I'm starting to learn some things about pain.
Sometimes, it's important to throw your head back and howl. Just let that gut-wrenching cry creep way up from the pit of your stomach, your heart, your spine, your spleen...wherever it is that that stupid scream has been lurking (for two weeks, two years, two days...), let it fly. It has been two weeks since my son died and it feels like two decades and two hours and two minutes and it also feels like right this second.
And yet...
There is an abatement that comes. A relief sometimes. I was writing to someone... can't recall who... that it was like waves. As an English person, I'm sure that I have read a poem somewhere about grief being like waves-- it's such an obvious and true comparison-- but not until this season have I known. It comes-- you can be floating along on a raft (in my mind's eye it's always this heavy-duty canvas raft that Nathan and I talked my parents into buying in Gulf Shores when we were little-- it was perfect for the ocean because it was tough, and it was this faded denim/Confederate flag thing. It's always the float I see in my mind when I'm thinking of floating at the ocean). Anyway, you can be floating along and all is fairly peaceful, but you know that it can't last-- I mean, you're floating in the ocean. If things get too peaceful, then you know that you've accidentally gone to sleep and floated waaaay too far out to sea and you're in deep doo-doo. So you're floating and you see the beginning of a ripple. You see the start of a swell. And you brace yourself.
The first swell might not be too bad. Knocks you a little to the left, but you're still on the raft and pretty stable. Your hair is still cool.
But then here comes the booger big brother wave, following behind.
And you have some choices. You might choose to just go ahead and jump off the raft and hang onto it from a sort of standing position-- it seems more stable for some reason. But you're definitely toast that way-- your hair is positively going to get wet and you're going to have eyes full of salt water. OR you can try to paddle away from it, or down from it to where it seems the wave will peter out. Or you can do what my dad always used to do: dive straight into it. Face first.
I mean, you're going to get wet either way, right?
Diving into the waves of grief that have begun to rage around my heart has been the only way to do it. There have been moments of keeping it to myself, certainly, but mostly I have just given up trying to fight them: Ben was real. He was mine. He grew in my womb, kicking and rolling and responding to me and to music and listening to my voice drone on every day. He was alive. He was alive. He was alive. He kicked my hand, he kicked his father's hand, he woke me up, he pushed against me... he was real. He deserves as many tears as my body will make. I had no idea that there is an endless store of them...
So that's one of the things I'm learning about grief. That it's stupid to fight it. Some of you were concerned that I was far too chipper at first-- maybe that was denial? Coping? Mostly, protection of this incision-- too much crying, too hard, put too much pressure on my tummy. Plus, I was exhausted with physical pain and just...well... being tired. And also, I was on lots of medication. And also, I didn't want to look down at this empty spot in my arms for too long. I didn't want to look to close at where Ben wasn't.
There's so much that I want to write, that I want to think through-- all of my thoughts seem so jumbled up together: my husband and his persistent, gentle love; my parents and their tenderness; my friends and their non-stop compassion and aid; my God and His kindness toward me in the face of my silence. I want to write about all of these things.
But mostly, all I think of when I think of writing is the weight of his little body in my arms as I truly held him for the first and final time. Oh my God, he was perfect. So perfectly small, the way a baby is-- all warm and still against my chest, and the perfect weight... I had dreamed for months of holding him, and here he was, inches from my face, perfect and still and beautiful like his father. I have this strong image of him with drops of water running down his left cheek from where Pastor John had just baptised him. In that moment, he was a living baby who had just calmed down from a crying fit. I could have sworn that he breathed. I touched his chin. I felt faint. I just knew I was going to drop him-- so much pain medication in my body. I asked Don to take him from me, but I didn't want to let him go. I drifted in and out of awareness for the rest of the time. Someone told me that they sang-- I don't remember. I remember my husband holding my son and hearing the crack in his voice as he said, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord," and somewhere in the back of my mind, I silently echoed in agreement, "dammit." We will, we will, we will.
Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him.
Yet will I praise Him.
Yet will I trust in Him.
Yet will I worship Him.
Yet will I serve Him.
