Hanging in there

So tonight is the first time in almost 3 months that I have been left alone with my son. My husband and sister wanted to go catfishing and they were going to wait until Nathan fell asleep but the little boy just wouldn't give it up so I finally just told them to go. I kind of have felt like the fun crusher the past few months and I figure we'll take baby steps back to recovery and to me being able to take care of my son again.

Fortunately he fell asleep before they pulled out of the driveway, I just get so nervous that something will happen and I won't be able to help him. The last time my husband left, Nathan got stuck behind the couch while trying to retrieve a toy. My sister was home fortunately and I woke her up to fish him out. I just hope he doesn't pull any shenanigans tonight and that he really is asleep!

Post-partum recovery is about as good as it probably can be. My last steri strip fell off tonight (actually I helped it fall off because I was tired of looking at the one random strip in the middle of my belly). My scar doesn't look too bad actually. I am surprised. It's huge. Way bigger than anybody else's I have seen. It must be 7 inches long, but I have heard that they shrink down as they heal. It grosses me out that I can feel the stitches they put in my muscle through my skin. And if I pull my skin tight I can see a huge lump where the stitches knots are. But that should get better as they dissolve if I understand correctly. My pain has been pretty good too. I have been off my pain pills completely for several days now which I am glad for. I am finally down to just one pill a day (my prenatal) as opposed to the 30 pills a day (no joke) they had me taking when I left the hospital. I must have spent an hour a day trying to choke down pills. Although I was usually able to avoid a few of those pills by skipping pain pills when I could.

Today was a pretty good day. I was able to get a lot done around the house with minimal pain and took a little trip to Walmart with David. I know it's lame but it is nice to get out and have a little alone time with him once and awhile. My sister spends more time with him alone lately and I am getting antsy for some hubby time!

I got the pictures and some video footage from Noah's funeral today. It took me awhile to get the strength to pop in the disc. I had already seen most of the photos thanks to Facebook but there were a few in there that I hadn't seen. It was hard to look at them again, but also encouraging to know how far I have come in just 2 short weeks. I have to thank my husband for his constant encouragement through this. He is confident of Noah's purpose on this earth. And he reminds me daily that our little boy's life was not a waste,and also reminds me of my strength when I'm just not feeling it. It's so wonderful to have such a supportive husband who can build me up so much.

I really am looking forward to getting the pictures from the photographer, I pray that she captured at least one image that I can have enlarged and hang on my wall that will actually look nice, and not be a sad picture to look at, or make guests feel uncomfortable. I still have about 2-4 weeks to wait though.

Well, I should sign off. Need to hop in the shower and head to bed. Apparently the apartment manager is coming tomorrow between 8 and 5 (don't you just love how specific they are?) and that means I need to be up and have all of the under-sink ares cleaned out by 8 because they need to check for a water leak. Lucky me!!

Bring my sons from afar and my daughters from the ends of the earth—everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made (Isaiah 43:6-7).

New ink coming soon

So, I do know these aren't the exact words to the song, but I took a little creative liberty with this masterpiece song, moved a few lines around, and came up with a verse that really sums it up for me. I am having it tattooed on me along with Noah's footprints:

For me, be it Christ,be it Christ hence to live;
The sky, not the grave is our goal
No pang shall be mine,for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper thy peace to my soul

A rant

I really feel like nobody understands me. And not in some emo, teenage girl way, but I just don’t think anybody really “gets” what is going on for me right now.

