No one else.

‎..No one else will ever know the strength of my love for you..After all, you're the only one who knows what my heart sounds like from the inside♥


-to Vera and Asher. 




This was written by a friend of mine. I stole it. Thank you Brigid. 

Shaking

I'm angry and I feel hateful. I feel like my insides are gonna fly apart. No one has caused this. And I don't know where to direct my anger. I thought about going for a drive, but I'm afraid I might not have the best driving skills right now. I want to throw my dishes and smash the christmas tree. I wish I had a baseball bat and a metal trash can to bash. This isn't fair. I'm so angry I'm shaking and crying. I want to punch someone. I want to shake them. It feels like there is a ball of fire in my stomach. Its pure boiling rage. Don't tell me we can try again. Don't talk to me about God's goodness. Don't say it will all be fine. I don't want to hear about how time heals wounds. How dare you talk about how you can imagine. Don't expect me to put my clothes on or get out of bed or be nice or smile ever again. THIS IS NOT FAIR!!!!!!! I LOVE HIM!!! I ATE ALL THE RIGHT THINGS. I EXERCISED. I HAD ALL HIS CLOTHES WASHED!! THEY'RE ALL STILL IN MY ROOM. I'M DONE BEING BRAVE AND GOOD AND FINE AND OK. I'M DONE. I MIGHT CUSS. I might go sit in my car and scream at the top of my lungs. GO SIT ON SOMEONE ELSES PORCH, SATAN. 

No Song Today

I used to look forward to grocery day. The hunt. Chatting with perfect strangers over how awful it is that the price of milk has gone up....AGAIN! Watching the old people gaze at my daughter. Getting a great deal on the items I need for the week.
   But now I dread it. I slink through the isles hoping no one speaks to me, longing only to get in, get what I need and get out. Desperately hoping I don't see anyone I know, or worse yet, someone I know who hasn't heard that I was ever pregnant or that my son is dead. Or worse still, someone who hasn't heard, but knew I was pregnant. Even strangers are a risk now. Today at Meijer this scene played out:
  Cashier: Oh my word, your little girl is a doll!
  Me: (Smiling) Thank you.
  Cashier: (to Vera) How old are you?
  Me: She's really shy sometimes; she'll be 3 in January.
  Cashier: Is she your only one??
  Me: (Head spinning, stuttering, trying to hold it together so I don't cause a scene) Uhh, Uh.. yes.
  Cashier: (Finished ringing me up) Have a nice day ma'am.

Why did I say that? NO! NO! She's not my only one! My son... he's 3 weeks old today. No, wait, I mean, he would be 3 weeks old today. It's just..... you see..... well what happened is.... actually.... My head swims with ways to tell her the truth. By now we were almost back to the car. I actually thought about going back in, finding that cashier, and telling her about Asher. How much I wanted him, still want him. How much I love him. How my arms physically ache for wanting to hold him. Like some how, if I tell enough people that I want him, God will send him back to me.

So I put the food into the car, and load up Vera. On the way out of the parking lot I begin to cry, just a trickle because I don't want Vera to know I'm crying. It makes her sad when mommy is sad. But the more I think about it all, the more I cry, which by the time I make it halfway to our next grocery stop has become a full on sob. I can't hardly see to drive and Vera is now crying. She says, "Mommy sad? Mommy miss baby?" I tell her yes and she says "I need my daddy." I think, yeah, I need your daddy too. And so, even though I still have 3 more stops to make, we go home. And I walk in and Nolan wants to know what's wrong. And I just stand and sob into his chest. I tell him about the cashier and how I feel as if I betrayed my son. I feel as if I abandoned him. Why did I tell her I only have one child? Why did I lie? Was I protecting her? I don't know.

And then of course there are all the Christmas songs. Have you ever thought about how many times the word baby is used in christmas songs? Neither had I until this year. As I was sobbing, I was also crying out to God; Asking how did he expect me to rejoice? How was I supposed to do that? How can He expect me to go on rejoicing when there is Christmas music playing, and old people, and cashiers, and parents who are mean to their children, and snow that I will never get to see my baby play in, and mothers with babies in carriers. How can I rejoice when everything around me reminds me of Asher?? And still even in that moment I felt God holding me. Even as I pounded my fists on His chest he held me and poured his sweet peace on my wounded soul. I felt the tiniest part of me find something to be thankful for: Asher will never have to know the pain of this world. He will never have to experience a broken heart.

So today is a hard day. Today there will be no song.

Song #4 - Carol of the Bells

I love Christmas music. And I especially love Carol of the Bells. My most favorite version is by Barlow Girl. And a close second is the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. For some reason, this song takes me to another world. I can close my eyes and the background fades away. That is why I picked this song. I knew that I would need songs that would help me move past the pain and go deep into myself.

