Gotta Love Being Triggered

I should have stayed off social media today. In back to back posts on my Facebook feed, I read about one woman's reasons for changing her stance on abortion, and another woman's account of accidentally starving her first baby based on the premise "Breast is Best".

Both accounts triggered memories of Austin's Birth Story even though circumstances in the second story were completely different.

-----------------

You see, when my main doc got Austin's 20 week ultrasound results, we were told to meet with a particular obstetrician who dealt with complicated pregnancies. I just assumed something minor was wrong, and they would just be monitoring me more closely since I was almost 40.

However, apparently it was his job to give people the "really" bad news. It was his job to describe all the deformities he could already see and the challenges that would mean. It was also his job to describe all of the potential, and probable according to him, mental and physical challenges the child would have as well as the burden we would have to care for this child. It was his job to present us with all the bad things that would probably happen if we continued the pregnancy. It was his job to scare the hell out of us and convince us to have an abortion. And he would be the one to perform that abortion.

I remember being numb with shock. I remember staring at a family photo of five or six sitting on the shelf behind him thinking he could talk about killing babies without blinking an eye.

And I remember thinking, yes, I have a way out of this nightmare that we were being presented with. I have a way out of what I initially thought would be the shame in having a deformed child that would interrupt our perfectly "normal" family unit. I have a way out of a most unknown of all unknowns, caring for a medically complex child for the rest of my life.

The next moments were critical. My world pivoted and spun. I had no idea what to decide or say. And I'm not sure what my husband thought either because he was in shock as well. I don't remember if we even looked at each other.

But I do remember doing one thing. I asked the doc what the abortion would entail. And he obliged me with an answer. He began to describe in detail what would happen.

With each new piece of information about the "procedure" I began to feel more and more nauseous. Finally, I couldn't take any more information, I pushed back my chair and demanded to leave.

Everything in me wanted to get rid of what sounded like a mistake of a human being inside me while at the same time everything in me screamed, I can't be responsible for killing someone, I can't, I can't, I can't!

So we left in a hurry amidst stumbling, awkward goodbyes. The doctor told me I needed to decide soon within the next couple days because I was already 20 weeks. If I waited too long, they couldn't do it.

We drove home in silence and the rest is history.

---------------

After Austin was born, the NICU doctor repeatedly and defiantly tried to convince us to take Austin home on what they called "comfort care". It was basically hospice status which meant to expect death within a few days. We were supposed to just hold him and give him pain meds until he passed. We were not supposed to offer him a drop of food or water. We were supposed to starve him to death.

And my initial thought again was, yes, I have a second chance and a way out of this crazy mess. I have official permission and a legitimate reason to kill my baby.

But again the longer I imagined trying to do what she wanted, the more the thought sickened me (and apparently my husband too, who became Austin's primary advocate since I was on morphine after an emergency pelvic surgery that followed Austin's birth). I had just enough awareness to know and hear what was going on, but not enough to make emphatic, declarative decisions.

But I did know I couldn't go home and not try to feed my baby. I can't be responsible for killing someone, I can't, I can't, I can't.

Smiling In The Rain

She turned and caught her husband smiling and it dawned on her that she was dancing at the sink in the kitchen to one of the Christmas songs. Well, dancing might be a little too generous, maybe more like wiggling her butt a little (or a a lot) to the beat.

As she walked into the pantry, she became aware of herself grinning. When did this happen? When did the "I feel sad" thoughts every hour, everyday shift into a dancing, grinning lunatic who is ok with life's stuff and ok to be alive?

-----------------

Typically when they were planning a trip, her first thought was to call the local non-profit nursing facility to see if she could sign up Austin for a stay. While this usually guaranteed less stress and more freedom on the trip, they were also limited to only seven nights at the facility.

Last summer, she decided she wanted to try an extended three week family vacation to the lake. This meant taking Austin with no nurses, no extra help. Just their family.

They loaded up the truck along with a special needs stroller and headed across the country on a 3 day road trip to their destination.

She was nervous and had packed as much as she could trying to anticipate anything that might be needed for Austin. It was exhausting trying to envision and plan for everything that might go wrong with a medically complex kid and then hope to be ready for it.

But they did it. She felt a little pride and excitement then that they could travel as a complete family and survive. Of course, there were a couple of road bumps like forgetting the small tanks of emergency oxygen, but they managed to make it work.

She began envisioning some kind of normalcy returning to her family.

----------------

She lay on the beach like a starfish on its back with her eyes closed and her face towards the sky. She listened to the ocean waves pound the shore and paid attention to her breathing. She wiggled her toes and then her fingers. She noticed the bumps in the sand beneath the sheet the yoga instructor had given them.

She was glad she changed her initial no to a yes when her friend suggested a second, "Why don't you come?"

She was at the end of the class where they were supposed to try to have no thought. Just relaxation. Just experience. Just breathing.

She felt the drops first hit her nose and then her cheek. More followed on her right eyelid, her lower lip, her forehead. Eventually her state of no thought became lots of thought specifically about her tennis shoes next to her in the sand possibly getting wet. They were the only athletic shoes she had brought and nothing seemed to dry in the damp oceanside climate even inside.

She smiled and accepted how easily she could become distracted as she sat up and peeked at the instructor while discretely turning the tennis shoes upside down.

A couple seconds later the instructor ended her state of no thought and encouraged them to carefully sit up. She put her hands together in front of her heart, bowed slightly and said "namaste". They namastayed back, "the divine in me bows to the divine in you."

They all jumped up talking and giggling about the rain holding off until they were almost done. As they scurried off the beach, she said "see you tonight" to her friend and made her way down the beachside walk towards her room.

How different things seemed, she mused again as more rain came down. How light. How in-perspective. How...dare she think it...joyful. How did she rise from that place that was so dark for what seemed so long. It seemed miraculous.

Yet there she was, smiling in the rain.

--------------------

"And whether you believe in miracles or not, I can guarantee that you will experience one. It may not be the miracle you’ve prayed for. God probably won’t undo what’s been done. The miracle is this: that you will rise in the morning and be able to see again the startling beauty of the day." William Kent Krueger, Ordinary Grace