I know this is a big world, and that in actuality there are plenty of people that actually know how I feel. But in my community, there is nobody that understands. I am aware of the forums and online support groups but I don’t really want to be part of some cyberspace dead babies club. That is one thing I wish to be excluded from. Somehow talking to strangers that type in all caps and misspell so many words you have no idea what they are even saying isn’t going to make me feel any better…

I feel like way more is being expected of me than should ever be expected of anybody. Before a lot of mothers who had a C-section even try and take baby steps to the bathroom, I had already been up and out the door and buried my child. Everybody told me they couldn’t believe how well I was doing, well I wasn’t doing well. But I didn’t have the luxury of relaxation. I had a funeral to plan, and clothes to buy, a 2 year old to take care of. I needed to pick out a casket and apply for a death certificate. I had a house full of family members from out of state. I had to meet with the pastor, pick out Bible verses, make a slideshow of my son’s short life to play at his funeral. It wasn’t that I didn’t hurt…but I had to “walk it off” because I had no choice.

I feel like I am being very rushed to get over this. Like people think I need to just move on and they forget that it hasn’t even been 2 weeks since my son died. I think people forget about my part in this whole equation. Because Noah isn’t here I feel like people forget that I just had a baby. I think if Noah was here with me, I could have come home from the hospital and laid in bed for 2 weeks straight and nobody would have said a thing. But I pushed myself as far as I could and I didn’t let this slow me down, I ultimately shot myself in the foot.

Then there are the people who think they know exactly what I am feeling. These are usually the people that have no children. Or the ones that have kids that they do nothing but complain about because they are hard work. Or the ones that miscarried at 6 weeks. Now, I am not trying to downplay people who have miscarriages. But I had one myself, and I can tell you that these are two completely different cups of tea. I carried this child for 6 months. 6 torturously stressful months in which I fought tooth and nail for this child. I felt his kicks and turns and hiccups, I knew I had a second son. I prayed for this child. I had hopes and dreams. I prepared my toddler for the arrival of his baby brother. Then I had to explain death to that same little 2 year old when he didn’t understand why his baby brother wouldn’t stop sleeping. I gave birth to that child all alone while my husband was hours away, and then I held onto that little boy when he died 2 hours later in my arms because my body had failed him. How many of my friends really do know what I am feeling?

I am guessing the answer is very, very few. Very few of them know this aching feeling I have in the core of my being. Very few of them know what it’s like to put their little boy in the ground and walk away. What it’s like to have a 6 inch scar across their stomach that will be a permanent reminder of the worst night of their life. They think their life is tragic when their baby daddy gets stuck working the weekend shift. If you really knew how I felt, you wouldn’t tell me you know how I felt because you would know better. You wouldn’t tell me that my baby is an angel, or that every time it rained I could hear his footsteps in the storm. Or to look at a butterfly and imagine it’s him.

Yah….thanks but no thanks. I find no comfort in a bug, my son reincarnated.

I feel like I am in a weird spot anyways. Noah didn’t live long enough for people to know him and validate him as worthy of my grief. I didn’t bring him home from the hospital and so people forget that I had a baby and expect me to just get on with life. I can’t do that. Noah was a real person, he was my child. I have two children. I gave birth to him and fought harder than most people will ever have to fight for their kids. The only difference is that at the end of it all, my son didn’t get to come home with me.

Also, am I the only person in the world that’s not pregnant right now? I’ll just go ahead and say I am jealous. I wanted this baby so bad. I know the frustration of infertility and I would have done anything for this child. Meanwhile I have about 50 friends having “oops” babies. I have several friends that got pregnant on their first try that are having perfect pregnancies and perfect babies. Why was it so much to ask that my baby live? I really believe that I long for my children in a different way than most. I don’t take them for granted, I don’t look at them as an inconvenience or a burden. I don’t see motherhood as a “thankless job”. I saw my sons as the biggest blessing I could ever receive. I would have died on that operating table for my baby to have his life. I put my life on the line to even stay pregnant with him. I knew the risks of it killing me were relatively high. I knew that I could have bled to death before an ambulance could make it to my house, I knew my risk of infection was basically guaranteed. But that wasn’t even a blip on my radar. I wanted my son that bad.

I don’t understand why this happened to me. Why didn’t this happen to a teenage girl that left her baby to die in the trash on prom night. Or to a drug addicted, crack head that neglected her child. Or to the parents of a child that would molest their babies or beat them to death mercilessly. Why did this happen to me? I am a good mom. I feel like my son’s life was wasted. I know God has a plan, but for today I am very discouraged.

