For
the sake of modesty, I don't want to go into a great deal of detail, however it
is somewhat crucial to know that when I was pregnant with my second child, I
wanted - nay - knew I was going to do everything possible to have a vbac.
I
will also clarify that I say 'second child' because as with my first, I did not
want to know if it was a boy or a girl, so I didn't yet know this baby would
one day be my precious and loved-to-the-moon-and-back baby girl.
I
knew would equally love a boy or a girl and given the fast-hectic-pace at which
life was already speeding along, I wanted to keep things as simple as possible.
(Really
- if my fabu sister had not been working at a posh baby store I would not have
imbibed in that gorgeous red peg-perego stroller)
Just
as mothers of days-gone-by hadn't known if they were to have a boy or girl I
liked the idea of finding out when he or she was born.
True
- both the 'moms' groups I was in had loads of fun remembering and/or
concocting new, old wives tales to make their guesses.
Similarly
- I think* it goes without saying I also did not want amniocentesis
performed.
No,
I don't have a fear of needles. I’m an-every-two-weeks plasma donor, remember.
. .
I
knew I would treasure and appreciate my child with or without a ‘birth defect’.
*I
say I think it goes without saying, because, not everyone knows me.
I've
never thought we were all 'perfect' anyway. Created in His image yes, but I've
always felt like everyone has some physical limitation or another making us all
somewhat if not 'defective', flawed. We will be perfect in the next life, but
not here. Our physical bodies have limits and are susceptible to earthly
damage, even in the womb.
Of
course, it wouldn't be until years later that I'd watch what would become one
of my all-time favorite movies "Iron Giant" ( watched with both my terrific
children BTW), and form the deep-thinking Saturday afternoon dogma that we all
have the equivalent of a dent in the head and like the giant, are better off
for it.
But
that is years later.
Back
to 1991. Dr. Vu, who delivered my son, did not want to comply with my plans for
a vbac.
Early
on, I was having some difficulty with the pregnancy and though he did not say a
vbac might be dangerous for the baby, he just said, a c-sec will be so much
easier on you, why would you think of that?
I
said I would be going for a second opinion.
I
did and changed doctors.
The
'new' doctor, however, changed his mind on my second visit.
He
said, no, the problems I was having put him at risk for a lawsuit if the
outcome was bad.
Unsure
of where to turn, as there was not another OB/GYN in the center and at the
time, our city was still small and undeveloped I said I would consider upon it.
Delivery
was still some time away.
It
was April.
Just
as with my first, I had known I was pregnant almost immediately.
I
had been in the front yard with my son, who was just a tad past his first
birthday. He loved for me to spin him around until we both fell to the grass.
We called it airplane.
Whoa,
no – I didn’t swing him by his arms.... Nervous nellie, I worried he'd separate
at the arm sockets.
I'd
hold him in a modified cradle hold, sometimes face up, sometimes face down so
that he was straight out in front of me like an airplane.
And
as we spun, I'd lift him up and down, giving him the (Disneyland) Dumbo the
elephant ride effect.
Anyway,
one day, the first week of March I was outside spinning with him and he was
having a grand ole time.
All
of a sudden I sat down and thought I was going to simultaneously pass out and throw
up. The lawn would not stop moving.
I
knew I was pregnant.
My
spouse was not supportive. Of course, he had no clue as to the amazing girl
that would come into this world.
I
tried my best to take the best care of myself possible, given the fact it was
not as easy a pregnancy as the first, but sure enough, when I went in to the
doctor the last Friday in May, the bleeding had not stopped, had in fact
worsened.
The
doctor examined me and said, so sorry, not anything I can do. You need to go
home and plan on a weekend visit to the hospital. He expected that before
Monday I would have miscarried. Yes, the doctor did offer to keep me there that
Friday – just FYI. Keep me and terminate the pregnancy to make it easier.
My
spouse was jubilant. He had been encouraging me to get an abortion.
An
abortion.
What
the freaking heck.
Encouraging
is not even the word, however, I truly dislike remembering those days.
He
was an angry, abusive man.
Enjoyed
fooling and manipulating people.
Even
still. . . an abortion?
For
any of you who happen to read my posts regularly, you do already know it's like
a well-tossed salad.
It
may seem as if you just bit into a tomato and now, wait - whoa, what?
Mushroom?
She's skipped over to talking about something else.
I
always guarantee, as much as a blog post can guarantee - that it all comes
together in the end.
After
all, you can't put every bit of a salad in your mouth at once.
I
had to digress though so you’d grasp the sickening concept of him being pleased with the news when I
came home from the doctor. I truly regretted telling my husband what the doctor
had said, however, if the doctor proved to be right, I was hoping to keep my
spouse home that weekend, in case I needed transportation to the hospital.
He
was rarely home, and especially not on weekends.
