Part 5 - Ten years ago, ten years ago today and for always....

I waited on an angel.....
I waited on something, anything at all to give, something, anything to grant a reprieve from all the fear and now, thanks to my husband, all the undue pain.
My angel finally showed up on a blazing summer day in July.
I cannot describe my state of being up until that wonderful day as anything other than the living dead and that isn't even remotely close to accurate.
From the outside - I was calm - corpse like calm, zombie like I guess.
But I wasn't quiet inside....
What was going on inside of me was a calculated effort to micro-manage my emotions while secretly acknowledging them.
What the hell does that mean?
Well, the team of doctor's involved with our case assured me that the baby could feel my stress, could feel my emotions and most likely was in some pain from the compression on his brain (imagine a constant migraine)
This reality put an immense amount of pressure on me to stave off emotional freak outs and keep his environment as calm and consistent as I could.
Hard to do when you are literally screaming in your head, shaking inside with fear and want to throw shit at your husbands face.
I was inside myself for those months following the diagnosis more than I have ever been - I learned to bottle it all up and then slowly release the cap so that the pressure was a slow leak rather than an explosion.
I went to the hospital almost weekly - My visits became methodical, routine.
Park the car, greet the person at the desk and smile, go into the chapel and write in the offering book 'please make him well', say a prayer, gather my strength and go to the next test.
The worst of all of these tests came right before my Angel - she came in the nick of time I think, looking back I was just beginning to unravel - this cat scan had me rattled.
I was put horizontal in a tube which then traveled into this giant circular structure which would take clearer pictures of the baby's brain. The doctor communicated with me throughout the whole test, I could hear his voice from the other room while he looked at the slides. He kept telling me to be perfectly still.
Problem with being still was that he had informed me prior to getting in, that because of the compression in his head, because of the very real possibility of constant head pain for him, the very loud noises the machine made would probably affect the baby and cause him to react quite physically.
I remember vividly standing in the changing room undressing. I remember placing my bra with enormous cups on top of the heap of clothes which it completely covered and thinking 'God my boobs are huge' - I had no idea in that room how tough the next hour would be for me.
Sigh. The baby reacted poorly. With every click that startled me, he jumped inside my body - he jumped, he kicked, he tensed, he rolled himself into a protective fetal ball.
This wasn't the usual kicks and punches. This was, painful for me and emotional.
Every fiber of my being, every instinct said RUB HIM. TALK TO HIM, soothe him with your touch, your voice.
Problem was - can't move at all, or speak at all.
Perfectly still is the only way to get clear pictures and considering NONE of the scans showed the defect, this was our best shot.
And so....He writhed inside me and I lay still, silent and helpless to comfort my hurting baby while tears slid from my eyes in a steady stream and pooled a puddle of salt water around my head.
I will never forget that day or the feeling of complete and utter helplessness to protect and soothe my child.
I was a fucking wreck after the fact.
And....After all was said and done, NO CHANGE in the ventricle and NO EXPLANATION still.
Pictures showed nothing conclusive.
The doctors consulted and we briefly spoke of exploratory brain surgery - open my uterus, drill though his skull and try to find the problem and maybe fix it?
Um yeah no.
And so I worsened inside myself, feeling more hopeless and more alone, more angry at Dan who I could no longer reach out for in the middle of the night to hold me, because his arms betrayed me in my hour of need.
Yeah, I was a mess and beginning to doubt that I was going to come out of this whole experience a whole human being.
Mary was my lifeline - I can remember calling her sometimes and beginning the conversation with slow and steady weeping instead of words.
She was the only one who understood my state of being, the only one who knew just how badly I was doing personally and all she could do was hang on the phone and coerce me into going on...
And then came the angel.
Like I said, a hot summer day - Dan and the kids had convinced me to go to the downtown mall and get an ice cream at chaps.
Fine whatever.
As we sat down outside I noticed a girl in a wheelchair at the next table over. She was facing me and hard to ignore, she was all twisted physically, her body parts contorted in all the wrong directions.
I watched her, transfixed, staring, and I prayed in my head 'Oh dear God, please not that'
The prayer startled me - that train of thought was so unlike me.
I don't do that, I don't think that, I see everyone the same - What the hell???
I felt awful, immediately wanted to take the prayer back - but I couldn't and I couldn't stop staring - I rudely watched her and her father, watched their every move intently.
She couldn't speak, she grunted. She couldn't move except for an occasional flail of a hand. Her chair was a contraption, monitors and lights, a breathing machine of some kind with tubes.
It was horrific and yet, as I watched and as I tried to eat my shameful prayer, I began to see something I had never ever seen before in all my life.
And I see things, trust me I see things that others don't - BUT this....
This I had NEVER seen.
And I am weeping fyi.