I have tried so hard to stay positive but today I just needed a rant. I still need your prayer through this. Please pray that I can learn to delight in other’s children, because currently I am having a hard time not feeling resentment towards all the other parents around me. I also pray that the Lord can open my eyes to Noah’s purpose on this earth, I need to know why my baby was taken away from me. I also need some peace of heart and restoration of my body. I want to enjoy the rest of my family which is hard right now. I am hurting too much. Both emotionally and physically.

My next blog won’t be such a rant, I promise. But for today thanks for listening to me!

The night Noah was born

Today is my 6 year anniversary. It also marks a week since I handed my son over to the nurse to be taken away forever. This has been the hardest week of my life and I am amazed by how life can literally change in the blink of an eye.

Last Saturday, August 6^th, I spent the day on the couch like normal. David was at drill 5 hours away and I was online reading about baitcasters so that I could order him the perfect one for our anniversary. I ordered a card from Hallmark and was amazed by how much I could accomplish on bedrest. It was about 9 pm when I stood up to go to the bathroom. I felt a big gush as soon as I started to walk, but thought nothing of it since I typically gushed amniotic fluid every time I stood up. When I got to the bathroom and realized it was blood I was a little disappointed but was so used to bleeding that it didn’t seem like a big deal.

When I realized it wasn’t stopping I started to get a little nervous. I texted my mother-in-law and my husband a little precautionary heads up, but figured it wouldn’t turn into anything. Suddenly I had a horrible cramping pain in my back and then I started gushing blood. I knew instantly that something was wrong so I told my sister to get Nathan dressed. I tried to reach my husband but couldn’t get a call to go through so we raced out the door and off to the hospital which was about 5 miles away. About 2 miles from the ER I started having contractions. I tried to stay as calm as I could, and tried telling myself it wasn’t really labor pain. I still hadn’t talked to my husband and I told myself this just couldn’t be happening.

My sister dropped me off at the entrance and took the SUV to find a parking spot. By the time I got in the front door I was gushing blood, it was running down my legs and soaked through my pants. I was contracting harder and harder. They rushed me up to Labor and Delivery and hooked me up to monitors and told me that yes I was having contractions. They were less than 2 minutes apart already by that point.

A doctor came in and asked me a few questions than told me that I was going to need a C-section immediately. I begged him to please wait until my husband could get there but he told me he wasn’t going to wait for anything. He said there was no time to wait because I was going to bleed to death. They were only waiting until they could let Marshfield Clinic know to send over a NICU team by chopper. They couldn’t transfer me they said because I would crash in the ambulance. Then my doctor was gone, at that point my mother-in-law showed up and my husband called. I didn’t know what to tell David other than that this was it, I was having a baby at 24 weeks. I just remember being heartbroken that he was 5 hours away and knowing that he was going to miss this. Just then my doctor showed back up wearing scrubs and they started wheeling me away. My mother-in-law and son walked with me and he gave me a kiss then I was brought into the surgical room.

They transferred me onto a table and it suddenly hit me. I was terrified. I have this fear of being put under and I was scared that I would die, and my baby would die and that I would never hold my sons again, never see my husband. I regretted how nonchalantly we said goodbye to each other the day before when he left for drill. The anesthesiologist was explaining to me the risks of my breathing tubes flooding my lungs with stomach acid since I had a full stomach and suddenly I couldn’t see.

You know the feeling you get when you stand up too fast and you get tunnel vision for a second? That happened over and over. Everything would fade into a little pinhole, then back out so that I could see again, then back into a little pinhole and back and forth it went. I couldn’t breathe very well and they had a mask strapped over my face, my arms were tied down and I panicked because I felt like I was suffocating and I couldn’t get the mask off my face. Suddenly I was being poked from every angle. They inserted a catheter and started scrubbing my stomach, I was being stuck with needles in my arms and legs and had a team of about 15 people around me. Then I heard a ringing in my ears, it sounded like a school bell. It was so loud I could barely hear anybody talking around me, I couldn’t see anything. I heard my doctor yelling to put me under now and the anesthesiologist told me to count to three. I barely said “one” and that’s all I remember.

