Girl. :) 100% positively now.
Today was our level 2 sono to look for certain defects, etc. For those of you who know, my history with Kalann having "anencephaly" coupled with my age (yes, apparently I'm OLD! lol) and some other factors have put me in a "high-risk" category with this baby. I met with the Genetic Counselor first to go through all the risk factors given these statistics, family history, etc. She stated that she really wasn't worried too much about me or this pregnancy. Then we went into the sono. I met with one of the residents first who I liked very well. He was very thorough and explained as he went along, which I appreciate. Funny how the ones they consider the "specialists" hardly tell you anything when they're the ones you really are looking for the answers from. But I digress...
The "specialist" then came in and basically did the very same things the first Dr. had done. She measured a bunch of areas and was pretty intense on trying to see her feet straighten out. But J-bug would have none of that! lol She has now had her legs crossed at the ankles in EVERY sono we've had done. (I told Bri she's going to be a ballerina :)
At any rate, they were able to see everything else they needed to, except the heart as well as they would've hoped to. They said it is still a bit small at this stage to see it as well as they need to, but I will go back in a few weeks when they can see it better. They're looking for defects in the chambers because it is a sign of downs syndrome. Now comes the bad part of the appt...
The Dr. then, very matter-of-factly, tells me- "you tested positive for downs syndrome". I don't think I even reacted because she was so nonchalant about it, I think I was just shocked. Remember all the 2 tons of blood they took from me a couple weeks back? Yeah, from that apparently they got those results back. So guess what? Yep, back to the Genetic Counselor to discuss the "options" and "percentages". Thank God Faith was with me and had seen all the stuff prior so she kinda got a grasp on what this could mean. She had been very focused on eating the whole time and couldn't wait to get out of there so she could eat. Suddenly, she changed and was very concerned with me and how I was feeling. I honestly didn't know what to feel at that moment. But I was glad for the G/C as she explained it all in full detail and I felt a LOT better after leaving with her. She showed me all the percentages of everything they tested for and how they all were almost at 1%, which is good, so she wasn't concerned about those at all. She also showed me how I was at 80% risk and when all this figured into it, I jumped to 240%. That meant that every 1 in 240 pregnancies with exactly the same stats as me (same age, same kind of history, same genetics, etc.) will have a baby with downs syndrome. When she showed me the line was at 270% and that had I been below that, there wouldn't have been a "positive" reading, I was no longer concerned. If you're talking about on a scale from 1-270 and mine is 240, those are pretty good odds. ;)
My "options" were to have an amniocentesis to determine, positively, a yes or no. I declined. First, there is a 1 in 3 chance of miscarrying by having that test done. I don't like those odds- at all. Second, it wouldn't change anything for me. It's not like I would choose to do anything other than what I've always done and that is to carry the baby to term. So what is the point? I couldn't see it. The G/C felt I made the right choice and reiterated that she was totally not concerned, that the Dr's are just VERY conservative these days and were just being extra cautious. I can appreciate that.
Thankfully, when I told the Dr. I was supposed to be coming back in 2 days for an inner sono to determine the competence of my cervix, she went ahead and did it. Yay! Saved me another trip to the hospital- woo hoo! :) Cervix looked to be fine, she said. Plenty long and strong enough to hold throughout the pregnancy. The only concerned mentioned- once again- was the placenta being so low. But she said the same thing as the Dr. that first discovered it, in that it should have plenty of time to move up and out of a way.
SO... that's it for this time. It is now *official*... "J-bug" is a little "Jayleigh Sheree". Happiness! :) I have 2 girls happy about that, anyway. lol Faith is used to being the "Princess" and really doesn't appreciate the thought of having to share that title. ;)
Thanks for all your love & support!
be blessed...
