The Most Beautiful Thing.

Tears in my eyes tonight as I think of a friend of mine who brought her son earth-side this morning around 11am. She stayed home, the way its been done for thousands of years. She educated herself, prepared all the necessary goods for a homebirth, and equipped her mind and soul for the birth of this child. She waited with graceful patience the almost 10 long months it took to grow this baby. I'm so proud of her. She is but one of a wave of women who are taking back birth. Taking back the glorious, life-giving thing it is to bring a child into the world. Taking back joy and warding off fear. Giving birth is THE most beautiful thing in all the world. Nothing captures innocence, patience, hard work, pain, joy, wonder, and love better than birth.
   And I will get my chance. I am taking back joy! I am banishing fear!  


Job 8: 19-21¹⁹ “ Behold, this is the joy of His way,

      And out of the earth others will grow.

 ²⁰ Behold, God will not cast away the blameless,
      Nor will He uphold the evildoers.

 ²¹ He will yet fill your mouth with laughing,
      And your lips with rejoicing."

The night is long, but the morning is bright. I will not always be filled with pain, but slowly I am beginning to see the beauty in life. I am choosing joy. I am choosing to see the good. I am choosing NOT to despair but to cling to the faith that God will restore the laughter in my eyes. 

This last weekend I was so angry with Nolan. We were driving down to see his parents when I felt a wave of sorrow engulf me. I wept while I drove and silently berated God for not letting me have my son. Nolan asked what was wrong and I told him I felt as though my grief was going to swallow me whole. And he shook his head and said, "Samantha, I wish you'd just trust God." I thought how dare he! I let him grieve any way he wants. I've been understanding and kind and gentle and here he is condemning me for having trust issues with the one Being who could have kept my son alive. How dare he?! Then I felt ashamed. I know in my head that trusting God is the only way to get through this, but I just didn't feel very charitable at the moment toward God. So next I lied to Nolan. I told him I trusted God just fine and that it is perfectly ok for me to question God. Job did after all. Then (I'm ashamed to admit) I turned it around on Nolan saying he must not even care that Asher died if he can so easily trust with out questioning. Just blind faith! I said a lot of other horrible things I don't want to write about too. But, now I see he is right. I do need to 'just trust God'. Isaiah 55:8-9 says "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. " I can gain an understanding of God through his word, but I will never be able to know the depths of the "whys" and "hows" of Almighty God. For some reason He allowed Asher to die. But he also allowed me to peacefully birth him, hold him and bury him. He allowed a wonderful pregnancy full of joy. He gave me friendships I may never have had if not for Asher. The three weeks after Asher's death were the best three weeks of my marriage in many ways. God has taught me about the peace that passes all understanding, something that I would never have known without Asher's death. I know it is only a short amount of time I have on this earth till I go to heaven myself and see my baby again. And I know that I don't want to spend it in despair.

In Italian, the literal translation of "to give birth" - "dare alla luce,"- is "to give to the light".  I want to give to the light. So I will choose joy. I will be pregnant again someday. I will face my fears of loosing another child. I will do the most beautiful thing. I will birth again. 

So, to Baby Q! Welcome to the light!

Out of the Race

Today I put myself out of the running for mother and wife of the year for sure. This morning at 4am Nolan passed out at work and was sent to the emergency room (he has influenza and bronchitis). He and other people tried to call all morning but I slept through it all. When he finally got home he was so mad at me because I had failed to put the phone back on the hook, therefor it was on the floor and I couldn't hear it ring. He was finally forced to call his parents for help. I'm sure he doesn't think he can rely on me. Then I worked an 8 hour shift instead of the original 3 hours planned and didn't call him. When I go home he wanted to know why I let him worry all day and didn't even think to call. And why I wasn't here all day to take care of him. Then I went to pick up Vera from my mom and dads (my dad watched her all day for me). When I got there I couldn't find the car-seat and dad said he thought mom took it with her too work by accident. So I decided to just buckle Vera in a regular seatbelt and go home. We're both fine but what if something had happened? "Well, I was tired and I just wanted to get home. I didn't think we'd get into an accident and she would go flying through the windshield. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen!" I'm just asking for another dead child. Then Vera was playing with Nolan after we got home and she wouldn't leave him along and he started not to be able to breath. Well I didn't notice anything even though I was sitting 2 feet away and Nolan almost passed out again trying to get Vera to stop jumping on him. And the house was also a mess all day and there are 3 loads of laundry in baskets not folded, 3 loads of dirty laundry sitting around, and dirty dishes line the sink. I failed all day. I failed even when I was sleeping today. I really want to crawl into a small hole and have someone shovel dirt over the top of me and never come out.
I feel as if God is showing me why he didn't want to leave Asher with me. That I'm not responsible enough for another child. I can't even keep my house clean or help my husband when he's sick or make good judgement calls about illegal and dangerous situations involving Vera. I royally bombed today.

I Want Another Baby Now.....

....... well maybe.