The next thing I remember was hearing someone call my name over and over. In my head it sounded like she was singing my name, although I know she wasn’t. I struggled to open my eyes and when I did there were bright lights shining all over me, but the rest of the room was dark. I saw my mother-in-law standing there and she immediately told me that Noah was alive, and that he had been alive for just over two hours. She told me that surgery went well and that they didn’t have to do a hysterectomy and that David was on his way. My heart soared when I heard my baby was alive. They told me he was such a strong little fighter. I remember in my groggy stupor thinking that someone told me to nurse him. I started begging that they bring him to me to be nursed.

As I slowly started coming to , I realized that him being alive was not the good news I thought it was. They told me later it was a miracle he lived as long as he had. They had done a chest X-ray that showed no lungs. They had somehow managed to keep him alive for 2 hours but his heart rate was failing and he only had a heartrate of 35 bmp. They said all they could do was chest compressions and that wouldn’t save him, but would keep his heart beating until they stopped. My husband had told them on the phone not to do that, his tiny little frame couldn’t handle it and they were scared they would break his ribs. David told them to bring Noah to me.

I hate that this next part is so groggy to me and that I will never really remember the three minutes I spent with my son. I remember them handing him to me, I couldn’t believe how tiny he was. He was 1 lb ,7.6 oz and 11 ½ inches long. He had suffered IUGR (growth retardation). I couldn’t believe how much he looked like Nathan. It was almost like they handed me a tinier version of the same baby. I took a few pictures with him then the neonatologist began removing his tubes. I didn’t realize that signaled the end of his life. Had I known that I would have held him closer and told him how much I loved him but instead I just held him in the corner of my arm and stared at his tiny little face in disbelief. David was on the phone and he asked that we put the phone up to Noah’s ear so that he could say hello and goodbye. Then the doctor put his stethoscope up to Noah’s chest and I asked if he was alive and the doctor told me that he wasn’t.

I will never forget that feeling. It makes me nauseated to even remember it. I felt like I was in a horror movie. My son, my tiny, sweet, precious little baby had just died in my arms and there was nothing I could do. All the dreams I had for this little boy, and the hope I had the past months that if I just tried hard enough he could beat the odds, everything just disappeared and was replaced by the most empty feeling I have ever experienced.

I had heard losing a child if the most severe grief a person could ever experience, and I had tried to prepare myself for it. But what I thought it would feel like, and what it actually felt like weren’t even close. I just imagined the deepest sadness imaginable. What I was feeling was a desperation. I realized that everything else in my life that was ever hard or a struggle was temporary; that if I could just wait it out it would get better. I can’t wait this out. My baby will never be brought back to me. This will last forever.

I crave for my little boy like a drug addict. There is this anxious empty feeling in the pit of me that sucks the breath out of me. People keep saying that at least I still have Nathan. I almost think makes it worse. I now know what kind of love you are capable of as a parent. I know what Noah was capable of bringing into my life. The joy that he would have been to me. And instead he laid there cold in my arms.

I don’t really remember much else about that night. I know that David got there about 90 minutes after Noah died. I don’t remember anything between the moment that the doctor told me he was gone and when David walked in. And it pisses me off that I can’t remember it.

I kept Noah with me all night. After everybody left, and David took my sister home , I was left there alone in the dark with my little boy. I cuddled him up in my arms and held him to my face. I wanted to keep him as warm as I could. I know that sounds stupid but feeling him get colder and colder was nauseating to me. I just wanted to be able to imagine for awhile that this didn’t really happen and that my perfect little boy wasn’t really gone. I laid there until the sun came up and my doctor came back in. He told me that I had suffered a placental abruption. 50% of my placenta had torn off in half an hour and I was bleeding to death. Everybody told me to get some sleep but I couldn’t sleep. The time I had with my little boy was precious to me. I didn’t have the rest of my life with him, I had a few hours and I couldn’t sleep that time away.