Nolan came back a bit after the cervidil was put in. He told me that while he was home he called his parents and Brittney (my sister who was watching Vera) called my mom and dad. He also said everyone was coming to the hospital which I was thankful for. While I had a few more contractions I updated Nolan on the cervidil escapade and told him that at some point the nurse was going to shoot me up with morphine. At this point time begins to run together in my brain. I think we got to the hospital at 8pm, the cervidil happened by 9:30 and the morphine wasn't administered until around 11 or so. So sometime between 9:30 and 11 this next scene happened.

My mom and dad got to the hospital a bit after Nolan did. Now you have to have some background info. My parents, especially my mom were VERY worried about my decision to have a home birth and to see midwives instead of an M.D. So when she got to the hospital she looked angry. I knew this was a mask for her sadness, but I also knew that she was mad on some level. At that time we had no idea why Asher had so suddenly died. All indications prior were that he was fit as a fiddle. She immediately demanded to know why I had not been given a C-Section (she didn't want me to have to go through the pain of labor). Before the Dr. and Nurses had a chance to say anything, I told her that I didn't want one. I didn't want the longer recovery time, the multiplied risks to myself, or the fact that if I ever had any other children, I would have to choose a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) which carries with it a whole other set of risks or have another C-Sec. She then wanted to know why I hadn't been given an epidural for the pain, and again I told her I didn't want one. I told her we were going to try other forms of pain control before I let anyone mess around with my spine again (I'd had an epidural with Vera and it didn't work properly and left me with pain for a year afterward). I could see in her eyes that she felt so helpless. She wanted so much to take all the pain away. Emotional and physical. She couldn't put a band-aid on this, and for now there was no one to blame. I don't know what it is to watch helplessly as you child is in pain. As a mother we want to make things all better, but it isn't always possible to save our children.

By now Marla and Jim - Nolan's parents - had gotten there. I've never seen so much sorrow in one room before. And I've never seen the people I consider superheroes look so defeated. They knew it was impossible to save me. To save Nolan. And looking back, I now realized that was a defining moment in my life. The responsibility was now all on me. Each of the others could hold my hand and cheer me on...... but I had to give birth.

After a bit the nurse came with the morphine and while she was giving it to me my pastor walked in. I felt that morphine shoot up my arm, around my brain, and back down my arm. It was like a stick of mint gum was in my veins. I told Nolan that I felt a little funny. And I also remember my dad laughing at me and that I told my pastor that I hope I didn't act undignified in front of him. Later everyone said that the morphine made me say some funny things. I kept telling my mom that "You neeeed to gettt sssoomm of THIS." and that if she asked nicely I'd bet the nurse would hook her up. But I also remember that the morphine did absolutely NOTHING for the pain of the contractions. And at some point the lights were turned way down and the heat was turned up because I wanted it that way, and by about the 4th contraction after the morphine I was completely lucid again. I asked if anyone had a Bible on hand, but no one did. And the men decided to go for a walk. My mom and Marla took turns rubbing my back or getting me something to drink or coercing the Nurses to give me more red jello. Also, some where along the way a birthing ball showed up. I can't remember where it came from.... but it was nice to have for the 5 minutes I was able to sit on it. My pastor came back and said he had found a Bible in the Hospital's chapel. He asked me where I'd like him to read from and I told him I'd like the passage in Jeremiah where it talks about how God will be with you as you pass through the waters. But he never got to read any of it to me because just then is when my contractions really kicked in. I would finish one, go over and sit on the body/birth ball, only to have another one start right away. I remember looking in the mirror and crying between contractions. I remember wondering if it was really my own reflection I was seeing in the mirror. I remember seeing so much sadness in my own eyes. It was truly like being in a different person's body.

At home, I would have been looking in a different mirror. Thinking that I was one contraction closer to holding my son. Every surge of pain would have been for a purpose. That is what would have gotten me through. Right now I can't say what got me through. God for sure, but there was some other element as well. I don't know if it was sheer force of will, or possibly the intense sorrow. Maybe one day I will know. But for now, I only know that God held me up, and gave me power.

Song #4 Carol of the Bells - Barlow Girl

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!

2am

I hope one day I will go to bed without feeling sad. I want to go to bed one night and not lay there with tears just on the brink. In the months just before Asher was born I would hold my huge, round tummy and smile and breath a sigh of contentment and joy. Now I find myself with my hands in the same position, but the tummy is empty and my heart is so full of sorrow that it leaks out into every other crevice of my body. 


I KNOW Asher is in heaven enjoying all of Gods amazing promises; but right now I want to know why I wasn't good enough to be his mom. What test didn't I pass?? How are you going to use my broken heart to your glory, God?? I love you, God. But right now, at 2:04 am, alone in my house with my thoughts, I just don't understand. 

