Blissfully Ignorant becomes Toremented Awareness

Before losing Colton I was blissfully ignorant to the fact it truly can happen to anyone. No one is exempt from losing a child.  I had already given birth quite successfully twice for myself, twice for others, totaling six babies. I did one think right and well in life - having babies.

So when Colton was stillborn my security was shattered.  I didn't screw up having babies.  They were safe in my care.  For goodness sakes, I carried triplets! How could I lose ONE ... mine?

I was blissfully ignorant.  Then, the reality hit, and I now live a tormented awareness.

This awareness can, at times, become almost paralyzing.  Once you know the truth of what can happen you become aware it can happen at any time and it can happen to you.

People say "it won't happen again".  Well, it wasn't supposed to happen the first time.

And if I think about it, we are never safe from it happening to our children.  Sure, Delaney is one.  So she's "safe" right?  No.  SIDS/SUDS happens still.  Cancer can sneak up at any time.  Drowning.... Car accidents... Choking....  Head injury ....

The list could go on forever. And, if allowed, can consume the mind, the spirit, and suffocate us into a hole of fear and despair.

I try to fight this vortex of "what if" as much as humanly possibly, yet the small whisper of death always breaths on my neck, reminding me to stay aware.

Delaney is so sick right now. She has horrible congestion and coughing and snot all over the place.  Last night she slept, and I did not.  She was breathing so heavy, then I couldn't hear her breathing.  I jumped up and ran to her crib.  She had just shifted and found a better position, apparently, because she was still breathing, still alive.  Almost fortunately she woke often through the night crying.  I find comfort in that.  At least then I know she's still breathing.  Still with me.

If I wake in the morning and she is calm and quiet in her crib I say a quick prayer. Short and simple. "Lord, please let her still be alive". 

Will this fear ever leave me? Probably not.  Once you know the other side you live in tormented awareness.  You can't regain that blissful ignorance.  You are wiser beyond anything you ever wanted to know.  Your innocence is broken, the deep break that can never be put back together again.

Grief Shaming.

http://stillstandingmag.com/2014/06/grief-attacked/

This is why I haven't blogged in awhile. Being attacked about your loss, about your pain, is so hurtful. So, instead of me trying to explain, hopefully this article can.....

A year ago today.... Happy Birthday, Delaney.

A year ago today I met my little girl. The biggest blessing I never knew I wanted or needed.

Delaney's pregnancy was physically beautiful and easy. I wasn't in maternity clothes until the sixth month, very little weight gain, perfect blood pressure throughout ... healthy and happy in every way.  She always measured on track and the pregnancy was progressing picture perfect.

Emotionally I was a wreck most of the time. The circumstances were difficult.  But, more so, the fear was paralyzing many days. 

Every morning when I woke I would lay still and wait to feel her move.  I would sigh out the breath I didn't know I was holding when she'd begin to stir inside my womb.  Every day that I was blessed to feel her was another day closer to - hopefully - meeting her.  I lost count of how many batteries I went through with the at-home Doppler that was always by my side.  I was paranoid and scared every day. Would this be my last day with her?  I had no warning with Colton.  One day he was just ... gone.  Would that happen again?

My baby shower was June 1.  I was a little leery to have a shower. Two weeks after Colton's shower, he was gone.  But my dear friends insisted, and we kept it small, and it was beautiful.  A few hours after I got home, though, I started contracting. And throwing up.  Something wasn't right and I knew it. 

D took me to the hospital where they monitored me for a bit. There was no dilation, and no regular contracting pattern.  Delaney's heartbeat, though, was upward of 210, back down to 160, up to 190, back down.... They released me, but I knew something wasn't okay.

I rested all day Sunday. I just felt off and laid down all day.  My OB appointment was Monday morning, so I just laid low all day... 

Monday morning, June 3rd, 8 a.m., D and I went to the doctor for my weekly check up.  Because of Colton's passing we were super vigilant and also doing weekly biophysical profiles.  As soon as we started the ultrasound I knew something was off.  During the BPP ultrasound the tech measures the fluid, measures the heart rate, and measures movement. If the baby fails any area then its on to intervention.

Delaney wasn't moving.  At all. We had just had a big sugary breakfast but she wasn't moving around. I made the tech check her heart beat at least three times, the last time asking her to just let me watch it for a few minutes.  Her heart was beating. I had to focus on that. 

They give the baby 30 minutes to "perform".  If after that time they still haven't met all the requirements they move to further monitoring.  Delaney failed.

