Puts Things Into Perpsective

This week, I was notified about a girl who is the younger sister of a DBU guy that we went to school with. She had suffered a miscarriage and my friend was asking me to pray for her. She has 4 or maybe 5 brothers...I was trying to count and I lost count! (I think that is how people will be when thinking about my kids!) Anyway, she was devastated, and the loss was a surprise as the pregnancy was going well. She has 3 little kids and is an excellent writer. Anyway, I prayed for her this week. She planned a memorial service for the baby and had to get special permission to take his remains from the hospital and her doctor was so kind to do make things happen so that she could bury her baby. Well, that same doctor made a mistake in performing her DNC....she almost died....she lost all of her small bowel. She narrowly escaped death....please read what she wrote today after being awake and alert for a few days. Wow...what a great attitude and what great forgiveness! Something to take to heart!

Here is what she wrote:

This has been a rough week, to say the least. You know that.

I am sitting here this morning, tired and a little cranky. In spite of the fact that I am eternally grateful to be alive, hospital living is hard. Now that I’ve crossed the threshold into ‘mobile patient’ I’m cranky that I can’t get comfortable in bed because of a huge crick that’s run rampant on my left side, I’m cranky that this NG tube (which is sucking the yucky out of my stomach) pinches my nose and hurts my throat, pushes mucous up to the point of gagging, and I have to unhook it whenever I want to get up. I’m trying to type with a big fat pulse taker on my finger. I practiced walking so much yesterday that I wore myself out. My brothers like to hear me complain because as Aaron (#1) so ungraciously put it “You know Audrea is feeling better when you hear her get a little surly.” And he chuckled, amused at his own wit. He got an eyeball roll from me.

It is nice to be able to think about these small irritants in light of the BIG TERRIBLE. I have not yet been able to grieve the loss of my baby; I’ve not yet been able to fully wrap my mind around the difference in my body, the loss of my small bowel, and what that means for our future.

Before I came into the hospital for the DNC, I begged God to turn my weeping into joy. I woke up sometime Thursday and saw most of my brothers standing around my bed with my husband, and I was confused. It wasn’t until Friday and my brother, Elliott, flew in (#2 orthopaedic surgeon), and matter-of-factly explained to me what went on and the severity of my case, that realization sunk in. My joy certainly overran my anguish.

I could be dead, and if God had chosen to take me, I was ready. However, because my babies are so young, I’m grateful to have a few more years with them.

This terrible injury has been freeing. Freeing, in that it was easy for me to forgive the doctor, and freeing because I have a terrible urgency to share life, to share Christ’s hope, and to get on board with God’s plan for me as soon as I can get well.

Apparently, when I first woke, I couldn’t speak, so I started writing in my family’s hands. Someone wised up and found me a little notepad. With a foggy mind and a shaky hand, there was still determination when I wrote to my husband about my doctor. “Tell him I forgive him. And give him big hug.” He did both.

Who am I to hold a grudge against the man who fought for us to take our baby home to bury? I am not God. I am perfectly fallible, too. Mistakes and terrible accidents happen. God already knew about this one long before I ever came into the world. He already has a plan to bring beauty and honor and glory to his Holy name through my story, my challenges, and my pain. I am so grateful, so very grateful that my doctor understood our pain and wanted to help. My baby is resting beneath a little shade tree in the beautiful box I picked out. If the hospital had has its usual way, my precious child would be hazardous waste. There’s the tragedy.

Things will be different; they already are.

I had not seen my children since I left them on Wednesday morning. They came to see me Sunday evening and I wasn’t prepared for their response. They were all scared of me. Scarlett even declared, “that is not my mommy.” I broke down in waves of tears. I know the big gonzo tube emerging from my nose is scary, I know they are so little, but it hurt so much I couldn’t hold back the emotion. While they stared at me, confused, I cried. When they ran away, I cried some more.

Yesterday was better. They’d gone home and taped straws to their noses to practice being like me. They weren’t nearly as scared and Gideon did give me a hug before he left. It will get better, but this is where the sorrow hits sharp and deep. I miss my babies. I want to hold them again.