Melanie & J-bug
About Me
- whodaresbetrue
- Hi! I'm a 42 year old Christian, wife, mother and friend to some pretty amazing people, if I do say so myself. ;) I'm a Writer, thus the reason I am here. Writing is my passion, closely followed by my love for music and Scrapbooking. What makes me tick, so to speak, is my love for people and I thrive in an environment when I'm able to exhibit that. If I write a blog that touches just one person's heart or allows them to identify with someone or makes them smile- that is what I'm in it for. That makes me happy. My God is the MOST important thing in my life- period. My husband and my children come next to that and all the other aspects of my life fall in line with that. :)
Showing posts with label anencephaly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anencephaly. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Happy 7th Birthday, Kalann Joy! :)
For those of you who don't know, here is the story of our precious *baby butterfly*...
At the time of writing this (5/20/02), our family is in a very deep valley of emotion, grief, and- at the same time- hope. Five days ago at a routine sonogram, our baby- Kalann Joy was diagnosed (by my OB/GYN) as having "anencephaly". I looked at her with a blank look because I had never heard of this- to me it was just another medical term that I didn't understand. Unfortunately, in the days to come, I would learn all too well what it was. "Anencephaly" is a condition that basically means that when the baby is developing, at about 3-4 weeks after conception, the neural tube does not close as it should, therefore, the baby's brain does not fully develop.
There are a million ways to describe what I felt that day- disbelief, shock, grief, devastation, denial, hope.. and many more. We went to church that night because there was nowhere else I'd rather be than in the Lord's house. The baby and I got prayed over and anointed with oil and I prayed that at the sono the next day with the specialist, he would see that it wasn't true. Unfortunately, he saw the same thing, as did 3 others that viewed it. The worst was that we could see it, too. Now I wasn't just dealing with trusting what 1 Dr had diagnosed or 10 Dr's.. Jimmie and I could see that black, dark blankness above our baby's precious eyes where her little brain should be. It hit me like the world had just ended. I was devastated and began crying uncontrollably.
The day before, I had been so weakened by my emotions and Jimmie had been so strong for me- this day would be no different. I remember moments of feeling bad for him because I couldn't find it within me to be strong for him- if but for just a moment. The only time I saw him breakdown was when we told our 6-year old, Brianne, after the second sono. I had taken both of our girls out of school the day before to go see their little brother or sister on the screen. Instead of seeing the baby, they were sent out of the room and instead of being told what we were having, we were given a death sentence. It took everything within me to keep it from them 'til the next day when it was *confirmed*. Later that day we picked Brianne up from school a few minutes early to take her home and tell her. While we were at the school, we told the Principal so that they could be on the lookout for any changed behaviour at school. She said she would get the counselor to being grief counseling immediately if they noticed anything. At any rate, we brought Bri home and showed her the video of the baby's sono and then told her that the Dr's had said that the baby didn't have a brain and, therefore, she would die. Bri looked blank at first, but then it was like reality dawned and she- just like us- started trying to understand. She asked why Jesus couldn't just make her have a brain. I remember that question being the one that hit me the hardest because it was the same one that I had. How do you answer that? I told her all I knew to tell her.. I didn't know why. But even if she didn't have one on this earth, Jesus would give her one eventually and she would be perfect in heaven. Not that I believe that you need a brain in heaven, but it was what she could understand. On this earth, her baby sister could not live without a brain, but in heaven she would be able to live. I honestly don't remember all the other questions or comments that she made.. I just remember the look on her face, one that I will never forget. In her short little 6 years of life, I had never had to see that look. She was just as heartbroken as we were and it was so painful because we couldn't save her from that pain. Her Daddy absolutely fell apart at this point. To see his baby girl so torn up was too much for him to bear. We didn't even think to give her hope for a miracle or to have her pray at this point, we were just dealing with what we were told was *inevitable*. Some would question if we should've told her at all or if we should've- later- asked her to pray for a miracle. All I can say to those people is that I have always tried to be honest and upfront with my children and this wasn't the time to change that. My children understand and know that my faith and belief in God far surpasses anything that we experience on this earth and had I done any less than to have them hope and pray for a miracle, but to prepare for the worst.. I wouldn't have been true to myself or to them. They count on that from me.
