Here We Go Again - Bing Mary

When I first started this blog I was newly pregnant with Claire. I thought I would happily blog about the joys and trials of pregnancy and then about the adventure of having 5 and hopefully more children.  I was blissfully ignorant of the world of infant loss and miscarriage and naively assumed since my first 4 pregnancies were uneventful that all mine would be.  Boy was I wrong.

At that time my biggest fear in life was miscarriage.  I didn't know how anyone survived it.  Then Claire died and I learned that I was strong enough to hold my tiny baby in my hands and attend her burial service.  Then I figured she was my "1 in 5" - one in every five pregnancies statistically ends in miscarriage.  I felt relieved that I'd "never have to go through that again."  Until Francis.  He taught me that nothing was certain and that all life, even if very brief, is a gift to be thankful for, and that blessings can come in very unexpected ways.  I secretly hoped I was done with loss and pondered how "those women" - the ones with multiple losses - endure.  I pondered this until Lolek's death and all that I went through facing my own mortality squarely in the face.  Losing Lolek taught me how to surrender and quite simply changed the paradigm through which I view life, faith, prayer, and God's Will.

Imagine then how it felt to find out that despite doing everything spot on perfect as far as NFP and avoiding pregnancy goes, I felt when that faint blue line showed up on the EPT.  Thy Will be Done!  That was the prayer for the little one whom we named "Baby Bing."  Thy Will be Done.  Not please let this one live, or don't make me go through another loss again, nor I'll name the baby after a really cool saint if he or she can just live, or even, I've had enough suffering, God, can You please just let this be normal?  Simply Thy Will be Done, often with an added, and please help me be surrendered to Your Will, and only content to know that whatever comes of me or this pregnancy is what You want for my own sanctification. There is freedom in praying that way, and it took quite an ordeal to teach it to me.  I was happy and content to be pregnant again.

Of course it wasn't a piece of cake.  Thanks to Lolek and my subsequent PE I immediately needed to start injections (self administered) of blood thinners.  I couldn't use my beloved midwives and instead needed to use not only an OB/GYN but also a hematologist and internal medicine doctor  as well.  This is quite a sacrifice for a girl who does not like doctors (no offense - there are some fantastic ones!) and who thinks birth is a natural, normal event not usually requiring medical intervention.  Well, unfortunately I am the exception to that rule.  So it was off to the races and blood draws and early ultrasounds and doctor after doctor.

Through it all I made sure to make memories with this baby.  I didn't know how long I had with him under my heart, so I made a point to consciously make memories.  Bing and I did Christmas shopping together.  We spent Advent together, he was with us on our family outing to "Bethlehem" and the live Nativity.  I am so thankful that we made these memories because it was at one of the ultrasounds that it was determined that Baby Bing was not growing.  In fact he barely made it beyond implantation.   Bing was conceived and lived long enough to begin the whole process of developing what would be his gestational sac and placenta but he ceased to develop.  God wanted another soul.  This is called a "blighted ovum" in medical terms.  My body recognized pregnancy and since the sac continued to develop I endured 10 weeks of pregnancy and all the wonderful puking, nauseated, hormonal bliss associated with it.

Since I have a a very well documented history of almost dying after a loss I was advised to go for a D & C.  I was hesitant at first, wanting to make absolutely certain that a teeny baby wasn't "hiding."  (In early ultrasounds it IS possible to receive a blighted Ovum diagnosis only to see a baby a week or two later.  From my research this seems to happen about 40-50% of time depending on the date of the "diagnosing" ultrasound.)  After confirming that there was no longer a baby, and that the sac was losing its integrity, I agreed to do a D & C.  There was no baby to bury and I was hoping it might avoid some of the drama I had experienced in the past. Unfortunately that wasn't entirely the case.  Drama seems to be a specialty of mine.

