The months of July and August are often a world wind in my world. July was filled with trips to the pool, library, movies, and even camping. Plus a a fundraiser for a special would be 4yr old's birthday. Right on its heals comes the first days of school and my 35th birthday. In the midst of all the joy there is often a deep grief. A grief that I can't even fully describe. Its a grief that isn't quite as raw as it once was because it has become a familiar pain to embrace.
Two birthdays in 10 days, 1st Katherine's followed by my own. I will be honest. I don't respond to many Happy Birthday's given to me. I know that everyone is glad that I was born and that I am still alive but as a mother who buried her daughter just 4days before her 31st birthday...my birthday just feels wrong.
Over these past 4 years I've come to accept that this is the lot that I have been given. I did not get to choose my birthday nor did I get to choose the day Katherine died. So I spend the days leading up to my birthday the same as I spend the days leading up to Katherine's. Often in deep prayer that I will experience some joy in what is supposed to be a joyous day. That I can be loving enough to remember all the people that love me and our grateful for my life so that I in my grief don't rob them of their own joy. I also have learned to be honest and humbled in my appreciation to those expressing their love for me. But none of these things stop the grief from coming they just simply help me through the grief.
I think the biggest thing that I have learned to do in these moments of joy intermingling with sorrow is to be honest about it all with the Lord. Out of the people in my life He is one of the ones that has full knowledge of the mixed emotions I am experiencing. He has experienced them himself...sorrow and joy...together. He doesn't judge the moments of my sadness where I don't understand why I would live and she would die. He doesn't shame me for feeling doubt, or even anger...but instead he holds me close to him. He tells me that he understands what I am feeling, that He is with me, He will see me through, that I can do this one more year, and day because He will give me the strength to do so. Then when I am feeling joy of what may be happening in the event of the day, or over my birthday cake, He laughs with me and allows me to experience His joy fully.
Two very different birthdays in 10days an be very overwhelming but I am thankful HE has been with me through it all. Knowing that I am not alone, that He knows me deeply and is close to me and I to Him...well there is something deeply comforting of that fact.
Thursday, August 16, 2018
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
There's something different about this year.
Not too long back my husband and I looked at each other and declared "Something feels different about this year." For the last 3 years after Katherine's death we have looked for ways to honor Katherine's brief life. In some ways it wasn't just to honor her, it was to declare to the world that she lived, that she existed that she was loved and is missed. Our souls were so thirsty for companionship on this road of deep grief that we cried out in any way we could to have others meet us, somewhere on our path in ways that they could. It has been a very, uncomfortable to most, public cry. But this, our 4th year closer to seeing her in heaven, this year has felt very different.
This year I have been able to share her story with those that have had open hearts to listen. I have been able to grieve without judgement. I have had loving people in the last year come along side me and say "We're here. We're praying for you." I have been able to attend a great spiritual support group that has allowed me to wrestle with my God and that has echoed HIS love and acceptance for me still. I have had friends step along side me and help breathe newness into our hearts by painting walls, and arranging a beautiful memorial for Katherine on our own wall. Love and grace have been poured into my very soul. While there is in many ways an aspect of grief that is for the traveler to bare alone, having someone to kneel with you and hug you in the midst of the hurt and pain certainly helps one carry the burden a little more easier.
Graciously in the past year God has seemingly moved mountains in my own heart and opened up a difficult, yet fulfilling path towards healing.
For so long I have tried to make sense of the events of Katherine's death. The "what if's" and the "should haves" nearly drove me mad and while there is still a lot of pain to work through there has come a place of acceptance. This is a part of my life story. I can't erase it. I can't rewrite it. It has been brutally painful. Yet, all great stories are filled with some pain. On days when I am hurting deeply I try to remember that my life is a great testimony to God's grace.
As we quickly approach Katherine's 4th birthday our little family will probably, still, try to come up with a way to honor Katherine's brief life. But this year it feels different, I know that I am not alone. I can see God's love pouring out. So whether we have 1 person join us in honoring and celebrating her or a whole army, I know that HIS grace makes this time of year beautiful.
This year I have been able to share her story with those that have had open hearts to listen. I have been able to grieve without judgement. I have had loving people in the last year come along side me and say "We're here. We're praying for you." I have been able to attend a great spiritual support group that has allowed me to wrestle with my God and that has echoed HIS love and acceptance for me still. I have had friends step along side me and help breathe newness into our hearts by painting walls, and arranging a beautiful memorial for Katherine on our own wall. Love and grace have been poured into my very soul. While there is in many ways an aspect of grief that is for the traveler to bare alone, having someone to kneel with you and hug you in the midst of the hurt and pain certainly helps one carry the burden a little more easier.
Graciously in the past year God has seemingly moved mountains in my own heart and opened up a difficult, yet fulfilling path towards healing.
For so long I have tried to make sense of the events of Katherine's death. The "what if's" and the "should haves" nearly drove me mad and while there is still a lot of pain to work through there has come a place of acceptance. This is a part of my life story. I can't erase it. I can't rewrite it. It has been brutally painful. Yet, all great stories are filled with some pain. On days when I am hurting deeply I try to remember that my life is a great testimony to God's grace.
As we quickly approach Katherine's 4th birthday our little family will probably, still, try to come up with a way to honor Katherine's brief life. But this year it feels different, I know that I am not alone. I can see God's love pouring out. So whether we have 1 person join us in honoring and celebrating her or a whole army, I know that HIS grace makes this time of year beautiful.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
My faith is like shifting sand
Katherine rocked our world. My love for her was intense. I had a few years of parenting under my belt. I had learned from my 'mistakes' with my other kiddos. I had grown in patience and understanding in child development, I had mastered "in my own biased opinion" the art of balancing a multiple kid family. It had taken 4years but I had finally found my groove as a mother. I knew exactly what kind of mother I wanted to be like. I granted myself the gift of grace, patience and understanding, and that gift poured over into my children's lives. I had so much fun with Ellie and Zach preparing for our transition from a family a 4 to a family of 5. It truly was a beautiful, grace filled, 9months of pregnancy bliss. I didn't complain about my pregnancy with Katherine, I enjoyed every single moment with her. And I enjoyed every single moment with my other children as well. After years of struggle, doubting, questioning my mothering skills, I finally felt like I was good to go. I felt like I was made to have babies, and to be a mother, and it all finally felt so right. I saw Katherine as another stamp of God's approval of my life and what I had made of it.
So when Katherine died, somewhat from a direct result of my birthing choices, it was a significant blow to my heart. Everything that I had poured myself into for years now crumbling before my very eyes. If I couldn't make choices that would have brought my daughter safely into this world then how could I trust that I could make the right choices continually for any of my kiddos? I mean...I failed....I failed to believe that a rare thing could happen to me....I failed to believe that I could possibly fall into a 1-5% category...I failed to believe that God wouldn't allow a horrible tragedy to befall on me. I mean I had done, (what I considered) my fair share of suffering in life...surely God wouldn't allow more than the "usual" stuff to happen to me now. But he did....and how was I going to recover from this?
It's hard to learn to live again after child loss. Maybe that is true after any loss...but child loss, well there is something about that type of loss that just isn't right. For me the depth of guilt I have felt after losing Katherine has been so tremendous that even looking at my living kiddos at times surges more grief into my heart. Not only did I fail Katherine, but I failed these other two precious children that were counting on me to bring them home a baby sister. They spent months rubbing my belly, talking to the baby, giving her checkups, and preparing their rooms and their hearts for her. Zachary was so excited to enter a new stage of sibling hood...to get to be a big brother, he had the title of brother but not the title of "big" and it was so exciting to him. Sweet Ellie was excited that she was finally going to get to be like her other friends and have a little sister, a companion to share a room with, tell secrets to, play dress up, learn how to do make up, and experiment with each others hair, another little girl that, in her world, would actually enjoy playing dolls with her. My children lost all of these dreams when they lost their sister. I felt, like in many ways, pieces of their innocence were stolen from them that night Katherine died. I, especially at times feel as though their trust in me was broken that night as well.
