for my babes. Questions kept pouring in. I didn't have answers. When we got there I started to cry. I was so scared and it hurt and I knew my blood pressure was soaring. When they pulled me in to get checked it was 183 over 73. They took me straight to to the OB ward.

To be continued in John's Story Part 3 . . .

John's Story Part One

Please note - this post is not my normal writing. This is taken straight from my journal that I wrote as I was recoverinng after John's death. It is not eloquent or beautiful. It is just my memories, my reality, of John's story. And of his twin. It is graphic so please beware.

I found out I was pregnant and the next day began to bleed. It was such a faint line but I was already nauseous. I bled for eight days. I thought all was lost, but I was still nauseous so I took another pregnancy test. This time it was super dark! I called my midwife and she said, “Well honey, that’s because you are still pregnant!” I started to cry. I was so excited. The next morning I started to bleed again. So after a couple of more days of bleeding I went to get an ultrasound. There was a sack but no heartbeat or even a baby. I wasn’t too encouraged but decided to hold out hope for a baby anyways. More throwing up and spotting, we were trying to sell our house. Getting it ready to show we were working hard. I wasn’t feeling well and moving slow. Then I felt dampness, so I went to the bathroom. I wasn’t prepared to see all the blood, nor the cramps that shortly followed. I screamed, “I am bleeding!” and Darrel ran in. I sat on the floor thinking its over. I called my friend Terri. She said, “Go put your feet up. It’s not over yet you know.” Sitting on the couch with my feet up, I knew we were heading toward the end. About 10  minutes later I felt a pop and a gush. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom. Out she came. A perfect baby, wrapped in her sack. A perfect head and body. She was so sweet. I loved her so much. We named her Elsie Grace. We grieved and buried her under the dogwood tree, which unfortunately died shortly thereafter.  The children were so sad.

A week went by and I was still throwing up.  Then, I started bleeding again and having contractions. I let one more day go by and then called my midwife. She advised me to go to the ER thinking I needed a D&C. So, we dropped our children off at our friends house and went. Upon the visit, they did an ultrasound. To everyone’s shock there was a baby. “Honey, I think you were right about having twins,” the southern ultrasound technician said. “Why?” I asked, thinking there was leftover parts. “Well, because there is still a baby in there!” she answered. I couldn’t believe it. The whole time she was looking I had been thinking, I am never going to hear my babies heartbeat. Thus, the next question I asked frantically was, “Is there a heartbeat?” She turned the screen so I could see and boom-boom-boom. It was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.  The heart looked great, little arms, little legs. Eight weeks along. Baby looked perfectly healthy. I went into the ER grief stricken and scared. I left joyful and full of hope. Smiles were on both our faces as we left the ER. Advice was given to us to not use a midwife this time but we did not heed it. We kept on with MaryAnne. She is a wonderful midwife. As time passed I started to feel worse and worse and I kept bleeding. At 13 weeks we had another ultrasound that confirmed a pocket of blood above our baby causing bleeding. Leftovers from Elsie. But our baby looked big, healthy and strong. We left not worried but I still felt sick. And I was not getting better. MaryAnne suggested it might be a pregnancy where you get sick a lot, contracting lots of viruses. But the virus never went away. I had stomach problems constantly and I was starting to wake up in the night with chest, head and neck pains. They were becoming more and more painful. MaryAnne thought I was depressed. Oh, how I wish she had been right.