Song #2 - Jaded

Aerosmith.... I've loved their songs since I was a child. This I got from my dad. However, I never knew who wrote the songs until I met Nolan (my husband); they are one of his favorite bands (maybe his all-time favorite). When I started thinking about making a playlist of songs to labor by I knew I needed to have a few that Nolan loved as well. I didn't want him to be annoyed by the music the whole time because I knew I'd subconsciously pick up on his annoyance and it would translate over into my labor experience. So, one day about 3 weeks before I had Asher, Nolan and I were laying on the bed and I asked him to help me pick out some songs that both he and I liked. This is why there is so much Aerosmith on the list.

I had already determined, weeks prior to Asher's arrival that I would start the music just after my contractions became real. I was going to get myself in a happy, relaxed mood. And proceed with the evening as normal, only I'd have a baby somewhere in the middle of the night. It would be nothing strange, nothing to get riled up about. I had no plans to call anyone other than my sister if I needed her to come get Vera. I wanted to start playing music early though b/c I was so jittery. So excited to be having another baby. And I was 42 wks and 4 days, so I had waited, and waited, and waited.

I had just come home from the grocery store Friday night. I was carrying in 2 gallons of milk and 4 plastic sacks on my arms. I made it to the kitchen and felt my water break. I immediately looked up at the clock on the microwave. 6:23pm. I thought to myself, well, there wasn't much "gush", so maybe I'm just spontaneously peeing. So I went to the bathroom to check, and sure enough I was right, my water was leaking, just a bit though. So I excitedly woke Nolan up (as far as he knew, he still had to work that night, so he was asleep) and told him my water had broke. He grunted and smiled and rolled over and went back to sleep. I thought that was good idea, because I was going to need him later.

Then I got the phone and called my midwife to let her know what was going on. She said she'd be over after a bit to check fetal heart tones. I decided to get dinner going. By the time dinner was finished, about an hour later, my midwife arrived. She and I sat and talked about a few things and then she asked if I was ready to check heart tones. She had forgotten the gel she normally uses on my belly and asked if I had any lotion. I told her the only thing I had was vaseline because I'm allergic to most other lotions, she said she didn't normally like to use it, but since it was the only thing I had, it would do. I stretched out on the couch and she felt for Asher and found his back. Then she began using the doppler. There had never been a problem finding his heart beat in the past so I didn't panic when she didn't find it at first. I just assumed it was because of the vaseline and she would find it eventually. As the minutes stretched out and we heard nothing, I began to get worried. My midwife asked if I had any plain olive oil. I told her where it was and she went to get that. She used the olive oil and began searching again for his heart beat. When there was nothing she said "We should be able to hear something, you need to go to the hospital."

This is where I felt the most powerful fear of my entire life. I ran to get Nolan. I said "Get up. She can't find the heartbeat. We have to go to the hospital." Then I called my sister and told her that I needed her to be here "like 10 mins ago quick". Nolan put his clothes on faster than I've ever seen before. I didn't grab anything but my purse and we left. As we were pulling out there was a group of boys standing in the way, and Nolan sped up and honked to scare them out of the way. Then we drove to the hospital. I just kept looking at Nolan. I just kept thinking there was no way Asher could have died. He was fine the night before, robustly kicking the computer that I had rested on my belly. He was fine right after my water broke, I felt him kick just after my water broke. That kick was probably his last.

When we got to the hospital Nolan dropped me off at the front doors. I raced inside and stammered something about no heartbeat to the receptionist and she motioned to someone to wheel me up to labor and delivery. It felt like my head was spinning. And I remember telling the man pushing me to "RUN".

When we got up there, the nurses wheeled me into a room and rustled me out of my clothes and into a hospital gown even though I told them to just check me first with their doppler. Once they got me into the right clothes (???????), the super great nurse I had (this part is super true, she really was awesome) broke out the fancy hospital doppler and checked for a heart beat. Some time while she was doing this Nolan made it to the room. I knew before she was finished checking that Asher was gone. When she decided that she wasn't going to be able to find anything with that machine, she called the Dr. and that is when he used the ultrasound machine to see if there was any chance that my son, my perfect, full term, son was still alive. He wasn't.

In a moment I was robbed of the joy that birthing a fresh new life into this world brings. Instead I knew I was going to have to face laboring for no reason other than to bring death into that hospital room. In that moment God held me up. He steeled my soul, my heart, my spirit, my being for the task at hand. I knew that night I would need to welcome death into my arms. I cried and sobbed in disbelief.

I did not smile that night. I did not laugh that night. I did not dance that night.