I remember telling them over and over again between contractions to "go and play" the baby was coming and mommy was hurting but that everything would be "okay." Ellie recently revealed to me that she was really scared during this time and that she felt alone, that she wanted to help but that she didn't know what she could do..I remember both she and Zach checked on me over and over again and while it was one of the most painful, alone times, I have ever felt. At the same time I had these two gorgeous little people that loved me so great that they endured their fear, they stepped up in courage, and they reminded me in my darkest hour that they, they of all people were still right there with me because they loved me. Looking back I can see how tremendously beautiful they were in that moment.
In the immediate moments after losing Katherine and waking up from my surgery I remember saying to God "Why, why am I still alive? Is it just to grieve over my dead baby? Why have you done this to me? Why am I not with you? I should be with you, I should be seeing your face, not this...not this...just not this." The thoughts running through my mind were no where near "Thy will be done." or"He gives and takes away, blessed be the name." No, the cry of my heart was one where I felt betrayed by the God I had been trusting in to bring my daughter safely to my arms. I was so broken, utterly broken.
People have this misconception that somehow having living children will minimize the ache a parent feels when they lose 1 child and while it can help to have someone to pour all the extra love you have for the deceased child on another; at times it can also feel like a cruel joke pouring your love meant for one child onto another. It makes one feel like they are betraying the other child. And it doesn't always feel natural. It's a strange concept to grasp if you have never lost a child of your own but it is very very real...it doesn't mean I love my other children any less it just means that each of my children have their own special unique love that I give to them and it doesn't always feel right sharing that unique love with the others. But hey, I don't believe anymore that it needs to make sense to you I just know that it is a reality for me and there is no simple way of healing from child loss. There is no "one size fits all" when it comes to healing after loss.
My healing has been extremely messy. I have had moments of great faith, fully relying on the grace of God to get me through the day, and then I have had moments where I have wanted nothing to do with the God that allowed me to experience such a terrible tragedy. I have had moments where I have sang whole heartily "it will be my joy to say, your will, your way." and other moments where I have spent most of my Sunday morning in bed because the thought of worshiping God felt like nothing more than an empty emotion, and I hate empty emotions.
I am certainly not the poster child of suffering when it comes to the majority of christian culture. When we want to hear nothing but "God's got you. You'll never fail with him." I've probably uttered the hard reality of "God's got your salvation, you'll at least never lose that with him." My faith has certainly been changed by every wave. Sometimes the christian culture pressure of serving the lord in hardship with joy in your heart and a smile on your face really adds into my feeling so defeated on this journey. I fall so miserably short, every single time.
Recently, I have been reminded about how little the results of my faith aids in my right standing with God. Scripture tells us that in order to have right standing with God all we need to do is believe 1. That Jesus is the Son of God, that he died and rose again. Period...Yes, there is plenty of scripture that challenges us to not just stay dead in our sins, challenges us to grow more into the image of Jesus...but those things are the result of our faith not the the things that keep us in the faith. If I were honest I would say that my faith these past 2and1/2years as been one of clinging to the basic creed that Jesus is the son of God, that he died for the transgressions of my sins, and he rose again. Because all the other doctrines have been muddled in my brain. I can't seem to grasp how so many doctrines I once held to now fit in my 1less child world view. Some doctrines once comforted my heart and now they seem to only cause my heart more discomfort. I have wrestled and wrestled and wrestled and have come to find peace in only this...God's grace.
Because in holding to just that 1 basic creed, I have held on to more hope than I could possibly fully comprehend. Every time I fall short, every time, I don't say the right thing, worship in the right way, serve with the right amount of joy. Every time I doubt, every time I wander, every time I struggle to praise the God who is worthy of my praise, the grace of Jesus holds me steadfast in God's eyes. While I fully believe we must always be willing to lay aside ourselves, our rights, our perceived hurts, even when we refuse to do so Jesus steps in and covers us with his grace, not because I'm a great person and I've done enough to prove my faith. He is a gracious god who will keep his promises to me, no matter how I may fail him. I believe that he is the son of God, that he died for my sins, that he rose again. That is tremendous hope during times when we feel like, and know, the results of our faith aren't quite measuring up. Here's the beautiful thing about this reality, it has put a spring back into my heart, taken pressure off of my soul, and truly aided in bringing me rest.
So when my faith is more like the doubtful, double minded, man in the book of James being tossed by every wave, I know that I stand on grace. The foundation of Jesus that I stand on is strong and so while all my other bricks may have come tumbling down it is a beauty to know that my foundation is strong and ready to be built on again.
Hope, grace, Jesus, is a beautiful gift.
So when Katherine died, somewhat from a direct result of my birthing choices, it was a significant blow to my heart. Everything that I had poured myself into for years now crumbling before my very eyes. If I couldn't make choices that would have brought my daughter safely into this world then how could I trust that I could make the right choices continually for any of my kiddos? I mean...I failed....I failed to believe that a rare thing could happen to me....I failed to believe that I could possibly fall into a 1-5% category...I failed to believe that God wouldn't allow a horrible tragedy to befall on me. I mean I had done, (what I considered) my fair share of suffering in life...surely God wouldn't allow more than the "usual" stuff to happen to me now. But he did....and how was I going to recover from this?
It's hard to learn to live again after child loss. Maybe that is true after any loss...but child loss, well there is something about that type of loss that just isn't right. For me the depth of guilt I have felt after losing Katherine has been so tremendous that even looking at my living kiddos at times surges more grief into my heart. Not only did I fail Katherine, but I failed these other two precious children that were counting on me to bring them home a baby sister. They spent months rubbing my belly, talking to the baby, giving her checkups, and preparing their rooms and their hearts for her. Zachary was so excited to enter a new stage of sibling hood...to get to be a big brother, he had the title of brother but not the title of "big" and it was so exciting to him. Sweet Ellie was excited that she was finally going to get to be like her other friends and have a little sister, a companion to share a room with, tell secrets to, play dress up, learn how to do make up, and experiment with each others hair, another little girl that, in her world, would actually enjoy playing dolls with her. My children lost all of these dreams when they lost their sister. I felt, like in many ways, pieces of their innocence were stolen from them that night Katherine died. I, especially at times feel as though their trust in me was broken that night as well.
I remember telling them over and over again between contractions to "go and play" the baby was coming and mommy was hurting but that everything would be "okay." Ellie recently revealed to me that she was really scared during this time and that she felt alone, that she wanted to help but that she didn't know what she could do..I remember both she and Zach checked on me over and over again and while it was one of the most painful, alone times, I have ever felt. At the same time I had these two gorgeous little people that loved me so great that they endured their fear, they stepped up in courage, and they reminded me in my darkest hour that they, they of all people were still right there with me because they loved me. Looking back I can see how tremendously beautiful they were in that moment.
In the immediate moments after losing Katherine and waking up from my surgery I remember saying to God "Why, why am I still alive? Is it just to grieve over my dead baby? Why have you done this to me? Why am I not with you? I should be with you, I should be seeing your face, not this...not this...just not this." The thoughts running through my mind were no where near "Thy will be done." or"He gives and takes away, blessed be the name." No, the cry of my heart was one where I felt betrayed by the God I had been trusting in to bring my daughter safely to my arms. I was so broken, utterly broken.
People have this misconception that somehow having living children will minimize the ache a parent feels when they lose 1 child and while it can help to have someone to pour all the extra love you have for the deceased child on another; at times it can also feel like a cruel joke pouring your love meant for one child onto another. It makes one feel like they are betraying the other child. And it doesn't always feel natural. It's a strange concept to grasp if you have never lost a child of your own but it is very very real...it doesn't mean I love my other children any less it just means that each of my children have their own special unique love that I give to them and it doesn't always feel right sharing that unique love with the others. But hey, I don't believe anymore that it needs to make sense to you I just know that it is a reality for me and there is no simple way of healing from child loss. There is no "one size fits all" when it comes to healing after loss.
My healing has been extremely messy. I have had moments of great faith, fully relying on the grace of God to get me through the day, and then I have had moments where I have wanted nothing to do with the God that allowed me to experience such a terrible tragedy. I have had moments where I have sang whole heartily "it will be my joy to say, your will, your way." and other moments where I have spent most of my Sunday morning in bed because the thought of worshiping God felt like nothing more than an empty emotion, and I hate empty emotions.