She drew my blood and tried 8 times. My veins collapsed every time. Sarah and Brandi made me dinner that night and I picked it up on my way home. Sarah said, “You’re husband says you are not OK.” “Oh, I am fine.” I replied. “You know, sometimes it is OK to not be fine,” she said. “Well, I just keep thinking if I stay positive I will get better. Mind over matter.” “Well, that’s good but sometimes you are just not fine.” She was right. That night I ended up going to the ER. My pains started around 1am. After two hours of terrible pain I woke up Darrel crying saying you have to help me. He came and rubbed Tiger Balm on my shoulder and settled me down with a movie. I took some Tylenol and waited but by 4am I was crying rolling on the floor. “Darrel, I need to go to the hospital.” So, he got dressed and was about to wake up the children when I said, “No, I will drive myself.” I prayed I would make it all the way there. I was so scared and hurting so badly. I went into the ER after driving slow and careful. They rushed me in a room, hooked up an IV and monitored my pain with meds. They did tests and poked and poked my arms. The bruises were horrible. But after the blood tests came back they said it was just a virus. They sent me home, drugged, and I couldn’t get ahold of Darrel. I was a little nervous to drive and bought a decaf coffee. It helped me get home safe. I slept all day, exhausted and dealing with pain. I was told to rest. The day after I knew it wasn’t a virus and got serious about figuring out what it was. Researching, Darrel and I thought I had gallbladder problems. I called MaryAnne and she concurred. So it was off for an ultrasound. They found nothing with my gallbladder. My liver had a cyst though. They took a quick look at baby and said, “Baby looks about 18 weeks.” I said, “No, baby is almost 21 weeks.” She said, “No, not quite.” My heart sunk. I knew it wasn’t good. Then it was off to the doctor. Norma was with me and I was still very weak. Talking with the doctor he concurred it was gallbladder even though I didn’t show stones. He got my blood drawn and my liver enzymes were elevated and my gallbladder too. I was diagnosed with a diseased gallbladder.
He sent me to an OB for a second opinion. I knew things were getting complicated but I also knew what it meant to go with an OB. I was a V-BACer. 2 sections followed by two homebirths. I knew OB in our town meant section. Norma had such a hard time with it all because my arms were so bruised already due to the dehydration and they had to draw again. She got scared hearing hospital and csection and she left holding back tears. The appointment for the OB was set.
In the 2-3 days of waiting we were weary. We watched movies at night on our computer after the children went to bed. One night it hit me. "Darrel," I started our baby has IUGR." We talked about what it was and started researching. Once we learned we realized this pregnancy had many of the symptoms and signs of IUGR. We started to worry. We saw the OB and he confirmed that we indeed had an IUGR baby. We were sad. Taking it easy became our new focus. My midwife still wasn't concerned. She came up with all kinds of reasons I was fine but I knew I wasn't. Friends told us not to worry and that our baby was fine but Darrel knew he wasn't.
To be continued in part two . . .

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday . . .

In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God, in Christ Jesus concerning you.
1 Thessalonians 5:18

Yes, that is my bathroom . . .

That picture on my profile was taken of me just a couple of weeks ago. It was taken by my Dad. He came out to visit. States away, we see him about once a year. This year we saw him twice.
"Should I come?" he asked while I lay on my hospital bed. "If you don't, I don't think you will ever get to meet your grandson."
He arrived the next day. Honestly, I was surprised. I know my Dad loves me, he treats me like a princess. I also know we have different ideas, different passions.And, well, quite frankly, he thinks it's quite nutty that I would want a dozen or so children.
But, he sat with him. For quite some time. He sat with my boy and watched him struggle for life. And he mourned.

My Dad came out again to visit. To play with the living, to see if his baby could smile, to lavish presents and to cook gourmet grilled cheese.
And as I readied myself in the bathroom to go play in the fall, he came and said, you look beautiful, snapped that photo, and then held me as I cried at the next wave of pain that racked my body.

I wonder at how HELLPs has changed me. How it has molded my frame. How bodies can be broken and perish. How they can mend.

And I wonder at our souls. And their life. And at forgiveness, mercy and love.
I sit now in the face of so much love. So many that have held me. So many that have shown me mercy. And I think of sweet Jesus, and His forgiveness, and His light shining through the cracks of HELLPs.

Birth Day

I did it. I turned 34. It was inevitable, unless the Lord took me home. And I am grateful to be here. Believe me, I am, but the day before . . .
The day before should have been his birthday. I was so excited to have a baby for my birthday. The best birthday present ever. Another soul to nurture, another babe to hold at my breast, to feed, to tend, to love. There is nothing better in this whole world than to give of yourself to another being and as women we have the most awesome gift of being able to house life. To be part of God performing a miracle. Because they truly are miracles. Tiny gifts, wrapped in pudge rolls and baby perfume.
Except when they are born to soon.