A professional photographer came in that morning to take pictures of us. Nathan decided that he was just smitten with his baby brother. He kept trying to wake him up which broke my heart. He held him and kissed him and we told him that Noah was with Jesus now. I wanted to spare Nathan of the sadness. We told him how Noah was such a big boy now and he wasn’t sick anymore and that he was playing with Jesus now. Nathan just loved the thought, he still talks to me about what he thinks Jesus and Noah do all day. According to him, they spend a lot of time playing with cars.

I kept him with me for 12 hours. I would have kept him longer but I wanted an open casket funeral and since he was too small to be embalmed, if they didn’t take him soon I wouldn’t be able to have an open casket. Saying good bye to him was so hard. I knew that it was the end of our time together, and that I would never hold him again. I just wanted to hold onto that time with him because it was all I would ever have with my son. Finally I was able to hand him to the nurse, she put him in a carrier and covered him up, he looked like he was sleeping. Then she wheeled him out the door and he was gone. I cried and cried. There was nothing I could do to make it better. I wanted to get out of the hospital so bad so I decided to put all my efforts into proving I was ok to leave. I got up and walked as far as I could, a stupid CNA walked me past the nursery though which was the end of my walking for me. I sobbed all the way back to my room. I took a shower, even shaved my legs and tried to fall asleep. My doctor came back in at 6:30 am. He told me I could go home that morning. I was so happy that in just over 24 hours he was letting me leave. I had to wait until after noon though until my mother-in-law could come get Noah and take him to the funeral home. I had to fill out a birth certificate and funeral home information. Seemed so unfair. I got packets of information on surviving stillbirth but this wasn’t a stillbirth. I had a baby who was alive in my arms and was now dead. I really felt like nobody understands how that feels.

When I had Nathan I felt really robbed that he had to be transferred to the NICU in Neenah and that I had to walk out of the hospital empty handed with no baby. What I wouldn’t have given now for that to be my situation. I had to walk out of the hospital and leave my baby in a freezer. The whole thing seems just sick to me.

This blog has gotten pretty long though, and I really just want to make sure that someday I can remember all of this. I will update more later about the funeral but for now I am signing off.

1 day postpartum

Our sweet baby boy was born last night. He was 1 lb 8 ounces and 11.5 inches long. I was 24.3 weeks pregnant. I had a placental abruption and went into labor. I had to be taken in for an emergency C-section. My husband was 5 hours away at drill when I went in for my surgery.

Noah lived for just over 2 hours, but by the time I came to, he and I only had a few minutes together before he met the Lord. He died silently in my arms. My husband wasn't able to get there until almost 90 minutes after his passing.

He was the absolute spitting image of his big brother. He was the most perfect little thing I have ever seen. My heart aches tonight. Please keep us in your prayers and I will update more when I am feeling better.

We are hoping his funeral will be this Wednesday although all the details have not yet been worked out. His funeral will be at Faith Community in Waupaca and he will be buried in Manawa. I hope to be out of the hospital tomorrow but they say it may be as late as Tuesday before they let me go home.

24.2

Today was a pretty quiet day in the Herman household but you won't get any complaints from me! I am a little nervous because it's a drill weekend for David and it makes me a little uneasy to have him 4 hours away. If something did happen it would take him probably 6 hours to get to the hospital and a lot can happen in 6 hours. But so far all is quiet on the homefront.

My mother-in-law came by today and gave me a lesson on crocheting. I kinda get it. I think a little more practice and I can be well on my way to making Noah his first blanket :) Well, actually his second blanket because as it turns out my ten year old sister has already mastered the fine art of crocheting and made him a fancy little preemie blanket. Otherwise it's been another stimulating day of laying on the couch!

