My biggest wish this year was that my baby boy would make it here alive. I prayed incessantly for his safety and health and spent more than half of the year living in fear for him. God answered those prayers, as Jude is here safe and sound, a healthy and strong five month old. I praise God for that. But the way Jude came and the things that transpired since his birth have left me a bit broken. This year, though it brought blessings with it, was also the second hardest year of my life.
When I prayed for Jude to arrive safely, and even when I begged God, with tears streaming down my face, to let me keep him, I never imagined he would arrive the way he did. I didn't think my pregnancy would be taken away from me once again and I'd miss out on the things I'd been dreaming of experiencing. I never thought I'd be the mother of a preemie, watching my miniature baby lay in a plastic box with IVs in his tiny veins, a tube down his throat, leads on his tiny chest, monitors going off. It was hard to see that. He should have been safe and warm and happy in my womb. He already knew so much pain and discomfort. That still makes me sad.
I still can't believe that that wasn't the extent of my trials this year. At the end of August, I nearly died of pulmonary embolisms. Blood clots in my lungs. For many people with PEs, the first symptom is sudden death. I was very very fortunate to have the severe pain that they cause instead, letting me know something was wrong. In many ways, it seems I shouldn't even be here right now. It's amazing, and nothing short of a miracle, that I survived that. Sure, it was the second worst thing that's happened to me, next to the stillbirth of my firstborn, but I'm grateful that it went the way it did. It could have been so much worse. God isn't through with me yet. I know I'm here for a reason. Needless to say, I'm still trying to forget those five days in the hospital, crying every day. I hated being there so much. It was downright horrible. It leaves me with a sick feeling if I spend too much time dwelling on it.
It was kind of a neat thing, though, that Jude and I were discharged from the hospital the very same afternoon. In a way, I think my experience with my clots stole a lot of the joy of going to the NICU for the very last time and taking Jude home. I wonder how it would have been if my spirit hadn't felt so crushed. Regardless, it was the best moment of the entire year. Walking out that door for the last time, finally not empty-handed. Something so many take for granted as something so typical. It was a walk of victory that day. Walking down that hall. Passing the room I delivered Avery in. Walking out with smiles instead of tears and a severed heart. How wonderful the feeling. The answered prayer. We both made it out alive.
It makes me mad that the next couple of weeks were filled with a paranoia and lingering sadness. I was scared to death that I would form more clots and end up back in that horrible hospital (they are worthless unless you're having a baby or have a baby in the NICU). I obsessed over every single sensation in my legs, afraid it could be a clot. I worried something would happen to me and I wouldn't get to see Jude grow up. It was ridiculous. But at the time, I didn't know that I was protected as long as I was on blood thinners (I wasn't told this until my follow up appointment with my doctor).
At this time, my feelings were so contradictory. I was unbelievably thrilled over Jude. But I was also sad I wasn't still pregnant. I felt robbed of a normal birth. I would have even settled for a normal c-section. I was put under, not even there for the monumental birth of my Rainbow Baby. Daniel wasn't even allowed to be there. I still hate that. I didn't want to skip out on anything. I lost enough with Avery.
Also post-NICU, I failed to be able to breastfeed Jude. I took that hard. I had been pumping for the almost five weeks he was in the NICU. He had just begun learning to eat by mouth when I was hospitalized for the clots. That's when they were probably going to let me try to nurse him. But no. I was still trying to pump but it was so hard to stay on my 'every 3 hours' schedule while I was trying to recuperate. Between the emotional stress, the physical stress on my body, and the missed pumpings, my supply took a huge hit. I was barely producing anything anymore. By the time we got Jude home, he was so used to the bottle. He would not even attempt latching, no matter how many times I tried. Finally, I gave in and decided to surrender my wishes once again.
