So, now it's my turn.
As Lindsey mentioned previously, when I make big decisions, I tend to employ a more logical approach, looking at a pros/cons equation, balancing facts and numbers whenever possible to decide which outcome is most beneficial or has the biggest upside/downside. I like spreadsheets because they're clean, they're obvious, and the numbers just don't lie. Maybe it's just my inner nerd, or maybe it's something about the Y chromosome in general, but logic works best for me. The bigger the decision, the more variables need to be considered. Obviously, the decision of whether or not to try again after Caden was about as big a decision as it gets. So, you might logically conclude that it would have required a great deal of mental grappling, numerous lengthy spreadsheets with pros and cons showing various weighted considerations, and lots of restless nights of deliberation.
Nope.
Before I explain, the stage needs to be set a bit. After having two healthy kids with essentially no problems at all during either pregnancy, and after getting pregnant pretty much at will for the third time in a row, I think we kind of fell into a sense of invulnerability and of being in control of the whole child-bearing process. Once that bubble was popped with that fateful sonogram, however, we knew just how much of a blessing a healthy baby was, and that things didn't always go the way of puppies and rainbows. It's always painful to have real life thrust so rudely into your face, and it tends to dissipate the comforting illusion of that-only-happens-to-someone-else rather quickly. So, in contemplating whether or not to try again, the old set of variables was flushed down the drain and a whole new set of variables presented itself. It was a much smaller set that was basically this:
1. was I ready to go to a zone defense (more kids than parents)?
2. could I handle it if we had another difficult pregnancy/birth experience?
3. could my family handle it if we had another difficult pregnancy/birth experience?
The first one was easy because we'd already answered it with Caden, and it was really a non-issue. All of the things on my spreadsheet (and no, there wasn't literally a spreadsheet for this decision) had remained unchanged.
The second one was a bit tougher. A soul-crushing experience like losing a child isn't something that anyone ever anticipates, nor wants. To deliberately invite a second such experience is either the height of stupidity, or the embodiment of self-flagellation. In our case, there was no indication that what happened with Caden would happen a second time. It was simply a fluke of development - it wasn't a genetic tendency, nor the result of any particular behaviors on our part. So, the chances that it would happen again were precisely the same as the chances it would happen with any of our pregnancies (of course, in writing this after the fact, I do fully recognize the irony of that statement). Could I handle it again? Well, I had survived the first time, so that meant I could survive another. And, in contemplating the potential of having problems with another pregnancy, I found that much of the fear had been taken out of the whole experience. In some ways, the anticipation of Caden's passing was worse than the actual event, simply because of the unknown factor. We didn't know if he'd be born alive, we didn't know how long he might have with us on this Earth, we didn't know how he would look, and so on. And, in the moment itself, we were far too focused on that moment to really stop and think about the moment, if that makes sense. I think we were in a kind of emotional shock, where we were able to close off certain parts of our emotional spectrum because it was just too painful to deal with right then. We just needed to be in the moment, and the emotional processing would come later. But, since we'd been through it and had time to look back on it, I knew how it would feel and I knew what kind of pain it would bring. It wouldn't be pleasant, but the unknown factor was gone. And, above all, I knew that if God brought us through the wringer once, He could (and would) bring us through it again if need be.
The third question was the one I struggled with the most. As a parent, you come to realize that you'd gladly take on massive amounts of pain if it saved your loved ones -- especially your own children -- from having to deal with it. You just want to protect them from every bad thing out there as much as possible. There was no way we could take away the pain of losing Caden from Connor and Kylee, but the same concept applied in the sense that if we decided not to try for another child we knew they wouldn't have a chance of experiencing that pain of loss again. It would be a sort of protection through prevention. Balanced against that, of course, was the undeniable fact that both of them really wanted a younger brother or sister, and both of them were hit very hard by Caden's loss. The potential of even more hurt was out there, lurking in a statistically unlikely but possible future...but their current pain was unavoidable, completely present, and very real. In my mind, the question really boiled down to what would most help them heal, both in the short term and in the long term? I confess to a significant amount of dread and turmoil about what we would say to the kids if we did have another bad experience. I would be heart-broken to see my own kids develop the sense that childbirth is a fearful and undesirable experience, but I didn't have the foggiest idea about how to approach that, nor did I want to, so I deliberately pushed those thoughts away until such time as they became necessary. Thank God they never did!
