Thu 5/24 continued
At the mall, we ended up getting a new shirt and tie for me, and some jewelry for Alexa. We looked for a suit and tie for the boys, but could not find one that would fit them in any of the stores.
One of the things my nurse said to Eric and I shortly after Harper was born was, “People are going to say a lot of really dumb things.” In the moment I couldn’t wrap my mind around what she meant. I was overcome with grief and my mind was trying to process the fact that I had just given birth to a lifeless baby girl. But as time went by, her words echoed back in my mind and I realized what she was trying to warn us of.
It didn’t take long for us to experience all kinds of, well, let’s just say “interesting” comments. Some were hurtful. Some were confusing. Some were just stupid. And some were cliches that are often used when people just don’t know what to say.
I wanted to talk today about one that I’ve probably heard more than all the others. Chances are, if I’ve told you my story, you have probably mumbled this phrase to me.
To all of you raising two year olds out there- hello. You may or may not know me, but I deeply desire to know what your life is like right now. As you read that, perhaps you exhaled, rolled your eyes, or laughed thinking I couldn’t possibly be serious. You may feel that life with your two year old is nothing glamorous or anything that anyone would care to know about… but you’re wrong.
I think there is a common misconception about the difficulty of living life and the responsibility of being christian or religious. Somehow if you claim to love God, there is a pressure to be able to “hold it all together.” As if leaning on Him can’t look messy.
I want to share with you today that it can.
Trusting God in the midst of your circumstances is a complexly intricate mixture of emotions. It is not pretty. It is not easy. It doesn’t fit neatly in the church pew each Sunday. Faith, based not on the details of this life, but on the divine attributes of God, is grueling.
May 22 after they took Harper and we were alone
We should have wanted the nurses to take our crying daughter away for us to take a 3 hour nap before they brought her back to feed, but instead we were having the nurses take her away for the final time. Forever. We still couldn’t believe it and just sat and held each other in silence for several minutes.
The funeral home called me and said that the nurses had called them and just needed to go over some details with them. I still couldn’t believe that I was doing this, but I went over all the details with them.
Tuesday, May 22…The worst day of my life (or was Monday May 21 the worst day? They were both pretty horrible days) Happy Anniversary?
I got two good almost two hour stretches of sleep during the night. Finally around 5 AM, as I was lying there with my eyes open, Alexa whispered “Are you awake.” I said I was and Alexa decided that we were up for the day. I told her Happy Anniversary and we both just kind of rolled our eyes at each other. We turned the lights on and around 5:45, the nurse checked Alexa and found she was 5 cm dilated. I texted the photographer and told her to come.
He showed us the heart on the ultrasound and said
“Here are the four chambers of the heart and you can see nothing here.”
We just looked at each other and cried more. The doctor held Alexa’s hand and rubbed my back. We asked if there was anything they could do. He said that when we were ready we would just induce and deliver the baby. In my brain, I thought…Get her out of there and try to resuscitate her. Alexa wanted them to do that. She asked if they could just cut her out. The doctor discouraged that because we would have to spend more time in the hospital and Alexa would have a scar. Couldn’t they do something??? They said they would give us a moment together and left the room. I was in denial. I just knew that when we delivered she would be ok. She would have a heartbeat. They just needed to deliver now. I wanted them to put the baby’s heart monitor on too. I wanted Alexa to feel a kick. God does miracles. It can happen.
The day started like any other day. I had changed up my morning chore schedule because we knew that after Harper came, we would not clean for a while. I woke up at the normal time, read my Bible, cleaned the shower and tubs, dusted, and emptied all the trashes. You know the important things in life… I packed my lunch and headed out the door. It was a normal day.
Now, it was just Eric and I. We were alone in our hospital room without our baby girl. As we tried to comfort each other, the sounds of newborn baby cries and laughter seeped through the walls and found their way to us. We turned on the TV to try and distract ourselves, and ordered dinner from the cafeteria. I’m not sure how we were functioning, but we were on a sort of “auto-pilot” mode.
Eric really wanted to spend one more night in the hospital to give my body more time to heal before going home, but for me the last thing I wanted to do was stay in that room. It would have been different if I was caring for Harper...nursing her, burping her, changing her diaper, and swaddling her. It would have made sense to stay if the doctors were running all of her newborn screenings on her and I was giving her skin-to-skin snuggles. It would have been so different if we would have had our Harper girl.
But she was gone. She was laying in a box at a funeral home, waiting to be buried.
I had to get out of that hospital room.
We sat Hudson up on the hospital bed and took a deep breath. His little four year old head was spinning from side to side as he looked for his sister in the room. “Where’s Harper?” he asked. With hearts heavy, we told him that Harper had gotten “sick” in mama’s tummy, that she was in heaven with Jesus, and that she would not be coming home with us. If it was possible for my heart to break even more that day, it did in that moment. Hudson’s eyes filled with tears and his bottom lip pouted outwards. “No Mama! Why? Nooo! She’s supposed to come home with us.”
Tuesday, May 22, 2018:
Around 6 am, my nurse came back in to check me. I was 5 cm dilated. My water had still not broken, but we knew once it did things would move quickly. I really had no clue what I wanted at this point. I wished more than anything that I would progress quickly in order to get this awful event behind me; but I also was dreading the moment when they placed my dead Harper Jane on my chest. How would I be able to endure something so horrific?