I started a story several years ago which was to be a part of a larger work entitled, "Not Alone." We are never alone, God is always with us, and it is rare that there are no other people around us, however that doesn't mean that we can't feel lonely. The time that I felt the most intensely lonely was the day that I went wedding shopping, alone. While I was planning my wedding, which took place in NYS, I lived in AR. My Maid of Honor, 2 of my bridesmaids, and my mother lived in NYS near where the wedding took place and my third bridesmaid as well as my mother-in-law lived in MN. It wasn't practical for them to be in AR when I went wedding dress shopping, and I knew that. At the same time, that is not something that should be done alone. Not only do you need the opinions of others, who know you, your personality and style but also that is just something that should be shared. I ended up going wedding dress shopping again in NYS, because I just couldn't do it alone. Close to 12 years later, I can still remember how I felt that day, and it wasn't how I wanted any part of my wedding or even the planning to be, and certainly not the marriage, either.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Everyone has a story, including me, but that's not what I want to talk about tonight. No, tonight I want to talk about the story I am writing. I've been working on it for a long time, long enough for it to have made it through a couple of moves, a pregnancy and the birth of my son. It's still not ready yet, but it really is something that I want to finish, feel like I need to finish. It's a part of my big dream, the part that didn't include bringing my son into the world, which I accomplished May 1. But, it seems like I could use some encouragement these days and some time...some time that the baby isn't crying or needing to be fed, or changed, etc. It'll happen, I know, but in the mean time it's a little frustrating...without working, shouldn't I be able to get more done?
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
My last post was a long time ago...and in it I announced I was pregnant. Well, now I am back, the pregnancy is over and now I have an almost 3 month old son! For those who have asked, here's the story of the pregnancy and birth.
I went to the doctor to confirm the pregnancy at 8 weeks and got to see my little baby not yet looking like a person, but nonetheless knowing that there was indeed life growing inside of me. I was so excited and felt so blessed, then a week later I get a phone call from my doctor's office saying that because of the conditions that initially made it difficult for me to get pregnant, I was being declared a "high risk" pregnancy and I would have to see a specialist (when we initially were told of the complications, we were told that it would be difficult to get pregnant, but if we did, the pregnancy itself would be "no big deal"). Throughout the pregnancy they warned me that I was at a greater risk of having a miscarriage in both the first and second trimesters, that my baby would likely be born very early and thus very small and spend many difficult days in the NICU fighting for his/her life. I was advised not to travel after 24 weeks, because they felt that at that point I could go into labor at any time, and I would want to be home so that he would be in the NICU at home and I could visit and such more easily. 24 weeks is the current medical threshold for which they will try to save the baby, babies born before that time are considered miscarried. I always told the baby, you will make it until at least 37 weeks, for your momma's sake and he did. In fact, he made it to 38 weeks.
So while we are in the delivery room at 38 weeks and I am in pain and enduring back-to-back contractions for about 5.5 hours, at the same time, I am rejoicing that we made it this far and all should be well. Then his monitor shows that he is having issues with his heart pumping and they put me on oxygen to try to help him out and it's not working and then his heart stops during several contractions. Fear overwhelmed me. All during the pregnancy I could sort of ignore the doctors and believe that the God that allowed me to get pregnant in the first place would also allow me to carry this baby to viability and while there were days that fear overtook me, for the most part I was OK. Now, I was not OK. I was scared that even though we had made it this far, that my perfect little son, was going to be taken away from me. That those few days that all I could do was cry because my mind was flooded with the notion that I would never get to meet my son on Earth were true. I cried out to Nathaniel and inwardly prayed that he would be OK, despite what it looked like. When he was born, crying, with an emergency C-section a little while later, both Ben and I sighed with relief and rejoiced again for our little miracle boy.
They didn't show me him right away and no one really said anything to me about him. I eventually heard the APGAR scores of 8 and 9, and was thrilled with them after such a traumatic time. But maybe 30 to 45 minutes after his birth the NICU nurse who was sent to examine him because of the C-section, came over to me and said, "Your son is fine. He's scrawny, no, that's mean, he's really skinny. But, he shouldn't have made it. I have no explanation. Congratulations." I should have said, "I know why he made it, because God answered my prayers for him." but I didn't, total missed opportunity there, but I was just so shocked at her words that I had trouble comprehending what she said. In fact the only thing I did say was, "but, he's fine, right?" To which, she affirmed that he was and walked away.