I
figured I knew, if not specifically where he was, or specifically who he was
with, that he was having much too good a time to stay home for any normal old
reason, like marriage, family, commitments ....
A
few years prior I'd experienced what I am fairly sure was the passing of a
kidney stone. He would not take me to the hospital and in fact more or less
locked me in the bathroom so I wouldn't 'bother' him. It was more
painful than labor.
We
had a one-year-old. My son who loved airplane! I had to ensure my spouse would
be there to take care of him, even if I did have to get myself to the doctor or
hospital. I had no idea what could happen, or what I’d feel like.
I
admit, I took advantage of the fact that he did stay home. Even though I had
turned down the doctor’s offer to make things easier, my husband only
heard the words he wanted to hear. And to him that meant stay home this weekend
and the abortion will take care of itself.
I
left for a few hours and turned to the one place I had not yet thought of.
I
turned to Heavenly Father.
and
fervent prayer.
…surrounded
by many other people who, though not praying for me, knew, like me, that there
is strength in joining in prayer.
There
were no bright lights or booming voices. No one's sight, hearing or ability to
walk was spontaneously restored in front of a crowd. No promise of anything
beyond faith in the things we knew - know to be true - that Heavenly Father
sent his only begotten son, our elder brother, to redeem mankind. That our Lord
and Savior, Jesus Christ, died, was buried, and rose after three days to ascend
into heaven.
I
was born into a Catholic family,
This
is a prayer I learned in elementary school:
Credo
in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae, et in Iesum Christum,
Filium Eius unicum, Dominum nostrum, qui conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto, natus
ex Maria Virgine, passus sub Pontio Pilato, crucifixus, mortuus, et sepultus, descendit
ad inferos, tertia die resurrexit a mortuis, ascendit ad caelos, sedet ad
dexteram Patris omnipotentis, inde venturus est iudicare vivos et mortuos. Credo
in Spiritum Sanctum…
In
English:
I
believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. I believe in
Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born
of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was
buried; he descended to the dead. On the third day he rose again; he ascended
into heaven, he is seated at the right hand of the Father, and he will come to
judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit…
That
is most of the prayer. I no longer 'believe' in the Catholic Church, (which is
what would be the next line in the prayer) that is, I no longer believe it to still
be the true church as descended from St. Peter.
Important to this story - because Heavenly Father - He has not changed.
Many, many of the things I grew up and learned, I still know to be correct.
But upon praying and reading and more praying, I have discovered some ... doctrine?
... to have come for convenience.
I can’t rely on a quick check convenient line to return home to Heavenly
Father, so I decided to join the LDS church a few years ago. Five years ago
this month.
Back in 1991 however, I was in St. Christopher's church, praying to our only
Heavenly Father, and praying intensely. With the burning emotion of a woman who
was already a mom and could not for one millisecond imagine life without her
child.
How, possibly would I manage losing this one?
Nothing spectacular in the sense of visually dramatic occurred at all. The way
one might imagine after TV movies and popular drama. What did occur is on overall feeling of incredible warmth and peace.
And if I dare use the word revival . . . when it does seem as if I am describing an
old fashion sanctification meeting . . . I experienced a revival of the words to yet
another prayer I'd learned even before the creed.
OUR
Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth
as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our
trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into
temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.
- The Lord's Prayer.
Thy
will be done.
So
my prayer changed.
And
I asked – fervently –still that I be strong enough to take care of any child He
chooses to send me. Strong enough to take care of the one I already had. Strong
enough to provide a home for them and keep them safe and give them – a better
life here on earth so that they could grow to be wise, strong, loving people
and they themselves be one day worthy to return home to him.
What
changed, or I should say, what I added on -- was that if His will was this baby
return home to Him before I get the chance to know him or her that He guide me
to know what to do next.
As
I drove home, tears flowing, yet calm and at peace I knew we would be alright.
I
was more than willing to care for him or her even with both doctors tossing
vague threats at me. I would find a way, even, if – as I suspected was in my
future – I raised my children alone.
Prayer
became my constant, mostly silent companion.
When
my husband was angry, I prayed. When I was frightened, alone, or sad, I prayed.
That
weekend, something happened. My baby got stronger.
When
I went in to the doctor on Monday he was baffled. The bleeding had stopped, the
heartbeat was good – and I looked good. I too had gotten stronger.
I
left his office and found another doctor. He was much, much further away, but
offered a safe, caring place for my baby to be born as well as support of my
wishes as he dispensed his expert medical care.
Fast
forward to November – and Heavenly Father blessed me with the most precious,
most adorable baby daughter.
When
I see advocates post statements like “Your mom chose life” I desperately want
to shout – ME TOO!
I could have made life easier. But without my amazing
daughter – who I certainly do know was a miracle – my life would not have been
better. I chose her and life has been better for it.