While waiting to hear from the OB to schedule the procedure I cracked a tooth and needed emergency root canal surgery.  While in the endontist's chair, after having my mouth numbed and all the scary stuff that was to somehow fit in my mouth explained to me, I started cramping.  I excused myself and went to restroom.  Yes.  My body was beginning its miscarriage "labor."  I got myself as ready as possible and hurried back to the dentist's chair.  They continued with the root canal while I silently counted how long the contraction cramps lasted and prayed I wouldn't hemorrhage in his chair.  (Hemorrhaging is a specialty of mine.)  As soon as he was done (it took longer than planned as there were some complications - of course) I called my OB who wasn't there. So I headed to the ER as per her earlier instructions.  Once there I spoke with the OB who was filling in for her.  He did not understand, nor try to understand, my "special" circumstances and sent me home.  So I went to a different ER.  They were fantastic and understood right away why I was there.  They didn't want to have me come in after it was too late and need a transfusion (been there, done that!).  The magnificent doctor was prepping me for an emergency D & C.  Except it was midnight and the OB on call didn't want to come in.  In fact, he (or she) refused.  The ER doc valiantly tried to convince them otherwise.  To no end.  His hands were tied.  He was so frustrated and truly was concerned for my health.  "I don't want to see you back in here in an hour or two needing bags of blood."  I was grateful that he understood my situation.  But I had to leave.  I was scared.

I managed a few hours of sleep and called my OB's office as soon as it opened.  Thankfully she was back.  "Go to the ER NOW."  Were my instructions.  I refrained from grumbling "I tried that already!"  Doula Bestie Extraordinairre, who had spent the night with me in the second ER met me at my OB's hospital.  It was very nice.  They "got it."  They understood.  They knew exactly why I was there and why I should not be allowed to miscarry at home.  I felt better.  The ER doc dispensed with what he called "unnecessary exams" and got right to the point.  "No use waiting, we need to get you on the OR schedule and get your OB over here.  I'm on it!"  and he literally bounced out the door.  From then on they all knew I was a ticking time bomb.

The funny thing about miscarriage is that despite what doctors tell you, its childbirth. You have contractions, your body follows the same pattern it would if you were laboring to give birth to a healthy full term baby.  Everyone expects tons of blood and guts but that doesn't happen until your body is actually expelling the contents of the uterus  - and if your baby was far enough long, you will birth the baby first and then the rest - just like normal, healthy, childbirth.  Before that you will generally lose your mucus plug, then perhaps spot. But not much more.  Unfortunately its been my experience that miscarriage and second trimester loss contraction cramps are WORSE than the ones I endured giving birth to my live children.

I was offered pain meds.  They made me loopy and able to ignore the pain, but they didn't stop the pain.  The day wore on.  I hadn't eaten since 2pm the day before.  The contraction cramps were getting closer together and more intense.  Doula Bestie was keeping an eye on me. Eventually I was transferred to the pre-Op area and prepped for the procedure.  The contractions were right on top of one another.  It was a race against time, and if time ran out, well at least I was in a hospital   I knew what would happen - and it would not be pretty.  I was terrified of hemorrhaging.  Terrified.  I tried to pray Thy Will be Done, but its hard when you're scared.  And I was scared.  Eventually I gave up.  Hold my hand, Mama I prayed in my head. The last time I had been in the hospital Mary truly became my mother, and she helped me surrender.  I knew she could do it again.  I was increasingly uncomfortable - no rest or relief between contractions.  Then the hot and cold flashes started.  I denied to myself that I was in transition.  Then I hiccuped and Doula Bestie said, I bet you're in transition   (She's good) and I continued to deny it  - which of course if what every childbirth educator worth her salt will tell you is "self doubt" - a sure sign of transition.  So I denied that too.  Despite my valiant attempts at denial (I do that during all my births) I knew I was really up against the clock.  I fought the fear.  I needed to surrender it.  I didn't want to. (Why didn't I learn this lesson well enough the first time around!?)  The anesthesiologists were coming.  Whew.  I began to think I made it just under the gun. And then it happened.  The hemorrhaging started.  The anesthesiologists were at my room and there I was, losing it - in every way possible.  I started shaking and burst into tears.  Poor Doula Bestie leaped into action.  She worked to calm me down, and explained to the bewildered and startled anesthesiology team why I was freaking out and bleeding everywhere.  They got a move on.  One gave me a tranquilizer which I think was actually the sedative because things got fuzzy pretty quickly after that.  "Let's get you into the OR right now and take care of this" said another.  Doula Bestie whispered everything would fine and I finally surrendered. I could feel myself continuing to hemorrhage as they wheeled me down the hallway.  "Ok, Mama, He wins." I thought to myself.  "I get it now."