I am certainly not the poster child of suffering when it comes to the majority of christian culture. When we want to hear nothing but "God's got you. You'll never fail with him." I've probably uttered the hard reality of "God's got your salvation, you'll at least never lose that with him." My faith has certainly been changed by every wave. Sometimes the christian culture pressure of serving the lord in hardship with joy in your heart and a smile on your face really adds into my feeling so defeated on this journey. I fall so miserably short, every single time.
Recently, I have been reminded about how little the results of my faith aids in my right standing with God. Scripture tells us that in order to have right standing with God all we need to do is believe 1. That Jesus is the Son of God, that he died and rose again. Period...Yes, there is plenty of scripture that challenges us to not just stay dead in our sins, challenges us to grow more into the image of Jesus...but those things are the result of our faith not the the things that keep us in the faith. If I were honest I would say that my faith these past 2and1/2years as been one of clinging to the basic creed that Jesus is the son of God, that he died for the transgressions of my sins, and he rose again. Because all the other doctrines have been muddled in my brain. I can't seem to grasp how so many doctrines I once held to now fit in my 1less child world view. Some doctrines once comforted my heart and now they seem to only cause my heart more discomfort. I have wrestled and wrestled and wrestled and have come to find peace in only this...God's grace.
Because in holding to just that 1 basic creed, I have held on to more hope than I could possibly fully comprehend. Every time I fall short, every time, I don't say the right thing, worship in the right way, serve with the right amount of joy. Every time I doubt, every time I wander, every time I struggle to praise the God who is worthy of my praise, the grace of Jesus holds me steadfast in God's eyes. While I fully believe we must always be willing to lay aside ourselves, our rights, our perceived hurts, even when we refuse to do so Jesus steps in and covers us with his grace, not because I'm a great person and I've done enough to prove my faith. He is a gracious god who will keep his promises to me, no matter how I may fail him. I believe that he is the son of God, that he died for my sins, that he rose again. That is tremendous hope during times when we feel like, and know, the results of our faith aren't quite measuring up. Here's the beautiful thing about this reality, it has put a spring back into my heart, taken pressure off of my soul, and truly aided in bringing me rest.
So when my faith is more like the doubtful, double minded, man in the book of James being tossed by every wave, I know that I stand on grace. The foundation of Jesus that I stand on is strong and so while all my other bricks may have come tumbling down it is a beauty to know that my foundation is strong and ready to be built on again.
Hope, grace, Jesus, is a beautiful gift.
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Killians birth
First off, why did we choose the name Killian. Well, on some level I think we wanted to honor Katherine still and so picking another K name just felt right to us. On a humorous level we are big fans of the T.V. series Once Upon a Time and we were watching the show one Sunday evening and it was revealed that Captain Hooks first name was Killian...I loved the way it was spelled and immediately turned to my husband and said "Killian, that's our son's name. It's Killian." Of course my dear hubby was skeptical naming our son after a pirate from a t.v. series. As we have always felt that a name can convey so much about a person, their character and who they can be shaped into...the thought of a naming our son after a pirate turned good didn't sit real well with him at first. So once he realized that I was serious and not easily going to give it up he agreed to look into other potential meanings of the name Killian. When he found that one meaning was "little church" he realized it fit perfectly along with all our other kiddos names and their meanings. We had a "bright shining" one, a "God remembered" one, a "pure" one, and now it seemed fit to complete it with a "little church."
My pregnancy with Killian was a far from easy one. I was wracked with guilt over Katherine, wrecked with grief, worries, and nervousness, and the what if's were constantly plaguing my mind. I wish I could say great words of faith and wisdom, that I secured myself on God and his love but truthfully I did not. My faith was so weak when I was pregnant with Killian, and if I were to be honest it still is weak. At least it is weak in the ways that many Christians would think and yet I've been told by "experts " it is stronger than I realize. Anyways....I had trusted God with Katherine, that he would deliver her safely into my arms, that I would walk away with a baby to hold, and God did not do any of those things that I had trusted him to do with her...and so for me to say "I trust God....to do ...with Killian...." just wasn't going to be in my vocabulary because if Katherine had taught me anything it was that God owes us nothing and doesn't have to do anything the way that I want him to do it. No, the words "I have faith, and trust God..." were not used often in my pregnancy with Killian. But what I can say is that I fell to my knees moment by moment at the feet of the Lord in prayer, begging him to help me continue to believe even if he chose for me to not get to take Killian home. I remember praying on behalf of my other children that God would please spare them the pain of losing another baby, and that my eldest daughter would see that pregnacy doesn't always end in death and loneliness. For every moment of despair that I had while pregnant with Killian I would turn to my God and ask "Please, not again....but if so......" and maybe it takes a strong faith to do just that....
On another note: I remember telling Carl "I don't want to take maternity photos, I feel fat, ashamed of the weight I have gained, again,...ashamed that I failed our daughter, that my body failed, and every part of me is screaming to not celebrate this little baby's life right now. To not get attached because it's going to only end in heartache, BUT....I don't want sadness and despair to win. I don't want our baby growing up wondering if we ever really wanted him/or her...I don't want this baby wondering where the baby pictures are and why we didn't.....so I want us to fight for joy and do this maternity shoot/baby reveal. I want us to celebrate as much as we can now because we may not be guaranteed to celebrate it tomorrow...."
I think one of the biggest differences between my pregnancy with Killian and Katherine was that there would be no doubt, no question, at all about having a repeat C-Section. Can I just say though I hate surgery. With women being sent home 2days some times after having surgery, and being required to get up and walk almost immediately after surgery, the media, and vaginal is best movement make it sound as if a c-section is taking the "easy" way out of child birth. That somehow forgoing the immediate labor pains and laying on a cold operating table, while many strangers tug at your belly fat, expose your innards, and remove a human being from your mid section is so much fun. It isn't...it's scary, completely trusting your life, your child's life, with someone else is anything but easy and you just lay there hoping someone doesn't clip the wrong organ, leave something bleeding or worse yet leave a tool behind. But, obviously, in my case, this really was the best and only option at delivering a healthy baby so there was no waiting for my water to break, me to dilate, ect ect ect. Killian's birth is the one and only birth where we picked out in advanced what day we would deliver him on. We had a few choices but not ones far from each other...we had to deliver early so we couldn't go any later than week 37....which happened to fall on Leap Day...February 29th...we couldn't really deliver the day before because that would still fall into week 36 but if we wanted to do it the day after we could have done that but I really wanted a February baby as I already have a March so we stuck with Leap Day....and we will celebrate it on the 28th every year except on Leap Year of course ;)
My same, amazing friend made the trip up to see us and helped get us out the door and to the hospital by 5:30am. This was the exact same hospital where I gave birth to Katherine so the last time I was about to deliver a child I arrived via ambulance in the rain, and funny thing about history repeating itself we drove to the hospital on Killian's birthday as well in the rain. It was little PTSD of a moment for me I had a flash back of flashing red and blue lights, it seemed as though I could hear the ambulance workers talking to one another again, thankfully, my friend helped me back to the reality of "today" by playing a comforting song which helped me remember that what I was remembering was another time, another story, not here, not now, not today, not this moment.
We arrived to the hospital and I think I remember all of us walking quietly down the hall, we all realized the sensitivity of this moment, and I feel as though we all held our breaths not wanting to disturb the beauty and holiness of it all. I was walking with a living baby in my womb, who was about to take his firsts breath, precious breaths that his older sister never had, and I would get to hold a living baby in my arms in a few short hours. Those moments that I knew I would most likely not get to have again, Katherine made this walk more precious, more beautiful and more redeeming than it could have ever been if she had not existed. The weight of that knowledge, that gift, did not go unfelt by us feeble and frail humans entrusted to experience it.
We went to the front desk where I was greeted by two wonderful nurses that helped us with Katherine's birth as well. I sometimes wish I could be a fly on the wall and experience the redeeming moments that were granted to them in getting the privilege of walking us through this live birth of Killian.
We were shown to our room and the surgery preparation began. I was scared...it was hard, and emotional, and I held back tears. I half expected to be hooked up to machines and be delivered horrible news all over again...and instead I got beautiful smiles, peaceful voices, quietness, a wonderful photographer to capture beautiful redeeming moments full of joy, and laughter, and silliness....a striking difference between the chaos that was Katherine's birth....and all at the same time...all of us feeling the difference and thinking....this...this is how things should have been all a long.
