Monday, March 9, 2009

Goodbye, Samuel

The following post is not for the weak of stomach.  It is meant to explain in written word the journey Mark and I have been through the past 2 days, so that I don’t have to go through the painful task of reliving the events in face-to-face conversation. 

My D&C was scheduled for this morning at 10 am, but I never made it that far.  I had painful cramping Saturday night and all day Sunday, and staying completely still was the only thing that seemed to keep the cramping at bay.  What I didn’t realize is that the “cramps” were actually contractions and that I was most likely in labor the whole day.  Around 8 pm, my water broke while I was sitting on the couch and I delivered the baby just a few minutes later.  It was a little boy, Samuel.  

We rushed off to the emergency room where I was checked and rechecked every which way to determine whether any “products of conception” were left behind.  Meanwhile, Samuel was taken to Pathology.  

After a few hours of tests, it was determined that there was some tissue left behind and that I would need a D&C after all.  Unfortunately, general anesthesia was not an option, but the doctor assured me that the drugs he could offer me would put me in such a state so that I wouldn’t remember anything.  In reality, they only made me slightly drowsy and I do remember the entire procedure vividly.  Luckily, however, I didn’t feel much more than heavy pressure.  

I was able to go home 30 minutes after the procedure. As we were leaving, God sent an angel to minister to us. All the nurses were very kind, but this one was a God-send. She had 2 boys, went through a similar situation as us, and then adopted another boy to create a very happy family. We sat a few rows in front of her at our church  in the same service for a few months, yet never met her before tonight. Amid all the tears, despair, fatigue and blood, she raised our spirits and gave us hope.

We finally got home around 2:30 am. I slept all of 3 hours that night.

Physically, I feel better than I have in many days.  Emotionally, I tend to vacillate between raw sorrow and cool indifference.  If I dwell on the physical experience or think about how my baby Samuel is not with me anymore, will never know his brothers, and that I won’t have my dream of a posse of boys wrecking my house, I lose it.  So I try to focus my thoughts on the present and with what is true, not on all that could have been.

I know my sweet baby boy is safely in the arms of my Father and that I will meet him someday and he will be able to meet his brothers.

For now, I put my hope in the promises that God works all things for good according to his purpose, and that if there is anything I don’t understand, I just need to ask for wisdom.

As for the future, we are sure that it is in God’s plan for us to adopt someday.  It is something we have been thinking about for a few years.  Now that certain doors are closed, we look forward to what new doors God might open.

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