And then I woke up.

Groggy in post-op.  I blinked.  I didn't really remember anything except random faces in the OR, bright lights and an oxygen mask.  That was it.  I noticed that my hair had been taken down and arranged nicely around me on the pillow.  I was nauseated and had a massive headache, but I wasn't bleeding profusely.  I was on my second bag of pitocin and I could feel it working its magic.  It was over.

I learned an important lesson thanks to Bing. Surrender means that you must surrender even your fear.  And that new fears need to be identified and surrendered too. Fear prevents you from accepting God's Will.  I had much peace during the short time I had with Bing and that was because I was actively seeking abandonment to God's Will and total surrender.  When I had to face my biggest fear, and probably the only one I had left, I was paralyzed.  I was too afraid to Trust God fully.  So I turned to His Mother.  She got me there.  But He first allowed me to experience the very thing of which I was most afraid - because I needed to learn that I must surrender even my fear and my emotional wounds to Him.  It was a powerful lesson, and one I can say that I am thankful for.

The kids asked to name the baby "Bing Mary" and I couldn't argue it.  Somehow it fits.  He will have a place in our family just like the brothers and sister who preceded him into Eternity.  I miss him.  I wanted to hold him.  I wanted to watch him grow and learn and change and to see the person he was to become.  My heart grieves for his loss, even as I can have peace knowing that God had other plans, and His plans, though mysterious, are perfect.

I miss baby Bing, as I miss all my children who have been privileged to look on the majesty of God's Face before me.  I realize I am one of "those women" now  - the very ones I was afraid of becoming- the ones who have endured loss after loss.  And somehow I can find peace with it.  Somehow, and it is only through the Grace of God, I know that I am and will continue to be OK, even if I must face more losses in the future.  I know now that nothing is outside of His Will and that He works for our good, and in the future, I will heed the lessons my teeny baby taught me - to surrender fully to His loving and perfect Will - no matter what.

Of Babies and Blessings

This had been a Christmas Season of Blessings and Lessons.  Heartache and Peace.  Nothing went as planned, but why should that surprise us?  I doubt that had Mary and Joseph been able to plan they would have elected to travel by donkey to a small town while Mary was 9 months pregnant just to appease some ego-centric Roman demi-god.

"'For your thoughts are not My thoughts, neither are your ways, My ways," says the Lord"(Isaiah 55"8).

"For I know well the plans I have for you," says the Lord, "Plans to give you a future full of hope.  When you call Me, When you go to pray to me, I will listen to you.  When you look for me, you will find me.  When you seek me with all your heart, you will find me," says the Lord" (Jeremiah 29:11-14).

These words revealed to the prophets ages ago are still so relevant to us today.  God is so hard to understand sometimes, and yet, He blesses us.  He takes care of us.  He comforts us.  He gives us Joy.   Sometimes that Joy comes wrapped up in a bundle of blankets with a button nose and tiny little mouth and eyes.  Sometimes that Joy comes from surrendering to God and giving Him a new soul for Heaven.

This Christmas has given me so much to ponder.  The Advent Season began with my husband and I worried that Santa wouldn't be able to afford Christmas.  Yet, we had Faith and prayed that God would provide us what we would need to let our children have a happy Christmas.  We got so much more than that.  God continues to outdo Himself in generosity and this year He used so many people in our lives to touch us with His love and His Goodness.  So many people have blessed us with their generosity this Christmas - from a dear friend and "anonymous benefactor" who sent us Christmas gifts, beautifully wrapped for Christmas Day - all without us knowing about it! - to family members who unexpectedly sent Christmas money - to neighbors who gave away toys that looked like new - we had more than we ever dreamed of for the kids on Christmas Day.

We felt so incredibly humbled.  So undeserving.  What had we done?   Yet, isn't that the crux of Christmas?   We didn't DO anything to make God send us our Savior.  In fact the only thing we had done is sin. Turn away from Him, and yet He sent His only Son - His Gift to us - so that we might share Eternal Life with Him.  What a gift!  What Love!