Right at this moment I feel like I want to be pregnant again. Like right now. I feel a kind of urgency...... almost as if time is running out. According to my charts I'll ovulate in 2 days. (Probably TMI but I don't care because this is my blog.) Nolan and I could try this have-a-baby-thing again. I think I'm just exceedingly weary of empty arms. At the very least I'd like a giant baby bump to wrap my arms around. I remember feeling this way just before we decided to get pregnant with Asher. Baby-itus I called it. But this feels different. I can't pinpoint it exactly...... but I just have a sense that its not the right time. I know that I don't want this child to only be a space filler. I have to get back to the place where I want another child for the sake of the child......... not for the sake of filling a void in my life. I know that I want to do a home birth again. But I also feel that I need MORE somehow. Like daily heartbeat check with a doppler and weekly sonogram to make sure everything is developing correctly. If I'm honest, the MORE I want is a total guarantee that I will have a live and healthy baby. But no one is ever guaranteed MORE.

 I usually feel like I don't ever want to try again. I never want to take this chance again. If it can happen once.... it can happen again. I'm not sure what would happen to me if this happened again. I used to say that if any of my children died I would need to be put into a mental institution because I would go crazy. I truly, honestly, 100% believed that. I have no idea why I'm not a slobbering mess in a mental hospital right now. My children dying before me was probably my biggest fear in all the world. I can't think of anything I'm more afraid of. Nolan or Vera dying or being somehow tortured ties for first place..... but that doesn't feel like a fear anymore. I think birthing my dead child and burying him makes me feel almost fearless. Not that I don't fear other things..... but that very few things can reach that depth of horror.  Every life event is seen through tinted glasses forever more.

I just knew that everything was going to be perfect in my pregnancy and birth of Asher...... I was so wrong.... and I just don't know if I can ever risk being that wrong again.

Song #8 - Rain

I've been distracting myself lately with Bones. It's why I haven't written. I guess I'm entranced by it because it is an entire TV show devoted to discovering why a person died. And that is my hearts cry. I heard today's song on one of the last episodes of the first season. Enjoy.

The worst moment I spoke of earlier was when Paul came in. Paul is the man from Garden View Funeral Home. Paul carried my tiny cold son away in a black duffel bag. Paul was kind. He didn't try to offer me advice or make me feel better. Paul was made to be a funeral director. If you live near me, and have attended a funeral at Garden View you have most likely met Paul.

My parents had left the hospital to shower and take care of my other siblings. My mother-in-law stayed because I asked her to. I didn't want to be by myself when I did the inevitable; hand Asher over.. Right after Asher was born I was told that we could hold him for as long as I wanted and that when I was ready they would call the mortuary. At about 7am I had finally had all I could take. I called the nurse and asked her to call the mortuary. I have tremendous guilt over this now because I really only held Asher for around 4 or 5 hours. At the time it seemed like an eternity. If I had realized how empty my arms were going to feel in the days and months ahead I'd have held him longer. We had taken pictures, we had passed him around, we had cried, and I was totally spent. I had been awake for over 24 hours and lost and birthed a child in that time. So I called for Paul.

I fell asleep around 7am and woke about 10mins before Paul arrived, as if anticipating his arival. I was stired awake by one of the sweetest sounds I've ever heard, and will likely ever hear this side of heaven. It was my mother-in-law rocking and singing to Asher. The only light in the room that was on was shining down onto her and Asher. The scene like a dream. God Himself was presiding over that moment, comforting my mother-in-law, Marla, in the last few moments she had to hold her grandson.

When she looked up and noticed I was awake I asked to have Asher back. She handed him to me and I wrapped my arms around him for the last time. Death used to be so terrifying to me, but now it is only heartbreaking. And I never understood what the old-time saints meant when they said they were homesick for heaven, but I do now. It takes real effort to live in the now when I am so ready for Christ to call me home. No more sorrow. No more sickness. No more pain. I will embrace my Asher again.

After Paul arrived he and I spoke for a few minutes. And when I was ready I kissed my sweet child goodbye and told him that it wouldn't be long until mommy came home. That was the hardest, most terrible moment of my life. I handed Asher to to Marla and she carried him behind the curtain, I didn't want to watch them take him away. I wept and sobbed quietly while Paul wrapped him up and placed him into what looked like a black duffel bag. Then I guess Paul walked out of the room, down the hall, into the elevator, down more halls, out the hospital doors, got into his car and drove back to Garden View. I have always wondered what passers by thought was in that small bag held by the somber looking young man with big eyes and perfect hair. Did they assume he was taking clothes to a relative somewhere? Did they even register that black bag? Had another woman recognized that bag from her own journey? Hours later I had impulses to tear out of the hospital in my blue hospital issue socks with rubber bottoms and run to the mortuary to reclaim my son. To tell them it had all been a terrible mistake. I just knew it couldn't have happened and that I needed to go get Asher.

After Paul left, Marla also had to go home. She had been up all night and was exhausted as well. I kissed her bye and she was gone. It was the first moment that I had been alone in over 14 hours. The silence was overwhelming and I felt as though I were drowning. I leaned back and sobbed again. Great tears rolled from my eyes in droves. I wanted to roll to my side to curl into the fetal position and try to hide from the hurt but I was stuck on my back from the epidural. So I just laid there looking up at the ceiling and allowing my body to shake with heartache. Finally the exhaustion overtook my body and I fell asleep. A dark, dreamless sleep it was.

Song #8 - Rain by Patty Griffin

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