Monday June 9th, 2014
I feel like I woke up two weeks and two days ago on a
Saturday and that since that time two years has passed. Today I would have been
32 weeks pregnant. I would have taken a picture of my ever growing twin belly
for my weekly belly journey documentation. I would have been stiff, achy,
swollen, and quite miserable, but I wouldn’t be driving to the hospital in about
an hour for the second time today, and for what seems like the millionth time
in the past two weeks. I would have been much less tired, but I wouldn’t yet
know that my sweet Annika and Elliana would be dark haired little beauties, or
what their little toes and noses look like. It’s a bittersweet experience, this
whole NICU – premie thing. I have grieved the too soon end of my pregnancy. I
have grieved that I cannot feel their little kicks inside of me, but rather I
must leave them in in a hospital isolette multiple times a day… that I only get
to hold them a few hours of the 24 that they’re on my mind and in my prayers…
yet despite the grief, I have experienced the tenderness and love of something
so small and helpless, and I know that I am already a better person because of
them.
I journaled the details of my delivery in a straight forward
kind of way right after the delivery, just so that I could remember it in the
future. (Not that I can believe that I will ever forget the trauma of it
completely.) That particular entry is not something that would be all that enjoyable
to read (too long, detailed, and maybe even boring). So to sum it up and keep
it short, I’ll just say that the day I went into premature labor (May 24th)
at 29 5/7 weeks was a day that was full of shock. I never anticipated it. Never
dreamed that it could or would happen to me. And even as I was in the OR, fully
dilated, without an epidural and trying to push Annika out, knowing that I
would then receive a c-section for Elliana, in my mind, I was thinking, “THIS
CANNOT BE HAPPENING!” It felt like such a bad and impossible nightmare.
In some ways, the days that followed the delivery are still
a blurry haze. Some of the blur is likely due to the fact that I received a
general anesthetic for my delivery… but some of it is because I was running on
adrenaline and no sleep. Amazingly I have only cried four times that I can
think of. Not that I am bragging about this… just simply stating that I have
been too busy to cry. There is no time to cry or worry because I must pump and
hold them and do whatever I can to be strong, so that they will be strong.
Everyday of these first weeks has been filled with thoughts
on when they could be taken off of CPAP, and then when they could come off of
their nasal cannulas; when Annika could get off of her phototherapy for jaundice;
what their weights were; when they would be weaned from their TPN and receive
only nutrition from their OG tubes; when Annika would get her umbilical vein IV
out so that I could hold her… and now two weeks after their birth, we’ve moved
past all of those worries and thoughts and I find new things to think and worry
about: like if they are still gaining weight (they weighed their birth weights
again on Thursday the 5th! and went past it on Friday!); how will we
succeed with breast feeding; when will they stop dropping their oxygen sats;
when can we bring them home…
But like I learned when going through anesthesia school –
you take a huge, daunting task and deal with it one day at a time. And then one
day, without even realizing it, you have managed to survive the daunting task,
and you realize you were stronger than you ever realized you could be. In my
case it’s not that I am so strong, but that God is making me strong…
This past Friday (the sixth), I was reading my devotion for
the day. The verse on the page beside it (for the seventh) caught my attention,
as it was a verse that I had mediated on for months during my “break” from
fertility treatments. I opened up my Bible to re-read it (Lamentations 3:
19-33).
On July 11th of 2013 I had written in the
margins, of my Bible, “this verse (25-27) and chapter in general has been one
that I have been meditating on for the last month or two… learning to have
“passionate patience”. As I re-read the chapter, thoughts of what had lead me
to this verse came flooding back. Thoughts of fear, pain, and anxiety… I
remembered that I had been dealing with such anxiety that I felt that I could
not be restful. That I could not be silent. I felt ALL THE TIME that I had just
drank three times the amount of coffee I should be allowed.
As a result of the anxiety I had been feeling, I had decided
to take a break from fertility treatments and I had begun to seek out “rest”,
as I mediated on Matthew 11:28 (“come to me all you who are weary…and I will
give you a “real” rest…” message translation uses “real” rest – which I loved)…
and it was then during the introspective times of my “rest” period that I had
found this other verse in Lamentations that talked about learning to have
“passionate patience”… another concept that I began to meditate on, as well as
seek to achieve in my life. Almost a year later, having had my fears of
infertility dissipate, I couldn’t help but feel in awe of how much God had
taught me about trust, patience, and resting in Him during that season of my
life. And without even realizing it, the lessons I had learned then have been
what have sustained and strengthened me during this crazy, chaotic,
overwhelming NICU time. It occurred to me as I was remembering all of this that
this entire time since their birth, despite the chaos, high intensity, and high
stress of our lives, I have KNOWN rest, peace, and trust. And this rest and
peace has been possible only because I first experienced two years of painful
growth.
How much harder and more exhausting would it have been to
have jumped in feet first into the NICU experience, not knowing how to rest and
trust? How much easier it was to learn it when two little lives that I love
weren’t at stake! I found myself grateful to the point of tears that my pain
had purged my heart enough that I would be ready to be my best for them…
grateful for the painful growth. Sometimes we never understand why… and then
sometimes we do. This week I understand
at least some of the why’s of then, and maybe someday I’ll understand the why’s
of now. But one thing I am confident of: there is a why, and whether I
understand it or not, I will trust that He is in control.
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