Song #7 - If I Die Young

I woke up to this song this morning at 7:30. Its so beautiful. Its morbid but beautiful. "Sink me in the river at dawn...........I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom." These are my favorite lines. I think I've only heard this song one other time and it's not on any list but it's haunting me today. "the sharp knife of a short life. I've had just enough time."

The Dr. lifted Asher up and laid him on my chest. I just looked at him. I don't remember when I started crying but I also don't remember when I stopped. I just know I inspected every inch of him and held on so tight to his limp frame that at one point I though I was going to hurt him. I know that after a bit I handed him over to my dad. He had never looked as old as he looked at that moment. The gravity of the moment and the weight of years past made him look frail. The rock solid body I had always known became bent and haggard. The grey hairs were more noticeable. As he sobbed, over and over he cried "He's perfect, just perfect. Just perfect." I remember after I had Vera how he held her, cried and said the very same thing. He didn't look so old that day.

I think my mom held him next and then Marla. I remember feeling like I had disappointed them both to extreme levels even though everyone had told me over and over that this was not my fault. I kept thinking that I had one responsibility - to get this child safely into this world and I had failed.

After the young doc, with the guidance of an older teaching dr., stitched me up (I had a long 1st degree tear - which means my skin tore but not into any muscle) I took Asher back and just held him. I told him how I didn't write this chapter of his life and if I could change it I would. I told him I loved him and that he was beautiful. I told him over and over how sorry I was. I told anyone who would listen how sorry I was. We passed Asher around and took pictures. Marla asked if I wanted asher to have a bath - I did. She then asked my mom if she would wash Asher with her. Of course my mom said yes and I rang for a nurse. After what seemed like an eternity a nurse I'd never met before came in with a tub and a blue gift bag. My mom and Marla took asher and laid him in the water and began washing him. He was covered in meconium stained vernix and it was hard to was him. The vernix didn't want to wash off and they couldn't really scrub his skin because if they rubbed very hard his skin just rubbed right off. But it was just as well because I didn't want him to loose his newness smell.

Inside the gift bag was 2 sets of clothes for Asher provided by a United Methodist church in Hartford City. It was the most thoughtful gift. We had come to the hospital with only the clothes on our backs and did not bring the emergency bag with his stuff in it. Truth be told, I was so confident everything was going to be fine that I never bothered to pack an emergency bag.

We held him for hours, passing him around and loving on him. And then the hardest moment of my life happened. Harder than labor. Worse than finding out he was gone.

Song #7 - If I Die Young - The Band Perry

Today

I'm not sure what it was about today, but there were "reminders" of Asher everywhere today. But they didn't make me sad. I am confused by this. I don't feel ready to not cry at every thought of my son. Grief connects me to him. So much of my memory of his short life is wrapped up in grief that if I unwrap it, I'm afraid I might loose what little I have left of Asher. I don't want to grieve less. I want to go on holding the sadness close like a favored childhood blanket. But slowly it is happening. Over Thanksgiving I sobbed through the days. Crying into the pumpkin pie.... wiping the tears away while I made the dinner rolls........ eating only because I didn't want to ruin the meal for others. But Christmas was different. It was hard to go shopping at first. Buying things for Vera and knowing I will never buy Christmas gifts for Asher. But then I started to enjoy myself. I smiled at the moms with babies that passed. And took joy in selecting just exactly the toys that I knew Vera would love the best. Joyously choosing items and knowing that only myself, her mother, would think to get this or that. And maybe I was a bit smug about it too.

During the days immediately leading up to Christmas my nerves were more raw than usual though. I know this because I managed to start several explosive fights with Nolan over dumb things. I was feeling more anxious than normal and felt attacked at every corner. Its a good thing Nolan has the patience of a rock.

Christmas Eve was good. I stopped to have a moment to myself to cry just before we began the evening festivities. That turned out to be a good move, mourning before the party, and not in the middle of it. I was pretty sleepy all evening, but I think God allowed that so I couldn't get too worked up. And looking back, I can tell that many people were praying for me because I was just very laid back. I also took every opportunity to smooch my husband or be close to him because his presents keeps me knowing that we are going to be ok. And (incase you wanted to know) kissing helps your body release oxytocin (the love hormone), which makes you feel happierish.

