Angel Boy - Part 5

Welcome, baby.

Here it is. End of story. Lots to say. How can I sum up such a life-changing thing?

We made arrangements to go to the hospital to be induced. I shared the details of our situation and plan with my parents and I let it trickle down from there. I was tired of the story. I didn't want to tell it over and over. It was just easier to let my parents tell the extended family. By 20 weeks, everyone knew. Something had to be said. Because my parents are totally supportive of what I do, they also spared details in many cases. I was unsure what people would say. I was afraid of being judged. I needed to be surrounded by nothing but support at such a difficult time.

We showed up at the hospital for what we thought would be an overnight stay. We were admitted to the maternity ward and set up in a labor and delivery room. They wasted no time in starting treatments and medications to start my labor. We waited and waited. Nothing was happening. As I lay there awake that night I could hear other mothers yelling in pain as they experienced labor. Inevitably I'd hear the tender cries of their newborns. It was heartbreaking.

In addition to the emotional turmoil, the comfort of the bed left something to be desired. I had never been in a hospital before, so I didn't realize that I wasn't in a normal bed. The beds in labor and delivery are hard with sections that drop away for various positioning of the mother. I would compare the comfort level to the table in a chiropractic office with a bed sheet on it. Needless to say, I couldn't sleep. It made a long night longer.

It seemed that nothing they did was starting my labor. I won't go into detail to spare my readers the in-depth explanations of various activities involving doctors, medical equipment, drugs, and female parts! I just never imagined it would take so long. In the afternoon on that second day, I couldn't take it anymore. We begged various doctors to let us go. We never doubted our decision, but we wanted a night to rest in our own home before trying it all again. I wasn't in labor, so I reasoned that I could walk away and try to go back in a few days. They finally agreed, and I was discharged home with an appointment to come back in a couple of days to be admitted once again.

We made the journey home and I tried to get comfortable. I got into bed. Nope. I got in the tub. Nope. I couldn't sit. I couldn't lie down. I couldn't stand. The only way I can describe it is to say that my body felt "wrong." I couldn't get comfortable in my skin. Maybe it was emotional. Maybe I just felt I had the inevitable outcome hanging over me. Maybe it was their efforts to begin my labor that upset something physically. I'll never know. I just discovered that there was no turning back. We phoned the hospital, they made plans to take us back in, and we headed back that night to stay for good.

Luckily, this time they put us in a regular room where moms go after delivery. The bed was more like a regular mattress, so it was one small comfort for us. (I can't speak for my husband who was camped out on the pull out bed. I'm sure he wasn't comfortable that whole time.) That night turned into the next day. That day turned into night again. Slowly labor became more intense. Since our little boy was brain dead, I was able to take some slightly stronger medications by I.V. for the pain. I was managing some sleep that 3rd night of our stay when I woke up suddenly. It was time. I'm not sure how I knew, but I knew. I needed to push, so we buzzed the nurse.

She came in and confirmed that it was ok to push. I doubt I was dilated the normal amount, but our little one was small, so I don't think it mattered. I didn't push long - maybe less than 10 minutes before he arrived. To say that I was terrified is an understatement. What would he look like? Would he move or make noise? No one had prepared me. My husband is a trooper, so he watched the birth, and was helping to coach me through it. He told me that there was no movement. We were sure he had passed during the labor. Doctors had told me that any pressure to his head was likely to prove too traumatic, so I expected his passing. I couldn't look. I was scared.

My husband again assured me that it was ok. He told me that I needed to look. He was right. I will again spare details. I have only shared one picture of our son (and just his feet) because I think that the image of such a small baby is something that you don't need to see if you didn't live it. It's very sad to have that picture in your mind. I will say that he looked perfect apart from the fact that he was extremely small, and his fingers were connected to one another. This was the only external manifestation of his chromosomal abnormalities. He weighed just 6 oz. and was only 9 1/2 inches long. We cuddled him up in a blue blanket and marveled at his tiny, adorable chin.