Later that evening, after Faith returned from a choir competition, we told her. We also showed her the video first, we did this because we wanted the baby to be real to them- not just something in my tummy that they couldn't identify with. She cried alot, but she didn't ask questions much.. just said- over and over- how unfair it was. I had to agree. But how can we say it's not fair for us to experience this or feel the pain of losing a child when so many others have had to deal with this very same thing? What makes us so special that we should be excluded from such pain? If there's anything that I've learned in this life it's that it is NOT fair! There is no such thing as fairness. Why do some children grow up in normal, wonderful homes with great parents and other children are abused? Is that fair? What I've discovered- more than ever- is that it does no good to question why. We can ask why and I think God understands our need to question why, after all He created us.. but it doesn't mean we'll ever know why. And does it really matter to know why anyway? It won't change what is. Does the why of it really help diminish our pain? I don't think it would. *Faith* is believing when you have no reason to believe. I preach faith to my children and others, I even named my child Faith, but if I don't believe what I say I believe then my words are nothing more than lies. So I believe, I hope, I have faith. I pray for a miracle. I wake up in the middle of the night- numerous times- trying to believe that it's all a horrific dream and then it becomes real to me and I pray some more. I believe that Kalann's spirit communicates with me. She hadn't been very active at all until 2 days before the sono appt and she's been very active ever since. Coincidence? I don't think so. I felt that she was telling me something. Before I could even comprehend what the Dr was trying to get me to do by "inducing", I came home and collapsed on the bed in a heap of tears and she started moving and kicking within me. I felt like she was trying to plead with me not to *get rid of* her. Anyone who knows me knows that this would never be an option for me anyway. God put her within me and I'm her life-line right now. If God wants her, He will have to literally remove the breath from her because I refuse to. So we're in this for the long haul and, in the meantime, we'll pray furiously for a miracle. Noone can take that from me. And when it's all said and done, if God chooses not to heal her and she goes home to be with Him.. I will know that I've done all I could do.. and that's all I can do. We have alot of wonderful, loving supportive people around us.. family, friends, church family- they've all been so incredible. If you are any of them, thank you.. from the bottom of our hearts. It DOES ease some of the pain to know you are supporting us and praying for us. God, give us all strength....
"You Have Touched So Many Hearts"
~ Kalann Joy ~
~ Kalann Joy ~
At the time of writing this (5/20/02), our family is in a very deep valley of emotion, grief, and- at the same time- hope. Five days ago at a routine sonogram, our baby- Kalann Joy was diagnosed (by my OB/GYN) as having "anencephaly". I looked at her with a blank look because I had never heard of this- to me it was just another medical term that I didn't understand. Unfortunately, in the days to come, I would learn all too well what it was. "Anencephaly" is a condition that basically means that when the baby is developing, at about 3-4 weeks after conception, the neural tube does not close as it should, therefore, the baby's brain does not fully develop.
There are a million ways to describe what I felt that day- disbelief, shock, grief, devastation, denial, hope.. and many more. We went to church that night because there was nowhere else I'd rather be than in the Lord's house. The baby and I got prayed over and anointed with oil and I prayed that at the sono the next day with the specialist, he would see that it wasn't true. Unfortunately, he saw the same thing, as did 3 others that viewed it. The worst was that we could see it, too. Now I wasn't just dealing with trusting what 1 Dr had diagnosed or 10 Dr's.. Jimmie and I could see that black, dark blankness above our baby's precious eyes where her little brain should be. It hit me like the world had just ended. I was devastated and began crying uncontrollably.
