Monday, July 6, 2009

Flash Back.

I wrote this back in January. Wanted to share. Wanted to start at the beginning.....

It’s an interesting thing when crisis strikes, you have the opportunity to find out what you’re made up of. I haven’t felt made of much the last few days.

Meet Isaac Brigham Nielson. This is my baby boy, still living in womb, perfect to us in every way, but not so much to the doctors. We found out he has a neural tube defect called Anencephaly, which means he will be born with little or no brain and scull. His prognosis is death, shortly after birth.

I cannot even express what it meant to my world to hear this news. I felt dazed. Shocked. I cried, and couldn’t stop. I sobbed. I drove to pick up my husband from work and couldn’t remember street names and numbers, where I had driven hundreds of times. And the children. WHAT would I tell my children?

After thinking for the last couple days, I’ve decided to write. And write in such a way that is healing to me. I’ll have this record not only for myself, but for my family, so we can look back some day and realize then we are strong enough now to get through this battle now.

After receiving the news Thursday, I didn’t sleep that night. I stayed up all night researching on the internet about my boy’s condition. I read, I looked at photographs, I laid my head down on my desk and sobbed. Friday night? I decided to stay off of the internet. The kids and I made a huge bed in the living room, and we slept together. I think I was able to sleep last night for 4 or 5 hours, forcing myself to push thoughts out of my head, trying not to weep. Weep over silly things. Things that haven’t even happened yet. Like. Who of my family could be there for me when I have the baby? What happens if I cry too much when Isaac is born? How will I be able to dress my child for burial. I weep because I can’t stand to see my children is such pain, grieving. I weep because it isn’t fair. I weep because I don’t know how I am going to come home from the hospital with empty arms. I weep because my husband is in pain, and I sob because I feel so devastated and heartbroken.

God is good. I am not being punished. For some reason, Andrew, the children and I have been given this trial and blessing in our lives, and I can only cling to the knowledge that we, as a family, some how are strong enough to survive this. Not only survive, but be better for it.

I’m beginning to hate the night. It’s now Saturday evening, around 8:00 pm. Right around 6:00, it started again. The horrible sorrow. My heart aches so badly, it makes my chest hurt. Tonight I keep thinking of all the things I feel cheated out of. I keep thinking “The last time I ran the vacuum, I thought my baby was alive” or “The last time I cooked a decent meal for my family I thought I was a mother of three, preparing lovingly for her fourth child”. My husband took the crib down this afternoon, and I couldn’t watch. Each time I gaze into Ian’s room, there is a huge hole where my baby should be sleeping in May. I walked into the bathroom, and I remember last giving the children a bath and thinking I needed to buy my Johnson’s and Johnson’s shampoo for the baby. I thought today about how I wouldn’t be happily exhausted feeding a baby into the wee hours of the morning. Instead I get to come home - bleed like I’ve had my healthy newborn, feel my milk come in, and get to lay there at night, alone, and wishing for my child to be with me. I weep with sadness as I think of these things.

And now, now it’s time for movie night. The kids want to sleep together in the living room again, and right now, anything seems better then being alone in the night with my tears, grief, and thoughts I cannot quiet.

11 comments:

Michele said...

Thinking of Issac and remembering him with you. He was and is a gift to you and your family.

After Nick and Sophie died, as we were trying to make sense of the whys, my husband said something that I will never forget. Perhaps our children, in that place where souls wait for God to send them to families, were told that they could either stay in heaven forever or could come to earth for only a brief time. They chose to be born and God told them to choose carefully, because not every parent would be able to handle such love and loss, such joy and sorrow; not everyone would be able to remember and love them everyday when they were no longer physically here. And our babies, searching the world over, chose up to be their mommy and daddy.

Issac knew that, no matter what, you'd always love him, and God knew too, and gave you your beautiful little miracle to love and cherish forever.

Thinking of you...

S said...

That was a powerful piece. Full of strength and faith and love and pain. My heart honestly aches for your loss. Throughout my losses the nights were the most awful times. When the house was quiet, crazy thoughts invaded my head and wouldn't quiet for many hours. I did mindless, unimportant things to lull my brain. It didn't work.

Love and hugs to you an your family.

Celia said...

I'm sitting here in tears. Your story is so very similar to mine. The first nights were so hard, unable to sleep, researching and finding things that were unpleasant to say the least. Sleep is still elusive....and the thoughts that come in the still of the night are...harsh. My heart is aching with you dear friend. I remember all too well those first days how I felt my world crashing around me.

I love what your friend Michelle wrote..."They chose to be born and God told them to choose carefully, because not every parent would be able to handle such love and loss, such joy and sorrow; not everyone would be able to remember and love them everyday when they were no longer physically here" I choose to believe that even though it is painful to know....it is also a blessing to know that, out of so many parents that Noah "COULD" have chosen, he chose us, just as Isaac chose you & Andrew. Wow...I love that.

I love the fact that I am being forever changed by this...and at the same time I HATE it! I wish God had chosen some other method in which to bring about change. But it is what it is....I can only move forward and accept what has happened.

I am so eternally grateful that God has placed you in my life. Like you said to me, it helps so much because you. get. me.....period. No explanations necessary. And I'm so thankful for that.

Mrs. Spit said...

Remembering with you. He is such a beautiful little boy, and you are such a wonderful mum, honouring his memory.

trennia said...

This is a loving mother piece...I loss a baby girl May 3 2008 and I wrote things down while i carried her and there after.It helps us to remember to have whatever we can to hold on to when we have to wait to get to Heaven to hold what we will always long for.Praying for you..

Holly said...

Thank you for sharing that Misty. It brings back so many memories and it brings tears to my eyes. Those first days....so difficult....trying to deal with all that you've been told...wondering where to go from here. But still knowing that God is good.

Kamis Khlopchyk said...

Oh Misty, you are truly gifted. Your writing is amazing and your emotions come through and hit me right in the heart. It has ached for you since the first moment I read your email about Isaac and it still does.

Your strength to face this is so inspirtational.

Sending you lots of love.

Rebecca said...

I am so glad that you are willing to share this with us. I know I say it over and over but it's true. God is good and Isaac knew that you could/would/will endure with the knowledge that you will be together eternally. I think you are an amazing spirit. Know my friend that you are loved...

Trisha Larson said...

I know. I get it. I'm sorry. Thank you for sharing your story. I had A LOT of sleepless nights too. And A LOT of dreams that were shattered.

It's been almost 16 months since Nate died and I still haven't picked out his grave marker. Just one more mountain to climb.

Love,
Trisha

The Birthday Group said...

My prayers are continuing for you and your sweet family. I too love what Michele wrote. I couldn't of said it better myself. I admire the quality you have of writing and how you are allowing yourself to work through your pain. You are so brave!

Emmy said...

It's a wrenching reminder of those first few nights. I feel fortunate, Leila was just a preterm birth, I only went through her death once. I can't imagine finding out Isaac's prognosis, grieving that, then having to birth him and grieve again.

I am in awe of your strength.