This Christmas message was brought home to me in such a real way this year.  Just before Christmas my husband and I found ourselves overjoyed at the reality of a new little life.  I was pregnant!  We knew the kids would be so excited and waited until Christmas to tell them.  Seeing the pure Joy on their faces taught me more than anything what is truly important.  The things we so often value - the presents and "stuff" we accrue for ourselves on Christmas pale in comparison to the truly miraculous gift of a new life - a new soul destined to live for Eternity.   I pondered this for some time on Christmas and the days after.  I felt so blessed to have this new paradigm in which to see my pregnancy.  For the first time I wasn't afraid of what others might think of the fact that I was pregnant again.  I wasn't looking forward to the morning sickness or labor, but I could not shake the conviction that despite what society, or even well-intentioned but confused passersby might think about my largish family, I was blessed.  Babies are pure blessing.  They aren't a spread sheet - measuring the pros and cons, costs and benefits. They are a gift, pure and simple.

Imagine the sadness that came to our family on New Years Day when I, after a long day at the Emergency Room, learned that we were never to hold this little life.  Never to meet him.   He had gone Home to be with the One who created him.  The sadness came crashing in on me as I went to the Grave of our stillborn daughter, Claire, who has been buried there since the end of August.  I sat there in the cold and cried.  I cried for her and I cried for my son who was with us for such a short time.  I cried for my children at home, who I felt were deprived of another sibling to love.  I cried for myself, my arms longing to hold a little squirmy bundle of Joy.  Then my heart quieted.  Peace entered.  I dried my tears and asked my Heavenly Saints - my children - to pray for me.  I told them I loved them.  I asked God to help me understand.  Then I heard it.  Not a voice, but a whisper, spoken to my heart.  "Thank you."

As I drove home I pondered over this "thank you."  For what?  I kept asking myself.   When I got home I pushed it aside as my husband and I had to break the news to our children.  I hardly heard myself as I told them that "Baby Bubbles" went to be with Claire.  I told them that we named him Francis Talbot, because of a dream I had.  Their sad faces nearly broke my heart again.  My daughter, who is my oldest child at home, cried and told me how sad she was.  Then she stopped crying and said, "Well, now Claire has somebody to play with.  That is special."  She proceeded to talk to Baby Francis and tell him that she loved him.  How silly I felt thinking that they were deprived of siblings to love.  They love their heavenly sister and brother! Then my daughter looked at me and said, "Well, now I know what I am asking for on my birthday!  A new baby!"  I smiled at her innocence, at her beautiful understanding of life and death.

It wasn't until I received an email from a dear friend that I really thought about what my daughter had said.  My friend said to me that I had given Claire a sibling to be with her.  They would be together glorifying God, watching over our family, and waiting for us to meet them in Heaven.  Then it hit me.  The "thank you" whispered to my heart, what I had told my children, what my daughter said to me, echoed in the email from my friend.

God had indeed given me a very special gift this Christmas.  He truly taught me to Love as He Loves,  He gave me the gift of a life, and asked for that gift back.  This Christmas God allowed me to give a gift to Heaven.  What a blessed peace this realization gave me.  What a gift.  

I still miss my little Francis, just as I miss my baby Claire.  Yet I have such a sense of peace, that I  know I am blessed.  Many people would look at my little family this Christmas and shake their heads in pity - in the span of 2 weeks our only car broke down and died, the flu went through our family, all our Christmas plans were thwarted, we nearly hit the red in the bank account, still are without a car, and then we lost baby Francis.   Yet all I feel is blessed.  All I feel is Peace.

Little Francis Talbot came to us, and brought with him Peace.  In his short time with us, and through his death he taught us a lesson about Christmas, about God's love, and about Life that is more important than   the little worries and inconveniences that we face.  It may sound absurd to those without Faith, but despite the trials and sadness that have confronted us this Christmas, I am thankful.  I am thankful for the unexpected, and thankful for the beautiful gift of Francis Talbot's life.  I am thankful, and I am blessed.