The day before, I had been so weakened by my emotions and Jimmie had been so strong for me- this day would be no different. I remember moments of feeling bad for him because I couldn't find it within me to be strong for him- if but for just a moment. The only time I saw him breakdown was when we told our 6-year old, Brianne, after the second sono. I had taken both of our girls out of school the day before to go see their little brother or sister on the screen. Instead of seeing the baby, they were sent out of the room and instead of being told what we were having, we were given a death sentence. It took everything within me to keep it from them 'til the next day when it was *confirmed*. Later that day we picked Brianne up from school a few minutes early to take her home and tell her. While we were at the school, we told the Principal so that they could be on the lookout for any changed behaviour at school. She said she would get the counselor to being grief counseling immediately if they noticed anything. At any rate, we brought Bri home and showed her the video of the baby's sono and then told her that the Dr's had said that the baby didn't have a brain and, therefore, she would die. Bri looked blank at first, but then it was like reality dawned and she- just like us- started trying to understand. She asked why Jesus couldn't just make her have a brain. I remember that question being the one that hit me the hardest because it was the same one that I had. How do you answer that? I told her all I knew to tell her.. I didn't know why. But even if she didn't have one on this earth, Jesus would give her one eventually and she would be perfect in heaven. Not that I believe that you need a brain in heaven, but it was what she could understand. On this earth, her baby sister could not live without a brain, but in heaven she would be able to live. I honestly don't remember all the other questions or comments that she made.. I just remember the look on her face, one that I will never forget. In her short little 6 years of life, I had never had to see that look. She was just as heartbroken as we were and it was so painful because we couldn't save her from that pain. Her Daddy absolutely fell apart at this point. To see his baby girl so torn up was too much for him to bear. We didn't even think to give her hope for a miracle or to have her pray at this point, we were just dealing with what we were told was *inevitable*. Some would question if we should've told her at all or if we should've- later- asked her to pray for a miracle. All I can say to those people is that I have always tried to be honest and upfront with my children and this wasn't the time to change that. My children understand and know that my faith and belief in God far surpasses anything that we experience on this earth and had I done any less than to have them hope and pray for a miracle, but to prepare for the worst.. I wouldn't have been true to myself or to them. They count on that from me.
Later that evening, after Faith returned from a choir competition, we told her. We also showed her the video first, we did this because we wanted the baby to be real to them- not just something in my tummy that they couldn't identify with. She cried alot, but she didn't ask questions much.. just said- over and over- how unfair it was. I had to agree. But how can we say it's not fair for us to experience this or feel the pain of losing a child when so many others have had to deal with this very same thing? What makes us so special that we should be excluded from such pain? If there's anything that I've learned in this life it's that it is NOT fair! There is no such thing as fairness. Why do some children grow up in normal, wonderful homes with great parents and other children are abused? Is that fair? What I've discovered- more than ever- is that it does no good to question why. We can ask why and I think God understands our need to question why, after all He created us.. but it doesn't mean we'll ever know why. And does it really matter to know why anyway? It won't change what is. Does the why of it really help diminish our pain? I don't think it would. *Faith* is believing when you have no reason to believe. I preach faith to my children and others, I even named my child Faith, but if I don't believe what I say I believe then my words are nothing more than lies. So I believe, I hope, I have faith. I pray for a miracle. I wake up in the middle of the night- numerous times- trying to believe that it's all a horrific dream and then it becomes real to me and I pray some more. I believe that Kalann's spirit communicates with me. She hadn't been very active at all until 2 days before the sono appt and she's been very active ever since. Coincidence? I don't think so. I felt that she was telling me something. Before I could even comprehend what the Dr was trying to get me to do by "inducing", I came home and collapsed on the bed in a heap of tears and she started moving and kicking within me. I felt like she was trying to plead with me not to *get rid of* her. Anyone who knows me knows that this would never be an option for me anyway. God put her within me and I'm her life-line right now. If God wants her, He will have to literally remove the breath from her because I refuse to. So we're in this for the long haul and, in the meantime, we'll pray furiously for a miracle. Noone can take that from me. And when it's all said and done, if God chooses not to heal her and she goes home to be with Him.. I will know that I've done all I could do.. and that's all I can do. We have alot of wonderful, loving supportive people around us.. family, friends, church family- they've all been so incredible. If you are any of them, thank you.. from the bottom of our hearts. It DOES ease some of the pain to know you are supporting us and praying for us. God, give us all strength....