Dr. Clare met us in the exam room immediately after and was pretty direct.  He said "baby is coming today".  Whoa. Okay.  We discussed briefly that at 37 weeks she had a 15% chance of needing a short NICU visit.  Okay. I can handle that.  Then shit got real. Like really real.  Dr. Clare said "go straight across the street to the hospital... I'm going to monitor you for no more than an hour.... if I don't like how she looks on the monitor we're taking her by c-section immediately...if she looks okay we'll attempt a vbac with strict monitoring....first sign of an issue and she's out... "

It flowed into my mind like that ... fragmented ... discombobulated. All I heard, in my head, was "Oh my God, I may lose her". 

She did well in the hour monitoring, so we proceeded with induction. Things moved slowly, which was a good thing in the end. 

At about 9 p.m. I was dilated to an 8 and I sat up to help move Delaney down and deliver. As I sat at the end of the bed I began to weep.  I knew her delivery was very near.  And I felt this heaviness.  This fear. This anticipation. This longing.  This sadness.  This worry.

D looked at me and simply said "Colton?".  He held me as I wept more. And he stood me up and ...

I said "push", the only word I could get out in the intensity of the wave of pressure and nausea. It was time.  D said "push what"?! and the nurse and doctor had already sprinted into the room and pieces of the bed were flying, the nurse was stern in saying "Lay her back down NOW" and Dr. Clare, always a pillar of calm, sternly said "It's time now". 

One big push and her head was out and I felt the need to push again.  My eyes were closed and my body was pushing when I heard Dr. Clare very sternly say "Jenn I need you to stop the pushing NOW".  I looked down and Delaney was blue. And silent. 

Half a cord wrap removed.... one full cord wrap removed... second full cord wrap removed....

Another push and she was out. And it was probably seconds but felt like hours when she screamed.  It was singularly the most beautiful, powerful, amazing moment of my life.  She made it.  SHE MADE IT. She was crying. She was alive.

Later Dr. Clare talked to me about what happened. Apparently when I stood up her heart beat shot up then plummeted.  She was suffocating.  He told me that he ran in because one way or another we needed her out immediately. I could have lost her.  I don't know what I would have done, if I would have survived, if I'd had to bury a second baby. 

I cannot help but think her angel, her big brother, was looking over us that weekend. I believe he protected her when the doctors didn't.  We are sure she was wrapped all weekend and that's why I was sick Saturday night and hear heart rate was all over the place.  I fully believe Colton protected her until we could get her out on Monday. 

Her story is so much more complicated and this first year has been a whirlwind.  (You can read through the blog for more details, if needed).  Finding out that D wasn't her father, but indeed B was, really rocked all of our worlds.  There have been lowest of lows and highest of highs.  I'm at a point of complete acceptance and peace.  B and I will probably only ever be co-parents at best.  I would love a friendship for our daughter, but - at least right now - that doesn't seem possible.  D still loves her, and she loves him, and his bravery and his love humbles me and makes me so appreciative of the man he is to both of us. I feel at peace with where life is, and where it's going, and know that all things are beyond our understanding or control.  But they are perfectly orchestrated as only God understands. 

Today is such a joyous, bittersweet, emotional day.  This last year has held a lot of pain for all the adults involved.  A lot of struggle, a lot of broken hearts ... a lot of victory and healing as well.

Most importantly, it's been a beautiful journey with the most wonderful gift I never knew I wanted or needed.

Delaney is truly a blessing and a radiant light in all of our lives.  She is happy and healthy and perfect in every way.  Her spirit is contagious, her smile melts every one's hearts, and her joy brightens every single day.

I look at her and I know everything will be okay.  She brings my soul such joy and I couldn't be more humbled and proud to be her mom.

I miss Colton every single moment of every single day.  I look in Delaney and I see him and it's bittersweet to wonder who he would be, too.  I feel, though, that Heaven shines on her and she's a little gift.  A gift of peace and love and joy and a gift of a piece of her brother in heaven here on earth. 

I remember a year ago like it was an hour ago....

Happy, happy birthday to my sweet Delaney.  My heart feels overflowing with love, pride, and joy to be her mommy!

 

A simple little saying so true,

How very deeply, I miss you. 

Somdays are easier than others. Some days don't seem hard at all.

Some days I feel like I'm standing on a cliff,

Bracing myself for the fall. 

I wake up in the morning and long to hear your sounds.

The ache of missing you, the emptiness in my heart pounds.

You're never far, Yet always away.

Never to be run or laugh or gigled or play...

I miss you in the morning. I miss you all day.

I miss you when I drift to sleep, in my dreams, and all the moments in between.

Other people do not notice, they remain so unaware.

I wrap myself in the memory of us, my special blanket of care.

You, my love, are always with me, in every second, in every way.

I miss you, sweet baby boy.  In my heart you will always stay.