I have a friend, that remembered his day. The day that should of been, but was never meant to be. She has been a friend who has been willing to go into the pit with me. The kind of friend that can do ugly, can do despair and can hold your hand while you are there. All while life grows inside of her. She mourns my loss as she builds her future. She is a rare find.
Brandi showed up that day. The day I was life flighted. The day he was born. She wiped blood from my body, wiped sweat from my brow. I could not speak, but she spoke to me and I saw her weep. Eyes bright and tender, tears trickling down, drip dropping on the ground.
She showed up that day. November 7th. The day that could have been. I had no idea she was coming. I was numb until she came.

Two roses in hand. She brought two orange roses. One for my life and one for his. Two separate beings, but yet the same. Knitted together by the same Weaver, destined to be with Him, but only in His time. They were tight buds the day she brought them. Today they are beginning to bloom. My heart was tight, but it softens and opens. I begin to let go, and it hurts, but it is beautiful.
Thank you dear friend.

HELLP Synrome

What is it anyways?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HELLP_syndrome
Here is a great link for info. If you suspect any symptoms of this in your pregnancy, I urge you, I beg you, don't sit at home waiting out the pain, like I did. Contact your doc. Just in case. And this is from a woman who had a V-BAC at home after two c-sections. Twice! I believe in midwifery and I have realized first hand the need for OB's. Just a thought for the evening.

Comments

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The Great Expectation

Expectations. They crowd us. Entangle us. Envelop us. Consume us. When they are met, we sing joy. Praise God. Dance like David. But . . . oh, when they are not . . .

 

When they are not. It is hard to sing joy. Tears flow instead. When they are not, we find ourselves still. I find myself still. I counted each breath praying for him to have another one. I counted each cry praying his pain would be over. I came to a point quickly, in less than 4 days, where I turned. I turned over expectations, palms up, to God. I had no choice. And I gave up my Expectation, my little son, my Little John, and palms up, released him over to something better. Something Holy.

 

 

But, Expectations, they have a way of creeping back in. Popping up from the ground in the simplest of ways. And I struggle. To bring my palms up, to surrender to something Holy, to dance and sing joy. He asks me to turn them over every day. "Your Hope is in Me," is whispered in my ear as tears rock on roll down my cheeks and into the sink. My knuckles are white and my lips are pursed. Can I bring myself to trust? Can I lay my Expectations at the foot of the Cross? Can I truly believe "Thy will be done."

 

 

 

And then I see yellow. And I smile. Yellow, my favorite color. Yellow that is beauty in pain. And I see smiles. Smiles of children, hugging their Mama, comforting. And my knuckles loosen, my palms turn. I long to dance like David. And my feet move.

The Journey

I don't know why the journey has been so varied. How the road has been so long. And I am going to be 34. 34 years old! When did that happen? When did this awkward, insecure, always trying to lose 10 pounds teenager become a wife, mother, believer who is now trying to lose 30 pounds? I'm still awkward, and I am still insecure. But now I am responsible for 4 precious lives, have a great desire to be a good help meet to my husband and want to serve and please my God. Seems like a lot for someone who can't even fall asleep at night when she needs to.
You see my life changed drastically on July 16th when my beautiful boy was born premature and shortly thereafter died. (More to come on his story in another post.) Needless to say I have been challenged. Poked, prodded, torn, divided, and begging for mercy. My body is old. Older than my years right now. And my heart is beating, but sorrow seems to be its tune. I am going to be 34. God is merciful. For although my boy is gone, he is with Him and my 4 babes have a Mom; to wipe their noses, to read to them at night, to tell them no, and to bless with yes. I get to hold them while they cry, and to smile while they laugh. John should have been born the day before 34, but he came at his 24, and this year I am left making sense of 30 pounds, broken hearts, wounded belly, age faded days and gratefulness.
This is my journey. This is the road that winds down, up and around for me. This is where I begin to see the joy, where I search for beauty.
Will you . . . could you . . .  join me?