I never had any idea what those words really meant. Though He slay ME, I always thought. Though He take MY life. But it's a different verse when it reads, "though He take my only child, I will serve Him."
Because there is nowhere else to go. It's like after THIS hard teaching, the Lord would ask us, "do you also wish to go away?" And we have to reply like Peter, "Lord, to whom will we go? Only you have the words to eternal life." We're ruined. He has taken our child-- or allowed him to be taken or whatever, I don't care, but he is gone-- but we cannot and will not leave Him because only He is good and only He understands any of this. Even if he's not saying. Or not in any language I can understand.
I know that I am not the first mother to be ripped apart this way, and I will not be the last, and there is so much to work through, but this is where I am today. Tired, in love with my husband, longing for my child, sad that my milk has dried up (but happy, too, that there were no complications there), blessed with so much love all around and so many people praying...but always thinking of Benjamin. Always springing leaks at the weirdest moments.
And I'm just two weeks into this thing.
That's the hard part.
How can I live my life missing him like this?
So I cry out to my God and will trust Him for the rest of the story. And we're going to squeeze it til all the beautiful stuff comes out-- whenever that is. I know that there is joy on the other side of this night. I know it.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Just wanted to let you know about my friend Mary's blog-- she beautifully describes much of what the last few days have been like...
http://thebalickifamily.blogspot.com/2009/05/getting-wet-together.html
Today was good--my recovery is fairly uncomfortable and serves to remind me of what has been lost, but God's grace is massive.
More tomorrow...
http://thebalickifamily.blogspot.com/2009/05/getting-wet-together.html
Today was good--my recovery is fairly uncomfortable and serves to remind me of what has been lost, but God's grace is massive.
More tomorrow...
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Short update
I'm not ready to write yet, but wanted to just post something small...
Our son, the beautiful Benjamin Joseph Swaney, went to be with the Lord on Tuesday afternoon, in childbirth. We remain stunned and sad and alternately numb and in agony, but there is so much grace sustaining us in the meantime.
We were not created for death, you know? We were not created to bump into it, to taste it, to experience it, to understand it. God created us for the Garden, for relationship with Himself, for friendship with the Eternal-- He did not design us for sin and death. It only makes sense that our bodies and spirits and minds would react with such violent passion and repulsion when it touches us.
I want to write about what happened, but I am not there yet. As a writer, I've never understood why someone couldn't "write about something yet" until now. Maybe I don't have the energy. Maybe I can't relive the whole thing again for the hundredth time today. Maybe I wish that I had answers to pair with my questions-- a perfectly balanced and composed piece. Doesn't exist, I know. Maybe I'm just tired. That's probably it.
But know this: we have no idea what happened. He was perfectly fine all night. I labored really well and it was looking like the vaginal delivery I was hoping for would happen (I know-- I'm crazy). They brought in an ultrasound just to take a look and make sure all was well with Ben and he was perfect-- even waved at us :) It was precious. He scored an 8 out of 8 on all of the points he needed to hit to indicate strength and health. But sometime during labor, near 12 in the afternoon, his heart rate started dropping. So they moved me in all kinds of positions and sometimes that would help... when it dipped way too low they pounced on me and rushed me into an emergency C-section. He was gone before they lifted him from my womb.
Maybe he was lying on his cord and his oxygen was cut off? Who knows? My fantastic midwife and doctor and everyone else are mystified. Somehow, I have peace with that part. I just want to know "why" from God. Medically, I can deal with the mystery. Relationally, I struggle with what was an honest-to-God miracle-- his conception and gestation--and why the author and perfecter of my faith chose to take this route with the baby Don and I had longed for. Still long for. Long for every second of the day.
So I wait.
I may wait until the day I enter heaven to understand, so my prayer is for more faith. More grace. To cleave tighter to God and to cry out for His mind. I trust Him completely, though I do not understand His reasoning. I have had glimpses of possible "whys" in these days, but I know that I am not even any measurable distance into this journey. I will carry a longing for Ben until the day that I hold him in my arms in heaven. I just hope that one day it won't hurt to breathe when I hear that name.