I once saw an inspirational speaker talking about how to achieve success. In his talk, he related a story about how he took his family mountain climbing. At one point, his teenage daughter had an accident where her hair got tangled in the equipment halfway up the mountain. When they finally rescued her and brought her back down to the ground, she was hurt and more than a little scared. The speaker's wife thought they should call it a day at that point, but the speaker disagreed. His philosophy was that you never end a major experience in fear. The daughter reluctantly agreed, and gamely tackled the mountain again. It turned out that it was one of the family's more memorable vacations together. Similarly, I knew without a doubt that we all would remain forever scarred if this had been our last experience with childbirth. Lindsey has a very strong maternal instinct, and I know she considers being MOM as one of her primary purposes in life. Obviously, childbirth is a key event in the life of MOM, and to have her last childbirth experience end with such fear and pain would be a wound that would heal only very slowly and with much difficulty. I wanted very much for the kids to view the birth process as something to be anticipated and filled with joy.
In the end, I was convinced that though having another child certainly wouldn't replace Caden, and though the scars we all bore would be there for a lifetime, we would all be better off with another little bundle of joy than without. Any life-changing experience more or less destroys your definition of 'normal' life, so after any such event you have to establish a new 'normal'. I believed our new 'normal' would be much better in a group of five than in a group of four.
Watching the kids dote on their baby sister -- even when she messes up their puzzles, eats their art projects, and smashes the latest Lego creation to pieces -- has completely reinforced that belief. I've lost count of the number of times that Lindsey and I have looked at each other over Hadley's antics, wordlessly sharing volumes of love, pain, and gratitude that we made the decision to try again.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Waiting for Hadley
I really didn't allow myself to truly believe that we were actually going to get to bring our baby home with us until around 27 weeks of pregnancy.
We had the typical 20 week ultrasound in March, which I have to admit was fairly anticlimactic. Since we had the big Level 2 sonogram in February, it seemed like the 20 week ultrasound was a formality. I had expected it to be very difficult given our experience with Caden. We scheduled our sonogram the afternoon before we were leaving for vacation, so I think my mind was pre-occupied with all the arrangements necessary to leave town. However, once I actually sat still in the waiting room, listening for my name to be called, once again, my palms started sweating and my heart raced. What if the bottom dropped out from underneath us? We had decided to bring Connor and Kylee with us to the ultrasound, feeling that they needed to experience a normal ultrasound after the devastation that they had witnessed at our 20 week ultrasound with Caden. We saw our baby on the screen, but compared to the Level 2 sonogram, the picture quality on the machine in the OB's office was TERRIBLE. We could hardly see a thing! Honestly, though, the ultrasound technician was able to see Hadley's vital organs and determined that there was adequate fluid, which was all we cared about. The greatly anticipated (and feared) 20 week ultrasound was over. And we survived.
It helped that the next day, we left on a week long trip to Disney World. We had planned the trip because we really needed something MAGICAL after the year we'd had, and that is where Connor and Kylee asked to go. We had planned it months in advance, not knowing if I'd be pregnant. When we realized that the date of the trip would coincide almost exactly with our 20 week ultrasound, we deliberated about cancelling vacation, because we couldn't stand the thought of leaving town (and spending all that money) after getting bad news. But we decided to forego the trip insurance....and told ourselves that even if the news was bad, we'd still really need some time away. Our vacation was perfect and the kids had a ball. At the end of the trip, I even allowed myself to buy a little outfit for Hadley. It was the first thing I'd purchased for her. I still remember standing in the gift shop, debating. I finally pulled the outfit off the rack and marched up to the cash register before I could talk myself out of it. To this day, that outfit is one of my favorites.