Saturday, July 18, 2009
No Rest For The Weary...
I awoke at 5am with two thoughts on my mind... 1) I'm STARVING and 2) I can't sleep. What caused me to be unable to sleep is wherein lies the story. Too many things on my mind, I guess- mostly thoughts of Tuesday (the sonogram appt) and what it holds, what it will mean. I have really tried not to worry about that and have really done well with that (for me)... until now. So by 6am, I was out of bed, with a bowl of cereal in hand and my laptop on my lap. I have been sleeping really well lately (again- for me) so this is unusual. For a person who typically sleeps a 4-6 hour night, 10 hours a night is like a dream come true! That has been the BEST part of this pregnancy! But this morning I guess my mind overtook my body and so, alas, here I am...
I suppose to understand the source of my worry, you'd have to know where I've been. The last sonogram I had was 7 years ago when I was pregnant with my precious "baby butterfly"- Kalann Joy. That day was supposed to be a joyous one for us. We had even removed our girls from school early to go with us to see if we (my ex-husband and I) were having a boy or a girl. We were all SO excited! Even though it was so long ago and so much has transpired since then, I can still remember that day so vividly. The look on the sonographer's face and just knowing. When she asked the girls to wait out in the hall while she went to get the Dr., I knew- something was horribly wrong. I had never had a problem in a pregnancy before- at least not anything of this magnitude so I didn't know WHAT it was, I just knew that it was really bad. And when the Dr. came in and confirmed what the sonographer had seen, my world collapsed. I remember the words "pregnancy is not 'viable'" and I remember thinking what the he** does that mean?? I'm sorry for the expletive, but in that moment- that's what I thought. I remember looking at her with fear in my eyes and my heart breaking as I heard her say words I had no clue of the meaning to- just knowing they were devastating to my world. I had known this Dr. for many years at this point, she had been with me through one pregnancy and my pre-cancerous "scare"- I knew her not to be a person who would overdramatize a situation. But there was no mistaking the look on her face or her next words... "your baby will not live, I'm sorry". I remember those words turning over and over again in my mind as they hit upon nothingness and I failed to absorb them. I remember saying "I don't understand" and I remember thinking "this can't be happening, I have never had a problem with a baby before". I must've spoken these words because I remember her explaining that it was a "fluke" thing and that "these things just sometimes happen". From there, I believe I went into shock because the next thing I remember is sitting at a restaurant with J and the girls and trying to pretend like everything was okay for the girls because we didn't want to tell them until we had another sono the next day. The Dr. recommended it as a confirmation because it was a highly diagnostic, special imaging, blah blah blah. They could see more, basically. But when we went for the "high tech" version of the sonogram, there was no mistaking that blank darkness above our precious baby's eyes where her brain should've been. Even to the untrained eye, that was evident. I remember them "giving us time" as we tried to process what was the inevitable loss of our baby- that was, in every other way, "perfect". I remember thinking- how can this be? How can I see this baby's heartbeat on the screen, see her moving like a normal baby, have all her limbs, her toes, her fingers- everything, and yet know she is going to die? It didn't make sense to me.