So again, I wait. And I am eternally, outrageously blessed with the husband God has given to me. I am filled with a thousand thoughts of how fortunate I am to be connected with this man in this life. The three-legged race I have always sort of felt that marriage was like has become a two legged race-- we are completely dependent upon each other, totally lost in our dependence upon our God. It is so good to be like-minded in this crisis.
And we are surrounded by the body of Christ. The community we live and work in has blown my mind once again. The friends and family who have rushed to our side have supported us in so many amazing ways. The love we have felt, so profound. From our sweet mothers and fathers, to our siblings and close friends, all the way to people we hardly knew-- and people we hardly knew before but who feel like lifelong friends now (the nurses in Labor & Delivery and Mother/Baby at Rockdale Medical Center. Their tenderness and mercy were the touch of the Father to me so many times...), we have been carried so tenderly. Our pastor has pastored and encouraged us. I cannot imagine walking this way without any of them. God has blessed us beyond measure.
But my mind always goes back to Ben. Blessed us beyond measure...but took our son. And my mind cannot comprehend...
But I don't have to. For now, it's all just faith. And not my faith-- it's faith that is a gift-- MUST be a gift-- from God....
Psalm 27:4
One thing have I desired of the LORD, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to enquire in his temple.
Our son, the beautiful Benjamin Joseph Swaney, went to be with the Lord on Tuesday afternoon, in childbirth. We remain stunned and sad and alternately numb and in agony, but there is so much grace sustaining us in the meantime.
We were not created for death, you know? We were not created to bump into it, to taste it, to experience it, to understand it. God created us for the Garden, for relationship with Himself, for friendship with the Eternal-- He did not design us for sin and death. It only makes sense that our bodies and spirits and minds would react with such violent passion and repulsion when it touches us.
I want to write about what happened, but I am not there yet. As a writer, I've never understood why someone couldn't "write about something yet" until now. Maybe I don't have the energy. Maybe I can't relive the whole thing again for the hundredth time today. Maybe I wish that I had answers to pair with my questions-- a perfectly balanced and composed piece. Doesn't exist, I know. Maybe I'm just tired. That's probably it.
But know this: we have no idea what happened. He was perfectly fine all night. I labored really well and it was looking like the vaginal delivery I was hoping for would happen (I know-- I'm crazy). They brought in an ultrasound just to take a look and make sure all was well with Ben and he was perfect-- even waved at us :) It was precious. He scored an 8 out of 8 on all of the points he needed to hit to indicate strength and health. But sometime during labor, near 12 in the afternoon, his heart rate started dropping. So they moved me in all kinds of positions and sometimes that would help... when it dipped way too low they pounced on me and rushed me into an emergency C-section. He was gone before they lifted him from my womb.
Maybe he was lying on his cord and his oxygen was cut off? Who knows? My fantastic midwife and doctor and everyone else are mystified. Somehow, I have peace with that part. I just want to know "why" from God. Medically, I can deal with the mystery. Relationally, I struggle with what was an honest-to-God miracle-- his conception and gestation--and why the author and perfecter of my faith chose to take this route with the baby Don and I had longed for. Still long for. Long for every second of the day.
So I wait.
I may wait until the day I enter heaven to understand, so my prayer is for more faith. More grace. To cleave tighter to God and to cry out for His mind. I trust Him completely, though I do not understand His reasoning. I have had glimpses of possible "whys" in these days, but I know that I am not even any measurable distance into this journey. I will carry a longing for Ben until the day that I hold him in my arms in heaven. I just hope that one day it won't hurt to breathe when I hear that name.
So again, I wait. And I am eternally, outrageously blessed with the husband God has given to me. I am filled with a thousand thoughts of how fortunate I am to be connected with this man in this life. The three-legged race I have always sort of felt that marriage was like has become a two legged race-- we are completely dependent upon each other, totally lost in our dependence upon our God. It is so good to be like-minded in this crisis.
And we are surrounded by the body of Christ. The community we live and work in has blown my mind once again. The friends and family who have rushed to our side have supported us in so many amazing ways. The love we have felt, so profound. From our sweet mothers and fathers, to our siblings and close friends, all the way to people we hardly knew-- and people we hardly knew before but who feel like lifelong friends now (the nurses in Labor & Delivery and Mother/Baby at Rockdale Medical Center. Their tenderness and mercy were the touch of the Father to me so many times...), we have been carried so tenderly. Our pastor has pastored and encouraged us. I cannot imagine walking this way without any of them. God has blessed us beyond measure.