I slept in on Christmas and when I woke up we began opening gifts. I don't remember thinking about Asher while we opened everything. I only remember enjoying Vera's and Nolan's reactions to the gifts. And I remember how thankful I felt as Nolan read the Christmas Story to Vera and I from the Bible. It helped to much to focus on what God gave us instead of the son he took away. In the evening we went over to my folks house and I even sat and laughed while playing Apples to Apples (a card game) with my mom and siblings. Only a  month apart, Thanksgiving and Christmas... but oh the difference a day makes.

I frequently still shake my head in disbelief. Not understanding fully that I have two children and one of them is in heaven. Not understanding why. I don't know why God wanted Asher back up in heaven with him. And I'll probably never get an answer other than that God only does those things, that when completed, will bring Him glory. And so, I hope that through all of this I will act in a way that will ring out God's glory. That in the end people will not say "Why? How could a good God do this?", but "Wow. God is good even when he allows bad things to happen."
Christ is more real to me than ever. In the moments when I feel my head slipping under the water he sends someone to pull me back up again. In the times when I'm on the verge of letting go God reaches down and ties a rope around my waist. And when I'm sad the Holy Spirit renews my spirit with joy and gladness. When I'm angry God wraps his arms around me while i pound my fists and cry out that 'its not fair!' And when I'm happy Christ rejoices with me and reminds me that there is much to laugh about.

Even though I still shake my head I know I am healing. I'm not comfortable with less grief yet. I want to hold onto it. But slowly, joy about Asher is replacing the sorrow. Tears of gladness that he will never know the evil of this world sometimes find their way to the top and spill over. And I guess this is all ok.

Song #6 - Hallelujah

Sitting in my birthing tub riding each surge of energy. Feeling God's pleasure as I allowed my body to do what He created it for. Letting my body work. Taking myself deeper into my soul. Closing my mind to the rest of the world and bringing my son into my arms. Laughing as I caught him emerging from my body and into the water. Lifting him from the water and up to my breast. Crying with joy as I rejoiced that I had brought my son safely out. Hearing his first cries. Breathing in his fresh smell. Looking into the teary eyes of my overwhelmed husband and presenting him with a son. Breathing a sigh of contentment and relief.

This is what I pictured those last moments to be like. Blissful. Full of life and the hope of all that potential. Disappointed does not even begin to describe how I felt when those last moments came and how I still feel every morning when I open my eyes and every night when I lay my head back down.

Back in the shower at the hospital I felt myself go through transition. It was painful, but by that time I had surrendered to the pain. I think it took about 30 mins or so. I began to shiver and tried to position my body so that more of the warm water would hit my back. I felt nauseous and a little light headed. I could really feel my body opening up and the more I surrendered the more intense the pain became and the more my body readied itself for Asher's passing. I could feel Asher's head right on my cervix and my body was beginning to push by itself. The pushing felt good. At this point I was so exhausted that I could barely sit on my chair. About an hour before I asked the nurse to run some fluids in my IV incase I decided that I wanted an epidural. She did and just before the end of transition I asked for the epidural. (Now I wish I hadn't, but at the time it was the right choice.) The nurse checked me before they administered the epidural and I was 8.5cm (Normally they do not give epidurals past 7cm, but no one argued with me.) The nurse helped me to the bed and the anesthesiologist came in right away. I had 2 or 3 more contractions while he was pouring meds into my spine. These were by far the most painful contractions I had. I guess because people were in my face and touching me I couldn't concentrate on letting go of the pain. And then my nurse checked me again and said I was almost 10cm. And I told her that my body was pushing weather I liked it or not. She went to get the Dr. and said to try not to push. But I didn't have any choice. It didn't matter anyway because Doc showed up within about 2mins. Like I said before my Dr. was a resident so the head Dr. came in too. He began instructing the resident on what to do. Everything had just gone numb, so I was only numb for pushing, but I needed that relief. My mom and Marla held my legs for me. Dad started to walk out, but I could tell he wanted to be there for everything. I told him he could stay. He took a few pictures of me giving birth, but mostly just stood by my head and cried. Plus I didn't feel like it was my body anymore. It only took about 10mins of pushing to get Asher out. The nurse asked if it was ok if they placed him on my chest and I told her yes. The Dr. lifted him out of me and onto my chest. I wrapped him with the towel and held his lifeless body and cried. Eventually I looked up at the Dr and asked if he could tell what had happened. He then lifted the cord so I could see it and said there was a true knot in the cord. It then occurred to me what happened. When he was still small enough to swim around in my uterus, he swam through a loop. Then when my water broke he moved down into the birth canal and pulled the knot tight. That was the end.

