Monday, June 25, 2012

Impulsive

I don't post here often, but there is something that has been nagging me lately and I just have to get it out.


After all, I don't know who has googled oligohydramnios and found themselves here:-).


I was on my way to a local consignment shop today, and of course I was on the phone.


'Cause I just have to talk while in the car, don't you?


My mom was telling me about a blog she stumbled upon. Same circumstance as ours- went in for an ultrasound at 20 weeks and found out they had very low fluid. They were given the same odds- between 1-10% chance of survival.


They opted to induce and deliver.


***

I preface this by saying (for those of you that don't know me) that I was raised Pro-Life.


As in, really Pro-Life.


Beat-down-people's-doors-and-give-them-pamphlets-with-pictures-of-babies-in-utero Pro-Life.

***


I caution to put this out there, because it is hard to admit.


In the very, very dark days following Tessa's diagnosis, all I wanted to do was induce and deliver her.


Thinking of spending 20+ weeks, squishing her in my womb, followed by a long and painful delivery for a baby that would pass away struggling for breath.


It was too overwhelming to think about.


I couldn't wrap my mind around how I was going to survive another day, never mind another week or another five months.


It seemed easier to just "get the worst part over with", so I could start the process of healing.


Those first few days, I turned inducing over and over in my mind. Talked to Josh about it. Prayed a lot.


And I just couldn't do it.


I couldn't be responsible for determining her last heart beat.


Slowly, the Lord started working on my heart.


Helped me see the beauty in my time with her.


Every kick, every nuance, every hiccup, every heartbeat was cherished.

I wanted her to know and feel how great my love for her was. Even if it was as simple as pushing her feet as she kicked me.

Having the boys talk to her, or kiss my belly.


A few days before she was born, I remember sitting with Josh and my mom in the hospital room. Crying, I apologized for spending our entire summer waiting and shuffling the boys constantly with the great possibility it could be for nothing.


Both of them agreed- it was not for nothing. We all wanted to give her the best shot at life, and that included being in the hospital for her birth.


Regardless of the outcome, we had to do everything we could.


"Do what you can, forget the rest", as my dad always said.


I am still so thankful I have such a sacrificial family. I don't know how I would have done it without them.


I digress.


Anyway, Josh and I didn't have much on the schedule today, so I went wandering.


My account had a credit of $20, and I enjoyed sorting through each kid's size and picking out a few things for fall.


Right next to the checkout register, there is a beautiful rack of Matilda Jane clothing.


All sorts of skirts with ruffles, dresses with perfect buttons and big bows coordinated with the most breathtaking mix of fabrics.


Sitting right in the front was a gorgeous peasant top with a pink sash.


12 months, the size Tessa will wear in the fall.


I looked it over and drooled a little bit eyed the price.


$29.99


Couple things:
1) I have been talking to friends lately about how Matilda Jane has some really cute dresses, but that they were expensive.
2) I am super duper thrifty. I never pay more than $5-10 per piece for clothes for my kids. Even jeans must be under this price.
3) I don't have anything in my closet that costs that much. Not even close.


So I put it back on the rack.


As my account was accessed, she informed me that (after the few things I had in my hand), I had $29.94 left as a credit.

SOLD.


Along with being thrifty, I guess I am impulsive:-)

A strange mix, huh?


Riding home, I kept thanking God that I wasn't impulsive in those days after April 19th.


Although it might seem trite to compare her life to a silly dress, I recall the pressures put on me by medical personnel to "medically terminate". How it would be the kindest and gentle thing for her, after all.


I remember the very deep place I was in- where my decisions were made on emotions and trying to make the pain stop.


I shutter at the thought, and frankly am disappointed that I even had those feelings. I look at how beautiful Tessa is and how much I love that girl, and feel guilty that I even thought about inducing her early.


Had I acted during those first few days and listened to the countless doctors who told us that there was no hope, no chance....Tessa girl would not be here.




If there is one thing I have learned from Tessa's life, it is that doctors don't know everything.


God still works miracles.

....and I am so thankful that God was able to show His power, His goodness through her life.

Psalm 40:3 He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the LORD.

6 comments:

sally said...

I love it.

chelle said...

I remember those days, friend.
Utter Anguish.

How much joy we have as we look back on this time last year and how God ever so lovingly brought you to and through it all.

I love that HE gives you the ability to know how an impulse buy today relates to your struggle of last year. I love how you are able to bring both moments together and detail God's hand.

You are honest, and true. You continue to tell Tessa's story with boldness and grace.

Now, stop being so frugal and buy that gal every Matilda Jane goodie out there for pete's sake. ;)

Love you!!

Jill said...

Amen! I'm praying for something impossible from a doctor's perspective but possible from God's perspective right now (Maddie's hospital friend from last summer)! Your post reminds me to hold on to the hope that our God is mightier than we could ever imagine.

Jill said...

Amen! Your post reminds me to not give up praying for a miracle for Maddie's hospital friend from last summer. From the doctor's perspective, things look impossible, but I know that God is more powerful than we could ever imagine. Thanks for the reminder to hold on to the hope we have in Christ!

Jill said...

Amen! I'm praying for something impossible from a doctor's perspective but possible from God's perspective right now (Maddie's hospital friend from last summer)! Your post reminds me to hold on to the hope that our God is mightier than we could ever imagine.

sarah k said...

I don't know if you will get this comment and I truly understand if you don't have time to respond. I found your blog today on my latest of many googlings of oligohydramnios and related terms. I am in a very similar situation. I am almost 26 weeks pregnant with a deeply desired little boy who was found at 20 weeks to be without any fluid and to have absent or non-functioning kidneys and an enlarged, distressed heart. The doctors give him almost zero chance of survival. We have pursued a second opinion at a major university hospital, and after our appt there yesterday I felt I was being forced to give up hope for my son. Reading your blog today has restored at least a shred of hope. I know the circumstances are not exactly the same, but if our baby can just be born alive and breathe, they could potentially do dialysis.

We are Christians and deeply pro-life. I was shocked by how tempted I, too, was by the option to teminate. We chose against it but it is utter agony to face an untold number of weeks feeling this sweet baby kick inside me, knowing he is increasingly smashed and has almost no chance of life despite how hard he is fighting. We have three children already but suffered two miscarriages before this pregnancy and I had such hope that God was going to be kind again this time. Many people are praying hard for this baby but so far we see no signs of God granting the miracle for which we are so desperate.

I have been comforted by reading your blog--especially by your description of the physical pain and discomfort for you (all my doctors think I am making it up) and of how terrible the nights are. I am so terrified to go to bed at nights and also to wake up in the morning. Each day feels like an eternity.

I know you are a busy mom and may not be able to, but if you have any thoughts for me I'd love to hear them. My email address is smkinnard@gmail.com.

Thanks for sharing your story. Sorry for the excessively long comment.

Sarah