But my mind always goes back to Ben. Blessed us beyond measure...but took our son. And my mind cannot comprehend...
But I don't have to. For now, it's all just faith. And not my faith-- it's faith that is a gift-- MUST be a gift-- from God....
Psalm 27:4
One thing have I desired of the LORD, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to enquire in his temple.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Up late/early
So, it's 4:28am and I'm up. I'm up for a variety of reasons-- my hips are killing me, and I won't get more specific than that except to say that I have discovered how amazingly well the Lord equipped the human body to adjust to birth. Everything loosens up over the months leading up to the Big Day, including ligaments which are fairly important for posture and comfort, but which would block baby from making it successfully through the pelvic bones. I'm constantly amazed with the miraculous nature of gestation...now to discover the joys of birth... :)
I'll go into the hospital tonight where they will give me a "cervix softener" and then I will sleep and in the morning, they will wake me with pitocin. I know-- sounds decadent, doesn't it? I'm being induced because this little guy is ready to GO-- Benjamin (we finally named him!) is 9lbs and ready to make his debut and we're [mostly] ready for him. I take comfort in this: whatever is left to do that I was planning on doing over the next two weeks, both school and house-related, it doesn't compare to how prepared our hearts are for him. We're ready. We're intimidated, overwhelmed, and blessed beyond belief.
It's almost impossible to touch the awesomeness of a for-real miracle happening in your life. I never thought I'd be able to be a mother. I wanted a baby, but I was told by at least two doctors that it would be difficult-- one, when I was a teenager, and the second, about three years ago. Both relating to endometriosis and polycystic ovarian syndrome. But this summer, I cried out to the Lord and He heard me. I cried out to the Lord in July and asked for prayer and then sort of...well... forgot about it... next thing you know, I've taken four pregnancy tests because the people around me just knew. Kristin had a dream, Joy just took one look at me after I said I didn't feel well, Lucy had a feeling... I waited on the Lord and He heard my cry!
And now, here the child comes! And my heart is like Hannah's, and even though we are not naming him Samuel, he is a Samuel in my heart. I cried out to the Lord and I have promised to give him back to the Lord--
27For this boy I prayed, and the LORD has given me my petition which I asked of Him.
28"So I have also dedicated him to the LORD; as long as he lives he is dedicated to the LORD " 1Samuel 1
And that's why, even though I feel completely on edge with fear of the pain of childbirth, I know that I will not die but live to proclaim the works of the Lord-- I know that this child will be fine because he has been a miracle since day one. I have prayed that he would be filled with the Holy Spirit the way that John the Baptist was, from the womb, and that he would love the Lord young and that as intensely as I felt the Holy Spirit as a little girl, he would, too.
OH, I have so many hopes for this little person. And I know that the ones that are sprung from a heart that hopes for his salvation and his character and his spirit, the Lord hears them. I have no idea if he will be rich or poor, smart or...not, handsome or not so much, but I believe this with all of my heart: he will know the Lord and he will live his life for Him. Everything will spring from that.
But tonight, I'm aware that I am on the edge of the biggest physical pain I have ever felt and it's intimidating. I'm happy to be done with this phase-- pregnancy-- for now, but I know that the only way out is through, and I'm trying to keep my head down and push through. Practically speaking, Caroline was telling me about another friend of hers who prays before labor that the Lord would just remove her fears-- 2Timothy 1:7 says that God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power, of love, and a sound mind-- and then she said something that I have not forgotten: contractions last about a minute. I can do anything for a minute.
Alright. I'm off. Going back to bed to see if I can't sleep in in the morning-- my last day of school was Friday! I'm worried about a thousand things having to do with school and my students, but I know they'll be alright and I have the most amazing co-workers who will pitch in if things get impossible. I had to laugh, though, when I looked at my "disability" forms (how weird!)-- there's a place where the doctor wrote that I am to do absolutely NO work related to my job over these next 6 weeks. It's awesome to think about, but in the same way that I've heard a mother is never off duty, neither is a teacher. Not really. Not during the school year, even if she's flat on her back.
