Not Such a Bad Thing (Part I)

It's funny.
I always thought that grief went away.
But it doesn't.
It just returns to you unexpectedly.

When you toss a stone into a lake, it sends out ripples. Towards the entry point of the stone, the ripples come fast and furious. And then, progressing outwards, they space themselves. Longer and longer grows the distance between the ripples. And more and more time passes, our hearts heal and unexpectedly, the tears come and we grieve again. Not like before. Now, our grief is small and brief as if clouds have come in the midst of an otherwise sunny day. And soon, the sun is shining upon us again.

So today, 15 years later, I found myself sobbing in the cemetery recalling the day my second son was born and the events that followed soon after. Little did I know that in the midst of the deep pain I was experiencing, God was giving me something more.....something better.

It is funny to me that people I have met in the last 10 years have no idea about this part of my life. For a long time, my oldest son used to tell literally everyone he met that he had a brother who died. I always felt badly about the strangers we met in the store who stood there aghast not knowing how to respond. Even now, If I happen to mention it after knowing someone awhile, I immediately get an "I'm sorry." and then usually silence.

But I'm not sorry.

Don't get me wrong. I would give anything to have him here with me. I long to be his mommy, too.

But for what I have gained....I wouldn't change a single thing. In fact, most people find it surprising to know that given the choice, I would do it all over again.....

I knew he had died.

On the evening of Aug 6th, I knew something was wrong, but kept it to myself. On Aug 7th, I woke up and told Ski I needed to go to the dr. When I called them, they told me to come in right away. We had three small children...almost 4, 3, and 2. I was due around Sept. 15. There we sat.....Ski and the three kids and me across the room. They tried the fetal monitor and the nurse was so cheery, but I knew. My dr came in. She was quiet and then "Yes....it's not good."

We learned that our son....we were having another son....had hydrocephalus. But on top of that, he had calcium deposits in his brain. These had probably caused him to have a seizure and he died.

There were concerns. First of all, he was complete breach. The drs wondered if I should deliver naturally or have a c-section. This they needed to discuss. They told me that I could wait to go into labor naturally, but that they did not encourage this. I could go in as soon as the next day to be induced. We should take our time and call them with our decision.

I remember holding it together until we got to the parking garage. And there, looking over the city, melting into Ski's arms into a ball of tears. Somehow, we pulled ourselves together and called someone....I have no idea who....and dropped the kids of....I have no idea where. All I know is that my church friends tended my children for the next few days which were a blur.

The next thing I recall is sitting in a Dairy Queen killing time trying to talk over what we would do. Ski was concerned about what the drs had said about it being very emotionally difficult to wait for natural labor to occur. A dear, sweet man from church happened to come in and spoke with us. I was not ready to talk and we had a "normal conversation" with him. And after trying to remain relatively normal during that conversation and seeing a number of cheerful pregnant women pass by, I came to the conclusion that everyone was right and we would go in the next day to deliver.

We had called our church and everyone was out of town except for one pastor. We went over after hours when he told us he was free and sat there with him until well after 8pm, I think. Over the next few days, he was rarely far from our sides and told us to call him when we needed him. To this day, I have never failed to appreciate the sacrifices both he, his wife and his family made on our behalf. We could have not gone through this without his gentle care and love for us.

I don't know when we arrived home or how I slept that night.