Then there was the barrage of "there are things we can do"... "options". "Options"? Options for what? Options that will make my baby live? No... there were none of those. This was a death sentence, no way out. There was nothing- short of a God-appointed miracle- that was going to make my baby live. So what were these "options"? I really was in too much shock to even absorb what they were suggesting. Of course, they put it in all kinds of medical terminology so that it wasn't the ugly truth, but I finally got what it was they were suggesting- abortion. They wanted me to abort my precious butterfly. I remember getting home and collapsing on the bed and dissolving into tears. I remember phone call after phone call from relatives and friends that had obviously been informed by J as to what was happening. I took none of them. I could not speak, I could not think, I could not function. I could only cry. And I remember laying there in my despair and thinking of everything we'd just been through and the Dr's words and "options" and I will never forget what happened next... she moved for the first time. Or, rather, I FELT her move for the first time. Two little kicks, that was all. But it was right as my mind passed over the word "options". And I remember the horror setting in as I fully absorbed what that meant and asking God to forgive me that I had not immediately refuted it. There was no way I would ever. When my Dr. brought it up again, I asked her- "what is making this baby live? If she cannot live outside of me without a brain, what is making her live now?" She said- basically- it was me. I said to her "so I am this baby's lifeline right now? Without me, she ceases to live?" She confirmed that was true. So I told her- "then there is no way that I will cease to be that. God is going to have to take the very breath from her and make her heart stop beating because I will not. That's not my job, it's His". And that was that.
I settled in for the long, hard next 3 months that would- in ways- feel like an eternity, and yet- go by in a whisper, in the blink of an eye. When it was all said and done, I would pray for just one more day of it, just one more day to have her back with me- safe inside my tummy where I knew she would continue to live. Even though it was a miserable pregnancy as I gained enormous amounts of water weight (a condition of anencephaly) and, by the end of it, my Dr. said I had enough water to be carrying triplets- I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. What Kalann did to my life, I could never measure nor fully explain. I prayed- and believed- for a miracle every single day and would not listen to any naysayers. I rebuked them. I found joy in every movement, every moment, every heartbeat. My faith was stronger than ever and she touched lives. I was in awe of it. For a baby that never even touched this earth, to see how she affected people and renewed their faith because of OUR journey- it was remarkable. Sometimes now, I wonder how my faith could've been so strong in such extreme times then and can falter so much over lesser things now. The only explanation that I had for it was- it's God. God gives us the measure of grace we need to handle each situation. In extreme ones- like this- it was an extreme measure of grace. I needed it- I would've died without it. And that's not to say there were times when I didn't wish that I could. Sometimes the pain became so real and so unbearable that I just wanted to go away, to not have to feel it anymore. The thought of being separated from my precious baby in the end was just too much for me. And then I would think of my other girls... still little at the time- just 5 & 10- and I would know that I had to go on for them. So I would somehow find the strength to make it through that day, and then the next, and the next, and so on. It was a long journey- a heartbreaking one, but one I would never have done without. It forever changed me. And- sometimes- I know the Lord knows I need just that moment back so he sends me a butterfly that crosses my path and makes me smile- just knowing...
I suppose to understand the source of my worry, you'd have to know where I've been. The last sonogram I had was 7 years ago when I was pregnant with my precious "baby butterfly"- Kalann Joy. That day was supposed to be a joyous one for us. We had even removed our girls from school early to go with us to see if we (my ex-husband and I) were having a boy or a girl. We were all SO excited! Even though it was so long ago and so much has transpired since then, I can still remember that day so vividly. The look on the sonographer's face and just knowing. When she asked the girls to wait out in the hall while she went to get the Dr., I knew- something was horribly wrong. I had never had a problem in a pregnancy before- at least not anything of this magnitude so I didn't know WHAT it was, I just knew that it was really bad. And when the Dr. came in and confirmed what the sonographer had seen, my world collapsed. I remember the words "pregnancy is not 'viable'" and I remember thinking what the he** does that mean?? I'm sorry for the expletive, but in that moment- that's what I thought. I remember looking at her with fear in my eyes and my heart breaking as I heard her say words I had no clue of the meaning to- just knowing they were devastating to my world. I had known this Dr. for many years at this point, she had been with me through one pregnancy and my pre-cancerous "scare"- I knew her not to be a person who would overdramatize a situation. But there was no mistaking the look on her face or her next words... "your baby will not live, I'm sorry". I remember those words turning over and over again in my mind as they hit upon nothingness and I failed to absorb them. I remember saying "I don't understand" and I remember thinking "this can't be happening, I have never had a problem with a baby before". I must've spoken these words because I remember her explaining that it was a "fluke" thing and that "these things just sometimes happen". From there, I believe I went into shock because the next thing I remember is sitting at a restaurant with J and the girls and trying to pretend like everything was okay for the girls because we didn't want to tell them until we had another sono the next day. The Dr. recommended it as a confirmation because it was a highly diagnostic, special imaging, blah blah blah. They could see more, basically. But when we went for the "high tech" version of the sonogram, there was no mistaking that blank darkness above our precious baby's eyes where her brain should've been. Even to the untrained eye, that was evident. I remember them "giving us time" as we tried to process what was the inevitable loss of our baby- that was, in every other way, "perfect". I remember thinking- how can this be? How can I see this baby's heartbeat on the screen, see her moving like a normal baby, have all her limbs, her toes, her fingers- everything, and yet know she is going to die? It didn't make sense to me.