We called in the hospital minister who was going to baptize him. My husband noticed that he was obviously startled when he saw our son. It was literally his first night on the job, and I don't think he was quite prepared for all of the things you can encounter in a hospital. He immediately collected himself and blessed our little boy who we named Noah. (again, not a revelation for those who are watching the tags on my posts!) We chose his name because it meant "peaceful, restful, comfort." We felt it was fitting prior to his birth, but even more so when we saw how peaceful he looked.

Our next visitor was a true blessing. We were connected with her through the hospital. She is a local photographer who lost a baby in a similar situation. She now donates her time and services photographing babies for other people in these circumstances. She was so wonderfully comforting and understanding. She took Noah into the bathroom in his hospital bassinet and positioned him in his blanket for a handful of precious portraits. She also took a few photos of us holding him. As hard as it is, I was told I'd want photos. I'm so eternally thankful that I was given that advice. It isn't often, but sometimes I look back at them. Having a memory of this little boy who was so important in our lives has proven invaluable to me. She took our information and mailed us a nice little album of prints along with a cd of the photos. We never even paid her. She's amazing.

We had made plans to cremate our Noah and have his ashes scattered. When we had said our goodbyes, he left our room. He had left our care long before. We had given his life to God. He was home. I felt relieved for him. As selfish as it may sound, I was relieved for us too. We could begin healing.

The next morning we were discharged home, 4 days and 3 nights after we first checked in. It's an empty feeling going home after something like that without a baby. We sat at home wondering what to do next. I discovered that since I had delivered a baby, I was entitled to a maternity leave. I didn't take the whole thing. Eventually I just needed my life to begin again, but the few weeks I did use were good for me.

What I did discover in this experience is that my husband and I have a marriage that can handle stress. I discovered that he's an amazing source of strength and comfort for me. I also found out that I was stronger than I imagined. It is really true what they say about challenges in life. We get through things because we have no choice, and we will emerge much stronger on the other side. I faced my political views on abortion and became more definitively pro-choice than I had been before. People often have an unfair picture of women who get abortions. I wasn't unwed, irresponsible, flippant, or using abortion as a means of birth control. In fact, I think it's even difficult to use the word "abortion" to describe what I did because it's more like a miscarriage. Regardless, the law is dangerously close to stepping in on parents facing this horrible situation, and I wanted to get the word out that choice is necessary because of women like me. Finally, I learned a lot about my belief in God. I prayed on my decision a lot, and in the end I feel that God led me through it. Four years later, I am willing to share my story because I know I'm ok with God. I no longer fear being judged by people because I know He is the only judge I should concern myself with.

I am wiping away tears as I finish this post. Reliving this has been intense for me. I am happy to finally put it out there for others to read. It has been cathartic.

Now... what I do know is that just more than a year after our little Noah left us, we were blessed with his beautiful sister. What I also know is that God gave us Noah for a reason. My job is to use the experience to make his life count, and I do that every day. We were given a tough, strong minded little girl. We're talking about 10 months of colic. Colic doesn't even cover it. She sometimes screamed for 6-8 hours a day... for about 10 months. I'm not kidding. Since then she has proven to be a sensitive and stubborn girl! Because we were blessed with our Noah, I can stop during a tantrum and remember that these fits are wonderful! My daughter is here with us! I will never forget that so many moms would love nothing more than to be fighting a two year old or comforting a screaming baby. I would have loved to face colic instead of losing my son. I am convinced that if I can get anything from the loss of Noah, it's that God sent him before our little girl to help us survive her toughest moments. I have always been a pessimist, but I have been much more able to put life into perspective since his birth. I learned that things can always be worse.

Noah's life counted. He continues on because he changed us in his short time with our family. That makes me happy.

Stay tuned for blogs on life since Noah. Our household is busy with fertility treatments and disappointments, toddler musings and misbehavior, and busy days peppered with moments of serenity. There's never a dull moment! Well... almost never. As I write this, I'm sitting on my couch wearing sweats and listening to oldies with my cat. Not exactly the stuff blogs are made of! Good night!