Song #3 - Angel

The first time I ever, in a barely audible whisper, asked Nolan if he loved me he looked straight into my eyes and said "Yes, I love you." I don't know if he already knew this, or if because I asked him, it suddenly occurred to him that yes he did. I just know that I loved him too.

When we were first dating, and even into our very short-lived engagement Angel would come onto the radio and sometimes Nolan would imitate the singer in a super high pitched voice. I would pretend that he was singing to me, and not just along with the radio. Now he does sing to me occasionally, and it still makes my heart pitter-patter. I am daily amazed that such an amazing man decided to marry me. And please believe me when I say, our marriage has not been a total walk in the park (seriously, picture the worst fight you've ever had with your spouse and we've probably had something like it). Some days I don't like Nolan, and he doesn't like me... but we make up for it later ;- D

But of all our trials together, the death of our son has been and may well be the hardest. And as much as I love the pitter-patter feelings, so much more cherished are the deep vibrations of connectedness I feel for and from my husband in the midst of this sorrow. We have held each other more. Told each other 'I love you' more. Smiled at each other more. Served each other more. As we both move toward God for comfort, we are finding ourselves effortlessly moving toward each other.

From the first moments after being told that Asher was gone we had a peace. God promises a peace that passes all understanding in the moments where there is no ability to understand your circumstances. I never knew what it meant to have a peace that was so great, so complete that it could not be understood, only experienced, until that night. I won't try to describe it, because it can't be described.

Nolan and I talked and cried together for a bit while the hospital staff got a game plan together. We decided that it would be best if Nolan went home to be with Vera, put her to bed and make a few phone calls. My midwives were with me, and he wouldn't really be of much practical help then anyway (no husband can help a woman give birth; it is truly woman's work).

So off he went and I waited around for another technician to arrive with a newer, fancier ultrasound machine so that the hospital could do a "formal" ultrasound. This is what the hospital calls it when they want to cover their backsides so no one can sue them later for anything stupid. Next the young Dr. came in again and wanted to do a pelvic exam, to check how far I was dilated. He tells me this in the middle of a contraction. All I could think was, "Geez, I only just met you 10 mins ago and you want to stick your hand where???" So I told him we needed to shake hands first. (true story) And then he proceeds to tell us (myself and my midwives) that he jammed his middle finger on his right (dominant) hand, so he'll just have to use the left. My midwives had a slightly alarmed look on their faces. I wasn't sure why until he was trying to find my cervix and I was on the brink of tears from the pain. You think trying to write with the wrong hand is hard? This man did not know what he was doing. (Did I mention he just graduated from med school last May??) One of my midwives finally says, "Samantha, put your fists under your butt, he'll be able to find your cervix much easier." I did, and he did, and he yanks his hand out and says Well she's only 2cm (like I'm not there). At this point I get out of bed to have another contraction. By now I'm moaning. Not loudly, yet. He tried to talk to me but I ignore him. Then after he's explained it all I ask him to repeat himself (Now this whole time he really is trying to be nice, and all professional and whatnot, but he's just super new at all this, and he's having to learn on his feet, so.. well... bless his heart. Anyway....) So he tells me that we need to get things going because..... and he falters here..... and leaves my midwives to explain to me why we need to speed things up a bit. One of them turns to me and as gently as she can says that we need to use some kind of induction drugs to get Asher out as quick as possible because babies start to deteriorate after they die. I can't quite wrap my head around this, so I nod dumbly and ask what the good Dr. proposes. He wants to use Cytotec on me. I tell him no way because it says right on the label not to use on pregnant women and that is can cause uterine rupture. I won't go into that here. Suffice to say I told him we'd be using cervidil to help ripen my cervix.

So off he runs to get the cervidil while I have a few more contractions and the nurse puts an IV in my arm "just incase" I want any pain meds later. Dr. gets back and says "I'm just going to place this behind your cervix." So that hell ensues again. Left hand and all. But I understand the importance of speeding things up, so I go along with it. When he's finished i ask what my options are for pain. He says really about anything because "We don't have the fetus to worry about". I wanted to jump up and bash him in the head. But I didn't, I just let a few more tears fall as he asked if morphine was ok. I said sure, and my super amazing nurse (you'll hear more about her later) went to get the morphine. I just leaned back and turned my head away from everyone in the room and cried. I didn't want them to see me crying, and I didn't want to see them cry. Because maybe if no one was crying.... none of this was real, and I could go home.

Song #3 from the labor/birth songs playlist Angel by Aerosmith

Ba-ee-ay-Ba! Your my Angel!