It was business as usual at our house. Our midwife suggested that we do another ultrasound at 27 weeks just to make sure that everything still looked okay. That ultrasound looked fine, too. It was walking out of that appointment that I found that I was finally able to breathe. Really breathe....and imagine holding a healthy baby in my arms. It was a great feeling. I felt as if a weight had been somehow lifted.
It was short-lived relief. Around this time, I began to panic that something would happen to Hadley. Being a nurse, I will tell you that I am not normally a panicky type person. However, all bets were off in this case. We had heard stories from so many other families of tragedy striking in the last weeks of pregnancy...cord accidents, babies being born too early....I was constantly worried that I wasn't feeling Hadley move enough. I knew it was irrational, but I couldn't help myself. We were so close and I didn't know if I could bear it if something happened just when I had started to let my guard down.
My midwife was gracious enough to offer any ultrasounds or testing that I needed to make me feel better and assured me at every appointment that our baby was continuing to grow. I trusted what she said about Hadley growing....at one of my appointments she was even able to help me feel a big pocket of fluid as she felt my abdomen to assess how Hadley was positioned. I didn't opt for any additional testing, but it was a comfort to know that it was available if I needed it. We set an induction date for July 21st, when I would be about 39 weeks along. We chose that date because it was our midwife's day off and she would be able to devote herself fully to us. This is the incredible, gracious woman that she is. This woman had delivered Connor and Kylee, and saw us through all of our struggles with Caden, although she was not able to care for us after we received our diagnosis. The lengths to which she went to accommodate us during each of our pregnancies are truly amazing. July 21st was also my Grandpa's birthday. Grandpa Haneke had a massive stroke in January, just prior to our diagnosis with Caden. He passed away the following October, and it had been a long journey in between. Caden, in fact, was named for this Grandpa, whose middle name was also Adair. It was symbolic to us to have Hadley share a birthday with Grandpa.
We opted not to decorate a nursery before Hadley arrived. Friends had graciously offerred to throw us a baby shower. We declined, asking instead if we could do something after she was in our arms, safe and sound. They understood. A few people bought us things for the baby before she was born, but most people didn't. It felt like everyone was collectively holding their breath for us. About a week before she was born, we made ourselves pull out the baby stuff and begin washing it up. I almost resented doing it, because I felt like preparing for Hadley's arrival was somehow making us more vulnerable. It also made me realize what we'd missed out on with Caden. It, like everything else, was hard.
As we assembled Hadley's cradle, I found tears welling up in my eyes. Caden never got to sleep in the cradle. There were so many other families that would give anything to be setting up a cradle in anticipation of a new arrival, but they weren't going to be able to because they, like us, would never get to bring their baby home. All these thoughts and emotions swirled around inside of me. It was so strange. I felt guilty that our baby was healthy when I knew others weren't. My heart ached for families who were losing their babies in the same instant we were preparing for ours. A whole new world had opened up to us through our experience with Caden and we knew that the fairy tail ending didn't always happen. And yet, I was hopeful...hesitantly anticipating seeing our little angel asleep in the crib.
The moment was quickly arriving. We were just a week away from meeting our little girl.
We had the typical 20 week ultrasound in March, which I have to admit was fairly anticlimactic. Since we had the big Level 2 sonogram in February, it seemed like the 20 week ultrasound was a formality. I had expected it to be very difficult given our experience with Caden. We scheduled our sonogram the afternoon before we were leaving for vacation, so I think my mind was pre-occupied with all the arrangements necessary to leave town. However, once I actually sat still in the waiting room, listening for my name to be called, once again, my palms started sweating and my heart raced. What if the bottom dropped out from underneath us? We had decided to bring Connor and Kylee with us to the ultrasound, feeling that they needed to experience a normal ultrasound after the devastation that they had witnessed at our 20 week ultrasound with Caden. We saw our baby on the screen, but compared to the Level 2 sonogram, the picture quality on the machine in the OB's office was TERRIBLE. We could hardly see a thing! Honestly, though, the ultrasound technician was able to see Hadley's vital organs and determined that there was adequate fluid, which was all we cared about. The greatly anticipated (and feared) 20 week ultrasound was over. And we survived.