One of my favorite pictures is this one of our Pastor praying with us...He came at 6:30in the morning and just was with is and prayed with is and it was one of the most wonderful moments to share with him. He was there for us when he hardly knew us, at 2:30am when he heard that Katherine was gone, and for Him to be a part of something joyful with us was truly special.
We finished signing away my life and the nurses came and took me away to the operating room. In the hall I met my doctor and he held my hand, said a few words, and both of us shed some sweet tears (he was the same amazing doctor that saved my life with Katherine.) This moment was good, not life threatening in the same way that Katherine was, and we both were reassured that today, today was going to be different. It was beautiful.
Pretty soon both doctors (Yes, i had two ob's in my operating room as my uterus was/is a very delicate organ and I was proned to heavy bleeding) were cutting me open...I had my husband by my head, and a wonderful anesthesiologist...a stark contrast to Katherine's birth. It took them a little longer to get Killian out. I am a big woman and on top of that I had significant scar tissue built in my abdomen and on my uterus. However, we made the right decision in delivering Killian early. My uterus along my rupture area was paper thin and wouldn't have lasted through any significant contractions. Killian was coming at the right time. I remember the silence that filled the room as we all anticipated his birth and I remember my Ob saying "He's here, He's here, He's a big boy.." and then hearing Killian crying his first cries...it was beautiful. The nurses cleaned him up a little and the anesthesiologist worked out a way to monitor my vitals and still allow me to hold him. I spent a good 5mins with him before they ushered him and daddy out the door.
The rest of the time in the operating room was filled with some laughter and many tears. My doctor came over to me afterwards grabbed my hands again and with tears in his eyes said "You can't believe how extremely happy I am for you right now. Thank you for letting me be a part of it."
In the mean time Carl was, once again, given the privlege of giving one of our babies their very first bath.
Although I have been told by my husband that Killian was not a very big fan of his first bath. He really just wanted his mommy back and that made me feel so very special. My baby boy loved me and wanted me just as much as I wanted him.
Holding my son after 37weeks of not knowing if he would be okay or not was one of the most rewarding feelings I have ever experienced. He was a risk worth taking and a risk that I'm glad turned out to be in our favor.
But I think the most joyful moment came when his brother and sister who had yet to meet a living baby sibling of their own got to meet him. The looks on their faces say it all.
"Yes, he is" daddy humbly replied.
"Really, really, daddy?"
Really, really, alive, Ellie."
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Katherine's Story Part 6 of 6
Part 6
The body of Katherine Joy Christensen was delivered via emergency c-section at 12:10am on July 31st of 2014. She weighed 10lbs 7oz and to this day is one of the most beautiful babies I have ever had the priviledge to lay eyes on.
By God's grace I survived the trauma of my uterus rupturing....I woke out of surgery around 2:30am and held my beautiful baby girl's, cold, lifeless body around 3am. I couldn't believe she was gone.
My husband came to my bed side and told me that he hoped that I wouldn't be mad at him but that he had named our baby while waiting for me to be out of surgery. I wasn't mad. I couldn't imagine of holding her with out her having a name. I told him I would have named her right away too if it had been him in surgery and not me. To this day I'm a bit jealous of all the moments that Carl got to have with Katherine that I did not. He got to hold her first, he got the privilege of feeling what warmth of her body that she had left from being in my womb, he got to give her her first and only bath. He got to spend 3hrs of uninterrupted time with her all by himself.
Although I may be jealous of this time my husband got to have with her out of my womb I am always reminded of how beautiful and necessary it was for him to be able to do so as I got to have 39weeks and 4days with her to myself in my womb.
There is a lot more that I could go into of the days and months that followed. Of the heartache of watching her eager siblings being crushed as they found out that their baby sister had died. Of the points in our marriage where our faults during my labor came crashing down on our heads, of the trust that is still being rebuilt, and the confidence in the strength of our marriage still having to grow. I am sure that slowly in time I may write in more detail about those pains...but for now I am tired and I feel as though a big accomplishment towards continued healing has been met these last few days on these pages. As my therapist says "All the important stories are hard to tell." So thank you for not judging and for letting me share my story, in all it's painful detail with you.
The body of Katherine Joy Christensen was delivered via emergency c-section at 12:10am on July 31st of 2014. She weighed 10lbs 7oz and to this day is one of the most beautiful babies I have ever had the priviledge to lay eyes on.
By God's grace I survived the trauma of my uterus rupturing....I woke out of surgery around 2:30am and held my beautiful baby girl's, cold, lifeless body around 3am. I couldn't believe she was gone.
My husband came to my bed side and told me that he hoped that I wouldn't be mad at him but that he had named our baby while waiting for me to be out of surgery. I wasn't mad. I couldn't imagine of holding her with out her having a name. I told him I would have named her right away too if it had been him in surgery and not me. To this day I'm a bit jealous of all the moments that Carl got to have with Katherine that I did not. He got to hold her first, he got the privilege of feeling what warmth of her body that she had left from being in my womb, he got to give her her first and only bath. He got to spend 3hrs of uninterrupted time with her all by himself.
Although I may be jealous of this time my husband got to have with her out of my womb I am always reminded of how beautiful and necessary it was for him to be able to do so as I got to have 39weeks and 4days with her to myself in my womb.
There is a lot more that I could go into of the days and months that followed. Of the heartache of watching her eager siblings being crushed as they found out that their baby sister had died. Of the points in our marriage where our faults during my labor came crashing down on our heads, of the trust that is still being rebuilt, and the confidence in the strength of our marriage still having to grow. I am sure that slowly in time I may write in more detail about those pains...but for now I am tired and I feel as though a big accomplishment towards continued healing has been met these last few days on these pages. As my therapist says "All the important stories are hard to tell." So thank you for not judging and for letting me share my story, in all it's painful detail with you.
Katherine's Story Part 5of 6
Continued Part 5..............
I remember getting ready to fix my two older kids supper when the first onset of contractions began to happen. I was so excited that labor had finally begun and that it seemed like I would get to avoid another unnecessary c-section. I could even feel Katherine moving with every contraction that I was having. I recall gently, and lovingly, rubbing my lower abdomen and sweetly telling her that she would get to meet her mommy soon.
I was so excited. I had smiles on my face between every contraction and as Zach and Ellie began to ask me why I had stopped making dinner I told them that it was because the baby was probably going to come soon. I informed them that Daddy would be bringing them a Happy Meal home from work (which is a huge treat in our house) and just asked them to be as patient as they could be. They excitedly agreed. I remember hearing the two of them playing in between my contractions and they would come and check on me to make sure I and "the baby" were "okay."
During that time I had texted Carl around 5pm that I thought I was in labor and to be ready to come home. After I sent that text to him something changed in my contractions, they were still about 20mins a part but there was sharper pain on my lower right side. I thought that I was just progressing in my labor and when my last contraction went from being 20mins -10mins apart I texted Carl at 5:30 and told him to come home.
To this day I still am not entirely sure what took him so long to leave the office that day. All I know for sure is that when I called him at 6:00pm he still hadn't left the office and for whatever reason only got to his car by 6:30pm at the garage near his workplace. I know that office circumstances played a huge roll in his delay in getting home to me. He has said to me over and over again that he really didn't think i was in real labor...he just thought it was the castor oil and the herb that I had taken but that he didn't think it really would cause real labor. He was wrong, naive, and ignorant and admits as such which is the only reason why I write it, that and it is a huge part of Katherine's story. Sometimes we both wonder if things would have turned out differently if he had gotten home to me sooner. But I also share not to throw my husband under the bus but only as a testimate of God's grace to us in our marriage currently. God has allowed Carl to admit and take responsibility for his failing but has also allowed me not to grow so bitter at him for it that it would ruin our marriage. It could have, and at times almost has...I still, even 2yrs later, wonder if when I really need him again if he will show up and be here for me differently. Yes, it is sad...but that is the ugly truth about still birth...it tests the hearts and commitment a couple have for one another terribly hard.