But giving birth to and figuring out how to take care of my son and how to be parents together with my husband are my priorities now.
My son.
Oh my gosh.
I'll go into the hospital tonight where they will give me a "cervix softener" and then I will sleep and in the morning, they will wake me with pitocin. I know-- sounds decadent, doesn't it? I'm being induced because this little guy is ready to GO-- Benjamin (we finally named him!) is 9lbs and ready to make his debut and we're [mostly] ready for him. I take comfort in this: whatever is left to do that I was planning on doing over the next two weeks, both school and house-related, it doesn't compare to how prepared our hearts are for him. We're ready. We're intimidated, overwhelmed, and blessed beyond belief.
It's almost impossible to touch the awesomeness of a for-real miracle happening in your life. I never thought I'd be able to be a mother. I wanted a baby, but I was told by at least two doctors that it would be difficult-- one, when I was a teenager, and the second, about three years ago. Both relating to endometriosis and polycystic ovarian syndrome. But this summer, I cried out to the Lord and He heard me. I cried out to the Lord in July and asked for prayer and then sort of...well... forgot about it... next thing you know, I've taken four pregnancy tests because the people around me just knew. Kristin had a dream, Joy just took one look at me after I said I didn't feel well, Lucy had a feeling... I waited on the Lord and He heard my cry!
And now, here the child comes! And my heart is like Hannah's, and even though we are not naming him Samuel, he is a Samuel in my heart. I cried out to the Lord and I have promised to give him back to the Lord--
27For this boy I prayed, and the LORD has given me my petition which I asked of Him.
28"So I have also dedicated him to the LORD; as long as he lives he is dedicated to the LORD " 1Samuel 1
And that's why, even though I feel completely on edge with fear of the pain of childbirth, I know that I will not die but live to proclaim the works of the Lord-- I know that this child will be fine because he has been a miracle since day one. I have prayed that he would be filled with the Holy Spirit the way that John the Baptist was, from the womb, and that he would love the Lord young and that as intensely as I felt the Holy Spirit as a little girl, he would, too.
OH, I have so many hopes for this little person. And I know that the ones that are sprung from a heart that hopes for his salvation and his character and his spirit, the Lord hears them. I have no idea if he will be rich or poor, smart or...not, handsome or not so much, but I believe this with all of my heart: he will know the Lord and he will live his life for Him. Everything will spring from that.
But tonight, I'm aware that I am on the edge of the biggest physical pain I have ever felt and it's intimidating. I'm happy to be done with this phase-- pregnancy-- for now, but I know that the only way out is through, and I'm trying to keep my head down and push through. Practically speaking, Caroline was telling me about another friend of hers who prays before labor that the Lord would just remove her fears-- 2Timothy 1:7 says that God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power, of love, and a sound mind-- and then she said something that I have not forgotten: contractions last about a minute. I can do anything for a minute.
Alright. I'm off. Going back to bed to see if I can't sleep in in the morning-- my last day of school was Friday! I'm worried about a thousand things having to do with school and my students, but I know they'll be alright and I have the most amazing co-workers who will pitch in if things get impossible. I had to laugh, though, when I looked at my "disability" forms (how weird!)-- there's a place where the doctor wrote that I am to do absolutely NO work related to my job over these next 6 weeks. It's awesome to think about, but in the same way that I've heard a mother is never off duty, neither is a teacher. Not really. Not during the school year, even if she's flat on her back.
But giving birth to and figuring out how to take care of my son and how to be parents together with my husband are my priorities now.
My son.
Oh my gosh.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Total Meltdown
Originally written 3/30/09
So, I finally had a dooooozie of a meltdown! It was like my own little personal hurricane, and it went something like this...
