It's a good morning none the less (thank you again and again Ms.Alli)
And with even more perspective than I had ten years ago - I approach going back in time with a heart and mind so full of gratefulness that I feel it could literally burst.
And yet, like all things of appreciation with me, there is a profound accompanying sadness that will travel, hand and hand.
This blog subject matter, will assuredly come in the form of a continued story which will, I imagine, take me several days to write - I will have to re-live as I blog and when it comes to this topic, it tends to get very emotional and taxing for me.
I am going to take you down memory lane - a path that as we travel will cover many many personal moments and some that will be familiar and unifying - even to those of you who read who do not know me personally - we will, as we approach the anniversary, touch gently on the subject of the September 11th terrorist attacks on my Country.
But before I get there - ten years ago today I had absolutely no idea that in four days time, the most significant historical event of my lifetime would be occurring.
For me personally, ten years ago today, I was privately preparing to give birth to a child I was sure would die in my arms as quickly as he had come into it.
I was in my own private hell, unknowingly on the brink of a Nation's hell...
And so we back we go...
I know that I have spoken of this before - and as I typed those words, my eyes burned with tears as salty water ran out of them like a faucet had been turned on rather than a sentence typed....
I know that I have written about Matthew's "special head" before, but it only seems fitting to tell the whole story on this monumental milestone.
Ten years ago on May 21st (my Nana's birthday) I was 19 weeks pregnant with my third child. I could not have been more excited or feeling more healthy, emotionally or physically.I had even fallen in love with nectarines which for my entire life, I had a strong aversion to in the texture department - they made my tongue feel all fuzzy. At 19 weeks pregnant I couldn't get enough nectarines and if they dripped juice down my arm, well than you better believe I was licking it off.
As I remember, May 21st of 2001 may very well have been a Wednesday or Thursday - the only reason I say this, is that previously in the week a co-worker/friend of mine from Greer elementary had gone to her OB/GYN for her 20 week ultra sound too - her first baby - there were like six of us at school pregnant at the same time.
There was a sadness weighing heavy on all the women at Greer that week because said friend/co-worker had gone to the ultra sound excited to see her baby for the first time (God that is an amazing moment) only to find that the baby had died in utero - no heart beat.
Because of the stage of her pregnancy, she would have to essentially deliver the deceased fetus.
I was saying then - exactly what I am saying now "I can't even imagine"
There is this really weird thing that happens when you hear of bad news and it hurts you, but you say "I can't imagine" and you MEAN it, literally, because life has never turned on you in quite such a harsh fashion - and then suddenly, unexpectedly, your "can't imagine" becomes your reality and you can imagine - every horrific detail.
That is what happened to me just a two days later when I collected my two young sons and my husband and we drove to Martha Jefferson Hospital for our first glimpse at our son and new baby (sex to be determined)....
I remember the day vividly - what I was wearing - how I felt - the magazine I thumbed through mindlessly - how I paced in the waiting room - the anxiety that filled my body that I didn't understand and blamed in the moment, on my unrelenting desire and hope that the baby would be a girl and somewhere deep down I knew it was a boy.
I wanted a girl so bad and I prayed for it - please God let me be wrong - let the nectarine fixation be indication that it is not a boy like I think it is...
I was desperate for a daughter.
I still feel bad to this day for ever thinking along lines of "preference" instead of health.
PERSPECTIVE comes down hard like a hammer to the skull or a vice grip to your heart.
When we went into the dark room, the ultra sound technician arranged the boys and Dan so they could all see the screen, jelly glob to the belly and the magic wand was off, swirling about on my skin producing pictures of my womb that amazed me all over again, each and every time I saw it - which, would end up being in excess of 30 times...But I run when I should walk - sorry...
I remember that my arms were over my head, I remember Brian and Kevin watching trying to figure out just what in the hell all that gray stuff was, "wait did she say that is a leg?"
And then, about 5 minutes in, my anxiety peaked as she circled the babies head and clicked her mouse again and again and again.
She asked "do you want to know the sex?"
Resounding "um yeah" - "It's a boy"
I felt nothing as she quickly moved the wand and pushed on my belly trying to get "him " to move so she could get a better picture of his head.
His head again.
I felt no disappointment about the boy thing - why is she at his head again???
She paused and called in the doctor and he introduced himself warmly "I am Dr. Thiagaraja, and I am going to just take a peek at this little boy"
Straight to the head - the two medical professionals exchanged a glance that only I noticed and my heart began to pound.
Sweet Jesus something is wrong with my son.....
Dr.T (as we called him) then used the phone in the room to call his assistant and see if she could entertain Brian and Kevin in her office for a bit while Dr. T took Dan and I to his.
My tummy was wiped clean, my pants pulled up and I choked silently on the scream that was rising in my throat as all the colors of my surroundings began to blur and sweat formed in swollen beads on my forehead.
I reached for Dan's hand and as he took it, I knew he didn't understand what was happening - there was calm in his palm, my fingers trembled and felt clammy and cold.
Dr.T's office had a large mahogany desk with two seats - Dan sat by the wall, me on the outside.
I watched Dan spin his wedding band on his hand, concentrating all of my energy on the action of the spinning, the methodical turning - I watched and tried to breathe in time - I remember this as if it were happening now.
Just watch Deb, spin, spin, breathe - it was like a CPR rhythm - compress, compress, give breath.
Then the pictures - 11 by 14's, glossy paper, many of them, one after the other turned towards me - magnified images of my son's brain.
Immediately, without any medical knowledge, I could see the problem.
Half of his brain had gray matter, half of it was pitch black.
PANIC rising - This cannot be right - what does this mean?
And with that - I have class - me and the cliff hangers lately
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