I watched her father communicate with her, he asked her things and she somehow answered. He understood. She understood. I watched and I knew nothing that they were saying to each other - couldn't have wagered a reasonable guess with a gun to my head - how they communicated was discernible to me and yet, I could see it.
Brian said "Mom stop staring" - his voice sounded a thousand miles away, maybe even in a different place.
I stared on as everything around me began to break up into atoms again - grainy little dots that made a tunnel. The sky, the sun, my kids, the bank next to me, the lattice of the flower box, the purple pansies - they all culminated in grainy dots, braking apart their form and becoming a tunnel of energy that led me to the girl in the chair and her dad.
And when it all went away and just the three of us (four, the baby) were left, I could see their love.
And this, this I know, I will NEVER find words for - I could see it more clearly than anything I had even seen in my life. It was a color maybe, a visible energy maybe, it was coming from her to him and back from him to her and it surrounded then like a glow.
I saw it I swear.
And what it said to me is this....
This is love.
And this love is beyond what you have yet to know, because your love, has been simple and easy love.
That doesn't mean it isn't real love, or good love or valid love - it just means that when love is challenged and it prevails - it is stronger and does not conform....
And what I thought instantly was - I can do this....
If he is born and he is dying in my arms - it SHOULD be my arms and I WILL soothe him and give him strong wings.
If he is born and needs to be hooked up to a machine to live, well I will KNOW what is best and I will DO what is best because I am his MOTHER.
If he is impaired and low functioning, I will RISE to the occasion and pull him up with me.
If he can't communicate with me in my language I will LEARN his.
I am his Mother for a reason.
I CAN do this, I am the only ONE who can.
And furthermore...when I do, do this - I get that non-conforming, beautiful light, prevailing love all for myself....
Yes I can do that.
And I swear, my life was divinely intervened upon - God sent me an angel to deliver the message I so longed to hear.
I still see that girl on the mall from time to time - I cry every time I am fortunate enough to walk by that beautiful love.
Everything changed after that...
I let go of trying to get answers about his condition.
I let go of the pre-test anxieties.
I let go of the fear.
I knew whatever it was - it would be okay....
The months moved quicker then and the day of his birth approached.
I toured the NICU at UVA hospital, I got overwhelmed at the sight of all the tiny infants fighting for life - a sweet nurse gave me a paper bag to breathe in and I had to take a break and sit down.
It wasn't just about the necessity of seeing this for my possibility - it was seeing the reality of the constant state of struggle that others are in.
My angel and the easy love - easy love comes easy.
SO many sick kids, so many parents in the fight for the prevailing love - perspective....
I set up his nursery, sat in his rocking chair and rubbed him as I sang.
I finally named him - Matthew Joseph
Matthew - gift of God
Joseph - give to us another son.
I called my Nana every week to report and every week she said in disbelief, "no change? Hmmm I was sure this was the week"
SHE NEVER DOUBTED HE WOULD BE OKAY.
I prepared mentally for every scenario and thought intently about what I wanted to say if our time together was fleeting.
Mary booked her flight to come for his birth, my coach, my best friend by my side - she would come from Maine and be there with us, the only person I could think of to be with me if I had to say hello and goodbye in one breath.
We got closer and closer and I put in for my maternity leave.
The ultra sounds became more frequent checking for head circumference for the natural birth I insisted I would have.
And then on September 11th 2001, I put my kids on the bus and began my first day of maternity leave, six days and counting until my scheduled induction - I made a cup of tea and cinnamon toast and climbed back into bed to watch the today show.
I will never, ever forget the sequence of events that unfolded before me.
I ate my toast and drank my tea, I was tired and could actually go back to sleep if I wanted. Matt Lauer was interviewing an author - I was falling asleep to the sound.
And then, Matt stopped, said there was breaking news - apology to the author and Katie joined him.
A plane has hit one of the world trade center tours in Manhattan.
An accident. What kind of plane? A small plane - no witnesses say a big plane - a jet liner.
Picture of the tower with flames close to the top.
Phone calls from people on the street to the television station.
Live phone calls.
Chaos.
What the hell is happening?
I sat up, confused but not especially alarmed. It was assumed that this was a grave accident, a terrible plane crash. Isolated incident.
And then, a live phone call on air, a person on the street below the towers explaining the scene to Katie and Matt and a sound,
a rumble, a high pitched whistle, the person screaming "Oh my God - Oh my God"
and an explosion.
A second plane, the second tower.
The reality instantaneously understood and showed on Matt's face - Our Nation is under attack.
I sat up more, straight up.
What the hell is going on?
I called Greer elementary and spoke to the secretary - I said "Get Judy Boyer a Television in her room ASAP, something historical is happening - the world trade center is under attack"
These were my co-workers....I was the first call through to alert them...Minutes later the phone lines were clogged.
