First and last

My bookends

Motherhood and loss

A colleague of mine has recently suffered the tragic loss of her son just 2 weeks ago. He was 32 and had just moved back home. My friend came home from school and found him sitting in a chair. He was already gone.

It was a blood clot in his foot that traveled to his lung. It breaks my heart to think of the desperation in her spirit as she administered CPR before the ambulance arrived.

I cannot imagine the image that must replay itself over and over in her mind. It should NOT be this way. No parent should ever have to bury a child. Much less to find him that way.

Our faculty arranged for a “card shower.” On Monday I signed up to mail a card today. I’m ashamed to say I was reluctant...what to say?? But I signed up, bought a card and wrote a note to her this afternoon.

I didn’t want to just sign a sympathy card saying love, grandma sandy. What’s the point in that? It seems so impersonal. Especially since the card I got was one of those that folds out in 3 sections with a giant white space all in the middle. Love, grandma sandy would’ve looked ridiculously lame.

So the only thing I knew to do was to share a personal experience with her. I will never pretend to fathom a loss such as hers and I pray with every cell of my being that I NEVER do. However, I did have an experience of loss that’s my own.

Several years ago I discovered that we were pregnant. At the time, it was child #5. It was a surprise pregnancy. The Boss was only 9 months old at the time this child was conceived. Our other children were 10, 6, and 4.

After the initial shock wore off, I began to get really excited. The thing I was most excited about was sharing my pregnancy with my sister-in-law, canape. Canape, The Chef’s sister, was pregnant with her first child. I had hoped, wished and prayed for years for her to become a mother. Now, not only was she pregnant but I was too, and our due dates were only 2 weeks apart!!! Despite my excitement, The Chef and I had decided to tell absolutely no one for a while. This was the first pregnancy that I hadn’t immediately called my Mom, Elisa (best friend), and Leigh Anne (brother’s wife) as soon as I got the positive home pregnancy test. It absolutely killed me not to be able to share my news with the most important women in my life. Particularly canape. I couldn’t wait for us to share absolutely everything about our pregnancies and to anticipate together the arrival of TWO babies into the family. But I kept quiet and looked forward to my first OB appointment.

It’s a strange thing...keeping a huge secret like that. I found myself wanting to tell family and friends but at the same time enjoying knowing that my baby, his/her Daddy, and me knew something that no one else did. I distinctly remember while on my annual Day-After-Thanksgiving-Leave-The-House-At-An-Ungodly-Hour-And-Join-The-Rest-Of-The-Crazy-Shoppers, I was standing in line at Walmart when I felt a wave of nausea and I told my little one, “Thank you for letting me know you’re in there and ok.” A few weeks later when things turned out so differently, I remembered that moment as the last time I really felt that things were ok.

****WARNING****TMI to FOLLOW*******

Just days before my first OB appointment we had a house full of church youth over to eat supper. Around 9pm I went to the bathroom, and there was blood. At first my brain couldn’t make sense of what my eyes were seeing. That had never happened before.

What? No, wait a minute, what is that? NO. NONONONO. This is NOT good. Now wait. Don’t freak out. Spotting can be common, right? You’re 8 weeks. Spotting and 8 weeks is not good. But it could be fine. Go lie down. Crap. The last of the teenagers are still here. I have to go back out there. I can’t go out there. I’m freaking out and there’s no way to hide it. Ok get a grip and get a plan.

So I texted The Chef to COME HERE and immediately called Leigh Anne. She’s a labor and delivery nurse. She asked me some questions, calmed me down, told me to call the OB in the morning and to call her back if the bleeding got worse. I called Elisa, my mom, and asked The Pastor to come back to my room. The Pastor held my hand and prayed with and for me. I have to say that it really sucks having to tell the people you love the most that you’re pregnant and then in the same breath have to also say that you think you’re losing the baby.

I didn’t sleep at all that night. The bleeding didn’t get any worse but it also didn’t go away. I called my dr’s office as soon as I could. As soon as I saw the image on the ultrasound, I knew. I went home and lay down on my bed and cried my eyes out. The heaving, shoulders shaking, body wrapped in a tight ball kind of cry.

The next 24 hours were kind of ridiculous now that I look back on it. The Boss ended up with a fever that afternoon. It was a Friday and I didn’t want to risk not taking her to the Dr. so off to the pediatrician we went. I remember sitting there thinking, “I can’t believe I’m having a miscarriage and I’m sitting at the Children’s Clinic. Shouldn’t I be home? Or something?” That night we had planned for some friends from church to spend the night. They were moving to Atlanta and it was their last weekend in town. There was no way I could cancel. So we entertained 6 children ages 10 and under that night. It was also Lala’s birthday and she was coming home for the weekend. The next morning was Pancakes with Santa at the church. The Chef had to be there before 8am to open the church and start cooking so that left me trying to get the 6 kids ready. Between 8 and 9am is when IT actually happened. It was horrible. The cramping and bleeding was so bad I had to call our company’s mom and tell her I didn’t know if I could make it to the church. She didn’t even know I was pregnant much less having a miscarriage so she freaked out and fussed at me for letting her kids come spend the night. I made it to the church after all, the worst of the physical part being over.

That night after the kids were in bed I was reading Psalm 139 and a small portion of that Scripture gripped my heart.

You hem me in, behind and before.

During those few days when time and space literally held no meaning for me...when I was having to go about my daily routine caring for the children and their friends and eating pancakes with Santa while inside my heart was shattered....while I couldn’t make sense of anything around me and reality had taken on a shape and form that I couldn’t recognize....when I didn’t want to think about the present or future and only longed for yesterday before IT happened.....those words spoke Truth to me.

My world was spinning but those 7 small words spoke of a love and compassion from a Heavenly Father who was and is and would be with me.

Behind and Before.

You hem me in.

It was a promise to me that even though I didn’t know which way was up my Creator and Savior would ground me. Those 7 words and the Truth they spoke to me allowed me to go to church the next morning and to school on Monday. Those words made me feel.....safe. That even though hormones were crashing and tears were falling and hope for ever having a 5th baby was fading, I felt safe. I would make it. Things would be ok.

I’ve known women who have been through much worse. Multiple miscarriages, babies born still, infertility, preterm labor and the fear of not being able to stop it, finding your son sitting in a chair but no longer breathing when you get home from work. With all of the joy that comes with motherhood, there can also be shattering, crippling pain. But we make it. Because that’s what women do. Right?

We never really told anyone else about the baby that we lost. So I’m telling it today.

Fall Freedom!

It's FALL BREAK!!!!

and Grandma Sandy and the kids are at The Lake for this week!!

The weather is beautiful and there are fish ready to be caught.

Check back soon and pack your bags for an upcoming post.

We're going on a field trip of Grandma Sandy's hometown!!