Back to the story....by this point the kids were getting very hungry and I told him to try to quickly stop for the happy meals, and trying to stick to my birth plan, to get me a strawberry shake. I also said to him that I was going to hop in the shower to try to relax while we waited for him. It was during my time in the shower that a panic in my heart began to set in. The contractions were definitely stronger and a lot closer together. The pain in my lower right abdomen was growing and it was starting to hurt even between the contractions I was feeling. Something about it wasn't feeling "right". Of course, hindsight is a "bitch (so to speak)" and I should have just gotten out of the shower and called for an ambulance but out of fear that my kiddos would be scared and that my husband wouldn't be home by the time the ambulance got to me I decided to try to wait. Besides, knowing me, and my often random paranoia, I was probably just over reacting to the labor pain anyways.
It was about 7:15 when Carl finally got home. The kiddos received their long awaited happy meals and I could hear them excitedly screaming to their daddy "Mommy said the baby is coming! She's coming!" I couldn't hear daddy's reply, adults do talk more quietly than most 4 and 5yr olds. With their excited squeels of excitement I reminded myself to stay calm, it was "just labor", millions of women have done it before, this was all a part of the birth plan to labor at home as long as possible before heading to the hospital. Carl came to check on me and I told him to call my friend Kristy to come and get the kids. She was actually the only person I really knew at the time that we trusted to leave the kids with. He called her and she was still at Wednesday night church. She needed to situate her own kiddos at home with her husband first so she would have room in their van for our two car seats. Carl told her that it would be no problem as we thought we were in labor for the long haul. I mean with only 1 vaginal delivery under my belt and being that was an "induced" one we didn't think I could possibly be ready for birth any time soon.
Kristy came at about 7:45 and the kids said their goodbyes to me as I laid naked on the bathroom floor covered by a towel. Contractions are a "bitch" , contractions while your uterus is unknowlingly rupturing simultaneously, are in a whole other catorgory itself.
During this moment I just remember my sweet Ellie and Zach, hugging me, kissing me, kissing my "baby" and saying "Mommy, we can't wait to see the baby tomorrow." People have no idea how heart breaking baby loss is on a sibling until they happen to watch their own children fall in love with and lose that sibling before they even really got to meet them.
After the kiddos were off to the friends house (about 8pm) I remember telling Carl that I thought something was wrong and maybe we should head to the hospital. For whatever reason all he could think about was the "birth plan" we had come up with and sticking to it. Which, honestly, isn't wrong, it's what all the labor and delivery experts recommend and there was no way he could have known my uterus was starting to rupture. There was no way that even I really knew.
Once again we both thought I was just over reacting to the pain that is "natural childbirth" and so he insisted we call my doula, that was her job...to help us make and stick to birth decisions. So we gave her a call and she asked if I wanted her to meet us at the hospital or to meet us at our home. I couldn't really make the decision for myself, I was in so much pain during my contractions at this point. Carl really thought it was just the herb and the castor oil that I had taken causing the pain. So he just asked her to come to our house and then we would make a decision from there. Around 8:30 as we waited for my doula to arrive bits and pieces of all the research I had done about VBAC's came floating to my mind.. The parts of the research that stuck out to me most was all the times I had read from VBAC momma's and research papers was that the best place to labor when attempting a VBAC was the hospital.
It was that moment that I said "Carl, we need to go to the hospital right now. Like right now" He said ..."Did your water break? Is the baby coming? Are you sure? I mean everything we've been told was that laboring at home for as long as possible increases our rates at a succesful VBAC? Our doula is on her way here" I just told him..."I don't care about everything we've been told. I'm saying we need to go to the hospital right now. It's your job to take me. So take me."
He started to get our stuff together and helped me out the door to the car when at that point our doula pulled in. She asked me if I was sure I wanted to go and I said yes. By this point my contractions were now about 2-5mins a part and she thought I was in the "transition stage" and that was why my contractions were so painful. She reminded me about how we had talked about how rough this stage of labor would be while Carl was getting the car seat, my birthing ball, ect. Once we got those in we thought we could go but, again Carl's care free dad spirit kicked in and he was so hungry he thought he should take the chance to make himself a quick sandwhich and eat so he would have energy to be with me throughout the rest of the labor. We waited 10mins for him to get to the car, 10mins.
When Carl got to the car and we started driving immediately my contractions came on stronger
. I was not surprised by this because during my last trimester I always had strong braxton hicks contractions when riding in the car. I was prepared for the contractions. What I wasn't prepared for was the burning, tearing, ripping sensation my lower abdomen was experiencing. We even passed by a fire house station close to our home and I remember thinking "maybe we should just pull there and ask them for help in getting me to the hospital faster?" but as soon as the thought came the pain passed and once again I thought it was me just imagining the pain, and or over reacting to it.
With every bump in the road and every contraction still 2-5mins a part. The pain just kept intensifying and intensifying. When we got close to our exit to get onto the main highway that would take us to the hospital that I was supposed to deliver at I finally just let out the biggest scream ever and demanded that he pull over. I couldn't handle the pain with all the bumps in the road any longer. My doula was following behind us in her car and later told me she thought I had pulled over because the baby was coming. I only wish that was the case.
We pulled into the Burger King parking lot...where both Carl and my doula tried to convince me to just let him keep driving me to the hospital. But the hospital I was supposed to deliver at was still another 20-30mins away. There was construction on the highway being done that I passed by all the time that warned it would be a 1 lane highway after 9pm during the week nights. I knew I was in danger, I knew Katherine was in danger as I hadn't felt her move since sitting in the car waiting for Carl to come out...I screamed...I literally had to scream for them to call "A DAMN AMBULANCE." as I put it.
I don't know where this ambulance was coming from. I'm not sure why it took them so long to get to me but we waited 10mins for that ambulance. During that time the pain intensified and grew and grew. I was screaming during and between contractions, my doula wanted to check if the baby was coming but I knew she wasn't so I wouldn't let her touch me. My abdomen was on FIRE, it felt like someone was lighting my insides with a match, and then with one final contraction I felt a POP internally, and then I watched, as what I know now...Katherine move from a head down position to a breeched postion. She literally, in that moment, was coming out of my uterus, and up into my abdominal cavity. I screamed, i just remember screaming..."Oh GOD NO NO NO Please NO." and then the pain, stopped. It just stopped.
For a brief 30seconds...the pain had completely stopped and I felt much better. Surely, I had indeed imagined all the horrifying pain I had been feeling. I remember Carl and my doula, sitting shocked because i was just re-leaved of my pain. We even saw her move again. Sadly, now, I know she was dying. She was suffocating and drowning in my abdominal cavity because she literally had been born in my abdomen.
Of course, no one knew this at that moment. Not even me...I just knew that the pain was re-leaved for a few brief seconds, that i had felt her move, and that an ambulance was on its way to take me to the hospital. I was comforted..until the pain set back in and was now no longer confined to my lower abdomen but to my entire abdominal area.
Finally, the ambulance arrived and my doula was trying to get them to take me to the hospital I was supposed to deliver at. I just wanted to get to the closest hospital which I was told by the ambulance drivers was IU West, and St. Francis. I chose St Francis, i knew it was the closer of the two. They got me in the ambulance and started on their way...at first they didn't have the sirens on. The contractions had stop, the pain was bareable, it wasn't until I began to holler that I needed a c-section and started screaming that "it burns, it burns, " that the E.M.T sensed something was seriously wrong. I remember the fireman that rode with us to help the E.M.T saying "Is that normal?" and the E.M.T saying "Only if the baby is coming. But the baby obviously isn't coming" She then told her partner that he needed to call the hospital and tell them to be ready for a c-section. To get the on call doctor there as soon as possible and telling me to lay on my left side.
I got to the hospital and the staff came out to join me. The doctor hadn't arrived yet but once again the nurses there just thought I was a random woman in regular labor. I remember the E.M.T trying to tell the nurse that there was more going on with me but she shrugged off my pain and said to her "Have you ever been in labor? It kind of hurts."
During the time we were waiting for the doctor the nurses were trying to get my vitals, check my dilation, and find the baby's heart beat. But I was hysterical...I was screaming, "It burns, it burns, It burns." and when the nurses tried to touch me I fought them and demanded them not to touch me. My husband told me later that they had to hold me down in order to get an i.v. started and to do the ultrasound. I remember them asking the "on a level of 1-10 what is your pain." and I screamed "10, 10. 10...its over a 10."