I chose Hallelujah for this post for 2 reasons. 1 the melody is haunting yet soothing and makes me feel very fluid. I would have liked to listen to this while in transition. And 2 I feel it is a song about broken dreams. About how good things could have been, but how it didn't turn out the way anyone wanted. It is a song about despair. Also, I love it.

Song #6 Hallelujah - Alison Crowe

Money! Money! Money!

Even while I was in labor I was very concerned about the money. Nolan and I had budgeted for a home birth. Which, after the supplements I bought to help keep us both super healthy, the birthing tub we rented, our birthing kit, the prenatal care and the actual delivery round out to about $2,000. That is with out any insurance helping.

We did not however budget for a hospital birth. Thank goodness we have insurance. I just got the insurance statement in the mail and this is what it says. Total costs from Ball Memorial Hospital: $12,799.14. After insurance: $1,719.26. Now you have to keep in mind that this is without any prenatal care, any supplements, and this is only charges to me. If Asher had lived there would be approx. another 10,000 for him - minus whatever the insurance would cover.

And on top of worrying about hospital charges, I knew we were facing funeral costs. Which we had no insurance for. This is where I get to tell about God's provision and blessing in the midst of it all. When you have a funeral, you pay for the services of the funeral home and for the services/land for the cemetery. The total funeral home services (taking care of Asher, the casket, the guest sign-in book, transportation of Asher and flowers to the chruch, set-up at the church, transportation of Asher, Nolan, Vera, and I to the cemetery and then Nolan, Vera, and I to the dinner afterward.) were around $3,500 - ALL of which (except for the casket and the sign-in book) were taken care of. The funeral home donated the services. Then my mom and dad paid for the casket and sign-in book. We would never have had the money for any of this. We'd needed to be on a payment plan; for years.
then the costs for the cemetery (the plot, the vault, and the digging) were also all free. I don't even know how much it would have cost (either because no one said or because I don't remember that part of the conversation and didn't pay attention to the paperwork). I only know that the vault was supposed to be over $600, but something happened and they gave it to us for free. Asher was buried in Gardens of Memory cemetery in a place called "Baby Land". I think it is perhaps the most heartbreaking place I've ever been to. It is a space on the grounds of Gardens of Memory where only infants are buried.
The only thing that was left to discuss after the services, and burial, was the headstone. Nolan picked out the most beautiful one. It has a picture of an angle guiding some children across a bridge. You get the sense that the angle is also protecting them on their journey. It also has a place for a vase to be set so that I can take flower out there. The cost for this was $1,932.00. Our options were to pay for it monthly ($50 per month for 3 years) and then, when it was fully paid for, they would make it and put it over Asher's grave.  But we really did not want to have to wait 3 years for our child to have a real grave marker. So my wonderful grandma sent us the money to pay for it. It is important to Nolan and I to pay for this part ourselves. So we will be paying my grandma back over time. She told us not to worry about it...... but we need to do this, for us......for Asher.

I can't believe how God provided for those needs. If we would have needed to pay for all of this out of our pockets it would have been upwards of $21,000.00. God truly owns the cattle on a thousand hills.

P.S. I forgot to mention all the people who sent/gave us money. It made it so we could eat out, or order in and I didn't have to cook. It also helped with our regular bills since Nolan had to miss work. I am just amazed at God's provision for us.

.05%

According to http://www.marchofdimes.com/Pregnancy/complications_umbilical.html 5% of the 1% of babies with a true knot in their cord die.

Also according to http://depts.washington.edu/hswork/multnomah/ten/mom_baby/mchd02/005a.html there are about 133,000,000 babies born world wide each year.

If this is true, then 66,500 babies die each year by miscarriage or stillbirth due to a true knot in their cord.

That is .05% or 1 in 2000.

In your lifetime, your average chance of dying in a car crash is 1 in 83.

