Grief

the baby is out. the belly is empty.

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Scanning the piles of winter clothes still not given their proper place in my closet, I stand in frustration as I try to pick out the clothes for the day.  Squeals begin over the monitor from my six-month-old whose hunger demands my presence.  It is another morning in which I must find the right loose-fitting top that covers up the belly that remains from pregnancy.

I am blessed to have been able to carry two children in pregnancy and to have access to medical professionals who delivered them safely via caesarean section. My children are the ultimate source of joy and gratitude, AND YET how is it that I look at my belly with contempt now that it is empty? Continue reading

The White Bags and the Ones that Hold Them

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They were everywhere.  Some were held tightly to the chest as if the heart needed it close by.  Some were laying on the ground as if they were too heavy to hold. Mine was in the chair next to me.  The white plastic bag held my husband’s blue pajama pants I gave him a few Christmases ago and his Wake Forest sweatshirt.

They had been stuffed in the bag as he put on the surgical gown for his emergency appendectomy.  All that he came into the hospital with was now in that white bag.  My mind wandered past the front desk, down the hall, through the secured doors, and into the operating room where he lay on the surgical table.  A doctor himself, he was not the healer in this moment.  He was the one being healed.  And all I had of him was stuffed in a white plastic bag. Continue reading

To Know the Heart of a C-Section

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Machines beeped as the straps monitored the baby squirming around in my belly.  Little room left, we were only hours away from meeting him for the first time.  We settled in for the long labor ahead… a book in my dad’s hands, needlepointing in my mother’s hands, and an iPhone in Drew’s hands. I leaned back and closed my eyes.  Unable to take in all the anticipation, I tried to quiet my mind but I couldn’t help but wonder about the pain and ecstasy of bringing this baby into the world.

Breaking the silence, the nurses came flooding in.  Drew stood to read the monitors and my parents emptied their hands as the nurses acted.  They were quick, calm, but anxious – turning me on my side and placing the oxygen mask on my mouth.  “The baby’s heart-rate is too low – he can’t handle these long contractions.”  A needle stuck in my side aided in returning his heart-rate to normal but the words “you will probably need a c-section” lingered in the air. Continue reading

Fragility, Fear, Gratitude

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Coming back in my office, I listened to the voicemail from daycare – “James had an accident… he’s ok, but…”  The world stands still.  The awareness that my son had been hurt, had experienced pain, had cried out and I had been elsewhere – unable to hug, comfort, and wipe tears.

It ended up being nothing too bad, but I was aware that with the smallest change in the accident, it would have been everything.  One inch higher and it would have scratched the eyeball – it could have meant loss of sight, loss of parental peace and confidence, loss of life as we know it.

Driving to pick him up that afternoon, I entered that space – the space where life stands still.  It is the frightening space where the Fragility of life rears its ugly head and demands that you pay attention.  It’s as if you realize Fragility has been living in your house and you didn’t even see it. Continue reading