Scared parents calling in, administrative people dialing out....
I watched the TV in horror - I called Mary.
The panic ensued, the grounding of all planes in US airspace began.
I put on the radio.
A plane over Virgina airspace is not responding to air traffic commands to land.
I live in Virginia - my kids are at school.
I bolted up and got my clothes on.
I ran out the front door and sped to the school.
Police were everywhere, panic was evident.
I retrieved my kids from a school bracing itself for complete chaos as parents began to show up in the hundreds.
A police car in front of Greer, one in front of Jouett, the American flags flapping against the brilliant blue sky as I peered above my dash looking for any sign of an aircraft....surreal.
I got home and turned on the news.
The pentagon hit, the plane in Virginia airspace, now shrapnel in the side of our Nation's military headquarters.
What the hell is happening, oh my God what is happening?
Plane over PA airspace.
Plane down in a Pennsylvania field....
Jesus Christ.
The tower is falling.
Oh my God.
Jesus Christ.
Hand to mouth.
Hand to stomach.
Heart sinking.
Jesus Christ, tears streaming down my face from the security of my home.
Jesus Christ what the hell is happening?
The second tower falling.
All the people, all the people, Jesus Christ it's New York City - all the people.
A nation literally under attack in my lifetime - this is happening.
Matt Lauer and Katie Couric look sick - Tom Brokaw looks sick to his stomach - what the hell is happening?
We all remember that day in our own way.
It was like nothing I could have ever dreamed up.
As the details were assessed, the footage of the terrorists in a Portland, Maine Wal Mart released, The Logan airport tapes on TV, the first hand accounts of the calls from United flight 93 discussed - I sat in complete and utter disbelief.
Again I was back in the car looking at the trees - four hours ago I was drinking tea and thinking about Matthew's birth in six days....
Now our Nation is under an undefined attack and thousands of people are dead....
What was tough, just got tougher...
Mary and I stayed on the phone for hours not speaking, connected, together, but listening. Watching. Crying.
Oh my God Mary, what is happening?
She said at some point (still so naive to how this had changed our lives) "I am still coming"
I responded "the hell you are - you are not flying anywhere - hell no - I will be fine - you can come later when things calm down"
"No" she said "I am coming, I won't miss this" (crying on both ends)
"I won't having you take the risk Mary"
Both so naive - no planes would be up in American airspace to get on, forget about her plane....
We talked about selfishly worrying about our situation in that moment - but truth was, I was still preparing to give birth to a baby that may die...
My reality was unchanged in the midst of a National tragedy that would have the entire Nation reeling.
I didn't sleep well that night. I kept the TV on in the bedroom. I couldn't help but watch.
It looked like post nuclear war. There was a cavernous black hole in a meadow in PA.
The pentagon was four sided....
I was going in the morning for my final ultra sound, the one that would determine if he could be delivered vaginally.
I couldn't sleep.
The next morning I showered and I dressed, on eye on the television.
I got in the car with Dan and we drove to the hospital.
The streets were mostly empty.
There were fire fighters in full gear at intersections taking collections for NYC in boots.
The city was a ghost town and everything moved in silent slow motion.
I went into the chapel - I wrote 'Please make him well and God help our Nation"
I prayed.
I climbed on the table mostly unaffected - I had done this thirty something times. Jelly to the belly.
Conversation about the attacks with the tech and my friend, Karen.
Wand to belly, movement.
Checking circumference now - looks good for vaginal delivery - you shouldn't need the section.
Oh good - at least this will go my way.
But wait.....
She paused.....
Karen's face changed, her eyes brows furrowed, her eyes squinted.
"wait a minute" she said....
What?
Wait for what?
She turned the screen towards me - she should have called in Dr. T first - she broke protocol, her eyes were filling with tears.
Oh Jesus, what now? Why is she beginning to cry?
"look Deb" she said, "look"
And she pointed to his brain on the screen.
More than 3/4 of it was gray...
Wait what?
Where is all the black????
Where is all the BLACK?
My heart raced and I leaned up on my elbows, she pushed harder on the wand.
Look at all that Gray....
She called in Dr.T - he looked.
He smiled.
I said "what - what - what?"
It has shrunk.
The ventricle had shrunk.
What??????
What?
The ventricle was still enlarged, still big, but suddenly on September 12th 2001, after four months of no change - it was within 'normal limits'
And, the brain matter now exposed looked like it had developed normally - all squiggly and gray....
I cried. I felt joy I had never imagined I would know...
The ventricle went down, the fluid was a gush instead of a trickle.
September 12th, 2001.
I remembered the terrorist attack - remembered what was going on outside that room in the hospital - I remembered the horror and suddenly didn't know how I should feel.