Just like the past few days I have been leaking more than normal. I hope this stops soon and it's not just another annoyance I am going to have to learn to deal with. On top of it I have been having some weird sensations where I think my cervix would be. I wouldn't even say it hurts, but it's kind of a pinching, uncomfortable feeling. The one good thing about having a complete placenta previa is that I WILL know if I go into labor. So I don't have the added anxiety of sitting around wondering if every little Braxton Hicks contraction and cramp is pre-term labor. I will have a great big gush of blood to tip me off. I will consider that a silver lining lol.

I am happy to have my sister here, Nathan is quite the busy little boy these days and I most certainly could not take care of him by myself anymore. I can barely take a shower without having pain and pressure, so chasing him around the house is out of the question. I have found that even just sitting upright is getting very uncomfortable. Although last night I cheated on my bedrest just a little. I sat up in my bed for about 2 minutes and let Nathan sit on my lap. I have done so well laying here all day so I figured that I would hold Nathan for a minute, it has been over a month since he's sat on my lap and it definitely did my heart some good!

I ordered some beads (and by some, I mean enough to open my own bead shop!) and have big plans to make bracelets with my sister over the next few weeks. I am looking particularly forward to making my mother's bracelet that says "Nathan" and "Noah" on it. If it turns out how I envision it it will be awesome!

Well, that is all for tonight. I am signing off for now and heading to bed shortly. Let's hope for another uneventful night and praise the Lord for watching over Nathan another day.

24.1

Not much to update today, seems life is rather uneventful from the living room couch. But I have committed myself to more frequent updates because someday I want to be able to look back and remember all this. That may sound crazy but sometimes I think it is good to reflect on the bad times so that you can truly appreciate the good days.

I haven’t felt much movement from Noah today which is always worrisome, but I have gotten a few reassuring jabs from him telling me he is ok. I sometimes think he can sense when I have had enough and he gives me a few pity kicks to calm me down.

I had the biggest leak of fluid to date. It soaked through a pad and actually required an outfit change. It was disappointing to lose all the fluid, but also nice to know that I was able to accumulate that much even if it was just for a short time.

It seems the longer I lay here the more time I have to dwell on things, which can be scary. Today I have moved past the constant baby worry after managing to stumble across a page specifically for positive pProm stories (I have managed to block out all the bad ones I read).

But my worry has been replaced with jealousy. I am jealous of all the girls that get pregnant on their first tries, I am jealous that they just assume things will go as planned, I am jealous of all the girls that get to celebrate WITH their husband and plan together to welcome another person into their family. I never got to experience those things. Granted my husband is home this pregnancy which has truly been a godsend. But instead of joyously expecting, we sit here day after day with a cell phone ready to call an ambulance when I start gushing blood, my hospital bags packed at 20 weeks and waiting to go, and the very real and gut wrenching knowledge that I have a 70% chance that after all of this, I will have a C-section that will leave me with a physical reminder forever of the child I lost. And if things really go poorly I will have a hysterectomy and will never be able to have more children.

It’s all a tough pill to swallow.

Throughout it all I feel this presence telling me not to give up though. Almost like God is whispering to put my trust in him completely. I have always been pretty independent and I felt like God gave you the skills to work hard and make life what you want it to be, so, it’s a foreign concept to sit back and let Jesus take the wheel while I do nothing but trust in him. I almost have to wonder if this isn’t all a lesson in faith. I truly have fallen into the one in a million category with everything combined, yet little Noah remains strong and grows bigger and stronger every day.

The week before all this began we named him Noah, which means “peaceful” and “long lived”. I can’t help but feel like that is a message from God to find peace in all this. I just remind myself that the worst case scenario is my sweet baby boy meets his heavenly father much sooner. It really is out of my hands now. His will be done. And if that means he calls little Noah home to him I am confident that my Lord is the master healer and will mend my heart.