The good thing about not breastfeeding is that I was then able to get off the twice a day Lovenox shots that were continuing to shrink my clots and prevent new ones. I then got on Coumadin, which I am on now. And probably for the rest of my life. This has left me a changed person. For a while, I felt so unhealthy. It took a long time for my lungs to stop hurting and for me to stop feeling so sluggish. It was depressing. I have to make sure I don't cut myself. I can't eat anything with vitamin K or it will counteract the Coumadin (I can eat vitamin K if I were to make sure I ate it every single day in the same amount and my Coumadin dose would have to be regulated according to it. I think it's just easier to omit vitamin K altogether. I don't like the idea of putting something into my system that makes my blood thicker at this point. I'm still too scared). So that means, I can't have lettuce, broccoli, spinach... Things like that. No salad? Well, that's healthy. I have to go to the doctor regularly to get my blood checked (INR) and make sure my blood isn't too thick or too thin. I also CANNOT get pregnant on Coumadin. If I did, I would either have a miscarriage or my baby would very likely have severe birth defects. That's very scary. And of course, I let myself worry about that. (And TMI: because of my clotting mutations and previous clots, I am not allowed to take birth control pills, thus adding to the difficulties.) I really dislike this new aspect to my life. But I just have to remember that I could be dead. And then I think it's pretty pathetic that that's what I can compare my situation to... Being dead.
So, my trials of the year did not end at Jude's 31 week birth or my blood clots. As I've blogged about before, I cannot have anymore babies. This has plagued me for the past few months. It would have been the furthest thought from my mind, having just had a baby. But it's one of the nagging backdrops to my everyday. It affects how I see everything. I see unfit people easily having subsequent pregnancies and I feel jealous. Let's face it. A part of me deflates whenever I hear a pregnancy announcement. I don't want to feel that way. But right now I do.
Right now, I am honestly mourning the babies I thought I would have. I always wanted three or four. And lately I just feel so attached to 'Jonah.' It wasn't even on our name list with either Avery or Jude. But for some reason, I keep seeing it and it's like my ears perk up when I hear it. It's like it's special for some reason and I can't explain it. If I had another boy right now, his name would be Jonah. So in a weird way, I guess I feel like I'm mourning Jonah. Not a real baby. But Jonah represents a baby I imagined I would have. The brother I would love for Jude to grow up with. I could cry, picturing Jude growing up alone. Whenever I see brothers together, even my own, I think of it. Jude and Jonah. (I'm not thrilled about the "J" theme; it's a coincidence, I guess.) I'm really not sure what the significance of my thoughts of Jonah is. I doubt it means a thing. It's probably just my perpetual interest in baby names and my dream of more children manifesting itself into a 'what-could-have-been.' I have a lot of those.
With all of that said, these last five months have been five of the most amazing months I've ever lived. It's all because of this tiny boy that God has entrusted to me. No matter how broken I have felt, Jude has filled my heart with a joy that cannot be explained. He is everything I dreamed he would be. His presence is just as beautiful and fulfilling as I imagined. Being a mother to a living child is the single greatest thing in this entire world and the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced. I LOVE IT. There is nothing about it that I do not like. There is nothing I could complain about. I savor every single bit of it. I always knew what I lost with Avery, but it's all been confirmed in mothering Jude. I don't take any of it for granted. I know I was made for this. My body may not have been. But I know in my heart that this is my greatest accomplishment. Thank You, God.
I know I did a lot of complaining and painted a negative picture about 2011. But to be honest, I actually have begun to feel myself beginning to heal in just the last couple of weeks. I think I have started 2012 with a lighter heart. Just recently, I have started feeling more myself as far as my health goes. My doctor switched my blood checks to once a month so I feel like less of my time is occupied with my clotting issue. I don't feel any more pains in my chest and I've gotten my energy back. That makes a huge difference! It's difficult feeling like you're sick all the time. It's so easy to take your health for granted.
God has also been healing my heart a bit over the loss of my dreams for more children. It's not quite the forefront of my thoughts any longer. It doesn't battle against my joy for Jude. Maybe I'm beginning to get used to it as my reality. Maybe I'm beginning to accept it. I do know one thing... Jude is definitely enough. He is amazing enough to be all I need. He makes me so happy. It feels so good to feel true joy again.
While listening to Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" a few days ago, the line it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah stood out to me. That is really how I see the state of my life right now. I have lost so much but I have gained so much. I feel so broken down but so blessed. My heart will always be broken over Avery and the things I can't change for the future, but Jude calls for a Hallelujah. I will forever praise God for the gift of my sweet boy.
I'm praying 2012 is the most boring and normal year ever!
Tonight we'll stand, get off our knees, fight for what we've worked for all these years. The battle was long, it's the fight of our lives, but we'll stand up champions tonight.
It was the night things changed. Can you see it now? These walls that they put up to hold us back fell down. It's a revolution. Throw your hands up 'cause we never gave in.
And we'll sing Hallelujah!
We sang Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!
- Taylor Swift