.05%

Depression

I have 1 and a half bottles of wine and some super cheap vodka in the cabinet. I haven't had any yet, and if I start, I fear I may not stop. 30 days ago I gave birth to my son. 30 days ago, at about 8:30 in the morning I handed my son over to the Man. The mortuary Man. He put him in what looked like a black duffel bag and I went to sleep.

Today, my plans were to go buy a party dress and some red heels I like very much. But I don't care about red heels today. I don't care about parties. I don't care about eating. I don't care about Christmas. I don't care about anything or anyone today. I feel like I can't breath. Or like I'm trying to breath in water. I inhale, but it does no good. My head still spins, my arms feel heavy and I know I'll soon die. I'm probably starting to scare some of you. Some of you are ready so jump on horseback and whip out your swords to save me. Thank you. I promise everyday isn't like this. Although as reality sets in, these feelings become stronger and  more frequent. I suppose this is normal too. I guess I have to travel the valley if I want to climb the mountain.

Yesterday I felt nothing. I was on even keel all day. No sadness, anger or fear. But no happy either. I don't know what's worse. How long does it take to accept and recover from loosing a child? How long until my heart isn't broken anymore? How long before I can go buy those red shoes without feeling guilty for feeling happy? How long before I want to cook fabulous food again? How long before I want to do anything other than lay in bed in the fetal position? How long.....?????

The other day I was thinking about what sort of things I want to do to celebrate Asher's life at the one year mark. Mrs. Barnard, would you mind terribly if we borrowed your sparklers idea? I like the thought of lighting sparklers. I also like the thought of drinking wine and releasing Chinese lanterns (the kind that are sort of like tiny hot-air balloons.) And maybe we'll bring a portable CD player and play some Aerosmith. And maybe, by then, I'll have started to feel happy with out feeling guilty. Maybe by then, we'll have decided to have more babies. Maybe by then I'll have surrendered my fears as well as all the hopes and dreams I had for Asher. Maybe by then I won't have to convince myself every morning that I really was pregnant and I really did have a baby boy and we really did name him Asher Benjamin Ritchie and he really did die. Really.

And now I'm going to go get that bottle of wine and learn some self control and have just one glass. Temperance in the Midst of Tragedy. That's what I'll call my book.

Monday will be 1 month.

I'm sitting here crying. Its been an exhausting day and I feel really overwhelmed. Vera has been sick and I fought with Nolan all day. Piddly stuff. Little things that take over and make mountains out of themselves. And I just want my baby back in my arms. Right now I never want to have another child. Ever again. I want to go out to the cemetery and lay down next to where he is with his album and the lock of his hair I have and cry. I want to just lay there forever and cry. I sound like an insane person. I just sit and stare at the  piles of Asher's clothes in my room. I smell the last clothes he had on. I touch his hair. I stare and stare and stare at his face. His slackened bluish face. I try to understand what went wrong. Over and over I play the "What if ....." game. What if I'd lay still more. What if I'd jumped up and down more. What if I'd just chosen to do things like everyone else and scheduled a C-section. I could have saved him. If I hadn't been so stubborn. Why was everyone but me so terrified those last 3 weeks, but I had no clue. Where was my mother's intuition? How can a knot in the cord kill some babies but not most? Why did it have to be mine?? I never opened his eyes to find out what color his eyes were. Every mom should know what color her child's eyes are. I just want to hold him again. I wish I could go back and hold him more. I wish I'd have told that Dr. not to give me the cervidil so my labor would have lasted longer. Just a few more minutes with my son. MY SON. my son. Right now the part of my brain that makes sense says that this is not my fault and that no one blames me. But the unreasonable part of me that aches and craves to have a baby boy in my arms says that this is most certainly my fault. And that everyone secretly blames me. They all thought you were crazy to start with...... what else could possibly have happened??? Of course you signed your child's death warrant. NO! No! This is not your fault. This was a random act of nature. Something that cannot be predicted or prevented or helped in any way. My brains are arguing. All day they argue.

The other day I lay in bed holding Vera's baby doll to my chest and talking to it. I'm surely going crazy. I'm really great at hiding it, you'd never know from the outside. I don't let people see me act crazy. I don't want people to know I'm loosing my mind.

Monday will be 1 month. 11 more months and it will be the anniversary of his death.