Wednesday, January 05, 2011

A Story of Broken Promises

When I was a teen, I was told I would not be able to get pregnant. I didn't care at the time.  I was maybe 15. Had no intention of getting married anytime in the near future and wasn't sexually active - yet.  When I was, it just made me worry much less about getting pregnant.

My husband knew the small chance of getting pregnant.  I was 30 and worried.  A few months after getting married, I started the process of fertility treatments.   Medical procedures, funky meds, more tests.  I was finally referred to a specialist (Reproductive Endocrinologist) and diagnosed with poly-cystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS).  Hubby and I determined how far we'd go with fertility treatments.  Decisions were made more based on moral/ethical stances than money.  The meds played a number on me. I was a witch one minute and in tears the next. He never knew which one would show at any given time.  Having a cycle regularly for the first time ever was frustrating also. And having to go for bloodwork and ultrasounds constantly was a pain as well ... even on Sundays.  But we prayed. Our wonderful church prayed. Friends prayed.

On our last attempt at an IUI (turkey baster) with pills and shots and all the fun stuff that takes all the romance out of life, we had success.  The timing was humorous!  The previous Sunday we had gone forward during a service of healing to ask for God's will in this knowing it was our last try.  the day the dr. office called, we had burly movers at our house loading a truck of all of our household goods to take from MD to CO. I went out to find hubby and he found out at the same time as the moving guys! And we thanked God for the miracle of me being pregnant.

I loved being pregnant! Couldn't handle tomato based products the first few weeks - do you know how hard that is between Memorial Day and July 4th in the south??? BBQ is everywhere ... tomato based stuff is every where!!! I craved bananas - I do NOT like bananas!!  We drove cross country. With me stopping for naps along the way. We already had had a 6week ultrasound and I had an appt with a MD in CO.  Peapod was doing what he was supposed to do.

The military being what it is tried to tell me I had to go to the base doc. One appt and I was deemed too high of a risk to go to the Army hospital and allowed to go to the one I had an appt with. I was encouraged to have milkshakes (there was a diner close to her office that made them fresh - anytime of day!) and still loved being pregnant.

We were getting settled in CO. We found a fantastic church and were getting involved in sunday school and other young adult activities. There was a large group of couples our age.

About half way through, I developed kidney stones.  I was 19 weeks and they did an ultrasound to see the stones. Peapod stuck his hand in the image ... my first sighting of him besides the 'deathstar' image from the 6 wk ultrasound.  The stone finally passed and we continued preparing for his arrival. I even got fussed at by our new pastor for not letting them know I was in the hospital.

The last 2 months meant weekly ultrasounds, non-stress tests and doctor visits. All of my glucose tests were fine. Around Thanksgiving I was having blurred vision, but didn't think much of it. Mentioned it to doc and she wasn't concerned. Then my appetite disappeared and I could keep nothing down. I was in my last trimester.  Christmas Eve I was given some meds so I could enjoy dinner and more tests were done.

A few days later I was on insulin. Church had a shower for me and it was a blast! There were feeding and diapering competitions.  The one who had the hardest time has since had 2 babies and i am sure she is much better now!!!  I received many wonderful gifts (some of which I still have.) God was good. He was answering my life long prayer of having a baby. being a mom.

One of my favorite memories was sitting in church and hearing the story of Mary telling Elisabeth about her pregnancy.  Elisabeth was pregnant too and John leapt in her womb. At that moment in the story, Peapod leapt too. God fulfilling his promises. to Elisabeth, Mary, me.  Now when I hear the story I get weepy.

Two days after the shower I was sent from the MD office to the hospital for the night then to home and bedrest. They wanted to induce and deliver that week. I wanted to wait until Mom was there.  And to see if things progressed without drugs. Bedrest was a pain. I don't like not being able to do what I need to do. I don't like relying on others. I don't like being needy.

Again, my church family was wonderful. And mom was there. On Friday morning, January 23, 2004 we went to the hospital to have a baby.  We were excited about his birthdate 1/23/4.  He would be a monkey according to the Chinese calendar by 2 days.

We settled into the room.  Watched movies, talked, I slept.  They removed a recalled rocking chair out from under Granny. I was given an epidural that didn't work. I was given another one after the contractions were too much. I was given pitocin. Too much. tome passed. What started at 8am was still going on at 11pm. We watched 'Escape from Witch Mountain.' We were watching 'To Wong Foo, Thanks for Nothing' when things got blurry.

We had known for a while that the monitor was malfunctioning.  It couldn't read my oxygen levels. Then they couldn't distinguish between my heart rate and peapods. Once they casually asked about a scalp monitor. I said no and they left. No explanation of the importance. No explanation of what was happening.

The I had severe pain under my sternum. It was brushed off as heartburn. I don't know times for the rest ... I was in pain. having contractions. feeling wonky. Then the contractions stopped. This part is clear ... the doc was telling me to push when I felt the contractions and I was.  Then I said, "I'm not feeling any contractions."  They still couldn't distinguish heart rates.  There was a buzz of activity and I was wheeled out of the room to the OR.

Hubby was told to wait outside the doors and they'd let him in.  I was completely knocked out. Hubby watched through the OR windows ... except for the few moments they made him move, but he went back.  He saw a team working on Peapod. He saw people around me. And had no clue what was going on.  The doc told me that when she opened me up, she saw his shoulder sticking through the placenta.  My uterus had ruptured.  That was why I no longer felt contractions.

When I woke up, Scott told me he was dead.  The MD came by and with tears in her eyes told me how sorry she was. Mom, Dad and our current Pastor was there in the recovery room.  No. We didn't want an autopsy. No. We didn't want him baptized. No. We weren't ok.

They brought Like to us.  He was born still on 1/24/04 at 2:01am.  He was perfect. chubby cheeks. A head full of dark hair. Perfect little lips. Perfect little toes. Perfect little ears. I held him and cried. He went from my womb to the arms of Jesus.

People remarked on how strong our faith was.  Our reliance on God during that time.  But it is more about broken promises.  I prayed and prayed and prayed to get pregnant and have a baby. God listened. I got pregnant. I had a shell of a baby. A promise I held on to during the entire pregnancy was our little boy. But God took him at the last minute.  He broke his promise for reasons I may never know.

How do you trust someone who does that? How do I know he won't break another promise?

My heart broke into millions of tiny pieces that night. shattered beyond repair.  And I am supposed to truly believe that God is good - all the time?

Labels: ,


Anonymous Anonymous said...

I fall short on any words to lighten the pain in this blog. I am responding only to let you know I would love to hug you. I pray for an answer that would ease your pain.

I also want to thank you, and acknowledge the strength it takes to open up to others. To share a piece of your heart and soul.

Jan 5, 2011, 11:17:00 AM  
Blogger Chris K said...

But to give me a hug would mean revealing who you are. There is nothing on this earth that can ease this pain.

Jan 5, 2011, 4:41:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Reading this brings it all back and makes me cry. And I remember crying with you at church. And I wish I could do more than just cry for you now.

I know something about broken promises, both stated and implied. I know people who have an incredible capacity to forgive. More than I could. But I don't know how you forgive something like this. I just don't.

Love and hugs,

Jan 5, 2011, 9:31:00 PM  

Post a Comment

Speak gently. carefully. thoughtfully. graciously. humbly.

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home