Don had been out of town at a conference for a couple of days and had to take my car, so I was staying at mom and dad's and they were carting my tummy and me around everywhere (my dad took me to school and picked me up after! Just like back in the day!!). My routine was thrown off a little-- it was a DREAM being so close to school in the morning. My daily commute is (admittedly, short compared to others) about 15-20 minutes across town (traffice, idiot drivers, etc), so it was great to get to work in about 5 minutes, and it put me early every day. I ate breakfast sitting down at the kitchen table (!), put my mascara on INSIDE the house (!!), etc.
So, Friday morning I was up EARLY and ate breakfast around 6:30 (normally that happens on the way to school). I did all my morning routine stuff and then headed to school. But I realized at some point in the middle of second period that I hadn't felt the baby move since sometime in the middle of the night. So I drank my water really fast and sort of poked around on my tummy for a couple of minutes-- the kids were doing group work and not paying any attention to me. Well, nothing happened. Normally, I can at least feel a little twinge or poke...nothing.
So, of course, my imagination began to rev its engine.
I called my friend Mini'imah, the 9th grade counselor, and she came down to watch the kids while I went to down some juice or something cold and then lie down in our work room for 5 minutes. Well, there was no juice so I drank cold Vitamin Water, which had NO effect at all. That's when I could feel the tears starting and I knew, oh dang. It's getting ready to start.
Now here's the thing: I'm tired all of the time now. I don't really feel "bad"-- I mean, I'm pretty much uncomfortable all the time, but it's not the end of the world. I'm not nauseated, I don't have screaming headaches-- I can take achy and uncomfortable. But I'm also 34 weeks pregnant-- almost at BIRTH!!-- and am flooded with hormones, I guess, and couple that with tired and the fact that I couldn't get Don on the phone (no service-- thanks TMobile) and the baby was really NOT cooperating, I just started to cry.
What if??? The "what if" scenario is a heartless, soulless, bottomless pit. There is no END to the way a "what if" sentence can be played out... and my brain seems endlessly willing to cooperate with that always-losing-end mentality. What if he's dead? What if he dies and Don isn't here? What if he's in pain? What if...
4/4/09 I had to end there and forgot to finish!
So Mini'imah got me to the doctor and mom met us there and after about two seconds of prodding with the ultrasound thingy, junior woke up-- the doctor could feel him bump the ultrasound thing, i could feel it, mom could see it, I think Elizabeth saw it (my midwife). RELIEF. He was okay.
The verse that keeps running through my mind and heart is 2 Timothy 1:7-- God has not given us a spirit of fear, but rather, he has given us a spirit of power and of love and a sound mind. He has already given it to us. RIGHT NOW. It is mine to walk in, to own, to embrace: it will all be alright-- no matter what happens. It will be alright. And I'm not living in some sort of whacked out religious la-la land. It really will be okay. Somehow.
And for today, it honestly is. According to my midwife, the baby is just getting bigger so his movements are different than they were before. As far as that morning goes, I'm pretty sure I know what happened: I was staying with mom and dad and eating breakfast a LOT earlier than normal (at 6:45 instead of 7:30, on the way to work). That morning, he probably did his morning routine while I was dressing or drying my hair and I just didn't pay attention. He was napping exactly the way he normally would. If I had gotten hold of some orange juice or a coke, he would have woken right up.
So I drank a coke that afternoon and he kicked the mess out of me the rest of the day :)
I am determined not to give into fear again. Which is both easy and hard at this point. Easy because I only have a few weeks left-- 30-something days (one of my students is keeping a daily count). Hard because now I'm pushing down (waaay down) a gnawing panic attack over labor.
But that verse is my verse. And the billions of women who have survived it is a pretty convincing argument that all will be well, too.
Alright! OFF to sleep for a while this afternoon! We're on SPRING BREAK!! Time to do some hard-core nesting :)
So, I finally had a dooooozie of a meltdown! It was like my own little personal hurricane, and it went something like this...
Don had been out of town at a conference for a couple of days and had to take my car, so I was staying at mom and dad's and they were carting my tummy and me around everywhere (my dad took me to school and picked me up after! Just like back in the day!!). My routine was thrown off a little-- it was a DREAM being so close to school in the morning. My daily commute is (admittedly, short compared to others) about 15-20 minutes across town (traffice, idiot drivers, etc), so it was great to get to work in about 5 minutes, and it put me early every day. I ate breakfast sitting down at the kitchen table (!), put my mascara on INSIDE the house (!!), etc.