Then there was the barrage of "there are things we can do"... "options". "Options"? Options for what? Options that will make my baby live? No... there were none of those. This was a death sentence, no way out. There was nothing- short of a God-appointed miracle- that was going to make my baby live. So what were these "options"? I really was in too much shock to even absorb what they were suggesting. Of course, they put it in all kinds of medical terminology so that it wasn't the ugly truth, but I finally got what it was they were suggesting- abortion. They wanted me to abort my precious butterfly. I remember getting home and collapsing on the bed and dissolving into tears. I remember phone call after phone call from relatives and friends that had obviously been informed by J as to what was happening. I took none of them. I could not speak, I could not think, I could not function. I could only cry. And I remember laying there in my despair and thinking of everything we'd just been through and the Dr's words and "options" and I will never forget what happened next... she moved for the first time. Or, rather, I FELT her move for the first time. Two little kicks, that was all. But it was right as my mind passed over the word "options". And I remember the horror setting in as I fully absorbed what that meant and asking God to forgive me that I had not immediately refuted it. There was no way I would ever. When my Dr. brought it up again, I asked her- "what is making this baby live? If she cannot live outside of me without a brain, what is making her live now?" She said- basically- it was me. I said to her "so I am this baby's lifeline right now? Without me, she ceases to live?" She confirmed that was true. So I told her- "then there is no way that I will cease to be that. God is going to have to take the very breath from her and make her heart stop beating because I will not. That's not my job, it's His". And that was that.
I settled in for the long, hard next 3 months that would- in ways- feel like an eternity, and yet- go by in a whisper, in the blink of an eye. When it was all said and done, I would pray for just one more day of it, just one more day to have her back with me- safe inside my tummy where I knew she would continue to live. Even though it was a miserable pregnancy as I gained enormous amounts of water weight (a condition of anencephaly) and, by the end of it, my Dr. said I had enough water to be carrying triplets- I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. What Kalann did to my life, I could never measure nor fully explain. I prayed- and believed- for a miracle every single day and would not listen to any naysayers. I rebuked them. I found joy in every movement, every moment, every heartbeat. My faith was stronger than ever and she touched lives. I was in awe of it. For a baby that never even touched this earth, to see how she affected people and renewed their faith because of OUR journey- it was remarkable. Sometimes now, I wonder how my faith could've been so strong in such extreme times then and can falter so much over lesser things now. The only explanation that I had for it was- it's God. God gives us the measure of grace we need to handle each situation. In extreme ones- like this- it was an extreme measure of grace. I needed it- I would've died without it. And that's not to say there were times when I didn't wish that I could. Sometimes the pain became so real and so unbearable that I just wanted to go away, to not have to feel it anymore. The thought of being separated from my precious baby in the end was just too much for me. And then I would think of my other girls... still little at the time- just 5 & 10- and I would know that I had to go on for them. So I would somehow find the strength to make it through that day, and then the next, and the next, and so on. It was a long journey- a heartbreaking one, but one I would never have done without. It forever changed me. And- sometimes- I know the Lord knows I need just that moment back so he sends me a butterfly that crosses my path and makes me smile- just knowing...
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