At this point Carl and my doula had arrived to my bedside and I remembering opening my eyes to my doula's big blue eyes. I honestly thought I had died as she appeared to look like an angel with her blond hair shining in the light above her. When I realize it was "just her" I had the thought that I didn't want her to be the last person I ever saw again. I wanted my husband. I wanted to see my husband as I knew at this point I was dying. He was right by me on the other side holding my hand which I could barely feel. But I remember thinking "He's here. He's here."
The doctor arrived shortly after I had gotten there. He got there within 10mins of me being there and I remember looking him in the eye and pleading with my eyes please please help me. I couldn't speak it I had no strength. I guess I just hoped he would see it in me.
During the time we were waiting for him the nurses were frantically trying to find a heart beat. We finally heard " a heartbeat" and though it was the fastest I had ever heard a heart beat...it wasn't Katherine's it was only mine. The doctor looked at the ultrasound and with a frustrated tone as well as an urgent tone...he said "I'm sorry, there is no heart beat. I'm so sorry. Your baby's dead." I knew in that moment, the moment that he said she was gone my uterus had ruptured. I had done enough research on VBAC's that I knew there was no other reason why my healthy baby would now be dead. The doctor went on to quickly say how usually these baby's are delivered "naturally" but given the history of my previous c-section and the weight of the baby that he recommended a repeat c-section. My doula still sounded like she was trying to advocate for VBAC...she says she wasn't...but in that moment to me it sounded like she was. I just remember screaming "NO...I NEED A C-SECTION. I NEED A C-SECTION." The doctor said "Okay" and then proceeded to tell all the nurses to get a move on it.
On there way taking me out, Carl realling from the shock of just being told his baby was dead was encouraged by my doula to ask if he could come with me to surgery. I just screamed "NO." I didn't want him there. I didn't want him to see them pull my dead baby out of me. I didn't want him to see me die. I remember when the doctor said "Your baby's dead." thinking "Okay, I can die to now." and I didn't want my husband to see me die in front of him.
They wheeled me away and my husband kissed my forhead. I made the nurses rolling me back promise me they would try to bring Katherine back to life. That they would try. They promised me. When Killian was born many of the same nurses were on staff and they told me that that was the most heart breaking moment for them. Me, dying, pleading for them to bring my baby back. They told me they never forgot a baby loss and their momma's but that I was different. I was one of the only times in all their experiences that begged for their baby to be brought back.
In the brief moments of them rolling me back to the surgery room. The feeling, the knowledge that I was dying and feeling like no one else knew it was setting in on me. I began to panic. I began thinking about my other children, my husband, and not wanting to die on them. I was scared, so so very scared . Then in my panic something that I can only describe as the Holy Spirit comforting me happened. The thought "but you'll be with Jesus. You'll be with Jesus." came to my mind, sunk into my heart and brought me the most peace I have ever felt in my entire life. It was truly beauty arising out of an ugly moment. It was brief but it was greatly comforting.
I got back to the surgery room and getting me to move from one bed to the surgery table was excruciating.....just excruciating. I looked up into the eyes of the anesthesiologist and seeing big blue eyes. I kept saying..."It burns, it burns, it burns." He simply stroked my head and said "I know, I'm going to make it go away sweet heart I'm going to make it go away..." and then he looked at the doctor and said "I'm just going to put her under." My last words to him were "thank you, oh thank you."
I can't describe how freeing that moment was. Not just because the pain was finally stopping but because I truly thought that I was going to meet Jesus next. It was beautiful, comforting, and freeing because it literally felt like the burdens of this earth would be no more. As I found out later, it really almost was. At some point on the operating table my body had finally gone into septic shock and my doctor had to resuscitate me.
When I had finally gotten to a point where the doctor could actually open me up. I was told by the nursing staff later that the whole world literally just stopped. "you could hear a pin drop" as one nurse described it to me. What they saw was something that no one in that room had ever seen before. A baby, literally, out of the womb and laying in my chest cavity...in my chest cavity.
I remember getting ready to fix my two older kids supper when the first onset of contractions began to happen. I was so excited that labor had finally begun and that it seemed like I would get to avoid another unnecessary c-section. I could even feel Katherine moving with every contraction that I was having. I recall gently, and lovingly, rubbing my lower abdomen and sweetly telling her that she would get to meet her mommy soon.
I was so excited. I had smiles on my face between every contraction and as Zach and Ellie began to ask me why I had stopped making dinner I told them that it was because the baby was probably going to come soon. I informed them that Daddy would be bringing them a Happy Meal home from work (which is a huge treat in our house) and just asked them to be as patient as they could be. They excitedly agreed. I remember hearing the two of them playing in between my contractions and they would come and check on me to make sure I and "the baby" were "okay."
During that time I had texted Carl around 5pm that I thought I was in labor and to be ready to come home. After I sent that text to him something changed in my contractions, they were still about 20mins a part but there was sharper pain on my lower right side. I thought that I was just progressing in my labor and when my last contraction went from being 20mins -10mins apart I texted Carl at 5:30 and told him to come home.
To this day I still am not entirely sure what took him so long to leave the office that day. All I know for sure is that when I called him at 6:00pm he still hadn't left the office and for whatever reason only got to his car by 6:30pm at the garage near his workplace. I know that office circumstances played a huge roll in his delay in getting home to me. He has said to me over and over again that he really didn't think i was in real labor...he just thought it was the castor oil and the herb that I had taken but that he didn't think it really would cause real labor. He was wrong, naive, and ignorant and admits as such which is the only reason why I write it, that and it is a huge part of Katherine's story. Sometimes we both wonder if things would have turned out differently if he had gotten home to me sooner. But I also share not to throw my husband under the bus but only as a testimate of God's grace to us in our marriage currently. God has allowed Carl to admit and take responsibility for his failing but has also allowed me not to grow so bitter at him for it that it would ruin our marriage. It could have, and at times almost has...I still, even 2yrs later, wonder if when I really need him again if he will show up and be here for me differently. Yes, it is sad...but that is the ugly truth about still birth...it tests the hearts and commitment a couple have for one another terribly hard.
Back to the story....by this point the kids were getting very hungry and I told him to try to quickly stop for the happy meals, and trying to stick to my birth plan, to get me a strawberry shake. I also said to him that I was going to hop in the shower to try to relax while we waited for him. It was during my time in the shower that a panic in my heart began to set in. The contractions were definitely stronger and a lot closer together. The pain in my lower right abdomen was growing and it was starting to hurt even between the contractions I was feeling. Something about it wasn't feeling "right". Of course, hindsight is a "bitch (so to speak)" and I should have just gotten out of the shower and called for an ambulance but out of fear that my kiddos would be scared and that my husband wouldn't be home by the time the ambulance got to me I decided to try to wait. Besides, knowing me, and my often random paranoia, I was probably just over reacting to the labor pain anyways.
It was about 7:15 when Carl finally got home. The kiddos received their long awaited happy meals and I could hear them excitedly screaming to their daddy "Mommy said the baby is coming! She's coming!" I couldn't hear daddy's reply, adults do talk more quietly than most 4 and 5yr olds. With their excited squeels of excitement I reminded myself to stay calm, it was "just labor", millions of women have done it before, this was all a part of the birth plan to labor at home as long as possible before heading to the hospital. Carl came to check on me and I told him to call my friend Kristy to come and get the kids. She was actually the only person I really knew at the time that we trusted to leave the kids with. He called her and she was still at Wednesday night church. She needed to situate her own kiddos at home with her husband first so she would have room in their van for our two car seats. Carl told her that it would be no problem as we thought we were in labor for the long haul. I mean with only 1 vaginal delivery under my belt and being that was an "induced" one we didn't think I could possibly be ready for birth any time soon.
Kristy came at about 7:45 and the kids said their goodbyes to me as I laid naked on the bathroom floor covered by a towel. Contractions are a "bitch" , contractions while your uterus is unknowlingly rupturing simultaneously, are in a whole other catorgory itself.
During this moment I just remember my sweet Ellie and Zach, hugging me, kissing me, kissing my "baby" and saying "Mommy, we can't wait to see the baby tomorrow." People have no idea how heart breaking baby loss is on a sibling until they happen to watch their own children fall in love with and lose that sibling before they even really got to meet them.
After the kiddos were off to the friends house (about 8pm) I remember telling Carl that I thought something was wrong and maybe we should head to the hospital. For whatever reason all he could think about was the "birth plan" we had come up with and sticking to it. Which, honestly, isn't wrong, it's what all the labor and delivery experts recommend and there was no way he could have known my uterus was starting to rupture. There was no way that even I really knew.