So, Friday morning I was up EARLY and ate breakfast around 6:30 (normally that happens on the way to school). I did all my morning routine stuff and then headed to school. But I realized at some point in the middle of second period that I hadn't felt the baby move since sometime in the middle of the night. So I drank my water really fast and sort of poked around on my tummy for a couple of minutes-- the kids were doing group work and not paying any attention to me. Well, nothing happened. Normally, I can at least feel a little twinge or poke...nothing.
So, of course, my imagination began to rev its engine.
I called my friend Mini'imah, the 9th grade counselor, and she came down to watch the kids while I went to down some juice or something cold and then lie down in our work room for 5 minutes. Well, there was no juice so I drank cold Vitamin Water, which had NO effect at all. That's when I could feel the tears starting and I knew, oh dang. It's getting ready to start.
Now here's the thing: I'm tired all of the time now. I don't really feel "bad"-- I mean, I'm pretty much uncomfortable all the time, but it's not the end of the world. I'm not nauseated, I don't have screaming headaches-- I can take achy and uncomfortable. But I'm also 34 weeks pregnant-- almost at BIRTH!!-- and am flooded with hormones, I guess, and couple that with tired and the fact that I couldn't get Don on the phone (no service-- thanks TMobile) and the baby was really NOT cooperating, I just started to cry.
What if??? The "what if" scenario is a heartless, soulless, bottomless pit. There is no END to the way a "what if" sentence can be played out... and my brain seems endlessly willing to cooperate with that always-losing-end mentality. What if he's dead? What if he dies and Don isn't here? What if he's in pain? What if...
4/4/09 I had to end there and forgot to finish!
So Mini'imah got me to the doctor and mom met us there and after about two seconds of prodding with the ultrasound thingy, junior woke up-- the doctor could feel him bump the ultrasound thing, i could feel it, mom could see it, I think Elizabeth saw it (my midwife). RELIEF. He was okay.
The verse that keeps running through my mind and heart is 2 Timothy 1:7-- God has not given us a spirit of fear, but rather, he has given us a spirit of power and of love and a sound mind. He has already given it to us. RIGHT NOW. It is mine to walk in, to own, to embrace: it will all be alright-- no matter what happens. It will be alright. And I'm not living in some sort of whacked out religious la-la land. It really will be okay. Somehow.
And for today, it honestly is. According to my midwife, the baby is just getting bigger so his movements are different than they were before. As far as that morning goes, I'm pretty sure I know what happened: I was staying with mom and dad and eating breakfast a LOT earlier than normal (at 6:45 instead of 7:30, on the way to work). That morning, he probably did his morning routine while I was dressing or drying my hair and I just didn't pay attention. He was napping exactly the way he normally would. If I had gotten hold of some orange juice or a coke, he would have woken right up.
So I drank a coke that afternoon and he kicked the mess out of me the rest of the day :)
I am determined not to give into fear again. Which is both easy and hard at this point. Easy because I only have a few weeks left-- 30-something days (one of my students is keeping a daily count). Hard because now I'm pushing down (waaay down) a gnawing panic attack over labor.
But that verse is my verse. And the billions of women who have survived it is a pretty convincing argument that all will be well, too.
Alright! OFF to sleep for a while this afternoon! We're on SPRING BREAK!! Time to do some hard-core nesting :)
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Baby pic again!
Okay, here you can see his little head and his little hands, which he was moving all around. He actually turned toward us and I was hating that this wasn't the 3D scan, but no big deal: we'll see him for real in just a few weeks. I'm officially 8 weeks from my due date... oh my gosh. That's huge.
I'm off to bed for now, but I've been thinking on some things lately that I want to jot down. I'll be back in the next couple of days to do that.
Until then, let this bit of freshman wisdom tide you over: Did you know that Indians (Native Americans) did not bathe because they were afraid of water? Yes, according to my girl Ericka, that's the "God's honest truth."
One of my boys advised me to put that down on my list of dumb things freshmen say. Done, Hunter :)
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