I was elated in the midst of National tragedy.
I was unsure what to do....
I called Mary, we cried.
I felt guilty for my joy.
I watched the news, the family members posting missing person pictures on that wall in NYC - I watched the fires burn in the rubble.
I felt isolated in my joy, my joy felt remote, removed - the guilt felt immediate.
I called my Nana to report our good news, the news she expected all along.
I cried like a little girl again with her, needed her to tell me it was all okay...
What she said, I will never ever forget as long as I live, it is one of the reasons that these events are so profoundly linked and that although I lost no one in the attacks, I remember each and every person as though I did.
She said,
"Oh lovey, this is the balance of life, the way that it works. And maybe, just maybe, God took someone yesterday for a reason we will never understand, but that reason, made room for Matthew's precious life - and that is your blessing in the face of that loss and you must never ever forget or be ungrateful."
And this is why I wrote this blog....
I had not thought about it in that way until that moment.
I cannot say if it made me feel better or worse.
I did know, as my Grandmother had all along, that God was giving me obstacle after obstacle to see how I would hold up, to see what I would do.
What I did, was rise....
Matthew Joseph Poulin was born on September 17th, 2001 - the day the stock exchanged re-opened in NYC.
I was spread eagle in stirrups as Dr. Blommel gloved up and prepared to insert the meds to my cervix to induce my labor.
We paused with the whole country to observe a moment in silence.
I can see the TV beyond my bent knees and the pill on her gloved finger tip to this day....
He came in two pushes - I wanted to get that head out.
Dr.Blommel held him up all gooey before her, he was screaming his lungs out, he reached forward and grabbed her paper mask - he pulled back to reveal her smile, she said,
"I bet you don't have any idea how many prayer lists you have been on"
He was not whisked away to a NICU, he was not pried from my arms.
He nursed and I cried while inspecting every inch of his perfect little head and asking over and over to anyone that would listen,
"Are you sure he is okay?"
He was okay - he is okay.
Ventricle is still bigger than it should be, he is a successful case study at UVA, he is a pain in my ass daily - most ten year old boys are - sue me.
I love that he is a pain in my ass - wouldn't have it any other way....
And, I guess in the long run I was granted the 'easy love - that prevailed'
Lucky me....
I had to share this story with you because that year helped to define the person I now am. In order for you to hear the 'moral messages' in every blog I write, you kinda have to know the wars that have been waged to provide my wisdom and the gratefulness I wish would spread like a communicable disease....
On the one year anniversary of 9/11 I sat on the edge of my bed and listened to every name of every victim - I don't know which one made room for Matt specifically so I count each and every one as my personal blessing.
I would have done that even if Matt had died, but I do it now, with a PERSONAL GRATEFULNESS that makes the enormity of the loss and change our Nation endured that day more me specific.
I must never forget.....
Mary and I, shared these events long distance, apart when we should have been together.
My birthing coach, my best friend - kept from me on the most important day of my life by terrorism.
We traveled that road from 9/11 to 9/17 by phone - that week changed our friendship forever.
By NOT being able to get to each other - we realized the scope our love, how truly important we are to each other.
We cry when we talk about it ten years later with Matthew and Emma fighting in the back ground.
We visited the hallowed ground the weekend of my 40th birthday - we cried together and remembered the day, remembered the lives lost, remembered the gift of one new life.
I am so glad that I got to go there with her - I would rather look upon that empty space with no one else in my life, except maybe her and Matt - one day I hope, one day...
And so, sigh - today on this tenth anniversary of 9/11, part 5 of my cliff hanging blog, leads me to this final sentiment.
Life is hard... Life can feel really unfair...Life can turn on a dime... Life is not about what happens TO you, but rather what you DO with what you are given.
That year, ten long years ago, gave me nothing but shit.
But, with that shit I fertilized a space within myself that could have been a ground zero of my own, an unsafe place to ever consider re-entering... Instead I, tilled and plowed, got dirty, dug deep and planted the seeds of varied garden of beautiful GRATEFULNESS....
I tend that garden everyday.
Today I would like to thank my Nana, My Angel,and my best friend Mary for helping me see the beauty that was there all along.... (so Dorothy Gale)
And also, to pay tribute to all the lives that were lost that fateful day - the victims and the ones who went in willingly to save the victims - the ones who drove down a plane to spare more lives than their own - the soldiers who protect us every day....
I don't know if my story has spoken to you in any way shape or form - I hope it has - that is always my hope when I spill my guts.
In conclusion - do your best to love everyday. And to share that love openly - don't hold back....
And if... because it will, life gets really hard for you - remember what my Angel told me -
Prevailing love is the best kind....
Blessings to you all and God Bless America.