Then Came the Morning

December 3, 2008 - I remember this night well. Here we were, one year and fifteen days since we delivered our angel. One year and fifteen days since life as we knew it changed forever. One year and fifteen days of depending on God for every breath, thought, and will to keep walking down this path. In that one year and fifteen days so much had happened. We trudged down a path, in a club we never asked to be a part of. I worried with every breath about what would happen next. I mourned not only for our loss, but what this tragedy would mean in Abby's short life - would it scar her forever? Stewart's dad continued to suffer daily with terminal cancer. My grandfather, who I credit for the moral fiber our family is built around, had passed on after a very brief and unexpected illness. Yet through it all, here we sat about to face my greatest fear - the birth of another baby.

How could this be? How did this happen? How were we going to handle what was coming? This pregnancy was nothing but absolutely, perfectly normal. So was Abby's. So was Olivia's. No comfort in the normalcy. We had countless high level tests at UAB, NSTs every other week, you name it. No comfort in every medical professional telling me everything looked and sounded perfect. Here I was. I wanted desperately - more than I wanted breath itself - to BELIEVE and have FAITH that tomorrow would bring our rainbow - the end of our rain. But I couldn't. The Devil had tormented me for weeks that once again I needed to prepare for a funeral. The day before Olivia was born, I believe the Lord prepared me by letting me have the thought of where we would bury Olivia. After her birth, it was actually some form of comfort that God had known and somehow tried to prepare me for this tragedy. Now, it was nothing but torment. The fact that there was space in our family cemetery for Olivia was a blessing then, but the fact that there was also room - not for another adult, but only room for a baby - was again, torture.

Then came the morning of December 4th- it was time. Time to go back to the same hospital, to the same scene of the happiest day and the most horrific day in our lives. I walked in to the sight of our Earthly angel of the day - Kris Jones. For all of you nurses, especially if you work at HH now, she WAS and IS our angel. She was our nurse through most of my labor and delivery with Abby. She was also the supervising nurse who actually delivered Olivia. I arrived at the hospital that night only 20 minutes before she was born, so the doctor did not make it in time. She was calming and compassionate as she talked me through childbirth with no drugs (NOT by choice!), and then she bore the burden of looking up at me and Stewart and telling us that our daughter was not breathing and would not breathe - would we like to hold her? She was the one who lovingly wrapped up our beautiful baby and brought her to us to hold. She cried with us, held us, and helped us know what to do in a situation NO ONE ever expects. And here she was - one year and fifteen days later - waiting for me with a smile telling me that today was the day to have a beautiful, healthy baby girl.

The next hour and a half are a blur. Kris kept us talking, laughing and distracted. She told me everything that was going on and prepared me for everything to expect. She assured me I had the best team. She let me keep that monitor on full blast so I could hear that heartbeat thumping away. Then it was time. As they wheeled us into the ER for the C-Section, the fear and panic was overwhelming. I had chosen an elective c-section because I couldn't bear the thought of childbirth again. But as I laid there and the team began to prep, all I knew was I didn't think I could handle a silent childbirth with no baby crying. As I laid there, Stewart bent down at my head - I know he was just as concerned, but I know right then he was praying for my comfort. He had the faith I couldn't have. He knew a healthy baby was on her way and could take comfort in that.

At that moment, I began to sing. For those of you that know me, I sing when I'm happy, sad, bored - you name it. For the last month, in my efforts to keep it together, I would start everyday in the shower singing the same song over and over. "It's so peaceful in the arms of my Lord. In His presence I am sheltered from the storm. It's so good to have His spirit. It's so good to have His word. It's so peaceful in the arms of the Lord." I could picture the peace in the arms of the Lord. It helped me identify those thoughts that were not peaceful were not of the Lord. Simplistic I know - but that's all I was capable of. As I sang, the surgery began and I didn't even know it. The whole time, there stood Kris on the other side of that big blue sheet telling me over and over that everything was wonderful -everything was perfect.

And came the sound I needed and yearned to hear for one year and fifteen days - my baby cried. MY NEW BABY CRIED!!! If she cried, it meant she was breathing. I couldn't believe it. Stewart asked if I heard it. Kris was jumping up and down, yes - jumping, asking if I heard it. My baby was crying before she was even completely out of my body. SHE CRIED! Kris kept telling me over and over that she was beautiful, she was perfect. And then, one year and sixteen days later, Kris walked to me and handed me a beautiful bundle of breathing, crying, healthy baby girl!!

During my time in recovery, Kris sat right by my side and talked about my 3 beautiful girls. When they came to tell me Ellie Kate had been transferred to the NICU for some breathing problems, it was Kris who held my hand and looked me in the eye and made me focus on the fact that everything was OK. In my mind, Kris is our angel.

For all of the nurses out there - thank you for what you do. Thank you for being God's angels on Earth.

Dear God - thank you for bringing our family the morning. Thank you for the answer to the prayer I was too afraid to pray outloud. Thank you for the valley that made me even more thankful for the precious gift of life.

Next post - EK's PARTY BASH!!!