Once again we both thought I was just over reacting to the pain that is "natural childbirth" and so he insisted we call my doula, that was her job...to help us make and stick to birth decisions. So we gave her a call and she asked if I wanted her to meet us at the hospital or to meet us at our home. I couldn't really make the decision for myself, I was in so much pain during my contractions at this point. Carl really thought it was just the herb and the castor oil that I had taken causing the pain. So he just asked her to come to our house and then we would make a decision from there. Around 8:30 as we waited for my doula to arrive bits and pieces of all the research I had done about VBAC's came floating to my mind.. The parts of the research that stuck out to me most was all the times I had read from VBAC momma's and research papers was that the best place to labor when attempting a VBAC was the hospital.
It was that moment that I said "Carl, we need to go to the hospital right now. Like right now" He said ..."Did your water break? Is the baby coming? Are you sure? I mean everything we've been told was that laboring at home for as long as possible increases our rates at a succesful VBAC? Our doula is on her way here" I just told him..."I don't care about everything we've been told. I'm saying we need to go to the hospital right now. It's your job to take me. So take me."
He started to get our stuff together and helped me out the door to the car when at that point our doula pulled in. She asked me if I was sure I wanted to go and I said yes. By this point my contractions were now about 2-5mins a part and she thought I was in the "transition stage" and that was why my contractions were so painful. She reminded me about how we had talked about how rough this stage of labor would be while Carl was getting the car seat, my birthing ball, ect. Once we got those in we thought we could go but, again Carl's care free dad spirit kicked in and he was so hungry he thought he should take the chance to make himself a quick sandwhich and eat so he would have energy to be with me throughout the rest of the labor. We waited 10mins for him to get to the car, 10mins.
When Carl got to the car and we started driving immediately my contractions came on stronger
. I was not surprised by this because during my last trimester I always had strong braxton hicks contractions when riding in the car. I was prepared for the contractions. What I wasn't prepared for was the burning, tearing, ripping sensation my lower abdomen was experiencing. We even passed by a fire house station close to our home and I remember thinking "maybe we should just pull there and ask them for help in getting me to the hospital faster?" but as soon as the thought came the pain passed and once again I thought it was me just imagining the pain, and or over reacting to it.
With every bump in the road and every contraction still 2-5mins a part. The pain just kept intensifying and intensifying. When we got close to our exit to get onto the main highway that would take us to the hospital that I was supposed to deliver at I finally just let out the biggest scream ever and demanded that he pull over. I couldn't handle the pain with all the bumps in the road any longer. My doula was following behind us in her car and later told me she thought I had pulled over because the baby was coming. I only wish that was the case.
We pulled into the Burger King parking lot...where both Carl and my doula tried to convince me to just let him keep driving me to the hospital. But the hospital I was supposed to deliver at was still another 20-30mins away. There was construction on the highway being done that I passed by all the time that warned it would be a 1 lane highway after 9pm during the week nights. I knew I was in danger, I knew Katherine was in danger as I hadn't felt her move since sitting in the car waiting for Carl to come out...I screamed...I literally had to scream for them to call "A DAMN AMBULANCE." as I put it.
I don't know where this ambulance was coming from. I'm not sure why it took them so long to get to me but we waited 10mins for that ambulance. During that time the pain intensified and grew and grew. I was screaming during and between contractions, my doula wanted to check if the baby was coming but I knew she wasn't so I wouldn't let her touch me. My abdomen was on FIRE, it felt like someone was lighting my insides with a match, and then with one final contraction I felt a POP internally, and then I watched, as what I know now...Katherine move from a head down position to a breeched postion. She literally, in that moment, was coming out of my uterus, and up into my abdominal cavity. I screamed, i just remember screaming..."Oh GOD NO NO NO Please NO." and then the pain, stopped. It just stopped.
For a brief 30seconds...the pain had completely stopped and I felt much better. Surely, I had indeed imagined all the horrifying pain I had been feeling. I remember Carl and my doula, sitting shocked because i was just re-leaved of my pain. We even saw her move again. Sadly, now, I know she was dying. She was suffocating and drowning in my abdominal cavity because she literally had been born in my abdomen.
Of course, no one knew this at that moment. Not even me...I just knew that the pain was re-leaved for a few brief seconds, that i had felt her move, and that an ambulance was on its way to take me to the hospital. I was comforted..until the pain set back in and was now no longer confined to my lower abdomen but to my entire abdominal area.
Finally, the ambulance arrived and my doula was trying to get them to take me to the hospital I was supposed to deliver at. I just wanted to get to the closest hospital which I was told by the ambulance drivers was IU West, and St. Francis. I chose St Francis, i knew it was the closer of the two. They got me in the ambulance and started on their way...at first they didn't have the sirens on. The contractions had stop, the pain was bareable, it wasn't until I began to holler that I needed a c-section and started screaming that "it burns, it burns, " that the E.M.T sensed something was seriously wrong. I remember the fireman that rode with us to help the E.M.T saying "Is that normal?" and the E.M.T saying "Only if the baby is coming. But the baby obviously isn't coming" She then told her partner that he needed to call the hospital and tell them to be ready for a c-section. To get the on call doctor there as soon as possible and telling me to lay on my left side.
I got to the hospital and the staff came out to join me. The doctor hadn't arrived yet but once again the nurses there just thought I was a random woman in regular labor. I remember the E.M.T trying to tell the nurse that there was more going on with me but she shrugged off my pain and said to her "Have you ever been in labor? It kind of hurts."
During the time we were waiting for the doctor the nurses were trying to get my vitals, check my dilation, and find the baby's heart beat. But I was hysterical...I was screaming, "It burns, it burns, It burns." and when the nurses tried to touch me I fought them and demanded them not to touch me. My husband told me later that they had to hold me down in order to get an i.v. started and to do the ultrasound. I remember them asking the "on a level of 1-10 what is your pain." and I screamed "10, 10. 10...its over a 10."
At this point Carl and my doula had arrived to my bedside and I remembering opening my eyes to my doula's big blue eyes. I honestly thought I had died as she appeared to look like an angel with her blond hair shining in the light above her. When I realize it was "just her" I had the thought that I didn't want her to be the last person I ever saw again. I wanted my husband. I wanted to see my husband as I knew at this point I was dying. He was right by me on the other side holding my hand which I could barely feel. But I remember thinking "He's here. He's here."
The doctor arrived shortly after I had gotten there. He got there within 10mins of me being there and I remember looking him in the eye and pleading with my eyes please please help me. I couldn't speak it I had no strength. I guess I just hoped he would see it in me.
During the time we were waiting for him the nurses were frantically trying to find a heart beat. We finally heard " a heartbeat" and though it was the fastest I had ever heard a heart beat...it wasn't Katherine's it was only mine. The doctor looked at the ultrasound and with a frustrated tone as well as an urgent tone...he said "I'm sorry, there is no heart beat. I'm so sorry. Your baby's dead." I knew in that moment, the moment that he said she was gone my uterus had ruptured. I had done enough research on VBAC's that I knew there was no other reason why my healthy baby would now be dead. The doctor went on to quickly say how usually these baby's are delivered "naturally" but given the history of my previous c-section and the weight of the baby that he recommended a repeat c-section. My doula still sounded like she was trying to advocate for VBAC...she says she wasn't...but in that moment to me it sounded like she was. I just remember screaming "NO...I NEED A C-SECTION. I NEED A C-SECTION." The doctor said "Okay" and then proceeded to tell all the nurses to get a move on it.
On there way taking me out, Carl realling from the shock of just being told his baby was dead was encouraged by my doula to ask if he could come with me to surgery. I just screamed "NO." I didn't want him there. I didn't want him to see them pull my dead baby out of me. I didn't want him to see me die. I remember when the doctor said "Your baby's dead." thinking "Okay, I can die to now." and I didn't want my husband to see me die in front of him.
They wheeled me away and my husband kissed my forhead. I made the nurses rolling me back promise me they would try to bring Katherine back to life. That they would try. They promised me. When Killian was born many of the same nurses were on staff and they told me that that was the most heart breaking moment for them. Me, dying, pleading for them to bring my baby back. They told me they never forgot a baby loss and their momma's but that I was different. I was one of the only times in all their experiences that begged for their baby to be brought back.