It helped that the next day, we left on a week long trip to Disney World. We had planned the trip because we really needed something MAGICAL after the year we'd had, and that is where Connor and Kylee asked to go. We had planned it months in advance, not knowing if I'd be pregnant. When we realized that the date of the trip would coincide almost exactly with our 20 week ultrasound, we deliberated about cancelling vacation, because we couldn't stand the thought of leaving town (and spending all that money) after getting bad news. But we decided to forego the trip insurance....and told ourselves that even if the news was bad, we'd still really need some time away. Our vacation was perfect and the kids had a ball. At the end of the trip, I even allowed myself to buy a little outfit for Hadley. It was the first thing I'd purchased for her. I still remember standing in the gift shop, debating. I finally pulled the outfit off the rack and marched up to the cash register before I could talk myself out of it. To this day, that outfit is one of my favorites.
It was business as usual at our house. Our midwife suggested that we do another ultrasound at 27 weeks just to make sure that everything still looked okay. That ultrasound looked fine, too. It was walking out of that appointment that I found that I was finally able to breathe. Really breathe....and imagine holding a healthy baby in my arms. It was a great feeling. I felt as if a weight had been somehow lifted.
It was short-lived relief. Around this time, I began to panic that something would happen to Hadley. Being a nurse, I will tell you that I am not normally a panicky type person. However, all bets were off in this case. We had heard stories from so many other families of tragedy striking in the last weeks of pregnancy...cord accidents, babies being born too early....I was constantly worried that I wasn't feeling Hadley move enough. I knew it was irrational, but I couldn't help myself. We were so close and I didn't know if I could bear it if something happened just when I had started to let my guard down.
My midwife was gracious enough to offer any ultrasounds or testing that I needed to make me feel better and assured me at every appointment that our baby was continuing to grow. I trusted what she said about Hadley growing....at one of my appointments she was even able to help me feel a big pocket of fluid as she felt my abdomen to assess how Hadley was positioned. I didn't opt for any additional testing, but it was a comfort to know that it was available if I needed it. We set an induction date for July 21st, when I would be about 39 weeks along. We chose that date because it was our midwife's day off and she would be able to devote herself fully to us. This is the incredible, gracious woman that she is. This woman had delivered Connor and Kylee, and saw us through all of our struggles with Caden, although she was not able to care for us after we received our diagnosis. The lengths to which she went to accommodate us during each of our pregnancies are truly amazing. July 21st was also my Grandpa's birthday. Grandpa Haneke had a massive stroke in January, just prior to our diagnosis with Caden. He passed away the following October, and it had been a long journey in between. Caden, in fact, was named for this Grandpa, whose middle name was also Adair. It was symbolic to us to have Hadley share a birthday with Grandpa.
We opted not to decorate a nursery before Hadley arrived. Friends had graciously offerred to throw us a baby shower. We declined, asking instead if we could do something after she was in our arms, safe and sound. They understood. A few people bought us things for the baby before she was born, but most people didn't. It felt like everyone was collectively holding their breath for us. About a week before she was born, we made ourselves pull out the baby stuff and begin washing it up. I almost resented doing it, because I felt like preparing for Hadley's arrival was somehow making us more vulnerable. It also made me realize what we'd missed out on with Caden. It, like everything else, was hard.
As we assembled Hadley's cradle, I found tears welling up in my eyes. Caden never got to sleep in the cradle. There were so many other families that would give anything to be setting up a cradle in anticipation of a new arrival, but they weren't going to be able to because they, like us, would never get to bring their baby home. All these thoughts and emotions swirled around inside of me. It was so strange. I felt guilty that our baby was healthy when I knew others weren't. My heart ached for families who were losing their babies in the same instant we were preparing for ours. A whole new world had opened up to us through our experience with Caden and we knew that the fairy tail ending didn't always happen. And yet, I was hopeful...hesitantly anticipating seeing our little angel asleep in the crib.
The moment was quickly arriving. We were just a week away from meeting our little girl.
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