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.

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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.