There will be change

35 weeks today.  My little guy is a fighter and may just make it to his due date of December 15th.  I had another ultrasound last week.  We got a beautiful picture of him with his eyes open!  What a miracle that was!  He measured about 4.5 pounds, which is only the 10th percentile for weight, but he is still growing and his little heart keeps beating strong.  I must admit I was hoping for better news.  I can’t help but hope for that miracle, that perhaps God had decided that I was worthy of something amazing, but yet the diagnosis is always the same, and my baby will die, and I will suffer the most horrible pain a mother can suffer, the loss of a child. 

I’ve had some pretty rough days over the past few weeks.  I know my time is limited now and the closer I get to December 15th, the more scared and anxious I become.  It’s quite the opposite of how an expecting mother should feel.   People will make comments like "Oh you must be so ready to get that baby out!”  I just smile and tell them I’m completely comfortable.  The truth is I feel scared that I only have 5 weeks or less left with him.  If I could keep him safe in there forever I would.  

When my husband and I found out about Benjamin’s diagnosis, we decided that we would only tell just a few of our closest friends about his condition.  While I told 5 of my closest friends, my husband throughout the weeks, told many more.  I guess it was his way of coping with the stress, but the more people he told, the more angry I became.  I asked him again and again to please stop telling people, but he didn’t take me seriously until I came to tears about the issue.  He asked me why I didn’t want people to know, but the reason I had was clear and proven, the more people that knew, the less people talked to me.This is true.   It’s funny how lonely you can feel even when there is whole world of friends surrounding you. 

There are few that are called to this Earth as comforters - these beautiful people are warm and tender.  They look into my eyes and see my tears, and they seem to know intuitively what I need. They can articulate how they feel, and recognize my never-ending pain, and sometimes they don't need to say anything at all and I still feel loved.  The difference between them and most others, is that they are not afraid of their emotions and tears, or of 
mine.

I am afraid of how I will feel toward those others - the friends who ignore the conversation about my dying baby, the ones who were unable to share my grief, the ones who don't know death and are afraid to be around it.  There will be a change, I have already felt it.

I rarely make it through a day without crying.  I think of him all day.  I feel his kicks and see his beautiful little face in ultrasound pictures.  He is my baby, I do not want to put him in a box and lay him ground.  

Knowing Death

I have known death in many ways throughout my life.  It seems to come and go like a cold winter - leaving behind the constant reminder of the loss of things that were good and beautiful.  It changes life and people and direction.  I view death much differently now than I did as a child.  It was a scary thing, something I feared getting to know, but now it’s more like an old acquaintance, something that I am familiar with in an uncomfortable way, something that I am always aware of.

Before the day of our ultrasound, I honestly believed that God would not test me in this way.  The loss of a child was something that would ruin me.  I thought we had an understanding of each other, that He knew me, and would not give me more than I could bare.  That is not true.  God does, and will give you more than you can bare.  And it is your choice to stand up and bare it, to fold your arms together and fight it, or just plain fall apart.  I seem to circle between baring it, fighting it and falling apart on a daily basis.   

I have felt at times that God hated me, that He truly wanted to push my face into the mud and smother me.  I sometimes feel like He finds humor in my struggle only to hand me another one and laugh some more.  What was his point behind all this?  What reason could he possibly have for for allowing such intense hurt that has me on my knees begging for relief.

At other times, I have felt His unbelievable love for me.  His quiet way of strengthening me day by day with tender kicks from my baby, soft gestures of love from my children, and an unbelievable amount of energy to for a woman of 41 that is 32 weeks pregnant.  I know that Satan is standing near waiting for me to fall, I can feel his presence.  He wants to ruin me with this, destroy my family.  He can sense both my weakness and my strength, so each day I wake up, put my feet on the ground, and I just keep breathing.  

" God will not permit any troubles to come upon us, unless He has a specific plan by which great blessing can come out of the difficulty"  -Peter Marshall

I live daily knowing that my father in heaven has a plan for my baby boy.  It's a plan that I probably will not like, one that will leave me cleaving to Earth in tears, and it will leave us all forever changed, but it will not change my love for Him.

Our God is a God of miracles.

Loved Him Just the Same

Our family returned to Houston from a family reunion in Michigan on July 19th.  I had been on edge for months. 19 weeks pregnant, my husband and I were expecting our 5th child.  2 boys and 2 girls, this would be the tie breaker.  After finding out I was pregnant, I had worried for the next 10 weeks that I would miscarry the baby.  I had wanted this baby so badly, but miscarriage was something I had experienced before.  Spotting on and off for weeks, I was an emotional nightmare.  The stress and anxiety eating away at my ability to feel excitement of the new life growing inside me.  After passing the 12 week mark, I started to accept that this baby was going to stick and moved on to a whole new worry, would my child be healthy?  These feelings of stress and anxiety were something new for me.  Although I felt young and healthy, the statistics of having a baby with problems increases with age, and I was 41.

My ultrasound was scheduled with Dr. Earhart at the Kingwood hospital for that Monday, July 20th.  I felt excitement that relief would be coming soon.  I would see my little one on the ultrasound and all the perfect little fingers and toes and I could finally stop worrying.

While the ultrasound tech was scanning over my tummy, my husband and I discussed the desire to find out the sex of the baby.  He wanted to know, I did not. We went back and fourth about this for some time, while the tech remained pretty much silent. She scanned his head, pointing little arrows towards two little indentions in his skull.  She measured the width of dark spots on his brain.  She passed over his hands and feet very quickly and offered no explanation.  My heart was slowly sinking, there was something wrong.  I knew it.  When she was done, the tech left the room to get the doctor.  My husband and I sat pretty much in silence.  I think we both felt the fear of what was coming next.

When Dr. Earhart entered the room, she introduced herself and then immediately stated that she saw some things on the ultrasound that were very concerning to her.  She pointed out his strawberry shaped head, the dark spots in his brain where little cysts were growing, his hands that were cupped and didn't open, his little feet, clubbed with rocker bottoms - all signs pointing to Trisomy 18.  I had no idea what she said, the words made no sense in my head.  All I heard was that there was something wrong with him, and all I felt was, I don't care, I still love him the same.  I didn't realize the next words out of her mouth would be this:  "he will likely die during birth or shortly after".  The words struck me like a club to the head.  My heart ached as it had never ached before.  My sweet baby, the one whom I had dreamed about, the baby I had envisioned playing with his siblings and bringing endless joy to our family, would not live. He would not live!!!  All this, and he would not live.

Dr. Earhart was so kind and compassionate during that time.  She explained what she was seeing and that she recommended an amniocentesis.  That would be the only way to know for sure.  She said again and again, "I really hope I'm wrong."  I did too, but my heart knew the truth.  She got her nurse and they performed the amnio right then, sticking that large needle deep into my uterus to draw out fluid that they would check in the lab.  I remember the tears streaming down the back of my head as I lay on the table.  They soaked my hair and the back of my shirt.   David held my hand tight and lay his head next to mine.  I could see in his eyes, the pain he too was experiencing.  I remember saying out loud, I would have loved him, even if he wasn't perfect, I would have loved him just the same.