In the brief moments of them rolling me back to the surgery room. The feeling, the knowledge that I was dying and feeling like no one else knew it was setting in on me. I began to panic. I began thinking about my other children, my husband, and not wanting to die on them. I was scared, so so very scared . Then in my panic something that I can only describe as the Holy Spirit comforting me happened. The thought "but you'll be with Jesus. You'll be with Jesus." came to my mind, sunk into my heart and brought me the most peace I have ever felt in my entire life. It was truly beauty arising out of an ugly moment. It was brief but it was greatly comforting.
I got back to the surgery room and getting me to move from one bed to the surgery table was excruciating.....just excruciating. I looked up into the eyes of the anesthesiologist and seeing big blue eyes. I kept saying..."It burns, it burns, it burns." He simply stroked my head and said "I know, I'm going to make it go away sweet heart I'm going to make it go away..." and then he looked at the doctor and said "I'm just going to put her under." My last words to him were "thank you, oh thank you."
I can't describe how freeing that moment was. Not just because the pain was finally stopping but because I truly thought that I was going to meet Jesus next. It was beautiful, comforting, and freeing because it literally felt like the burdens of this earth would be no more. As I found out later, it really almost was. At some point on the operating table my body had finally gone into septic shock and my doctor had to resuscitate me.
When I had finally gotten to a point where the doctor could actually open me up. I was told by the nursing staff later that the whole world literally just stopped. "you could hear a pin drop" as one nurse described it to me. What they saw was something that no one in that room had ever seen before. A baby, literally, out of the womb and laying in my chest cavity...in my chest cavity.
Katherine's story Part 3 and 4 of 6
Continued...Part 3............
The following day I went back to my OB/Midwives office to discuss the results on my ultrasound. The midwife explained to me that Katherine was indeed a big baby and was estimating to be about 10 and 1/2 pounds and while the decision to have a repeat C-Section should not be based solely on gestational weight the OB wanted to go ahead and schedule the C-Section. Please understand that though disappointed we said "Okay...yes, when...today? Friday?" when....?" My midwife seemed surprised by our acceptance of this and proceeded to tell us that this is where OB's and Midwives differentiate on opinions. She asked us to hold on as she wanted to talk to the OB again (who was not in the office but she had to call). She stepped out of the room for a very long time, I have no idea what she said on that phone call all I can say is she came back in on that TUESDAY morning and said that the doctor wanted to see me on THURSDAY morning. In our heads this meant that even the OB did not deem a high enough risk of uterine rupture to warrant a repeat C-Section that day. The rest of the appointment was pleasant and ended with the midwife walking out saying "Who knows maybe you'll go into labor before then and you won't have to do a C-Section after all.?"
We (my husband and I) did not leave the doctor's office that day with any warnings that if I went into labor to come into the hospital right away, we didn't leave feeling like even the OB really saw a risk in uterine rupture but just that out of formality she recommended a C-Section. We didn't leave thinking "Oh my, if I go into labor they think the baby could die, or that my uterus will rupture." Because trust me, if we felt at all that we were endangering Katherine by staying pregnant for 2more days and possibly going into labor would kill her...we wouldn't have left the doctor's office that day and they wouldn't have let us leave either.
Part 4.......
We returned home, feeling like once again a doctor was strong arming us into an un-necessary c-section (which happens, a lot!) I called my doula and explained to her what had happened. She felt the same way as we did...what was the medical reason for a repeat C-Section? There wasn't one. I can not emphasize that more...there was NO MEDICAL REASON to have a repeat C-Section with Katherine. Gestational weight alone is not reason enough. My doula said my options were that I could wait to see the doctor on Thursday and just have the un-necessary c-section, that I could wait until thursday and hope that I go into labor on my own, or that I could try some natural ways to induce my own labor and hopefully have the baby by Thursday and avoid another un-necessary c-section. I took the night to talk things over with my husband and make a decision.
Now, here comes the part where everyone passes their "hindsight" judgement on me. I chose to try some "natural" ways to induce my own labor. I pass this same "hindsight" judgement upon myself every time i look back on it. I'm not surprised that others pass the same judgement on me too. I guess the biggest difference between the judgement I pass on myself is I know it is one passed in "hindsight", while others do not. It is always easier for us to look back on a situation and see all the "wrong" choices someone has made when the outcome of said choices is a negative one.
This particular day, Wednesday the 30th, I can never undo...I chose to induce my own labor. How does one even do that? Well, there are the old wives tales so to speak of castor oil, pineapples, and sex , but there is also a known herb that when labor is what you want to have and you are pregnant one would think taking it would be a good thing and many midwives offer it to their patients for that very purpose. I will not type the name of that herb I'm sure you could look it up and find it anyways. and you may even find yourself saying "hey I've used that." But after trying the old wives tales and feeling desperate I took a very small dose of said herb...I didn't even take the full dosage recommendation because i wanted to be extra cautious. I took the dose and about 2hrs later my labor started.
The following day I went back to my OB/Midwives office to discuss the results on my ultrasound. The midwife explained to me that Katherine was indeed a big baby and was estimating to be about 10 and 1/2 pounds and while the decision to have a repeat C-Section should not be based solely on gestational weight the OB wanted to go ahead and schedule the C-Section. Please understand that though disappointed we said "Okay...yes, when...today? Friday?" when....?" My midwife seemed surprised by our acceptance of this and proceeded to tell us that this is where OB's and Midwives differentiate on opinions. She asked us to hold on as she wanted to talk to the OB again (who was not in the office but she had to call). She stepped out of the room for a very long time, I have no idea what she said on that phone call all I can say is she came back in on that TUESDAY morning and said that the doctor wanted to see me on THURSDAY morning. In our heads this meant that even the OB did not deem a high enough risk of uterine rupture to warrant a repeat C-Section that day. The rest of the appointment was pleasant and ended with the midwife walking out saying "Who knows maybe you'll go into labor before then and you won't have to do a C-Section after all.?"
We (my husband and I) did not leave the doctor's office that day with any warnings that if I went into labor to come into the hospital right away, we didn't leave feeling like even the OB really saw a risk in uterine rupture but just that out of formality she recommended a C-Section. We didn't leave thinking "Oh my, if I go into labor they think the baby could die, or that my uterus will rupture." Because trust me, if we felt at all that we were endangering Katherine by staying pregnant for 2more days and possibly going into labor would kill her...we wouldn't have left the doctor's office that day and they wouldn't have let us leave either.
Part 4.......
We returned home, feeling like once again a doctor was strong arming us into an un-necessary c-section (which happens, a lot!) I called my doula and explained to her what had happened. She felt the same way as we did...what was the medical reason for a repeat C-Section? There wasn't one. I can not emphasize that more...there was NO MEDICAL REASON to have a repeat C-Section with Katherine. Gestational weight alone is not reason enough. My doula said my options were that I could wait to see the doctor on Thursday and just have the un-necessary c-section, that I could wait until thursday and hope that I go into labor on my own, or that I could try some natural ways to induce my own labor and hopefully have the baby by Thursday and avoid another un-necessary c-section. I took the night to talk things over with my husband and make a decision.
Now, here comes the part where everyone passes their "hindsight" judgement on me. I chose to try some "natural" ways to induce my own labor. I pass this same "hindsight" judgement upon myself every time i look back on it. I'm not surprised that others pass the same judgement on me too. I guess the biggest difference between the judgement I pass on myself is I know it is one passed in "hindsight", while others do not. It is always easier for us to look back on a situation and see all the "wrong" choices someone has made when the outcome of said choices is a negative one.
This particular day, Wednesday the 30th, I can never undo...I chose to induce my own labor. How does one even do that? Well, there are the old wives tales so to speak of castor oil, pineapples, and sex , but there is also a known herb that when labor is what you want to have and you are pregnant one would think taking it would be a good thing and many midwives offer it to their patients for that very purpose. I will not type the name of that herb I'm sure you could look it up and find it anyways. and you may even find yourself saying "hey I've used that." But after trying the old wives tales and feeling desperate I took a very small dose of said herb...I didn't even take the full dosage recommendation because i wanted to be extra cautious. I took the dose and about 2hrs later my labor started.
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